1003: Isolation Chamber

Last night I spent a thoroughly pleasant evening in the company of the few "real-life" friends I see on a regular basis. We played Descent, I made some poor tactical decisions and lost yet another quest (seriously, I am the most incompetent evil overlord of all time) and we had fun.

As always, though the experience was, for me, tinged with a certain hint of bittersweetness. Said friends, you see, all live back in the Southampton/Winchester area, which is where I used to live before the rather inconvenient and upsetting collapse of almost my entire existence over two years ago. I, however, am not located there; instead, I am nearly two hours' drive away in Chippenham, Wiltshire. It's not a difficult drive, to be sure, but it isn't something I can particularly do on a sudden whim. Well, I can, but I do need to have plenty of time on my hands before I do it, and there are other considerations as well.

It's frustrating, though. Regular readers will know that I am not an especially "social" person a lot of the time, but I do appreciate and enjoy the time I get to spend with these friends. We've built a strong Social Link as a group together in recent years, and most of us have had to take on some difficult challenges in that time. Although in a lot of cases, said group of friends didn't necessarily help and support directly, the fact that they were simply there was often enough. I know I certainly felt that way, though naturally I can't speak for the others.

It's hard to feel that way when you're two hours away, though; when you have to make full on capital-P Plans to see them rather than just sending a text and asking if people are up for something. I miss being able to do that, and not just with the particular group of friends I saw last night, either; there are ex-colleagues still in the area whom I used to love being able to just call up (well, text up) and hang out with.

I feel more than a tad isolated, in short.

And in more ways than one, if I'm honest. Leaving aside the geographical issue that gets in the way of seeing "real life" friends for a moment, there's also the whole issue of having like-minded friends who are into similar things that you are. I have a number of interests that I am perfectly willing to describe as "niche", and at times it can be difficult and frustrating to be a fan of these things when there's no-one nearby to share the experience and enjoyment of them with. It's not as if I have absolutely no-one, obviously — Andie is good at taking an interest in the things I like (for the most part, anyway!) and aforementioned friends share at least some of my interests.

The "simple" solution seems obvious — take an interest in more "mainstream" things so you can more easily share the enjoyment of things that everyone enjoys. But it's not that simple. I have tried on a number of occasions to engage with things I know various friends and acquaintances are interested in — everything from football to The X-Factor — and every time I have come away feeling like I'm forcing myself to try and enjoy something I dislike immensely, and it just doesn't seem worth it. Apparently your tastes are hard-wired into your head somewhere, and it is very difficult to change them. I am predisposed to like the things I like (board games, video games, anime, soundtracks, music, writing, The Internet, My Little Pony) and similarly to dislike the things I despise (too many to list).

Knowing that doesn't help with those feelings of isolation, though. Knowing that the things I enjoy are only appreciated by certain specific subcultures can be a difficult pill to swallow at times, but it's the situation that my own tastes have gotten me into. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret or feel embarrassed about anything that I enjoy; it'd just be nice to be able to enthuse about it with people who are a bit closer sometimes.

But at least I can enthuse about it with people thanks to the trappings of modern society. I can chat with my friend in Canada about anime; I can discuss strategies for failing to beat the hideously difficult secret boss in Persona 3 with another friend in the States. I can rant and rave in private about the things that are getting my goat to someone in yet another disparate geographical location; I can share my pride in something I have achieved with yet someone else entirely.

Things could be worse, in short — but it doesn't stop those occasional feelings of loneliness and isolation. I've been having more than a few of them recently, and it's getting me down a bit, so apologies if the tone of these posts may be a bit on the melancholy side at times.

Oh well. I'll deal. I always do.

1002: Irritants of the Modern World

I have a peculiar sense of déjà vu as I write this as I have a strange feeling I've written a very similar post before… but d'you ever feel like the world just isn't quite built with you in mind?

I'm not talking about difficulty getting around — though obviously there are people out there with physical difficulties for whom the world literally isn't really built for — but rather a sense of detachment, a feeling of not quite "belonging" to modern society, a sense that others are "getting" something you're not. (No filthy comments!)

I've been having this feeling to an increasing degree over the past few years. When I consider the things about modern society that irritate me, I sometimes find myself wondering if I'm just being unreasonable or if there is, in fact, some sort of root cause for the feelings of dissatisfaction and frustration I so often feel.

Let's take a few examples to demonstrate what I mean.

Firstly, one from my professional life. I review social and mobile games for a living, from the perspective of whether or not they're likely to be profitable and if developers can learn/steal something from each other. Objectively speaking, I can recognise the patterns in design, structure and the use of compulsion mechanics to draw players in and encourage them to spend money, but I can never picture spending my own money on such titles. It might be because I'm a traditional (or "core" as we tend to be called nowadays) gamer and thus have certain expectations from my entertainment — expectations that more often than not aren't met by puddle-deep mobile and social games — or it might be something else. Rage of Bahamut, for example, which is complete crap in almost every way it is possible for a game to be crap, is immensely successful and has been showing up high in the Top Grossing charts ever since its launch. I do not understand this.

Then there's the perpetual popularity of terrible, terrible television shows and the attached assumptions that you should know who Rylan(?) from The X-Factor is in order to have a successful water-cooler conversation. Thing is, every time X-Factor comes on, all I see on Twitter from the fairly broad spectrum of people I follow is unbridled hate — but they're still watching it. I do not understand this either.

Then there are smaller, stupid questions. Why do people buy clothes with dates they probably weren't born in printed prominently on them? What possible use could a 19-inch 1080p television be? What sort of pillock falls for those text messages that tell you how much money you could claim from your "recent" (and non-existent) accident? Who wakes up one morning and decides they want to be a loss adjuster? Why would I want to join yet another mobile social network that does nothing more than allow me to "Like" random things? Why do so many people respond to those utterly inane brand posts on Facebook? More to the point, why does the block of cheese we have in the fridge have its own Facebook page?

I do not understand any of these things either.

It's not difficult to see why certain subcultures, be they socioeconomic or interest-based, find themselves feeling somewhat alienated from "normal" society, whatever that is. I certainly do at times, and I'm pretty sure that I'm not the only one out there. There are too many unanswered questions out there, and either I'm not looking in the right place for the answers or the rest of society just doesn't care.

Oh well. Time to sleep. The world will continue not making sense in the morning. This has been your after-midnight philosophical bollocks for the evening; hopefully I should be feeling a little more coherent come the morning.

Good night.

1001: Yuriyurarararayuruyuri

Hello! And welcome to the first post-1,000 post on this blog. I hope you like the "New Game+" redesign I've done. I figured it was worth doing something noticeable to highlight my achievement. And now I'll stop blowing my own trumpet. Back to business as usual.

I've been continuing my journey through the strange and bizarre world of anime recently. I finished watching The World God Only Knows a while back, so I was looking for something new to explore. I have a few DVDs of recommendations from my friend Lynette on the way, but I was interested in trying something a little bit different while I waited for them to arrive.

So it was that while browsing Crunchyroll I came across Yuru Yuri, an anime that I'd seen mentioned by a few people around the place. I didn't really know anything about it save for the fact that "yuri" is a term often used to refer to "girls love" or, to be less euphemistic about it, material with lesbian themes. I had no idea whether Yuru Yuri's title actually had anything to do with yuri as a genre, or whether it was just part of the name. "Yuri", after all, is also a fairly common Japanese name that means "lily".

As it turns out, Yuru Yuri (literally "easygoing yuri") is most certainly a yuri work, though more in a sense that it focuses on close personal relationships between a group of girls rather than having sexual overtones at its core.

Yuru Yuri centers around a group of middle-school girls who start an "amusement club" in the defunct Tea Club's premises at their school. They essentially use this as an excuse to goof off and avoid doing anything that would actually require effort, and over the course of the series, their relationships with one another (and with a small cast of supporting characters outside the main four) grow and change — in some cases into love; in others into fantasies about one another that will (probably) never be fulfilled; in others still into close friendship. The show doesn't make a big deal of the fact that seemingly almost everyone at the all-girls school they attend is homosexual; instead, it's simply treated as the way things are. People can like each other, regardless of gender, and this can lead to exactly the same sort of awkwardness and confused feelings as in heterosexual relationships. Just like real life! Who'd have thought it.

All this perhaps makes Yuru Yuri sound a bit more serious than it actually is. The girls' relationships and feelings for one another are an important part of the show, sure, but for the most part it's very much a "slice of life" anime in which the cast get into various amusing scrapes that are usually resolved by the end of the episode. It's very lightweight and cheerful in tone throughout, and the characters are all very distinctive and exaggerated in terms of their appearances, personalities and iconic behaviours — though the show isn't above subverting its own tropes at times if the opportunity to play something for laughs exists.

One amusing aspect of the show is that Akari, the character set up to be the series' "protagonist" in the first episode, gets some fairly harsh treatment throughout. Not necessarily in terms of the things that actually happen to her, mind — this isn't a show that does nasty things to its characters — but in the fact that more often than not an episode ends up focusing on the other characters to her exclusion. On more than one occasion she gets sidelined in favour of seemingly incidental plotlines, and in some episodes she's not even present at all. This particular aspect of the show is lampshaded continually, with the "next episode" previews often consisting of the characters arguing over who is actually the protagonist, regular references to Akari's lack of presence (often represented by her literally turning invisible) and the pre-credits "Yuru Yuri is starting!" sequence (hosted by Akari) getting increasingly ridiculous as the series progresses. It's a fun commentary on the "blank slate" nature of a lot of anime protagonists.

There are also plenty of silly things that happen in almost every episode, too. For example, Chitose, one of the supporting cast members, is obsessed with her best friend Ayano the student council vice-president getting together with Kyouko, one of the main four cast members. Every time Chitose takes her glasses off, she "tunes out" of reality because she can't see and ends up fantasising about what Ayano and Kyouko would get up to if they ever admitted their feelings to one another. These fantasies are usually rather suggestive, but always stop before anything actually happens, usually because Chitose has a near-fatal nosebleed as a result of her pervy thoughts.

It's a strange show, to be sure, and an acquired taste. It's one of those things where nothing of any particular note happens in any episode, but the comfortable familiarity of the characters and the gentle sense of slightly suggestive humour that pervades it gives it a very endearing feel, assuming you can stomach its unrelenting moe cuteness. The whole cast — main and supporting — is likable and distinctive, and it's just a very pleasant watch if you don't want to have to concentrate too hard or be bombarded with The Feels at every opportunity.

You can watch Yuru Yuri on Crunchyroll.

This is my 1,000th daily post on this blog

Well, there we are. 1,000 days of non-stop daily blogging. I am the best, I win, etc. Sorry this post is so late, but once you've read it you'll hopefully appreciate that it took a bit of time to put together. I felt I should make the effort, you know. Special occasion and all that.

Of course, I'm well aware that I'm not the first person to reach a thousand days — as I mentioned a few days back, Mr Ian Dransfield got there first due to… well, starting before me. I joined the initial #oneaday crowd a little late, on January 19, 2010, whereas the people who actually started the whole thing off began closer to New Year's Day. As I noted in that post I just linked to, however, I am officially the Last Man Standing and I don't mind admitting that I feel more than a little proud of that fact. Through thick and thin, I've stuck by this self-imposed project with no end and no goal, and I have enjoyed the experience immensely.

And, more importantly, I plan to continue enjoying it from this point onwards. Post number 1,000 — that's this one — is most certainly not a fond farewell and a hanging up of the… whatever implement best exemplifies blogging. (My computer keyboard, I guess.) No; it's a significant milestone, for sure, but I see no reason to stop. There are plenty of things to write about. And while they may not always be the most interesting or universally appealing, as I've noted on this blog a number of times before, the original intention of #oneaday was not to be interesting or universally appealing. It was simply a kick up the bum to get those of us who enjoyed writing to do more writing. Writing for ourselves, rather than for someone else. Writing without limits, without the necessity of sticking to a style (though those of us in it for the long haul naturally developed our own personal styles), without word counts, without anyone deciding whether or not the thing we were writing about was worth writing about. And, of course writing without editing.

Yes, these are the pure, unexpurgated contents of my brain you're reading every day. Unfiltered, uncensored, completely truthful. (Well, okay, regarding the latter, I might omit to mention a few things, but that's not exactly the same as lying.) A couple of people have commented to me over the course of the past thousand days that they're impressed by my ability to just lay my soul bare on the page like that, to confess to things that others might find difficult to talk about. For me, though, it's actually something of a relief to be able to talk about a lot of these things, be it my depression and social anxiety or my enjoyment of visual novels that, in many cases, have bonking in them. This blog has been a good "friend", as it were, providing me with a place to empty my brain of all the thoughts that have been floating around with it over the course of each day, and in the process I have made a few actual friends who have either related to the things I've written or just found them interesting. Which is, you know, nice.

More after the jump — it's a long one. (That's what she said, etc.)

Continue reading "This is my 1,000th daily post on this blog" →

#oneaday Day 999: Appeal Elements

I think I might have nailed down one of the big reasons that Japanese games and anime appeal to me quite so much. It's actually a relatively obvious conclusion, now that I think about it, but watching several different types of anime and playing several different types of Japanese game recently has pretty much confirmed what I suspected.

The thing I find most appealing about these forms of media is that they consciously and obviously divorce themselves from reality while retaining just enough that is relatable to make it still feel "relevant" to the viewer. I'm not just talking about the obviously outlandish storylines of titles like JRPGs and My Girlfriend is the President here, I'm talking about the heavily stylised way in which characters are represented, emotions are depicted visually and how character traits are often exaggerated to make individual cast members obviously distinctive from one another.

As I gradually get deeper in to the world of anime in particular, a lot of conventions are starting to make themselves apparent. One of the most obvious breaks from reality is the use of "emoticons" to depict how characters are feeling. (There may be a proper name for them, but I'm not sure what it is, if so.) Things like the throbbing red "vein" when someone's angry; the physically-impossible shadow being cast over someone's face when they're disappointed or scared; characters who literally catch fire or become engulfed in dark mists when they're feeling particularly strongly about something; the fact that anyone having pervy thoughts immediately gets a nosebleed. They're crazy and completely physically implausible, of course, but they create a handy visual shorthand for emotional reactions that might be otherwise difficult to depict in the relatively simplistic imagery of animation. For as much as anime characters (particularly of the moe variety) are designed to elicit emotional responses from the viewer, there's only so much you can do when you're not working with a real person who doesn't have all those muscles in their face to work with.

Actually, that's not true at all — when you're dealing with a drawing of someone, you can do absolutely anything with them, even things that are physically impossible. What you can't really do quite so easily, though, is show subtle nuances of emotion, which may account for the fact that an awful lot of anime features not only heavily-exaggerated characters, but also strongly-exaggerated emotional responses to situations too. Everything from the embarrassed "arm-flap" of a teenage girl having her crush revealed to a heroic protagonist running towards his rival engulfed in flames — these exaggerated, symbolic responses make it abundantly clear to the viewer what these characters are thinking and feeling.

At the same time, as I said at the start, they divorce the work from reality. They make a statement — this is not real — and encourage the viewer to suspend their disbelief. And that, for me, is one of the more appealing things about this type of media. I indulge in video games and watching anime as a means of escaping from the doldrums of everyday life which is, let's face it, rather tedious and dull at the best of times. At the same time, though, I like to maintain a connection to something relatable — usually characters — and I've found that anime and Japanese games have often provided a good balance between those two considerations for my tastes.

Obviously I don't expect everyone to agree with me — it'd be easy to see anime's exaggerated reactions as overly-comic, silly or childish, for example, sometimes making light of serious situations — but it works for me. Perhaps I just like having emotional responses clearly telegraphed to me rather than being expected to read the often-inscrutable faces of real human beings.

As a vaguely-related contrast to this, we went to see the Lion King stage show last night in Bristol. I did not enjoy it that much, and while I was sitting there a bit bored I found myself wondering exactly why I could suspend my disbelief for an anime about schoolgirls who have perverted fantasies about their classmates (and subsequent nosebleeds) every time they take their glasses off, but not for a bunch of people dressed as savannah animals leaping and cavorting around on stage. I found this a particularly interesting question to ponder given that I normally have a lot of patience for musicals.

The conclusion I came to is somewhat difficult to describe, but it's largely the fact that I found The Lion King difficult to relate to. I enjoyed the original Disney movie, but the stage show focused, for me, far too much on visual spectacle rather than making the characters relatable in any way. I didn't give a toss about young Simba (who was not portrayed particularly well by the child actor, which didn't help) and was painfully aware that these were just people wearing masks and weird costumes throughout. I couldn't suspend my disbelief and think of them as their characters. It went too far off the edge of reality and deep into the realm of "this is pretentious arty wank" for me, not helped by the amount of frankly unnecessary prancing around from certain members of the cast.

I was somewhat in the minority, though, as the show got a standing ovation at the end. Oh well. This certainly isn't the first time something with mainstream popularity has left me somewhat cold, as this blog will attest on a number of occasions!

#oneaday Day 998: Generally Generalising

First up, read this. It's an impressive piece of investigative journalism regarding a Reddit user known as "ViolentAcrez" — a notorious user for his practices of posting creepy photos of often-underage women without their consent. The piece describes the reporter Adrian Chen's (successful) attempts to unmask ViolentAcrez and publicly shame him for the things he has spent the last few years doing.

Fair enough. As a number of people have said in relation to this story today, the "free speech" so beloved of Reddit users does not mean the same thing as "free of consequences". And while Michael Brutsch, the man behind the handle "ViolentAcrez", has not technically broken any laws with his activities — he wasn't posting child pornography or anything illegal, simply reposts of images that were already in the public domain on Facebook and other services, and later voyeuristic images taken without the knowledge of the people depicted — the fact stands that his behaviour was more than a little creepy, inappropriate and actively harmful in a society that is, for the most part, actively trying to improve attitudes towards women.

I'm not denying any of this. While I find the tracking down and public shaming of a notorious Internet troll a little creepy in and of itself, what Chen did in the name of journalism is a far cry from what Brutsch has been doing for the past few years — and probably for the best in the long run. Brutsch will certainly think twice — or at least be a lot more careful about his "social media footprint" — before trying anything like this again. There's a lesson to be learned in all this — if you're a dick on the Internet, sometimes it will come back and bite you in the ass.

There is something that bothers me about this story, however, and that's been the reaction to it. Specifically, the negativity directed towards the entire Reddit community as a result of this story and surrounding issues. For those who haven't been keeping up on this story over the past few days, a number of Reddit subforums, or "subreddits" as they're called, completely blocked all Gawker links in a showing of solidarity for Brutsch who was, despite his behaviour, regarded as a valuable member of the community and a "necessary evil" by many — while he was a notorious troll, the Reddit staffers made active use of him to police the less salubrious parts of Reddit and ensure that nothing that actually was illegal was being posted. A "man on the inside", as it were.

Because certain parts of Reddit decided to show their support for and/or actively defend Brutsch's behaviour on the grounds of "free speech", apparently all of Reddit is now something to be reviled — a "cesspit", as I saw it referred to earlier today.

This is the bit that makes me uncomfortable — an entire community being blamed and ostracised for the behaviour of one man in particular, and also for that of those who support him.

I've been on Reddit. I haven't been on there for a while but I enjoyed a brief stint on there a while back. I joined some interesting discussions on a variety of topics ranging from gaming to TV shows via funny pictures and an accidental excursion into naked photographs that users had taken of themselves. (In the latter case, the notorious "gonewild" subreddit, the majority of comments were in fact, body-positive — particularly on the pictures of those who had been brave enough to post a picture of their obviously-overweight body — rather than perverted, which I found to be interesting. Also, it genuinely was an accident that I found myself in that subreddit — Reddit's main screen gives little to no indication what "gonewild" is all about. In retrospect, I should have thought about it a little more before jumping in, but hey, I'm pretty hard to shock. But I digress.)

I didn't spend long enough to make any particular friends there, but I have heard plenty of stories of people getting to know each other and making lasting friendships or relationships through the site. There are plenty of stories of Reddit communities pulling together to support others, too — stories of helping people through difficult times; stories of helping people who are struggling for money; stories of, in short, human helping human. I know at least one person personally who is using a specific subreddit for support in getting help for some of their personal problems and issues. There is plenty that is positive to say about Reddit.

And yet for the obnoxious, totally inappropriate actions of one man and his supporters — some of whom, it seems, have been or are on Reddit's staff — apparently this entire, incredibly diverse Internet community should be ostracised.

Something really doesn't sit right with that for me. To generalise one of the largest communities on the Internet as all being scumbags like this just seems both dangerous and unfair. I have plenty of friends who enjoy using Reddit for completely innocent purposes, be it discussion, promotion of things they have been working on or discovering interesting new reaction .GIFs. I know that they'd be the first to distance themselves from the sort of behaviour that Brutsch has exhibited, and yet if you were to take what a number of commentators are saying at face value, you'd have to brand these people as deviant perverts and assholes, too, simply by virtue of the fact that they're Reddit users.

This is not helpful.

I'm fully aware that I've been guilty of this sort of thing in the past — not specifically with regard to Reddit, but with 4chan. I've referred to that place as a "cesspit" before and certainly it has more than its fair share of trolls and unpleasant people there — but equally now I realise that there are also plenty of other people who just make it their hangout of choice. They, subsequently, become guilty by association with the "/b/tards" who are responsible for the majority of objectionable material and behaviour on 4chan (and, by extension, the rest of the Internet. And they're probably pretty pissed about that.

The same thing is happening with Reddit. As much as Reddit would like to market itself as a "social news" tool, let's not be under any illusions — it's nothing more than the world's biggest forum. Like most forums, it has tons of subcultures and cliques, most of whom stick to their own neatly-carved niches for the most part. Some of these subcultures and cliques are objectionable in nature, and it's up to the site admins and moderators to determine what to do about that — something that they haven't done a great job with so far, and something they need to work on.

However, the mere presence of some objectionable subcultures and cliques does not mean that the entire website as a whole is somehow objectionable. It's the same as saying that a particular city is a "cesspit" because, say, a greater-than-average number of registered sex offenders live there. Or the same as saying that all people who like a particular thing are a bunch of assholes. Or, in fact, the same as almost any other unfair, unsubstantiated generalisation. It's not helpful — all it does is turn everyone outside that group against them, and everyone inside that group becomes defensive. The two sides inevitably clash, and things just get worse and worse rather than better. It doesn't help anyone.

So by all means think that Michael Brutsch is a creepy old pervert whom you wouldn't want anywhere near your children. By all means criticise those who supported him — including members of Reddit's staff.

I agree with you.

But take a moment to think of the thousands — more likely millions — of people who make use of Reddit on a regular basis and have absolutely nothing to do with this before you start branding the entire community as pond life. Would you want to be made guilty by association with something you had no involvement in whatsoever? I doubt it very much. So quit doing it to others.

#oneaday Day 997: Rally the Troops

While the world and his dog is playing XCOM (which I fully intend to at some point — just not yet) it's been quite interesting to contrast the experience of playing Aselia the Eternal, which I first mentioned a few days back. At first glance, you might not think there's much to connect these two games, but after about 6 or 7 hours of Aselia's visual novel stuff (which is good in and of itself — but more on that in a future READ.ME column on Games Are Evil) you get into a surprisingly hardcore strategy RPG type thing, where you have a big scary overworld map, squads of warriors, buildings, resources and a need to actually think about what you do.

But there's an interesting side-effect to the fact that you've spent 6 hours reading before you get to pick up a sword and start twatting things — you develop an emotional investment in these characters. And this is where the XCOM comparison (or, more accurately, contrast) comes in. In XCOM, people typically rename their characters to customise them and feel like they're playing with people they "know" or have designed. The simple act of renaming a character, in most cases, is enough to develop a degree of "attachment".

In Aselia, meanwhile, you don't get to rename the characters, but you do get to see what they're like off the battlefield — and not just in a training room sort of scenario. No, a big part of Aselia involves having conversations and seeing these characters going about their daily lives. We learn a lot about their attitude towards combat, and even more about the game world's social hierarchy.

This means that when you go into battle with Aselia, Esperia and Orpha, you know who these people are, you care about them and you want them to succeed. You want them to come back safely — and not just because in most cases allowing one of the main characters to die causes an immediate Game Over. You're cheering for them as they take on increasingly-improbable odds, and you nurture them, training them up to be as badass as they can possibly be in order to take on these rising challenges. I can only assume this feeling of attachment will increase as the game progresses and the romantic subplots start.

It's one of the most interesting things about Aselia the Eternal, in fact. Like most visual novels, it's primarily been designed as a storytelling vehicle, in which the gameplay serves the narrative. The "battle" gameplay will frequently break for the characters to have a moment of soul-searching (or, more often, the protagonist to have some sort of at least partially-justified mental breakdown). Between battles there may be several hours of sitting around talking, drinking tea and bouncing underage-looking girls on your knee. But there's a great feeling of coherence to the game, helped partly by the fact that even though the strategy component is broken into discrete missions, there is persistence in the game world — any character improvements, buildings and other business you did in a previous mission will still be there when you next hit the battlefield.

It's clear, in short, that the game is someone's vision rather than something that's been focus-grouped. While this means it undoubtedly won't be universally appealing — not everyone enjoys spending six hours reading before they get to "do" anything — it makes for an experience that is dripping with personality and a feeling of authorial ownership. Someone wrote this as a story rather than designing it as a game, and it's a very interesting contrast to titles where the lines between narrative and gameplay are more clearly demarcated.

Further thoughts as I continue — it's a lengthy game, so expect at least one or two more posts on the subject.

#oneaday Day 996: はじめまして

I've been doing a bit more on my 日本語 studies recently thanks to the excellent iOS app Human Japanese. This app is essentially little more than an electronic textbook, but it does a few things that are enormously helpful, particularly when attempting to learn hiragana. For starters, when learning the various characters, you can tap on them to see the appropriate stroke order, which is apparently important. Then there's revision quizzes throughout the chapters that, in the case of the hiragana chapters I've been trawling slowly through so far, allow you to test yourself by attempting to read the characters and determine what the various "words" (or, more accurately, combinations of syllables) make up. I was quite pleased when I realised I knew how to spell one of School Days' characters, whose name also happens to be the word for "world" — せかい.

I've also learned how typing in Japanese works, and I think it's probably going to be quite a helpful way to learn the hiragana characters, particularly with the way the iPhone's Japanese keyboards work.

For those unfamiliar (and curious enough to continue reading) it works like this: the Japanese hiragana character set, which tends to be the first "alphabet" that beginners learn, is split into "sets", and the iPhone hiragana keyboard simply represents these sets — press and hold on one and you'll see the five different characters that make up each set. Rather than simply vowels and consonants like we have in English, hiragana characters all represent a complete syllable rather than an individual sound or, as more commonly happens in English, a number of possible sounds. Think of how many possible ways you can pronounce the letter "O" depending on where it is in a word, for example — confusing when you think about it that way, isn't it? Not so in hiragana — each character always sounds the same when read aloud.

Each of the aforementioned "sets" is made up of, at the very least, a vowel sound, and often a consonant. When learning the vowels, rather than the order A, E, I, O, U we English speakers are used to, Japan uses A, I, U, E, O. In hiragana, the symbols for these vowel sounds are あいうえお. These, of course, have absolutely no resemblance to the Roman characters we use in English, so it's necessary to actually drill them into yourself by repeatedly writing them down over and over. I already have several pages of a notebook devoted to effectively writing "AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO" which I hope is never used as evidence against me in a Japanese court because it makes me look proper mental, like, innit.

Anyway, yes, sets — beyond the initial vowels, each set is combined with a consonant. For example, the K-set runs ka, ki, ku, ke, ko or, in hiragana, かきくけこ. Just to make matters more complicated, certain characters can add a little symbol called a ten-ten or dakuten to themselves to "soften" the sound and make another set of sounds. For example, the K-set can be softened to the G-set, which runs ga, gi, gu, ge, go or, in hiragana, がぎぐげご. It might be difficult to see at that font size, but the little quote mark-like symbol in the upper-right of each of those characters is the ten-ten that softens the sound — or, more accurately, turns an unvoiced consonant into a voiced one.

I've actually been quite surprised how quickly some of these symbols have stuck in my head — though the problem with learning them by rote is that you start to remember them according to the patterns rather than in context and out of order. I seem to find some symbols much easier to remember than others — I can remember all the basic vowels without much difficulty, for example, and the K/G sets are also reasonably firm in my mind, but the others gradually drop off in memorability. This is probably nothing more than a side-effect of the order in which I've learned them — I've known the vowels and the K/G sets longest, so it's unsurprising I know them the best — but I've still been quite impressed with myself that I can successfully decipher if not the meaning of words just yet, then at least the sounds therein. It'll come with time.

The thing to keep doing, I think, is just to keep immersing myself in as much of it as possible. I'm picking up words all the time by listening to Japanese language-track anime and games, and now that I'm learning the hiragana I'll be able to spell (and, by extension) read them before long too. When I can read and understand a Japanese sentence, I'll be truly impressed with myself, but it remains to be seen how long that will take me. And then there's kanji to worry about after that, but we'll cross that particular bridge when we come to it.

Anyway, so, if you're the slightest bit interested in learning Japanese via self-study, check out Human Japanese. It's available on iPhone, iPad and Android and there are lite versions to try out before you splash the cash. Pretty generous lite versions, too — you should be able to figure out whether or not you're going to have difficulty without having to spend a penny. Which is nice.

がんばって！Or something.

#oneaday Day 995: Cultural Victory

Can you have too much culture? Can the sum of human creative endeavours add up to too much for someone to take in?

Well, first of all, those are two different questions. The answer to the second one, at least, is "yes"; the former? I'm not so sure.

We're already at a point where there is so much Stuff in the world it's impossible to keep on top of it all. Whatever media you're into, be it books, movies, TV shows, music or games, there's enough Stuff out there to keep you entertained probably for the rest of your life in just one of those formats, let alone if you, like most people, spread your time between several. Even if you spend your time focusing entirely on one genre within a single medium, you'll never get to the bottom of the pile. You'll never "finish" culture. You'll never see everything there is to see.

Depending on your outlook, this is either a fantastic thing or incredibly depressing news. For many, there's a degree of "shame" over not having caught up on things that are supposedly "canonical" or "essential" for everyone to have read/seen/played/whatever. The very term "pile of shame" (from which the Squadron of Shame takes its name) is used to refer to one's backlog of entertainment that has been purchased but not consumed — or, in some cases, the definition is stretched a little to include Stuff that the owner of said pile intends to consume at some point in the future, but perhaps hasn't quite got around to just yet.

With books, it's fine. Books are passed down from generation to generation; republished and republished. Today, we can keep a book alive forever by converting it to a digital format and scattering it to the four corners of the Internet. Sure, you lose some of the joy of turning paper pages and that distinctive musty smell they have, but at least the important bit — that's the work printed on those pages, lest you forget — is immortalised. You can read it on your computer; on your tablet device; on your e-reader; on your phone. You can annotate it and share your thoughts with other people around the world in an instant. Books are just fine.

Music, too, has proven itself to be pretty timeless over the years — for the most part, anyway. Throughout history there has been plenty of "disposable" music, but the true greats endure for years. Look how long the works of Bach and Mozart have lasted — people are still listening to, performing and studying these pieces hundreds of years after they were first composed. In more recent years, look at how the music of artists such as Elvis Presley and the Beatles is still interesting and relevant today. In very recent years… well, it remains to be seen which artists (if any) will leave a lasting legacy on culture, but there will almost certainly be some. (And if there's any justice, it won't be anyone who has ever won or been involved with The X-Factor.)

Movies, too, have become increasingly timeless with the improvements in technology over the years. While once a movie only lasted as long as the medium on which it was physically printed, now, like books, we can archive and keep movies forever. Sure, some moviemaking techniques now look antiquated and are unpalatable to modern audiences, but those truly interested in the full history of the medium can trawl back as far as they wish and see how it has developed.

Games, though, are arguably a bit more tricky, as they have an inherent "expiry date" due to the numerous proprietary technologies involved. While emulation technology is getting better all the time, it's still not perfect, and the legal grey areas surrounding it make it something that some people prefer to shy away from altogether. When you consider "PC" games, too, there's even titles that are ostensibly on the same platform that will no longer run on more modern technology. Fortunately, there are places like GOG.com who aim to keep these titles alive for modern audiences, but eventually even their remastered, tweaked versions will "expire" as technology makes the next big leap forward. What happens when computers become wearable and we don't use TVs any more? Will we still be able to play classic titles designed for the flat screen?

With all this, it's easy to wonder how you can possibly get through all those things that you're "supposed" to watch/read/see. The answer is surprisingly simple: don't. Accept the fact that you're never going to read Great Expectations; you're never going to see Citizen Kane; you're never going to listen to anything by The Smiths; you're never going to get caught up on the Assassin's Creed series. Cherry-pick the stuff you're interested in, finish what you start, and don't feel obliged to jump in to things just because they're brand new and everyone is talking about them right now. Get to them when you have time to appreciate them rather than rushing through them in the ultimately futile attempt to feel "relevant".

Crucially, enjoy (or at least appreciate) the culture you consume, whatever medium it's in. Your tastes are your own, and no-one has the right to try and change them. People can share their own opinions, sure, and these may help sway your thoughts one way or the other, but ultimately your feelings about the things you like and dislike are entirely up to you. There's no "correct" opinion; no gold standard of cultural awareness you need to aspire to; no "checklist" to complete. The sooner you recognise this fact, the sooner you can get on with working your way through that "pile of shame" — because there's some great stuff in there that you haven't discovered yet. And the stuff that is shiny and new right now will still be here in a few years time.

Take your time. Enjoy it. It's the least you can do for the people who have invested their time, money, blood, sweat and tears into entertaining you.

#oneaday Day 994: I Don't Care

I'm coming to the rather cynical conclusion that I'm not sure I care enough about certain issues to want to shout and scream and rant and rave about them all day, every day. A big part of the reason behind this is the fact that people who do care enough about certain issues to shout and scream and rant and rave about them all day, every day are wearing me down significantly. I won't get into specifics, as that will likely only provoke more shouting, screaming, ranting and raving, but suffice to say I really can't be arsed with it any more.

I am fully aware that taking this rather apathetic attitude towards Big Issues makes me officially Part of the Problem. But, you know, I just don't care any more. I have had my share of shit things happen to me in my life — nothing on a par with the abuse and crap some social groups have to put up with, though, obviously — and I am just exhausted. I am 31 years old and I just want to settle down with a nice, quiet life. I want to have a nice house with a cat and/or a dog, a car that doesn't rattle when it goes around corners, a job that I enjoy that also allows me the free time to do things I want to do. I am partway there already (mainly on the job front) after a difficult couple of years, and I just do not have the energy to get upset and angry over things outside of my immediate situation any more. It's selfish, and I'm completely aware of that — and mildly guilty about it, to my annoyance — but it's true. I want my own life to be sorted before I try and fix the rest of the world, and I've still got a long way to go yet.

In honesty, it's not that I genuinely don't give a shit about the issues in question and don't think they're a problem. It's that any time a "discussion" on said issues comes up, it devolves within a matter of seconds into people throwing tables at each other, telling each other to "get a grip" or that Their Opinion Is Wrong. I've tried on several occasions to engage in such discussions in a reasonable, rational manner and every time this pattern has emerged, without fail. It's utterly predictable. Someone makes an inflammatory statement deliberately designed to provoke, someone else comes along with a counterpoint, then both sides gather the troops and proceed to bitch and scream at one another with no resolution being reached. Then the whole thing just happens again and again and again. In some cases, people in question repeatedly stoke the fire in an attempt to get the arguments to flare up again long after the initial flurry has passed.

I have one far-off friend in particular whom I otherwise like very much who I now feel I can't really engage with via social media any more because 90% of their posts seem to follow the pattern outlined above. This sort of person attracts like-minded individuals, most of whom are strong-willed and keen to argue their case aggressively. I hate unnecessary aggression and will do anything possible to avoid it, whether it's in actual conversation or on the Internet. If that means no longer talking to someone online, then it's a sad situation for sure, but it's what I'll do.

There's also the fact that in a lot of cases these screaming matches don't achieve anything whatsoever. A lot of the people who hold these strong opinions can very much talk the talk but then don't do anything to back up their bold words. If they took some sort of action regarding the things they feel so strongly about, I might be more inclined to care more one way or the other. But when the same old arguments arise day after day after day, I just get tired and don't want to engage with it any more. The impact is lost. I don't care any more. I just want to have a quiet life. If your points are making me — and doubtless plenty of others like me — feel like that, you are not arguing your case well.

Is that such a bad thing? Apparently so. But if it's wrong, to mangle the cliché, I really don't have the energy or give enough of a shit to be right.