2077: Narrative Media

Since I've become particularly interested in Japanese popular media, I've often found myself pondering which particular aspect is my favourite — in other words, what do I feel is the "best" means of enjoying a story that, in many cases, spreads its tendrils across a number of different forms of media with varying degrees of success?

There's not really an easy answer to that, but I feel my own personal attitude towards it is inclined towards whatever the original version of the work was composed in, where available. This isn't a hard and fast rule, by any means — on balance, I think I slightly prefer the anime of High School DxD to the manga, for example, and there are a number of interesting spin-off games that tell a completely different story to an anime or manga series, making them worthwhile in their own right — but I do tend to find myself preferring to experience a story as originally intended.

Part of the reason for this is enjoying a story in its original medium means that you don't "miss out" on anything. In theory, anyway; that theory runs that a creative work is composed for a specific medium, and then adapted to other media at a later date. The adaptation process often involves editing, changing and even cutting content from the original, usually as a means of ensuring that the important beats of the story fit into what may be a more restrictive format. Consider an indefinitely running manga series that is adapted into 20-minute anime episodes, for example; you're going to lose some detail, like it or not, unless you want the pace of the show to slow to a crawl. (Some long-running shows do indeed take this rather leisurely pace to their ongoing storyline, but for the most part, manga-to-anime adaptations tend to try and get through a significant amount of printed content over the course of 12-13 episodes.)

That said, different media are more or less appropriate for different ways of exploring material. Anime, as the most visually flexible of these media, allows you to outright depict things happening without having a narrator explain things (as in a visual novel, manga or light novel) and take a more subtle approach, implying things rather than making them explicit. At the other end of the spectrum, a novel relies almost entirely on the reader's imagination, perhaps stimulated a little by illustrations here and there. The nature of text means that the inner thoughts and feelings of characters can be explored in much more detail than in an anime, and even from multiple perspectives.

Visual novels, meanwhile, tend to unfold from a single first-person narrative perspective. This allows for in-depth exploration of a specific character and their responses, feelings and attitudes towards various situations — as if you "were" that character. It's not quite the same as a full-on game where you take full control of a character, mind; most visual novels give you relatively limited choices as to how they proceed, and the protagonist otherwise has a mind of their own: you're just along for the ride. Some visual novels do experiment with multiple perspectives — The Fruit of Grisaia's various routes each feature a sequence where the main heroine of that route narrates an important event in their lives, be it to the reader or to protagonist Yuuji; Deus Machina Demonbane, meanwhile, features a first-person protagonist narrator, but occasionally slips into third-person to depict things happening elsewhere when appropriate. For the most part, though, when you come to the end of a visual novel, the character you almost certainly understand the best is the protagonist.

Video game adaptations — i.e. those that aren't visual novels — present their own challenges by allowing the player to control iconic characters and perhaps make them behave in ways that aren't necessarily in keeping with their character as depicted in other media. This is partly a matter of attitude, though; someone who is already particularly engaged with a series and comes to a video game adaptation after reading the manga/visual novel/light novel or watching the anime may well find themselves "method acting" as the character they find themselves in full control of, even if the game mechanics do provide the opportunity for them to do unexpected and strange things.

In other words, I don't really have a concrete answer for the question. At the moment, I'm particularly enjoying reading The Fruit of Grisaia's visual novel, and after hearing how the anime adaptation packs the VN's many hours of narrative and interesting happenings into just a single season, I feel that the VN is probably the best means of experiencing this story in full detail. At the same time, I'm enjoying the video game of Sword Art Online, the manga of Monster Musume, the anime of Himouto! Umaru-chan — there really isn't a straightforward answer as to which one is "best".

It sometimes pays to explore a single work in different media, though; the unwritten rules that "the book is usually better than the film" and "video game adaptations are universally terrible" don't always apply!

2045: Pondering Localisations and Translations

There was a bit of salt being spilled earlier today on the subject of translations and localisations. It's clearly a topic that people feel very strongly about so I'm not going to give a "judgement" one way or the other on it, simply share my own thoughts.

The discussion surrounding this issue came about as a result of Gaijinworks' recent release of Class of Heroes 2 on PSP. Gaijinworks is a company that specialises in localisations of Japanese games, and is made up of, among other people, former Working Designs staffers. Working Designs was a company from the PS1 era who also specialised in localising Japanese games.

The use of "localisation" rather than "translation" is important there, because the two terms refer to two distinctly different schools of thought on what to do when bringing non-English material into English-speaking territories. A translation is exactly what it sounds like: it's taking the original text and, as literally as possible, reproducing it in another language. A localisation, meanwhile, takes the essence of the original text but takes varying degrees of artistic license with it in order to make it more accessible to people outside of its original audience.

The furore over Gaijinworks' localisation of Class of Heroes 2 largely stems from the fact that, in the eyes of many people who prefer more literal translations, the team had taken unnecessary liberties with the original text, even going so far as to put in completely incongruous ability names for certain character classes — the most egregious being the Samurai class' use of "Pimp Slap" and "Hammer Time". The whole thing would have probably died down a bit quicker were it not for whoever runs Gaijinworks' Twitter account turning on the snark and speaking to disappointed customers in a tone that… wasn't entirely appropriate, shall we say. Consequently, the company has done a bit of damage to its reputation among fans of Japanese games; on the one hand, both Working Designs and Gaijinworks are known for their talent in localisation rather than translations, so people should have perhaps expected something like this to happen; on the other hand, however, responding to criticism with snark and the suggestion that people learn the original language (sure! It's just that easy!) isn't the best way to recover an unfortunate situation.

But I don't want to dwell on that too much, because I'm sure there's still plenty more arguing to do there — and anyway, to be perfectly honest, localisation that takes some liberties doesn't really bother me all that much, so long as the essence of the original text and characters is left intact.

A good example is the Ace Attorney series by Capcom. In Japan, these are set in Japan, known as Gyakuten Saiban (Turnabout Trial) and star a character called Naruhodou Ryuuichi. In the West, they are set in the USA (albeit a version of the USA where there are traditional Japanese villages randomly scattered around the place) and their protagonist is called Phoenix Wright. There are all manner of other changes around the place — and the games aren't any weaker for it. In fact, Westernising it made it a lot more accessible to a much wider audience — so much so that it's widely renowned as one of the best mainstream adventure game/visual novel series in recent years.

The reason a lot of companies choose to localise rather than translate is to do with things that… well, simply don't translate. In the cast of Ace Attorney, the protagonist's name "Naruhodou" is based on the Japanese word "I see" — something that your average, non-Japanese-literate Westerner wouldn't know. Making his surname "Wright", though, opens up all sorts of potential for punning fun — potential that the games seize at every opportunity. Right, Wright? Or should I call you Phoenix Wrong?

Then there's things like the fact that Japanese puns work in a completely different way to English ones; take Squid Girl, for example. In the Japanese original, Squid Girl ends all her sentences with the words "de geso" instead of the more common "desu" (roughly, "it is"), the former being a bastardisation of "desu" that incorporates the Japanese word for "squid legs". Likewise, all the episode titles are expressed as questions, only using the word "ika" (squid) at the end of the sentence rather than the particle "ka" which denotes a question. Because both of these puns rely on Japanese grammar and particles, which are very different to English, it's simply not possible to translate these things directly. So instead we get a localisation, where Squid Girl speaking in English instead takes the English approach to punning, shoehorning in references to squids and ink at every opportunity. Squidn't that ink-redible?

Ahem. Anyway. The point is, in some circumstances, localisation works well and helps to expand the audience of something beyond what it would have if it remained more true to the original. This is particularly true when it comes to cultures that are very different from one another — such as, say, Japanese and American or English cultures. People like to be comforted by the familiar, and making something more comfortable is a sure way of getting people who might not have otherwise given a particular game a chance to actually try it out for themselves.

On the flip side, localisation loses some "authenticity", and consequently isn't entirely appropriate in all circumstances. Take the Persona series, for example; its third and fourth installments in particular are heavily based on Japanese culture, particularly surrounding teenage and high school life. While there are similarities between Japanese and Western high-schoolers, there are enough differences — particularly with regards to things like how people address one another — to make it worthwhile using a more literal translation. Not only does it make the experience more authentic for those who wish to use it as a means of immersing themselves in a culture they find fascinating, it also provides a very effective means of learning about that other culture from scratch.

Some games take this idea of education and really run with it. Visual novel Steins;Gate, for example, includes an in-game glossary that explains everything from otaku terminology to Japanese cultural norms as you work your way through it — the first instance of a non-English term or reference is highlighted, providing the player with the opportunity to look it up, and from that point on, it simply uses the term as it would be used in Japanese. In this way, you familiarise yourself with everything from elements of Japanese popular culture to ways in which people address one another — and again, it's a fascinating way of learning something while you enjoy the story.

And then there are situations where either approach could work. A good example would be something like the Hyperdimension Neptunia series, whose English scripts over the years (initially by NIS America, now by Idea Factory International) have had a somewhat mixed reception from longstanding fans — particularly those familiar with the original scripts. There are some changes that just seem to have been put in for the sake of a quick pun that wasn't present in the original — the English version's use of "CPU" (Console Patron Unit) instead of the Japanese version's "megami" ("goddess"), for example, as well as Neptune's use of distinctly Western-style slang. Personally speaking, this sort of thing doesn't bother me too much — it works as a pun, although arguably it's making a bigger deal of the whole "look! all these girls are games consoles!" thing than the original Japanese script did — but there are some people who get pretty upset about this sort of thing.

I guess what we can conclude from all this is that, unfortunately, there is no one single optimal way to handle these things. Localise things too much and you risk alienating the purists who want something that is as true as possible to the original text. Conversely, translate something too literally and you either get something that reads very awkwardly in English, or something that isn't entirely accessible to someone who isn't already familiar with various aspects of Japanese culture. The ideal situation would appear to be somewhere in the middle, but very few people seem to get that balance absolutely right, and doubtless we'll continue to see salt being spilled any time things tip a bit too far in one direction or another.

Me? I really don't mind either way. I relish the opportunity to learn more about a culture I find fascinating through more literally translated works, but equally I very much enjoy a good localisation that remains reasonably true to the tone and intention of the original; in the latter case, it might perhaps help to think of it as a "remake" of sorts rather than a translation. Or it might not, in which case you can feel free to rant and rave about it as much as you like on social media. More often than not, though, I'm simply happy to have these games (and anime series, and manga series, and visual novels…) brought to the West in my native language so that I can enjoy them in some form, even if it's not always quite the exact same as the original.

2011: Let's Talk!

A little while ago, I wrote about chat app Discord and how I thought it was a jolly fine piece of software that had all but replaced Skype and various other solutions for, among other things, in-game voice chat.

Besides high-quality voice chat, Discord is also pretty great for creating text chat servers with custom channels (each of which can have their own permissions set if you so desire) and various other bits and pieces here and there. The app is clearly largely designed with the Final Fantasy XIV community in mind, given its built-in commands to search sites like XIVDB and Gamerescape, but it's also a flexible, lightweight, easy-to-use and cross-platform chat app that is super-easy to get signed up for and really easy to use.

So I'd like to invite you along to come and chat! I created a server named after my other website MoeGamer, along with a bunch of channels. The server is primarily intended for people to talk about Japanese video games, anime, manga and the like, but there are a selection of other channels for people to talk about what they might be interested in. I've had a few people sign up over the course of the day, but not really much participation as yet; understandable, really, since no-one wants to be the first person to say something!

A request, then, dear reader. If you'd like to have a chat with me and hopefully some other like-minded individuals, please do two things for me.

Firstly, join the server here. (You can use Discord via the Web, but I recommend downloading the standalone app for the best and most flexible experience.)

Secondly, participate! Jump into a channel you like the sound of — the invite link I've provided will take you to a "welcome" channel that gives you a summary of what all the other channels are all about — and start talking. Even if no-one seems to be saying much to begin with, people who join the server and channels will see the conversation history when they come along for the first time, so if there are some comments, thoughts and even pictures for people to respond to when they sign up, new members will be more inclined to start participating themselves.

I'd love to build this server into a nice little community where we can chat, share stories, share pics and share our thoughts on all things anime, gaming, manga and whatnot. Discord is a great means of doing just that, and I'd love to see more people making use of it and supporting the great work the developers are doing — it's currently only in alpha, and is already a really well put together piece of software. And who knows? You might even make a few new friends or discover a few new interests in the process.

See you there!

1926: In My Restless Dreams, I See That Town

I adore the Silent Hill series. Like most people, my absolute favourite is Silent Hill 2 — I still vividly recall my friends coming to visit me at university with a copy in tow, and me beating it in an evening as they gradually got drunk and passed out in my lounge surrounded by takeaway trays — but I've also enjoyed the other installments in the series, even when they erred a bit on the side of "culty" rather than the intense, bewildering, horrifying and upsetting psychological drama that was Silent Hill 2.

I was keen to check out P.T. then, since I'm now the proud owner of a PlayStation 4. P.T. was originally released under something of an air of mystery and it wasn't until people cleared it that their suspicions were confirmed and it was revealed to be a teaser for an upcoming "next-gen" Silent Hill game, developed as a collaboration between the dream team of Hideo Kojima and Guillermo del Toro.

I was especially keen to check out P.T. right now, because owing to Kojima's apparent departure from series publisher Konami and the seeming cancellation of Silent Hills — there are still some people who believe this might be an elaborate troll by Kojima, mind — it had been suggested that P.T. would no longer be available on the PlayStation Store after today, meaning that anyone who was interested to check it out would no longer be able to do so if they hadn't already downloaded a copy. If, indeed, Konami has cancelled Silent Hills — and, sadly, it looks as if that is the case — then there's no sense from a business perspective for having a teaser demo available, even if said teaser demo is both baffling and creative.

P.T. doesn't tell you anything. You wake up in a room with a cockroach scuttling away from you. You exit the room and find yourself in a house that has seen better days; it looks like the apparently absent residents have had some fairly major issues with drinking, drugs and violence — something which appears to be confirmed by the radio broadcast you hear shortly after entering the house, which speaks of the horrific murder of a whole family.

You wander through the house, eventually coming to an open door that seems to lead down to a cellar. Upon passing through it, you come to another door, only to find yourself back in the hallway you just left. From there, things start to get more and more weird as they go along — I shan't spoil the specifics, but suffice to say there's evidence of Metal Gear Solid-era Kojima mindfuckery at play here; the game appears to crash and reset at one point, for example, only to then continue on its way if you persevere rather than closing it in disgust, and the final puzzle requires you to wait for the clock to strike midnight, walk exactly ten paces forward, stop, wait for scary noises and then utter the name "Jarith" into your PlayStation microphone. (Yes, really, that is the actual solution; I just did it.)

While the "puzzles" throughout P.T. — if you can call them that — are brain-fryingly obtuse, even by adventure game standards (my eternal respect to the dudes who figured out the solution to that last puzzle), the experience as a whole is spectacularly terrifying, recreating a type of experience I hadn't realised I'd been missing for quite some time.

There aren't many modern games that are genuinely scary, you see. I'm talking a combination of lurking horror and occasional jump scares; Silent Hill has always been particularly good at the former, while the latter has usually been the territory of Resident Evil (which isn't what it used to be, but let's not jump down that rabbit-hole just yet). P.T. provides both, and it wasn't until I played it through this evening that I realised it's been quite a long time since a modern game made me feel genuinely uneasy, made me jump or made me actually cry out in surprise. (Yes, I did all of those things. I am a wuss.)

As a result, not only am I sad that we're seemingly not going to get a new Silent Hill game, I'm also sad that an increasingly rare example of proper horror gaming has been canned.

I'm glad I had the chance to experience P.T., though; it's quite something.

1874: PAX East, Day Two

Day two of PAX East today, and I'm getting much the same feeling as I had last time I came: the feeling that I'm among "my people", and that everyone here is having a good time, whether they're fat bearded nerds wandering around ogling the latest excitingness in gaming or computer parts, or some of the staggeringly beautiful cosplayers who have been gracing the show floor.

Today we caught the Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward panel, which gave some details about the upcoming expansion pack for the reason we're all here. It's releasing on June 23rd, so that's some time to get caught up — though it's also just before our wedding, so… well. Honeymoon in Eorzea it is… or, rather, honeymoon in Ishgard, I should say.

One thing that's struck me during this visit is quite what an all-encompassing medium video games is. People here are passionate about their hobby. In the Final Fantasy XIV panel, for example, people gave director/producer Naoki Yoshida two standing ovations (aside: how many other game makers can truly boast a fanbase that passionate?) Elsewhere, there's beautiful artwork based on video games, live music performances based on classic video game tracks, incredible, distinctive T-shirt designs and all manner of other goodness. It's a pleasure to be a part of.

I've managed to pick up a couple of PSone games that I used to own, too; there's quite a few "retro" game stores around the show floor, so I've managed to pick up copies of Parasite Eve, which I played back in the day, and Chrono Cross, which never released in Europe and which I've always been curious to play. I don't know if I'll play them immediately, but I'm happy to have them on my shelf.

Tomorrow I'm not sure what the plan is, but hopefully we'll have the opportunity to get our hands on a few games. There's a few interesting indie games that I'm hoping to have a play around with, ranging from the entertaining-sounding party game Move or Die to some Japanese PC doujin goodness from Playism.

For now, we're probably going to play a maid-themed RPG then head to bed. I'm exhausted, but I'm having a great time.

1715: Twintania Downed, Again (and Again)

This evening it was my great pleasure to be a part of the inaugural Giant Bomb/Loose Cannons (aka GBomb/LoCo) raid party in Final Fantasy XIV — what I hope will be the first of many joint adventures that take place on a UK timezone-friendly schedule.

Since a couple of members of LoCo hadn't yet cleared The Binding Coil of Bahamut, Turn 5 — something of a "benchmark" for how well groups work together — we had decided that, come hell or high water, we were going to get a group of some description together and attempt it.

We'd tried this once before, filling out the extra spots in the party using Final Fantasy XIV's matchmaking Duty Finder system, but the downside of this is that you never know who you're going to get — even in challenging content like Turn 5, there's always a possibility you'll get someone who is just looking for a quick and easy clear with no fuss, and who might not have patience to deal with people who are hoping to learn the fight and practice it. Indeed, this happened to us; the first time we got to

[Editor's note: At this point, Pete was called away for another hasty attempt at Turn 5, this time with Andie in tow. It was a successful attempt, as was, I'm sure you've already guessed, the one about to be discussed.]

Ahem. Sorry. Anyway. As I was saying, the first time we got to try it together, we were lumbered with one of these people, who got all huffy when someone got hit by Twintania's notorious "divebomb" mechanic — one of the more difficult attacks in the game to dodge and otherwise deal with. Eventually, when Huffy McHuffypants left in a huff, we had to abandon our attempt as, since Turn 5 is fairly old content now, it can sometimes be difficult to get people in there unless you pre-form a group before you start.

But anyway. Tonight we assembled a crack team of GBomb and LoCo types, including a couple who had never cleared it before and a few — including me — who had. Then we jumped in.

Our first attempt went reasonably well. Twintania's companions, the three Scourges of Meracydia, all fell to our onslaught pretty quickly, and we handled Twintania's barrage of fireballs and conflagrations without breaking a sweat, since we were all, by now, pretty familiar with how this part of the fight worked. When Twintania swept off into the inky blackness high above the right hand of Bahamut, we dove into the nearby ditch between the fallen god's fingertips and waited for the angry dragon to show her face again.

Dive, and dodge; dive, and dodge; dive, and dodge; the first set of Divebombs passed without incident, and Twintania's snake-like guardians Hygieia and Asclepius showed up. We dealt some damage to the two Hygieia and then focused our attention on Asclepius again; then it was time for another set of Divebombs.

Dive, and dodge; dive, and dodge; dive, and dodge; the second set passed without worry, and one of our two paladins dragged the annoyed Asclepius and Hygieia across the right hand of Bahamut to join their two companions that had just showed up.

I used the party's collected energy to unleash my Limit Break, calling down a shower of meteors onto the heads of the snakes, killing two of them outright and seriously wounding the rest of them. As the Hygieia died, they increased Asclepius' vulnerability bit by bit, until we were all eventually dealing about twice the normal damage we usually did. It wasn't long before Asclepius fell to that onslaught, at which point we dove into one of Twintania's dropped Neurolinks, the collars that the ancient Allagans had used to control her, and which had gradually been falling from her neck one by one as the fight progressed.

At this point, things fell apart somewhat. Twintania summoned her deadly Dreadknights, and it wasn't long before they ripped through several of our number; the rest fell to her powerful Twisters attack. But not to be deterred, we picked ourselves up and tried again.

Once again, the Scourges fell, and we set to work on Twintania. The fireballs and conflagrations proved little challenge for us, and we deftly avoided the first set of Divebombs. We got a little too enthusiastic on the Hygieia this time around, however; one died before we got out of the ditch and the other was nearly shuffling off the mortal coil as we pulled them together for another Starstorm summoned by my command over black magic.

This time, the furious Twintania didn't faze us. While our lead paladin kept the attention of the giant dragon, the other made sure the Dreadknights didn't reach their destination, battering them repeatedly with their shield while I pelted them with freezing ice, which slowed their movements when they weren't stunned. A Dreadknight would fall, then we would move as one to sidestep Twintania's next Twisters; then another Dreadknight would fall, and we'd once again hop neatly out of the way of Twisters.

Finally, the weakening Twintania resorted to the same attacks her Scourges had used on us at the start of the fight; spitting huge gobs of flaming matter all over the battlefield, creating a Liquid Hell. We'd run to avoid these, but by this point our victory was all but assured; sure enough, not long after that, the beast fell to our relentless assault, and we were triumphant.

I love this fight. It's no longer the most difficult thing in the game, but it's a demanding battle that ensures everyone involved is on their toes and sets expectations appropriately high for the Second Coil of Bahamut (and the Third Coil of Bahamut, which is coming soon). It also bodes well for the group of us who are planning to tackle some of this content on a regular basis; clearing Turn 5 on a second attempt is good going by anyone's standards, and we repeated the situation almost exactly when a few hours later Andie wanted to give it a go with us, too. We seemingly work well as a team — even without using voice chat to coordinate what we were doing — and our own individual skill levels were apparently well up to the challenge Twintania offered.

So what's next? That remains to be seen; all being well, we'll be giving the first Turn of Second Coil a go this week. I've tried this battle once before and it appears to be somewhat demanding in the same way as Turn 5 is; you need to pay close attention to what is going on, and react quickly and calmly to the things that are happening around you. One mistake can leave you lying dead on the floor at a moment's notice — and potentially kill off the entire party. I have faith that we can rise to this challenge, though, and I'm looking forward to giving it a shot.

#oneaday Day 887: Things I Don't Understand

Herein follows an updated (though not comprehensive) list of Things I Really Don't Get, in no particular order.

Football. (Soccer for the Americans.) Those who have known me for a long time will be well-familiar with my aversion to the supposed "beautiful game" by now, and its popularity continues to elude me even as I'm supposed to be feeling patriotic and English while Euro 2012 is going on. I just couldn't give a toss, though. Related: I also don't understand why those who like football complain about ITV's coverage of it and then don't protest about it in a form any stronger than passive-aggressive tweets. Don't watch it if it bothers you that much. Crashing viewing figures would get their attention. (One response I received to this tonight was that they had "no choice" but to watch. This attitude is unfathomable to me when the vehement, often expletive-ridden criticisms of ITV's coverage is taken into account.)
Carly Rae Jepsen. Who the fuck is this person and why is their song Call Me Maybe so inexplicably popular at present? I listened to it out of curiosity on Spotify the other day and discovered a bland, predictable if marginally catchy pop song — certainly nothing remarkable to elevate it above similar offerings from other cheeseballs artists such as Ke$ha et al.
Rage of Bahamut. Discussed in greater detail here.
People who park in the pick-up area at supermarkets. Is your time so valuable to you that you need to park in an area that isn't a parking space, Mr BMW driver? (Because it inevitably is a male driver, usually in an expensive German car) There are free spaces over there. I'm sure it won't hurt you to get out and walk for an additional five seconds.
People who comment on brand pages on Facebook. Discussed somewhat here. It seems that for some people, the "like" and "comment" buttons have some sort of irresistible magnetic force that makes these people unable to leave an inane post by a brand alone before they've posted "lol" or some equally asinine comment. I follow J-List on Facebook because (1) I like the pictures (2) I find the posts about Japan interesting
Radio 1 giving an on-air guided tour of a festival ground when nothing was happening there. Radio 1 had/are having (I don't care enough to check) some sort of festival, and the other day they devoted a good ten minutes or so to someone walking around the (unoccupied) festival grounds explaining where everything was going to be. The impact was somewhat lost by radio's inherent lack of pictures.
Jedward. Come on. Are we not over this supposed "joke" yet?
Beauty products. Women must all be fucking scientists to understand all that crap they sell in Boots. I certainly wouldn't know when to buy a "serum" and when to buy "body butter".
The enduring popularity of shit TV. I don't think Take Me Out is on at the moment, but the sheer number of otherwise normal-ish people I follow on Twitter who voluntarily subjected themselves to this televisual carcrash is astonishing. Most claim they only did so in order to bitch about it on Twitter, but I can think of far less infuriating ways to spend an evening.
Instapaper, Read It Later et al. I've never used one of these services so I don't really understand what they do and can't really fathom out how they work from their descriptions. I'm something of a traditionalist in the way I read stuff on the Internet — I go to the site, I read it. If I don't have Internet access at the time, I don't read it. If you're lucky I'll subscribe to your blog by email but that's about it – I don't use Google Reader or anything either.
How you can play the same (non-MMORPG) multiplayer game for over 100 hours and not get bored. I got bored of the one time I tried Call of Duty multiplayer after about two or three hours tops. I got sort of into it for a little while but then realised that I wasn't really having as much fun as I thought I should be having and that I didn't feel like I was getting any better, either, so I stopped. The prospect of playing a multiplayer shooter enough to contemplate voluntarily paying a subscription fee for it is unfathomable to me.
How Microsoft Word still doesn't work properly yet. Word first came out in 1983, yet here in 2012 I am still getting frustrated by the fact it occasionally and unpredictably changes fonts for no apparent reason, decides to format my entire document in bullet points when I tell it to undo my last action and is just generally a big buggy mess. Surely it can't be that hard to get right? It's not as if I'm even doing anything advanced; this is basic text editing that still encounters these glaring flaws on a regular (but unpredictable) basis.
How it's possible to have a "collector's edition" of a game that is only available via digital download. Special edition, fine. Premium edition, fine. But "collector's edition"? No.
Why all car parks don't take cards. I never have any cash on me because I rarely need it, so I can imagine there are plenty of other people who live their lives in a similar fashion. Payment cards are so ubiquitous now; why can't you pay for your parking with a credit or debit card in 95% of British car parks? (I made that statistic up. But it's certainly a lot of them.)
Fruit tea. It smells so good; it tastes so much like dirty bath water. Why must Nature be so cruel?

I think that'll do for now. Feel free to share your own Things You Don't Understand in the comments.

#oneaday Day 556: One Direction, Unless It's That One

I have an uncanny sense of direction. I'm quite pleased that I've developed this over the years, because it's an incredibly useful thing to have. It gives me confidence when going to a new place because I know that I can 1) generally find my way around pretty quickly and 2) won't panic if I do happen to get lost. In fact, when visiting a new place, I tend to find getting lost is actually a good thing because it forces you to find your way around, spot landmarks and, occasionally, yell at your navigator. (I've never yelled at my navigator. Largely because my navigator is usually Google Maps, which doesn't respond well — or indeed at all — to constructive criticism)

I'm not entirely sure where this special ability has come from, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it's something to do with video games — particularly, in my formative years, old-school first person shooters and more recently, open-world sandbox games like Grand Theft Auto.

Modern first-person shooters wouldn't help, of course, being mostly linear in nature. If you want to get a good feeling of being lost and having to learn an environment, go play Doom or Duke Nukem 3D and marvel at how useless their 2D maps for 3D-ish environments. If you really want to get lost, have a go at Wolfenstein 3D or Catacomb Abyss, where all the textures fit on a single 1.44MB floppy disk.

The more I think about this, the more I feel it's probably where it came from. If I think of Bully, which I played through recently, I'd happily be able to navigate you around the map without having to refer to, well, the map. Want to go to the carnival? Sure. (Leave the school, turn left, go over the bridge, follow the seafront and go through the tunnel.) Looking for the town hall? Got you covered. (Leave the school, turn right, go over the bridge then keep going straight ahead until the end of the street.) Want to find your way to the mental asylum? No problem! (Leave the school, turn right, over the bridge, turn immediately right, go under the underpass, follow the road around as it bends left, then right, then right again, then around the end of the building, over the bridge, through the docks to the end and through the tunnel.)

The best thing about having a good sense of direction is not having to be a slave to satnav. When driving at night these days, pretty much every car cockpit you see seems to be lit up with some kind of satnav device. I actually very rarely use satnav, despite having a good app on my phone for it (CoPilot Live — cheap and has a sexy voice) and tend to use Google Maps if I need to see where I am.

So, then, if you need someone to guide you home after a big night out? I'm your man. You can drop me down in the middle of an unfamiliar city in the middle of the night (possibly drunk) and I'll get you home. Eventually. And there may be a stop for a kebab on the way. But I'll get you home.

#oneaday, Day 325: Interactive Fiction

There's a lot to be said for interactivity (or at least the illusion of interactivity) in storytelling. It allows things to be done that are simply impossible with non-interactive media such as books, TV and film.

I spent a couple of hours this afternoon playing Digital: A Love Story, a wonderful game set on the desktop of an Amiga "five minutes into the future of 1988". If you haven't played it yet and are intrigued by the premise, I suggest you play it before reading on, because I'm probably going to spoil some things about it. I'll try not to be too explicit.

At the outset of the game, the player is the proud recipient of a brand-new "Amie" computer with a built-in modem. Your benefactor also provides you with a phone number of a BBS that you might want to check out. And so the story begins with the player dialing into the BBS, complete with terrifyingly authentic-sounding dial and modem tones screeching from your computer's speakers. The player quickly gets friendly with a person named Emilia and things develop quickly in a manner that will be immediately familiar to anyone who has ever had an online relationship.

All is not as it seems, however, and the player, through a bit of investigation, discovers that there are strange things at work. The BBS crashes, and there is no way of getting in contact with Emilia. Just prior to the crash, she said she was "leaving home" and "getting out". Thus begins a quest across several BBSes, ARPANet and Sprint's long-distance calling-card system to track down Emilia and discover what happened.

The game is completely linear. Things happen in a set order, right up to the ending, when the player is faced with an inevitable conclusion that there really is no way around. At this point, we reach one of the most powerful things that gaming can do, and ironically one of the least interactive things about narrative games.

Offer the player the opportunity to do two things: do something, or walk away. Walking away is usually not an option, though Heavy Rain managed to convincingly offer this as an alternative at several points throughout its narrative. Digital: A Love Story, however, makes it abundantly clear that there is only one course of action open to you, and it's an unpleasant one. Given the great pains that the game has taken up until this point to make you "feel" for the characters involved, despite being based around screens of text, it is difficult to make that final mouse click.

This is something you just can't do with a book. Stopping halfway down the page and printing "Turn the page to see what happens next" is not an established literary convention, nor should it be. Same with TV and film; with those media, we're just along for the ride. It's the reason very few books save the Fighting Fantasy and Choose Your Own Adventure series are written in second-person perspective.

But with a game, the player has been driving the story all along, even if there is only really ever one thing they can do at a time to advance the plot to the next "event". That illusion of interactivity allows the player to be all the more invested in the story, as if they're part of the game world. This is further aided in titles such as Digital: A Love Story, which don't break "character" for a moment. As far as the player is concerned, they're using an Amiga… sorry, "Amie". They're not playing a game, they've been transported back in time to 1988, a land of 320×200 graphics, questionable multitasking capabilities and scanlines.

The ending of Digital: A Love Story is bittersweet and if you've engaged with the game up until that point in the way it is intended to be engaged with, you'll find it genuinely emotionally affecting. It's always interesting when a title which looks so unassuming can actually end up being more powerful than self-consciously "epic" CG cutscenes and over-the-top orchestral music with people singing in Latin.

So, if you remember 1988, if you ever had an Amiga or you remember the golden age of the BBS, check out Digital: A Love Story. It's free, and well worth your time.

#oneaday, Day 134: Busy Days

Hello everyone! Apologies for the late hour. It's been a genuinely busy day today, despite it being a Bank Holiday (or Memorial Day if you want to be all American about it).

My day started with waking up several times, snoozing my alarm and then waking up again. The last snooze inexplicably went on a lot longer than the other ones so I had a minor panic when I woke up the last time, because I actually needed to get up today.

Why? I hear you ask. Well, today was my first performance in public for ages. What? I hear you ask. For those of you who don't know, I've been playing the piano for quite a long time now. Since the age of five, in fact. Which makes it… a long time that I've been playing. I haven't performed in public for quite a while, though, and my friend Sam assures me that he'd never heard me play in public before. I'm convinced otherwise, but he's very insistent on this matter. I know he certainly didn't see the last piano performance I did at university, which was a duet performance with one of the strangest people I've ever had the curious fortune to encounter in my life that was followed with one of the most memorable and terrifyingly inappropriate pub conversations I've ever experienced. Those who know who I'm talking about also know what the conversation was about. Those who don't… well, I feel it would be improper for me to discuss it here. Unless you really want to know, in which case leave me a comment and I'll tell you there.

So today was my first performance in public for ages. We've established that.

What did you play? I hear you ask. Demanding, aren't we? Perhaps you should stop asking so many questions and let me get on with my story because it's entirely possible I might have been about to tell you what I played. In fact, I'm half-tempted to just not tell you now.

Except that would make this blog entry run rather short and not allow me to include the lovely media that I'm about to. So I'll tell you.

A few years back, I discovered the Final Fantasy Piano Collections and managed to acquire most of them. Some of them I have the actual books of. The older ones I managed to track down some scans from the Internet. More recently, I managed to locate some piano scores for the music from Persona 3 and Persona 4. These respective series have some of my favourite music of all time, so I figured a public performance would be a good opportunity to spread the love and let other people know what they're all about. So that's what I did.

The event itself was part of Southampton's "Keys to the City" event, celebrating local arts and the piano in particular. Today's performance took place in the city's art gallery, tucked away on one side of the Civic Centre near the library. I got the impression not many people know about it. But there's a lovely Steinway piano there which has clearly been crying out to be used for some time, so my friend and ex-colleague Stephen McCleery of Retrograde Recordings helped to organise an event to give it a bit of attention.

Here's three of the pieces I performed. I'll be recording the others over the next few days, so there's a few posts ready to go if I'm short of inspiration!

If you're reading this on an iPhone, don't get pissy about the Flash audio players not working. I've been good enough to supply direct links to the files. Just click on the title. I'm good to you people. Not every blog would do that, you know.

Anyway… enjoy. More to come over the next few days.

Tag: Video Games