#oneaday Day 930: Conditional Philanthropy

I will never understand people — particularly famous types — who are deliberately obnoxious, and who clearly get off on negative attention, conflict and repeatedly proving what an arse they are.

There are a number of people I can think of who fit into this particular category, but the one who springs most readily and frequently to mind is Piers Morgan, erstwhile editor of the News of the World and the Daily Mirror and presently dripping his own peculiar brand of slime over American television sets thanks to CNN.

Piers Morgan's crimes against common decency are too many to enumerate, but his recent behaviour regarding the Olympics has drawn the ire of a number of people.

For those unaware of what he has been up to, it started here:

And continued:

And continued…

AND CONTINUED…

Morgan, it is fair to say, had something of a bee in his bonnet over the fact that some members of the British Olympic team didn't sing God Save The Queen after winning a medal. He appeared to think that this was incredibly important, and that it was worth putting down their impressive, world-beating sporting achievements for.

Then came the bribery and guilt-tripping:

Generous, non? Well, it could be argued as such, yes — he has no obligation to donate anything to Great Ormond Street children's hospital, after all — but dig a little deeper and this whole thing just becomes a bit sleazy, really. By not donating a proportion of his undoubtedly vast wealth to Great Ormond Street simply because of an athlete not singing the anthem — not taking into account the fact that winning an Olympic event is probably a pretty emotional moment for any sportsperson — Morgan is implying several things: firstly, that his apparent philanthropy is, in fact, conditional, and secondly, that athletes who do not sing the national anthem after winning a Gold medal are somehow child-haters.

The gloating didn't help.

Neither did the inconsistency:

Or the abuse:

Basically, there was just something incredibly distasteful about the whole thing. Morgan was clearly just trolling for responses, and he got them by the bucketload — and yes, I'm aware I'm part of the problem here. We don't even have any guarantee that Morgan is actually going to cough up the £15,000 he currently "owes" Great Ormond Street.

He probably will, of course, because he then gets to look like the hero who donated £15,000 to a children's hospital — and also gets to rub how much money he has in the peanut gallery's faces, of course — but I can't help thinking that it is for entirely the wrong reasons. If he feels that strongly about supporting Great Ormond Street, he should just donate the money, not hold his contributions to ransom based on something completely unrelated — something that could potentially make the non-singing athletes look like child-hating dicks in the hands of an unscrupulous (read: Daily Mail) reporter.

Morgan's not making a point here. He's simply waving his willy around in an attempt to make us all feel bad in one way or another. Don't sing the anthem? You're unpatriotic. Don't have as much money as him? HAHAHA YOU'RE POOR. Criticise Morgan's true motivations for this little exercise? YOU HATE SICK KIDS AND ARE A PIG-IGNORANT VACUOUS LITTLE TROLL.

There are several things that remain a mystery out of this whole thing. 1) Why is Piers Morgan still relevant? 2) Why are there people standing up for him? 3) Why does he have to be so fucking infuriating and get off on all this "controversy" he's stirring up? He's like that school bully who would just shrug off any insults you threw at him then punch you in the face and still, somehow, end up being the most popular kid in the school despite being the very worst kind of odious cretin imaginable.

Fortunately, this being the age of social media, at least one good thing has come out of this whole debacle: this JustGiving page aiming to make up the difference in donations that Morgan has refused to give due to athletes not singing God Save The Queen. It's a lofty goal, but if the world can harness its hate for Piers Morgan to raise £14,000 for sick kids… well, admittedly that's not the best reason in the world to give money to charity, but it's sure better than holding the donations from your own incredibly deep pockets to ransom.

#oneaday Day 929: PC Gaming: The 'Master Race' For A Reason

I finished Fortune Summoners tonight. (Go play it, it's great.) I am not going to talk about Fortune Summoners, however; I am instead going to talk about something which came to mind while I was playing it.

PC gaming.

There's still a bit of a funny attitude surrounding PC gaming. Some console players and commentators refer disparagingly to those who do the bulk of their game playing on personal computers using phrases such as "the Master Race", and actively refuse to participate in it. The reasons for this are many, but the most commonly-cited ones include the supposed "expense" of getting started and the misconception that some things are just "better" on console.

Let's address both of these points before moving on to the real reason I started writing about this.

Firstly, the cost issue. Yes, depending on what sort of games you want to be playing, there will probably be a higher up-front cost to get a gaming PC. But, realistically, this startup cost is not significantly more than a new console costs upon its first launch. And for that price you're getting something that significantly outstrips current-generation games consoles in terms of performance — and will continue to do so for quite some time.

My current PC cost in the region of £650 to put together and is what I'd describe as "mid-range". It plays most games at 720p (the resolution most Xbox 360 and PS3 games tend to run at — sometimes less) at 60 frames per second or more without breaking a sweat. At 1080p, it can handle most stuff you can throw at it without issue — it's only really demanding stuff like The Witcher 2 and Crysis that will make it struggle a little. In short, stuff looks good on it — significantly and noticeably better than on Xbox 360 and PS3 — and given that the next generation of games consoles are yet to be announced, this system is going to maintain a comfortable lead for a year or two at least. We have no idea how much these new systems are going to cost at this juncture.

Insofar as the console experience is "better", I agree to a certain extent, in that sitting on a couch with a controller in your hand is, for most types of game, much more appealing than hiding in your computer room with the screen a few inches from your face. However, there is a very straightforward way to solve this issue: connect your PC to that big-ass HDTV you have in your living room, and you immediately have the world's best games console that also does all that "multimedia" shit far better than Microsoft's gradually-worsening Xbox interface ever will — just compare the experience of using Netflix on the Web to Netflix on Xbox and you'll see what I mean. Add an Xbox 360 controller and you can play sitting slumped back on the couch just like a console, but you have the added option of playing with mouse and keyboard for when accuracy and/or lots of buttons are required.

Take this approach and you'll be set — you practically won't need a console, except for exclusive games. Multiformat games are generally best on PC — even the worst console port is usually able to take decent advantage of your computer's hardware, allowing you to run it at crazy resolutions and deliciously butter-smooth frame rates. Online communities are generally lively and active. And the vast mod community allows games to maintain their "life" long after console players have moved on to the next big thing.

The thing I really wanted to talk about, though, is diversity. There is no other platform on which you can have such diverse experiences as the PC. iOS certainly has a good go, but as days go on it's abundantly clear that the mobile market is shifting very much in favour of "freemium" social games rather than truly inventive experiences. On the PC, meanwhile, the fact that it is such a free market out there — and easy to develop for (relatively speaking) — means that if you can imagine an experience you want to have, you can probably do so on PC.

Fortune Summoners is a prime example. Fortune Summoners is a Japanese platform RPG that combines elements of Castlevania, Zelda II, Demon's Souls and '90s arcade games to produce something that is endearing, charming and bastard hard. That certainly wouldn't get a retail release on consoles (not that it did on PC, either) but even if it were to be released on a service such as Xbox Live Arcade or PlayStation Network, it wouldn't be an easy title to come across accidentally thanks to the closed nature of both Microsoft and Sony's networks and their rigidly-defined criteria for advertising products. And would it even be released at all? A translation of a 5 year old Japanese game that was the start of a series that never continued? Would that be profitable? Would that be worth promoting? These are the questions that get asked when it comes to console games, whereas the PC marketplace has a lot more small-scale "enthusiast" developers and publishers more than happy to cater to "niche" markets — if not through Steam (which is generally pretty good anyway) then directly to their customers.

And there are plenty of niches catered to. "Grand Strategy" buffs can enjoy titles like Crusader Kings II and Civilization V. "Bullet hell" shooter fans can take on Gundemonium Recollection and those three games that Capcom released on Steam recently that I've forgotten the name of. Adventure game fans can enjoy pretty much the entire history of the genre, from King's Quest I right up to more recent titles like Resonance or Telltale's episodic work. Japanese visual novel enthusiasts can delve into JAST USA's vast library of translated titles, and within that collection there are plenty of dirty and non-dirty titles. Simulation fans can drive anything from a First Great Western train to a garbage truck.

This isn't even getting into the rich back catalogue of gaming that the emulation scene offers. While downloading ROM files for old consoles puts you on shaky ground legally, let's face it — pretty much everyone occasionally has a hankering to play, say, Super Mario World or Blast Corps and thus finds themselves digging around in one of the dark corners of the Internet. While there's a certain magic to playing it on old hardware, that's not always practical. Old hardware breaks down; old cartridges lose their batteries; old CDs get scratched or broken. Through the magic of emulation, your PC is not only a bleeding-edge games console, but it's also an archive of all the console games you owned in your youth, too. And an arcade machine. And a means of playing Web-based games.

So if PC gaming is considered to be "superior" by some, it's certainly not without reason. Nowhere can you get the same diversity of experience that a PC offers. Nowhere else can you finish a game of Civ V and then have a quick rag on Dr. Mario to cool down. Nowhere else is there such an incredibly useful, multi-functional device that is ready and willing to hook up to your TV and serve pretty much all of your entertainment needs — both interactive and non-interactive.

So if you're one of those people who dismisses the PC platform out of hand without even an iota of interest in engaging with it, I'd urge you to reconsider. You'll be surprised how little it is about editing AUTOEXEC.BAT and CONFIG.SYS or slotting cards into slots these days, and how much it is about enjoying some of the finest digital entertainment experiences on the planet.

Join us. Join us.

#oneaday Day 927: On Stickmen

I draw stickman primarily for one reason: I'm not very good at drawing anything more complicated. I've never practiced drawing particularly hard — I've always enjoyed doodling and drawing stupid things, but I've never tried particularly hard to actually practice good technique or anything. I spent a few weeks reading up on how to draw manga-style characters a few years back, but never really got the hang of drawing things that look particularly "convincing". My manga-style drawings always end up looking like the sort of thing a 12-year old kid scrawls in their art book in an attempt to look cool, rather than anything particularly convincing. So no, you won't be seeing any of those here for the moment.

And then I inevitably run into various other issues if I do decide to draw more detailed characters, which I shall now demonstrate for you forthwith. Note: I am not doing this to solicit feedback, nor am I fishing for compliments (not that these pics deserve any) — simply to demonstrate a point.

Let us begin.

The first question I inevitably end up asking myself regards body image. I put "myself" in my cartoons frequently, and drawing a body makes me ponder whether or not I should draw an "idealised" version of myself (right, obviously) or a more… ummm… "accurate" depiction.

This also raises difficult questions when a friend of mine asks for a guest appearance, as I then have to make the same decision regarding how I represent them — I don't want to cause offence, but at the same time I want them to be recognisable, and their "shape" is often a part of that factor. It's just easier to do a stick body because everyone is equal, then, and the main distinguishing factor between characters is not something people (including me) can be particularly sensitive about, but instead the part that really matters to their "character" — their face.

Also, I'm not very good at drawing fat people. Or boobs.

Another thing I am not very good at is posing characters, as the slightly uncomfortable-looking Alex above will attest. I am fond of "arms folded" and "hands on hips" as strong poses, but these are tricky to draw. In the case of "arms folded", I have no idea where the fuck to put people's hands, and I'm not even entirely convinced I know where people's arms go. I then run into mild perspective issues as I try to figure out what would be behind those arms, and it all just gets to be a bit of a mess. (I should probably do it the other way around — body first, then overlay arms on top.)

Questions of clothing then rear their head. What should characters wear? Should they wear the same thing all the time as part of their "look", or should they switch things up occasionally? Will I ever learn how to draw bare legs beneath a skirt?

Finally, I have to figure out what on Earth to do with more bizarre characters such as Phillipe here. Phillipe works as a stickman because stickmen can get away with exaggerated expressions such as his perpetual gurning. But does that really work when placed atop a more "normal" (i.e. not stick-figure) body?

Looking at the pics I've drawn above, it actually sort of does. (Also, I can take further advantage of Phillipe's perverted nature with offensive T-shirt slogans.) But I still find myself looking at drawings like that and thinking to myself that they're crap, whereas I'm much happier with the way these characters come out as stick figures. Stick figures can be easily posed, manipulated, mangled and otherwise abused. As soon as you add a "proper" body to the mix, you have to think about things a little more. They're not as bendy. Well, that's not true, you can do whatever you want with them. But contortions are easier to draw on a stick figure than on a character with a body. Also you don't have to worry about lighting with stick figures, whereas cartoons with "proper" bodies inevitably look better if there's a sense of light and shadow in there.

Why am I thinking about this now? Well, every so often I get a hankering to write a visual novel, but the one thing that usually stops me before I even start is thinking "I'll never find anyone to draw some good-looking graphics, and I certainly can't do it myself." I've contemplated making a visual novel using just stick-figure characters and I think it might sort of work — it'd certainly be a distinctive aesthetic — but then I lose confidence and think it would be the rubbishest idea ever.

What I should actually do, of course, is actually script the thing for myself and then see if I can actually recruit someone who can Do Drawing afterwards. But then I go and get into a loop where I want to "see" the character as I'm writing their dialogue, and I go around and around and around and don't do anything at all.

Screw graphics, basically. They just get in the way.

#oneaday Day 926: Fortune Summons the Brave

Having finished Chantelise the other night I decided to move straight on to the latest of Carpe Fulgur's translated Japanese titles, Fortune Summoners: Secret of the Elemental Stone. Unlike Chantelise and RecettearFortune Summoners was not originally developed by EasyGameStation, so I knew it was going to have some significant differences from the previous two games — I was curious to discover exactly what.

Fortune Summoners is a side-scrolling platform-RPG in which you play a prepubescent girl named Arche. Arche has moved to a new town with her family, and her father — an ex-adventurer — has decided to settle down with his wife and daughter, and open an item shop.

Arche is an endearingly ditzy little girl, charmingly naïve in the ways of the world. She's not very bright, she's terrible at arithmetic and she comes to her new magic school woefully unprepared, lacking the one component necessary for her to be able to begin her magical studies — an Elemental Stone. She does, however, have a strong sense of Doing What Is Right, and so decides not to mention the fact that she needs a stone to her family — who are somewhat lacking in funds due to their move and the start of their new life — and seek out one for herself. Thus begins an adventure that sees Arche discovering a great deal about the true power of the Elemental Stones and the origins of magic, accompanied occasionally by two equally prepubescent little girls.

If this all sounds terribly adorable, you'd be absolutely right. Like Carpe Fulgur's previous releases — and despite originating from a different developer — Fortune Summoners is awash with bright colours, squeaky Japanese voices and well-defined characters who all have their own distinctive personalities. Witnessing Arche's endearingly naïve responses to life-threatening situations never gets old, and her interactions with her party members and other characters is always a joy.

But beneath this brightly-coloured, charming exterior beats a heart of pure evil. Like ChanteliseFortune Summoners isn't afraid to drop-kick the player into a dirty toilet full of acid-tipped spikes and expect them to come out unscathed, undiseased and smelling of roses. This game is hard, and it is the very definition of "don't judge a book by its cover."

Each of Fortune Summoners' three characters has their own unique abilities. Arche specialises in swordplay, while her companions Sana and Stella provide backup with water/ice and fire magic respectively. It's possible for the player to switch between these characters at will, and during the game's dungeons this frequently becomes essential to progress. Sana, being a water mage, is able to breathe underwater using her magic, for example, while Stella is able to burn down obstacles with her command of the fire element. Arche, meanwhile, doesn't have access to magic for the vast majority of the game and thus is the "tank" of the group (and yes, the concept of a little girl being a tank is hilarious), with a higher hitpoint value, better defensive capabilities and an array of fighting moves designed to go toe-to-toe with the various horrible monsters that wander the countryside — and that none of the game's cast seem particularly concerned about. ("Watch out for the slimes on your way home!" says their teacher at the end of a school day. You'd think they'd arrange a bus service or something.)

Each of the game's characters make use of their abilities in a different manner. Arche, for example, can only swing her sword if she has drawn it first, which takes a valuable couple of seconds and thus is best done before combat rather than during. Following this, she can unleash various attacks by using Street Fighter-style direction and button combinations, allowing her to slash, thrust, use combination attacks, roll to evade, cartwheel backwards out of harm's way and leap down on an enemy from above for unblockable damage. There's a level of depth to combat that you don't normally see in 2D-perspective role-playing games — and the game will most certainly punish you if you don't get the hang of it, because wildly flailing at enemies will not get you far.

Sana and Stella, on the other hand, are better at hanging back and unleashing their magic from a distance. Sana has access to an icicle-flinging spell, for example, while Stella is able to create fire walls and homing fiery missiles. Sana also has a healing spell, which means she is really missed when you don't have her. Spells are cast by making them active from a "hotbar" (or toggling through them with a controller button) and then holding down the "attack" button until a magic circle appears. Getting struck while casting causes the spell to fail, so it's essential that Arche keeps the enemies occupied — or that the mages hang back before attempting to cast if, for whatever reason, they're going solo.

The surprising complexity of the combat system really gives the game a pleasing amount of depth, where it could have been something very "hack and slash". Instead, the game's sword-and-magic play becomes very technical, and almost Demon's Souls-esque at times. Different enemies require different strategies, and blocking is essential — though thankfully the game does come with a helpful "auto-block" option if you're not performing any other actions, which does make things slightly easier — though not by much. Once again, though, like Chantelise, this means that Fortune Summoners is only going to appeal to a particular type of person — the type of player who doesn't mind taking a bit of abuse from their games, and the type of player who doesn't mind practicing in order to get better. (They also have to be the type of player who doesn't mind playing as an adorable little girl, either, and there's not always crossover between all of the above criteria. I happen to find the concept of a monstrously difficult game starring three very girly young girls hilarious, however, so I'm sure there are plenty of other people like me out there.)

Fortune Summoners, then, is not for everyone — and unashamedly so. This is, of course, no bad thing, as we all know by now that attempting to appeal to everyone is a lost cause that ends up with you making the most generic, inoffensive thing possible as you pander to everyone's sensibilities. Fortune Summoners is for those who like a challenge from their games; for those who enjoy old-school sensibilities combined with the more complex gameplay or modern titles; and for those who have absolutely no issue with their on-screen protagonist being a loli.

If that sounds like you, then be sure to check it out here. (There's a free demo, too, and you can even transfer your progress from said demo into the full game.)

#oneaday Day 925: Journeys in the Dark

I remember catching a glimpse of the first Descent: Journeys in the Dark a good few years back now. It was when my friends and I were just starting to discover the joy of board gaming, and had been experimenting with everything from Risk to Space Crusade via Catan and several others. Descent was noteworthy for 1) coming in a massive box and 2) costing £60, which put it slightly out of "impulse purchase" territory. I mean, if it sucked, that was a lot of money and shelf space to have wasted.

I did some reading up on it, though, and found that it seemed to be a well-regarded game, and one of the favourite "dungeon crawlers" among the community. I kept an eye on it with interest, but never got around to picking up a copy.

A month or two back, I decided that I really actually quite did want to give it a try, so I paid a visit to a couple of online UK board game distributors that I knew of and tried to order a copy. It was, as Sod's Law tends to have it, nowhere to be seen.

A little research, and I discovered that the reason it was no longer available was because publisher Fantasy Flight Games was beavering away on a brand new edition. Descent: Journeys in the Dark Second Edition to give it its full, and rather grandiose title, in fact — hereafter referred to as Descent 2 to save my sanity. (Not to be confused with the video game Descent 2, however, which is something entirely different.)

Descent 2, it seemed, was to be a complete reimagining of the original game. The core mechanics had been overhauled entirely, a variation on the "campaign" rules from the original game's Road to Legend expansion were to be included as standard and a whole new series of quests was produced. And the whole thing somehow came in a box half the size of the original while still cramming in a ridiculous amount of cardboard and plastic.

I haven't played the original Descent so I can't comment with any authority on the differences between it and the follow-up. But I can comment on how Descent 2 plays, because we gave it a try last night.

I honestly wasn't quite sure what to expect. From reading the rules, it was clear that Descent 2 would be a little different from the other "dungeon crawlers" I've played in the past. It didn't appear to have the sheer brutality of DungeonQuest, the heavily random nature of Advanced Heroquest and Warhammer Quest, or the purely cooperative "GM-free" gameplay of Legend of Drizzt. And it was considerably more complex than Hero Quest, a game which brought many people to the genre in the first place — and one which they should really rerelease for the modern world.

In fact, I'd argue that calling Descent 2 a "dungeon crawler" is actually rather inaccurate. It's a competitive scenario-based strategy game in which a team of players (the "heroes") take on a single opponent (the "overlord") over a series of quests, with both sides gradually growing in strength as the campaign proceeds. (It's also possible to play the game's quests as "one-shot" adventures, but one would argue some of the satisfaction of watching your characters grow and evolve over time would be lost.)

Each of Descent 2's quests is actually made up of two separate encounters, with a couple of exceptions. Each encounter takes place on a prebuilt map, the entirety of which is visible to both sides from the start. Both sides are also fully aware of the victory conditions for the map, rather than the heroes having to explore and uncover the mysteries of the quest for themselves. And once play begins, it is full-on competition between the overlord and the heroes for supremacy.

That latter aspect right there is the key difference between Descent 2 and the previously-mentioned dungeon crawlers. In most cases, the "evil" player (the respective games' overlord-equivalent) acted as a facilitator, pushing the story forward and occasionally bending the rules in the player's favour if things looked like they might be getting out of control. (After all, where's the fun in composing an epic five-act quest if the heroes just get killed by goblins in the first dungeon?) In Descent 2, meanwhile, the overlord is trying their best to accomplish their own victory conditions, rather than simply trying to stop the heroes from accomplishing theirs. Notably, knocking a hero's health down to zero does not kill them off (unless the group is playing the final battle of the campaign) — it simply causes them to spend a turn knocked to the ground, hopefully allowing the overlord time to gain an advantage.

The campaign unfolds over the course of two three-quest Acts, with additional shorter introduction, interlude and finale quests at appropriate points. For each quest, the victor (be it overlord or heroes) is recorded, with the available quests in Act 2 being determined by who won corresponding quests in the first Act. It all comes down to the final battle in the end, though, because victory for the entire campaign can be secured by either side in both of the two finale quests, regardless of how well (or badly) they have done up until that point. A poor performance could put one side or the other at a disadvantage come this final battle, however, so it is in the interests of everyone to give each quest their all.

In terms of base mechanics during play, they are relatively simple but very flexible. Weapons and skills provide players with varying numbers of dice to roll in combat, with some dice having the potential to deal more damage, others specialising in "surges" (which can trigger special abilities) or ranged combat. There's a heavy degree of tactical play during each scenario, particularly in those where the heroes are accompanied by civilian characters and are also able to use them to their advantage. Should they get a civilian to close the door, forcing the slobbering monster outside to waste one of its two actions opening it again? Should they run away? Should they hide behind a hero or get as far away from the action as possible? Should the heroes defeat the monsters, or focus on the objectives? Is there time to pick up the hidden treasures scattered around the map? A Descent 2 encounter is a series of decisions like this, culminating in a charge for the finish.

So far we've played the introduction quest (which is very short and simple) and one of the Act 1 quests. Both seemed to be slightly weighted in favour of the hero players (though I may just be saying that because Overlord Pete lost both quests) but I'll be interested to see how the game evolves over time — both heroes and the overlord have the opportunity to spend experience points on new skills between quests, and the overlord's forces get an appropriate jump in power between Act 1 and 2. The game is also pretty well balanced according to the number of hero players, and from next session onwards we'll have an extra hero in play, so it will be interesting to see what effect that has, too.

The game was a big hit with the two other participants I played it with last night, and I'd only describe one of them as a particular enthusiast of the dungeon crawl genre. But there's the point, really — despite Descent 2 featuring a variety of dungeons, and quests, and equipment, and monsters, and experience points — all things readily associated with "dungeon crawling" — it's really more of a scenario-based battle game. And it's all the better for it. It's easy to understand, surprisingly quick to play, and very satisfying. Also, the dynamic nature of the campaign means that it has a lot of replay value, too. A single campaign playthrough is supposed to take about 20 hours in total — multiply that by all the possible combinations of quests that you can play throughout and there's an impressive amount of content in that box. And, if Descent 2 is anything like its predecessor, it will enjoy a healthy amount of official expansions and fan-created content, making it all but certain to keep a regular place in gaming groups' rotations for months and years to come.

#oneaday Day 924: Hey Daily Mail, This Isn't Okay, And It Isn't Funny Any More

[Note: This will probably go without saying if you read the whole post, but the cartoon above obviously does not reflect my own opinions, and is a parody of what I am about to describe below.]

The Daily Mail has long endured a popular perception as the racist, old, slightly mad uncle of the British newspaper industry. Regularly spouting crap on all sorts of subjects and displaying astonishing hypocrisy on plenty of issues, The Daily Mail has always been sort of tolerated as a kind of national institution we're all slightly ashamed of — and one that we all secretly enjoy getting comically angry at.

With some recent articles, however, I think it's time that people actually started getting properly angry at the Mail. The first of these two articles is no longer available on the Mail website — presumably after a ton of complaints — but is by far the worst example of a Mail correspondent poking the fire with some frankly astounding racism. You can read the article via FreezePage here.

"The NHS did not deserve to be so disgracefully glorified in this bonanza of left-wing propaganda," wrote correspondent Rick Dewsbury as the headline to his piece ostensibly focused on the Olympic opening ceremony. He then launched into a lengthy diatribe regarding the incompetence of NHS staff in the case of Kane Gorny, a diabetic who died due to neglect by hospital staff. A tragic case, sure, but hardly evidence that the NHS — regarded by many as a rather good aspect of this country — is worthy of "shame" as Dewsbury seems to believe.

Dewsbury's article then continued on its rambling way, pausing to note that the athletes' parade featured "banana republics and far-flung destinations nobody has ever heard of or even cares for" and later decrying the "multicultural equality agenda" that he found "painful to watch."

"It was the absurdly unrealistic scene — and indeed one that would spring from the kind of nonsensical targets and equality quotas we see in the NHS — showing a mixed- race middle-class family in a detached new-build suburban home, which was the most symptomatic of the politically correct agenda in modern Britain," wrote Dewsbury. "It is likely to be a challenge for the organisers to find an educated white middle-aged mother and black father living together with a happy family.

"Almost, if not every, shot in the next sequence included an ethnic minority performer," he continued, as if this was somehow a bad thing. "The BBC presenter Hazel Irvine gushed about the importance of grime music (a form of awful electronic music popular among black youths) to east London."

Yes, there was a lot of "multiculturalism" in the opening ceremony, but here's the thing: the Olympic stadium is in the east end of London, which is a particularly multicultural part of an already very multicultural city. To deny that people with non-white skin live in London — and, for that matter, are capable of integrating with Caucasians — is blinkered at best, amazingly racist at worst. Britain as a whole is filled with a diverse array of people from all over the world, and to deny this is to deny what has become part of our national identity — something which the Daily Mail regularly claims to want to defend.

Let's get one thing clear: this is Not Okay, free speech be damned. It is Not Okay for someone to write a piece for a national newspaper's website displaying such flagrant disregard for certain parts of the population. It is Not Okay for someone to use their racism as a rather tenuous part of their argument against something which a lot of people believe is actually quite a good thing. It is Not Okay to speak of camera shots including "ethnic minority performers" in a disparaging tone, as if they had no right to be there.

And it is Not Okay to refer to a non-British Olympic competitor who happened to beat the GBR contender (who still won a medal) as "some bitch from Holland" — which is exactly what Jan Moir did in a separate piece — which also gave an undue amount of attention to whether or not certain athletes and presenters had had any cosmetic work done. (The piece is still up here; FreezePage here; a screengrab can be seen here if it does get pulled or ninja-edited, or if the FreezePage is unavailable.)

The Olympics are about the world coming together in peace and competing against one another in sporting events. It's always touching to see competitors from "rival" nations competing with good sportsmanship rather than animosity, and the whole event is, by its very nature, inclusive and — yes — multicultural. To complain about a "multicultural equality agenda" and to refer to a foreign competitor as "some bitch" is just awful. It really is.

It's obvious why the Mail does this, of course — to get hits. They know that people will get fired up and upset about these issues. They know that the articles will be shared across social networks with people making indignant comments — but they still get their page views and ad revenue every time it happens. It's become a depressingly predictable trend that people have just been putting up with until now.

But it needs to stop. Whatever "comedy value" the Daily Mail's flagrant racism once had — if indeed it ever had any — has no place in modern society. This isn't "political correctness," as Dewsbury would put it — it's just common decency, acceptance and tolerance. It's 2012. We should be over the "skin colour" and "horrible foreigners" thing by now. But sadly, it seems, some people really aren't.

Screw the Daily Mail. It's stuck in the past, just like that racist old uncle lying in his hospital bed, his bigotry tolerated because "he's old" or "he's ill" or "he doesn't know what he's saying". Unfortunately, the Daily Mail knows exactly what it is saying, which is why this keeps happening.

It's Not Okay. And it's time that those of us with a sense of common decency about us should start speaking up a bit more about this rather than just laughing it off as we have done in the past.

#oneaday Day 923: A Tale of Two Sadistic Sisters

Something convinced me that it was time to finally go back and finish Chantelise: A Tale of Two Sisters. It's been almost a year since I actually purchased that game, and it's been mocking me from my Steam list ever since, reminding me of how much I loved Recettear: An Item Shop's Tale, which was developed by the same team, and localized by the (different) same team.

For those unfamiliar with Chantelise, it's a peculiar beast indeed. In its native Japan, it was Recettear's predecessor, but localization team Carpe Fulgur brought it to Western audiences after Recettear. This had the unfortunate side-effect of giving people perhaps unreasonably high expectations for it when it came out, since Recettear was pretty much universally loved by everyone who has ever come across it. In Japan, there was a noticeable upswing in quality and creativity between the two games; over here, people misinterpreted Chantelise as being a step backwards, since it appears at first glance to be much simpler and shallower than its shop-running successor.

After over 12 hours with it (probably about 15 in total — I started again for this play sesssion) I can say with some confidence that Chantelise certainly isn't a shallow game, it's just very, very different from Recettear. You can see how people would get confused, however, since a good 90% of the graphical assets are shared between the two games, and  the music for the final dungeon in both games is almost (but not quite) identical. When you consider this, it becomes easier to see why everyone had such lofty expectations for Chantelise and were then disappointed when it wasn't what they expected.

Note: "not what they expected" is not the same as "inferior", though some chose to interpret it that way. While Recettear was an accessible, adorable game combining action-RPG dungeon crawling elements with a simple business management sim (and a surprising amount of hidden depth for those willing to jump down that rabbit hole), Chantelise initially appears to be a rather straightforward action-RPG. Hack, slash, rinse, repeat. Job done.

And while there certainly is an element of mindless hack and slash to Chantelise's gameplay, the game has a sadistic streak in it that I haven't seen since Dark Souls. If you do not learn to play Chantelise properly, the game will punish you and send you back to the start of the area you've been challenging, effectively putting a big red "X" through your homework and telling you in no uncertain terms to "DO IT AGAIN! BETTER!" And, assuming you're not the sort of player who gives up after suffering a setback like this, you will get better, because the game will keep punching you in the face until you understand what it's trying to tell you.

You see, while Chantelise may initially appear to be a simple hack-and-slash RPG there's actually a considerable amount of depth that many commentators don't give it credit for. The fact that protagonist Elise doesn't level up traditionally, for example — all modifications to her stats are achieved through equipment, and she gains HP through finding or purchasing special medicine. Finding the correct combination of equipment to make it through a particularly challenging stage is key to victory in Chantelise — some stages will require that you buff up your physical defense; others will practically require the use of an elemental crystal to defeat monsters with resistances; others will need you to focus on magic. As you progress through the game and defeat bosses, Elise gains the ability to equip more items simultaneously, allowing her a substantial increase in power.

The game's magic system is an interesting aspect of gameplay, too. Rather than simply allowing Elise and her companion fairy Chante to cast spells as they please, they have to pick up coloured magic crystals in order to cast spells. Each crystal corresponds to an element — red for fire, blue for water and so on. The twist comes when you use more than one crystal at the same time. Using two, three or four of the same colour produces different spells with different effects — for example, one yellow crystal produces a metal ball that spins around Elise for protection, two causes her to gain a great deal of defensive power and resistance to being knocked back, three causes her to drop a giant boulder on her enemy and four summons an earth elemental who casts the other three spells at random for a short period.

But then there's spells the game doesn't tell you about. Augment the "two yellow" Super Armor spell with two red crystals, for example, and Elise gains a large amount of both attack and defensive power. Use of this spell is an absolute necessity in the later stages of the game, but it will only be discovered through experimentation (or reading an FAQ), because the game sure isn't going to let you know about it. Similarly, the game doesn't tell you that equipping a Darkness Crystal and hitting a baddy with a "charged" attack will drain health from the enemy and give it to you, making it a very efficient means of staying alive against baddies who do lots of damage.

All these factors — the surprisingly brutal difficulty; the uncompromising, punishing nature of the game; the hidden depths of the game's various systems — combine to make a game that is very much an acquired taste, but one that is infinitely more satisfying than it first appears, assuming you find those aspects of it palatable.

In short, it's not Recettear. It's not easy (not that Recettear was, particularly — though with enough determination and patience you'd make it through eventually). It's not traditionally "accessible" despite the simplicity of its controls. It doesn't give up its secrets easily. And it wants very much to hurt you, make you scream, and cackle maniacally as you fling your controller across the room at your fifteenth death that session. Yet it does this with the same veneer of adorable characters and a compelling "small-scale" plot, just as in Recettear. You can see why people got confused.

In summary, then, is Chantelise a bad game? Its Metacritic score certainly seems to suggest so, but as we established a while back with Nier, a Metacritic score is absolutely not a reliable metric as to whether or not a game is "worth playing". And such is the case here — though I certainly wouldn't recommend the game to everyoneIf, however, you fall into that category of gamers who enjoy being punished by their games and figuring out how best to make use of the seemingly-simple systems with which you've been presented, then you should certainly check it out. If you feel like doing so, here it is.

#oneaday Day 922: Interactive Tales

As you may have realised if you read my lengthy series of pieces about Katawa Shoujo (and one about Kana Little Sister, which I really must get around to replaying), I am a big fan of the "visual novel" genre, a style of video game that tends to be big on story and light on interaction.

I came to this genre through the Ace Attorney series, which remains one of my favourite video game franchises of all time. (Hurry up and release those iOS remakes, Capcom!) Phoenix Wright and its sequels combined the strong sense of narrative, puzzle-solving and dialogue choices from adventure games with a style of presenting the story that really allowed you to get in close with the characters, giving you a real sense of what made them "tick". Audio-visual presentation was very simple, with detailed anime-style characters overlaid over static backdrops, and a large degree of imagination on the part of the player being required.

Ace Attorney is a relatively good entry into the visual novel genre because it's fairly family-friendly (despite being based around solving a variety of murder cases) and doesn't delve into the less salubrious side of things that some of the more "niche" titles explore. There's no fucking in it, basically, despite Franziska von Karma's clear tendencies towards S&M.

I've talked extensively about Katawa Shoujo in the past, so I won't delve into that too much here, but I did want to mention a new acquisition which showed its face on my doorstep today. School Days HQ from JAST, which is apparently a remake of an earlier title of the same name, and an adaptation of an animé I know nothing about aside from something to do with "nice boat". Or possibly some other combination of those things. I'm not sure.

School Days is an unusual visual novel in that it's fully animated. Yes, rather than watching static images and reading mountains of text, the game is essentially an interactive, episodic animé series, where the player watches what unfolds and occasionally makes choices that direct the path of the story — choices that, unusually for the genre, can include remaining silent through inactivity. Structurally, it's identical to something like Katawa Shoujo — decision points branch the narrative down various "paths" leading to either "good" or "bad" endings, and the game client is set up in such a way as to easily allow players to "rewind" and try other choices — the virtual equivalent of putting your fingers in the possible pages you could turn to in a Choose Your Own Adventure book.

I've only played the first of the game's episodes so far, but the setup is intriguing — and, as with most visual novels, pleasingly mundane. Makoto likes Kotonoha. Kotonoha likes Makoto. Both of them are too shy to do anything about it, so in steps Sekai, Makoto's classmate, who manages to get the two of them together but steals a kiss from Makoto as "payment" for her services. Already there have been a couple of hints about Sekai being dangerously unhinged, so I will be very curious to see how the inevitable love triangle unfolds.

But anyway. I'm not here to talk plot. I'm here to talk about this style of game, and wonder what happened over the course of the last twenty years to make it "okay" to develop a narrative-focused game in which the player's interaction is largely limited to occasional choices.

You see, I vividly remember back in the late '90s when the CD-ROM revolution started. The vastly-superior storage capacity of CDs allowed developers to put a whole bunch more content in their games than was previously possible. One of the most common uses of this space was full-motion video — real actors performing scenes in games. And thus, the "interactive movie" was born. The exact implementation of the "interactive movie" genre varied from traditional adventure games which happened to include full-motion video (Sierra's Phantasmagoria and Gabriel Knight: The Beast Within spring to mind here) to titles which already had designs on movies taking the next step (say hello, Wing Commander III and IV) and, at the far end of the spectrum, games that were quite literally movies that sometimes stopped for — you guessed it — the player to make a choice. (Submarine-themed game Silent Steel is the first game of this type that I remember.)

At the time, the latter option was ridiculed for offering only the most rudimentary of gameplay while flaunting the new technology unnecessarily — and often making it painfully apparent that most game developers didn't have the same budgets as movie studios. (How times change, huh?) But now, this style of gameplay has become a firmly-established genre, particularly in the Japanese market, with a little spill-over into the West thanks to publishers like JAST and hard-working enthusiasts like Four Leaf Studios, the crowdsourced team behind Katawa Shoujo.

I'm not complaining, really — I must confess that even in the late '90s I found interactive movies to be something of a guilty pleasure, despite their poor reviews — but I find it interesting that a style of play which many commentators at the time believed would be nothing more than a passing fad is now a firmly-entrenched part of the landscape of gaming. A niche part, sure, but one that certainly doesn't appear to be going away any time soon. School Days is an interactive movie, and unashamedly so — it has rewind and fast-forward buttons at the top of the screen, for heaven's sake — and there certainly seems to be plenty of people clamouring to play it.

Naturally, the apparently popularity of School Days is nothing to do with the fact that it, unlike Ace Attorneydoes have fucking in it. (I also discovered post-install that it supports a USB-connected wanking machine (yes, really, and no, you probably shouldn't click that link at work), which is a mildly terrifying prospect in and of itself. No I don't have one.) Actually, it might be, though perhaps not for the reasons you're doubtless thinking of right now. The visual novel genre represents a sector of gaming that is absolutely unashamed to deal with issues that would be unpalatable to mainstream publishers (and possibly consumers, too). It tackles adult issues — sexuality in its many forms, violence and people acting like people rather than game characters — and does so without patronising the player or being "preachy", unless of course the story calls for it to do so for whatever reason. While there will undoubtedly be those who come to School Days purely to get their rocks off — and the game caters to those people by allowing the sex scenes to be viewed again once they have been "unlocked" in the story (that and the wanking machine compatibility, of course) — I have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of people are attracted to titles like School Days and indeed the visual novel genre in general because, for the most part anyway, it treats them like adults.

Which, coincidentally, is something that a lot of interactive movies failed to do. The lack of budget that many of these titles suffered caused them to feel cheap and nasty, and any violent, sexual or otherwise graphic scenes tended to come across as rather laughable rather than an integral part of the story. Phantasmagoria, for example, featured a "rape" scene that was badly handled and clearly put in purely for shock value. Mention of this notorious scene made up a significant proportion of the game's viral marketing, though when it actually came down to it, it was terribly executed, poorly acted and had the complete opposite effect to what such a scene should have. Instead of being horrifying, traumatic and, most importantly, mature, it was just laughable, embarrassing, dumb. Compare and contrast, meanwhile, with a number of very uncomfortable scenes in, say, Katawa Shoujo (and I'm guessing the later stages of School Days, given the fact that it carries a warning for "violence" as well as "sexual content" on its box), all of which were thought-provoking, respectful of the player's intelligence and had a strong, real impact.

As I drift further and further away from the "blockbusters" of the games industry to get my entertainment, it pleases me that certain barriers seem to be gradually collapsing. While once the prospect of playing an "eroge" visual novel would be shameful, now people will happily and freely admit to it — thanks, at least in part, to a much better cultural understanding of the difference between "porn" and "containing erotic content". (That said, people are a lot more open about their porn consumption these days, too.) While I wouldn't recommend titles like School Days or Katawa Shoujo to someone not mature (or open-minded) enough to be able to handle their content, I'm very happy that they exist, providing true entertainment for adults without any of the associated skeeziness of porn.

(I can't get away from that wanking machine option in the menus, though. That's just odd. Does the game prompt you when to get your knob out? And how do you… oh, no. Never mind. Probably best not to think about it too much.)

#oneaday Day 921: Oimpylcs

I watched (almost) all of the opening ceremonies for the London 2012 Olympics (as it seems they must be called) and didn't hate them.

I was surprised.

I mean, I wasn't going to watch them at all. I have been guilty of Olympic cynicism in recent weeks — not helped by media coverage of the Games being predominantly negative. To be fair, if even half of the stuff regarding the overzealous branding nonsense is true, then yes, that is ridiculous and should be shouted about, but it's easy to get caught up in and neglect to focus on the things that the Olympics are supposed to be about.

I don't like sports as a general rule. They go on too long and the ones that are on telly are usually undertaken by people who are being paid far too much to, essentially, do what kids do on lunch break at school. But the Olympics regularly manages to capture my attention in a way that no other event — certainly not anything football-related — ever manages to do.

I attribute this fact at least partially to the number of Olympic-style computer games I played as a child — Summer GamesWinter GamesDecathlonWorld GamesTrack and Field, Olympic Gold, Arena — the list goes on. Most of them were responsible for the destruction of at least one joystick, and Arena did its damnedest to mangle the Atari ST keyboard with its inexplicably joystick-phobic control scheme. But they helped me to understand a wide variety of the weird and wonderful events that make up the Olympics — events which you tend not to see on television under normal circumstances. I attribute my knowledge of the fact that "skeet shooting" is a thing that exists to having played Summer Games, for example.

I remember the first Olympics I actually made an effort to watch — though not specifically what year it was, unfortunately. I want to say Barcelona 1992, but I might be making that up. Anyway, I was staying at my grandparents' house with my parents (and my grandparents, obviously) and the Games just happened to start while we were there. I decided that I was going to Make An Effort to watch them. (Actually, thinking about it, I'm pretty sure it was 1992, because I vividly remember Queen singing "BAAARCELOOOOONA, such a beautiful horizon" at the start of every broadcast.) So I did. I made an effort to watch some of the "traditional" track and field events as well as some of the weird shit. It was quite entertaining, though I can't remember the names of any of the athletes I saw or any of the medals that were won. I would be a crap sports fan.

But back to today and the opening ceremonies. I was ready to dismiss the whole thing after the faintly cringeworthy beginning section (particularly the gratuitous and unnecessary insertion of the Eastenders "dum, dum, dumdumdumdum dum"), but the "industrial revolution" section hooked me back in with men in top hats and an excellent soundtrack. It then lost me a bit with a distressingly awful "age of social media" section with gratuitously-overlaid "LOOK THIS IS FACEBOOK BUT IT ISN'T" fake status updates and a poorly-mixed (but otherwise solidly-selected) playlist of excellent British music. By this point, I was oddly hooked, so I didn't even mind the interminably tedious parade of athletes.

Oh, also, there was a bit where James Bond skydived (skydove?) out of a helicopter with The Queen. (Okay, the skydiving bit clearly wasn't The Queen. But the VT involving her and Daniel Craig was pretty neat.) And there was a lengthy tribute to the NHS, which the current government is doing its best to either get rid of or privatise. This was then followed by an army of Mary Poppinses battling a giant Voldemort. Yes, that happened. I think.

So yes, on the whole, the Olympics opening ceremony was what people tend to refer to as a "triumph", shaky bits (and yes, I include Paul McCartney in that description) aside. There were some impressive visuals, an excellent soundtrack (helpfully listed over on The Telegraph) and a few cringeworthy bits. And also some mindblowingly bizarre sections. (The whole "tribute to children's literature" bit was mildly terrifying and will likely give more than a few people some horrendous nightmares this evening.)

Well done, then, London. I don't know if I'll be watching any of the Games themselves, but having sat through that lot this evening I kind of feel a bit obliged to now…

#oneaday Day 920: Zu Heiss

[No cartoon tonight — the Mac (on which Comic Life is installed) is currently installing Mountain Lion!]

It is hot. Really hot. I know, I know, it's nothing compared to feeling your brain melt out of your ears in the desert, and nothing compared to what would happen if you couldn't find a nice shady spot on Mercury, but it's still really hot.

Hot weather is widely regarded by people as a positive thing. Everyone gets all excited about the onset of summer and the prospect of sitting out in the garden slowly irradiating yourself to death. But you know what? Balls to that. Hot weather sucks, and I can't wait for it to 1) piss it down with rain and 2) get back to the normal overcast weather for which this country is so well-known.

My feelings on this matter may be partially due to the fact that I got a bit burnt and suffered some mild heatstroke on the wekend — though thankfully nothing compared to the time I went to Gran Canaria for a couple of weeks and came back looking like I'd changed ethnicity (apart from my bum and associated front regions). The weather is just so damn oppressive right now — stepping outside the front door feels like stepping into an airless greenhouse. It's hard to breathe, it's exhausting to do anything and it's just plain unpleasant. And, this being the UK, we're not as enlightened regarding air conditioning as our American cousins, which means going indoors rarely helps very much, either. In fact, at several times over the last few days, it's actually ended up being even hotter indoors (particularly upstairs) than it has been outdoors.

Honestly. I can't wait for it to cool down. It just makes me not want to do anything except sit directly in front of a fan sucking on ice cubes and chugging back anything in a can that has been in a fridge for at least six hours.

Of course, the moment the temperature drops, I'll probably complain that it's too cold, too wet or too something else, so the weather can't win really, unless it's just sort of "nondescript" rather than hot, cold, wet or any combination thereof. Fortunately, as I said previously, the UK is particularly good at weather that is best described as "nondescript". A grey sky, no rain, no snow, no sleet, perhaps a gentle breeze (but not too much) — that's what I can live with.

Perhaps I should move somewhere like Scotland. The weather there seemed to be like that all the time on every occasion I've been there. But then, of course, I'd live in Scotland, which I have nothing against per se, but would somewhat stand in the way of my objective to move back closer to where my friends are.

Perhaps I'll just invent some sort of environmental suit with built-in climate control. That sounds like the ideal solution, really. Now, just to strip the air conditioning unit out of Andie's car while she's not looking…