1. a morbid fear that Vanille will never shut up, never stop trying to find the positive in impossibly bleak situations, and couldn’t bring herself to stop flirting inappropriately if life, the universe and my sanity depended on it

2. the morbid fear that Square-Enix will squander away a generation’s love and appreciation, by producing title after title that fail to live up to our hopes and has us pining for last-last-gen games instead

3. fear, hate or dislike of thirteen (XIII), possibly originated because there were thirteen chocobos at Aerith’s funeral

Gah! It’s terrible! Everybody knows it. A once-great series, reduced to spouting self-important drivel, and featuring charmless characters dragged painfully through a plot so dull, that players have forgotten what they were supposed to care about long before it happens. Yep, Final Fantasy XIII is where it all went wrong. Well, it did go wrong. Didn’t it?

Sure it did. After all, FF XIII is about as popular as a long-standing Egyptian President. Some corners of the internet would have you believe that XIII murdered Aerith, or maybe invaded Iraq. But what’s with all the negativity? Apart from committing the cardinal sin of not being Final Fantasy VII, what has Square-Enix’s red-headed stepchild done to provoke such ire? You don’t think it really voted Lib-Dem, do you? Is it really mean to kids?

Vanille

wood-chipper

When asked what went wrong, the most common answer is “characters”. And “story”. And possibly “gameplay”, but we’ll get to that. And it’s with comments like these, that the all-seeing and all-knowing entity that is the internet, has a point. The story is clearly shit. And not in a “Oh well, videogames don’t deserve a proper story, anyway” kinda way, but more of a “We spent loads of time and money on this and are really pleased with ourselves, but somehow couldn’t be bothered to make it good” kinda way. And then there are those characters. Dear God. I mean, we cried when Aerith died, but most gamers would happily see the cast of XIII fed through a wood-chipper. Ready Up’s own Kirsten had the following to say in her review; “They are stubborn,

Probably mage class — use Silence constantly

they are sullen, some of them are cowardly and some just a bit stupid.” — and she’s right. It’s a bit like what would happen if you gave a group of Big Brother contestants guns and swords and told them to moan a lot while repetitively hitting passers-by.

I remember one character, Hope, living up to his name by inspiring in me the fervent hope that he’d die a miserable death, partly digested in the stomach of some terrible creature like an ill-advised kebab after a heavy night out. Sadly, this did not come to pass, but I still have ‘hope’ for the sequel. See what I did there? That’s a segue, that is.

Hope-less

For lo! It’s true! A sequel is in the works and down for a late 2011 release! Didn’t Square-Enix get the memo? About how disappointing and boring their game was? About how no-one liked it, so no-one could possibly want a sequel? Well, no. They didn’t. Cos here’s the secret; there are people who did like it. And there are people who do want a sequel. Whisper it now… “the first one is actually a good game.”

Yes, yes, I know. Once you get over the shock, you’ll be fine. “But what about the story?”, I hear you say. “What about the characters?”

Well, yes, but slating a game for that is a bit like slating football players for their off-the-ball antics, or the casts of soap-operas for their acting. It’s simply not what they’re being paid for. Because with games, of course, it’s the gameplay that matters. Ok, so Squeenix went and buried FF XIII’s under an appalling storyline. And worse, they spoon-feed the actual combat system to you over about twelve hours of unnecessary, mind-blowingly dull, hand-holding (responsible for poor gameplay comments in reviews). But once it opens up…, once the game really hits its stride…, it sings.

Thirteen - extremely pretty

Legendary Japanese game-bible, Famitsu gave XIII a rating of 39 out of 40; EDGE magazine described the strategic combat as ” a masterpiece within the structure of turn-based battling”; and six million copies were sold, making Final Fantasy XIII the fastest-selling title in the franchise’s history. Isn’t it funny how much first impressions last? By having XIII’s beginning be its slowest and dullest portion, Square-Enix built a giant hurdle for gamers to climb over, but real gaming awaits for the many who persevere. The world opens up, the story gets sidelined, and the strategy really hits home (plus, it has to be said, XIII is extremely pretty). Perhaps a sequel is just what is needed to set the record straight.

In the end, I’m hoping they release the follow-up on a Friday. We could all walk under ladders on the way to the store to pick it up. And break seven mirrors, and spill salt over our shoulder. And step on black cats, and have cracks cross our path. Cos if the sequel can live up to its predecessor’s strengths, we should all be so unlucky.

Playing games of Christmas past

The land is blanketed in snow foot-thick
In the hearth, a fire does roar
And gamers dream of gaming dreams
Of brave new worlds to explore 

For on Christmas Eve, this time of year
New games, new gifts, new toys
Are gathered for all the special kids
For all good girls and boys 

No wonder he's so sneaky!

A list is checked, he checks it twice
Sometimes he checks it more
Who has been good and fair and kind
And increased their gamerscore 

You see those with trophies, of silver and gold
And platinum, if they’re good
Can expect gifts of games, and consoles too!
With worlds for every mood 

There are those that love Halo, there are those that love COD
Some who race cars and more
But whatever your taste, be it offline or on
There’s always a game to adore 

And so comes the morning, I swore it never might come!
But presents shine under the tree
Will there be Fable, will it be Ops
Or will there be a PlayStation 3? 

At last time comes to pass, the presents passed round
Paper flies through the air like snow
It sparkles and glints, it shimmers and twists
It all makes a beautiful show 

Some gifts are surprises, and socks unexpected
Some are jumpers, or books old and new
But it’s the games that have your eye, for you can’t wait to find
That your videogame dream has come true 

Too tired for Cataclysm

All through the dinner (a banquet, a feast!)
We know what we cannot say
For it would be rude, don’t you think, to ask at the meal
“Is it time, can we please go and play?” 

“But what’s this?!” says the family, as the meal it does end
“Is that Kinect or a Move or a Wii?”
“We shall bowl and play tennis, and dance like the stars,”
“Until Granny knocks over the tree.” 

But now they’ve gone home, it’s just us at the last
We can game ’til our souls do soar!
“Games at last!” sing our hearts, “We’ll play them all, don’t you see?”
“I’ll just get some sleep before.” 

From me, and all of us at Ready Up, have a wonderful festive season and a very happy new year.

“Okay. Sure. Uhh… how will we watch TV?”

“Hmm… well, where can we comfortably see it from the sofa that would still have it facing directly down the room?”

You’ve got to hand it to games. We’ve grown so used to their charms that we sometimes go to quite amazing lengths to accommodate our hobby. For one thing, I no longer have any idea how much I spend on games. Between the drip-feed of ‘Oh great, it’s only 800 points’ Arcade titles on Xbox Live, to the ‘No it didn’t really cost me anything, I traded stuff in’ of retail games, the amount of real-world coin that goes to fund my habit has become quite nicely blurred. Fudged even. And I like it like that. Saves all that worrying about me spending too much.

Gamers making more space

“What if we moved the sofa?”

“Then it wouldn’t be in front of the fire and we wouldn’t get the direct heat.”

And then there’s the time! Ask me how much I play videogames and I might say, “Ohh, three times a week for an hour or two.” But ask me how long I’ve played Oblivion; “70 hours.” GTA IV? “60 hours.” Street Fighter? “An unbelievable, mega-squillion hours!” No, I may not have time to do that chore that’s been hovering for the past week. I might not be able to squeeze in an extra exercise session or run along the beach. But that gamerscore does keep creeping up. And it’s not like those games play themselves, so the time comes from somewhere.

If you can't swing a cat, then Kinect may be a little cramped

“If we put it by the window, we can play standing in the middle of the room.”

“But then, if the fire’s lit, we’ll be cooked.”

It’s like I said; gamers like me will go quite some way to accommodate their gaming. Money, time, even our passion go into getting the most from our shiny boxes and the shimmering screen. But trying to provide actual accommodation for my gaming, that is something of a first. It seems to the other resources I pour into gaming, I must now add ‘space’. It’s not that Microsoft’s Kinect device is any great size, you understand, just that its demands for a large play area are, well… large. “Six to eight feet is good,” it says, “but eight to ten feet is better.” And that’s before we look at how many players we’re trying to squeeze in side-by-side, or just what happens when I dive to make that miracle catch. There’s something ironic; in a peripheral the size of a demi-baguette needing as much space as two guitars and a full Rock Band drum-kit.

“If we put it over there, that would solve all our problems.”

“Only if you’re planning on running electrical cable all around the room.”

In the end, I don’t really mind. Like the time, and the money, it’s a cost I’m not really counting. Because I love playing. Because it helps me relax. Because I get lost in the stories and found in the score lines. Because of the way it draws friends closer and turns making enemies into a joy. And because Kinect really does play like a dream. Or even like a slice of the future.

“Yeah, there’s only one thing for it. The sofa’s gonna have to move.”

My living room is not this big!

Please be Halo: Reach, please be Halo: Reach

When I was young and my Megadrive was old, there came a day when I was working in the family business (mainly selling paintings). A couple with their young son had been in the gallery for a few minutes, and they approached me to ask about the price of a painting in the window. They sounded slightly bored, but I duly answered the query and provided a little information about the artist. A mutter about the price being “More than they wanted to spend”, was offered in reply and off they set, in search of cups of coffee. My father (an experienced salesman and my personal hero), had witnessed some of this, and came over to offer some comfort.

“I take it they weren’t interested?’ he said.

“No,” I replied with absolute certainty, “they will be back after coffee to buy the painting.”

Surprised, he asked how I could be so certain. “You know when I see a new game I really want?” I said. “My eyes light up. And their eyes light up just like that when they see the painting.” Needless to say, they bought the painting some forty minutes later.

We’ve all been there. We can pretend we’ve grown out of it. We can complain that games don’t grab us the way they did when we were young. But when that title is getting close to launch day, who among us hasn’t stared longingly at previews and noticed that time moves slower the closer it gets? And our eyes light up, even as we lament the time we have to wait, before it’s out.

There is such a thing as being too excited

A child (and not a few adults) looks forward to the opening of gifts on Christmas Day. A sports fan looks forward to the ‘Big Game’. Couples look forward to romantic occasions, and we… we look forward to the next great title, the sequel to our favourite series, that shiny, new console and that must-have peripheral. All of it makes me think, is the very impatience that drives us so mad, the same thing that delights us when our prize is finally in our hands? Before the game has been opened, when the cellophane stills holds the disc in thrall, some titles (different games for different gamers) have already brought joy and excitement and smiles aplenty. Perhaps, for gamers, impatience is a virtue.

I’ve seen collectors, of all sorts of things, go to amazing lengths to acquire that special something for their collection. No distance is too far to travel, no hurdle too steep to overcome. And it’s in this spirit, that I will be standing in the rain (it will definitely rain) waiting for a store to open at midnight, later this week. It’s a first for me. But I want to feel that thrill of watching the clock and rubbing my frozen hands together. I want to feel impatient. And it’s definitely not because my girlfriend tells me I have to. Almost definitely not.

Maybe it was because I had been travelling and it had been nearly two weeks since I had seen my beloved Xbox. Perhaps it was just the type of day - it had been an early Spring day that, weather-wise, owed more to late winter and carried a slight air of melancholy. But I have to say, few things have been as suprisingly fun as finding a blue Space Invader clinging to the wall of a building in central Paris. At first I was surprised. It just sat there like one of Notre Dame’s gargoyles. And then I laughed. And then I laughed lots.

My first Invader

As many of you will know, the conceptual artist known as Invader has been mounting these ‘Invasions’ in cities for years now. From L.A. to Prague, Tokyo to London (even as far afield as Bangkok, Kathmandu and Mombassa), some three dozen cities all over the world, have woken up one morning to find little tile-mosaic Space Invaders have taken up residence on prominent buildings. I was lucky enough to be in Paris (the artist’s home and the most ‘Invaded’ city of all) during an ‘Invasion’ earlier this year.

Well, I’d stumbled on my first Invader by accident, but it wasn’t long before, giggling like a chipmunk, I set out to see if there were more. At first they proved too well hidden or tricky to find (or maybe I was just walking down the wrong streets), but eventually, in the streets north of Rue de Rivoli, and east of Pompidou Centre, in the area known as Le Marais, I found what you see here.

Apologies for the quality of the photographs. I am to taking pictures, what the Captain of the Titanic was to steering, but I did my best.

Hiding in a dark corner

I gotta say, I really enjoyed myself. The notion of a game becoming part of the real world, and the sense of play that comes with it, just tickled me. It made for a real high-point on my trip. And trying to explain to passersby, in my mostly-forgotten French, what I was doing taking photographs of the corners of buildings while grinning, will go down in history as a fine example of French farce.

This one seems to be shy

It seems to me, that work like this is a sign of things to come. As our pastime becomes ever larger and more popular, its influence on society at large becomes more apparent. From game-to-movie conversions, to adverts assuring us that Mario has been “part of the family” for 25 years, gaming has never been more acceptable, or so widespread. And I suspect Invader’s work breaks new ground where more will follow.

To see much more of Invader’s work (including photographs taken by someone who knows how to use a camera), check out their website at space-invaders.com

The original gaming glutton

Honestly, all the great sins are readily available. Feel like over-eating, but don’t want the calories? Load up The Maw and eat a planet or two. Feel like exercising your greed? Simply, knock over a bank in GTA. And don’t even start me on wrath! From all the guns, guns, guns, to jumping up and down on somebody’s head just because “Your Princess Is In Another Castle”, no vice is better catered for than wrath. Whether we’re lusting after the next big title or taking pride in our GamerScore, to being jealous of a newly released console, our virtual pastime has them all! Hell, I’ve even skived off work in Shenmue, and what could be more slothful than that?

But, you know what, maybe there is one exception. Perhaps our gaming debauchery is not yet complete, for of all gaming’s ‘deadly’ sins, has vanity been neglected? Well, vanity’s day could be here at last. MicroSoft’s Kinect is about to hit store shelves and now, like never before, our games will be able to see us, and with many of them, the heroic lead avatar will even be us! For starters, we’ll be photographed for “action shots” in Kinect Adventures. Then Dance Central will show us dancing like we just don’t care during Freestyle sections. And Your Shape: Fitness Evolved is set to track our realtime silhouette as we sweat through exercise routines. I think the consequences could be both far-reaching and unexpected.

Collecting all those bikinis is just plain greedy

You see,  ‘wish-fulfilment’ has long been a part of videogames, and because of that, the heroes and heroines we see on our screens tend to fit a mould. We might get to be the latest in steroid fuelled Space Marines, or go Tomb Raiding in those oh-so-tight shorts, but we’re always well used to being represented on screen as perfect (if exaggerated) physical specimens. Are we this perfect in real life? And are we ready to see so much of ourselves on screen?

Well, of course we are, we’re all gorgeous… just, not all the time. Right?

There are those (admittedly rare) occasions when you might not be looking your best. Hangovers, for example. The last thing I want to see after a heavy night out, is my beer-soaked, bedraggled ass, shaking its thing to “Funkytown” on Dance Central. And don’t we all get to indulge in the occasional ‘dress-down day’? Well, what if my shoes don’t match my belt?! My Xbox would be mortified! More importantly, this could be an end to the era of playing in your pants (or out of them, in my case). If, like me, you’ve ever managed to accidentally press the ‘Invite to Party Chat’ button, that could lead to some really embarrassing video-chats (it would be accidental, though, honest)!

Soon this could be you!

There’s only one solution. We need a new attitude as gamers. We must embrace the vanity! Consider this a call to action for all gamers looking to pick up Kinect. It’s a chance to get ahead of the competition! There’s never been a better time to book that appointment with the hair stylist (the expensive one who uses the scissors, not just the cheap one who uses the trimmer). We can all start that diet and dust off that old gym membership. When we ask, “Kinect, Kinect, sitting on the floor, who is the fairest of them all?”, the answer will be us!

Cosplayers will be way ahead of the pack, but there’s still time. When the inevitable Kinect: Tomb Raider Edition is announced and I pour myself into those shorts, I expect to look every bit as good as the virtual Lara ever did (I should probably start growing my hair now). There could even be Achievements for gamers dressed appropriately for the games they’re in, or extra ammo allowances or something. I wonder how strict games will be on issues like dress code. Will a second World War uniform be forgiven in a game set in World War One, for example? Or would that be a complete no-no? What would we have to wear to play Bayonetta? Hey, you might laugh now, but I think dressing as Napoleon might really help my RTS skills! After all, Kinect is coming. Now there are appearances to think of.

NOT a noted Greek philosopher

I hate Plato. I really do. Not Pluto, you understand? Everyone hates Pluto; he’s like Goofy with fewer brains. But no; Plato. You know, 5th Century BC, head-full-of-brains, wrote a lot of stuff about some things he kinda thought of, Plato. I hate him. I really hate him.

Now, it’s not the first time I’ve hated a philosopher. I had a pretty bad falling out with Thomas Aquinas once where I accused him of having circular logic. And Confucius and me just don’t see eye to eye, what with all that ‘maintain the status quo’ and ‘don’t rock the boat’ stuff. I mean, Quo? Really?! Sure, everyone likes to rock all over the world from time to time, but their best days are behind them, do they really need to be “maintained”?

Confucius was a big fan

But then, this isn’t the cool intellectual hatred of opposing philosophical viewpoints. Oh no. With Plato it’s the red-hot hatred you feel for someone who has done you wrong and continues to do so. With Plato it’s personal.

So, why the animosity, I hear you ask? Well, mostly it comes down to one thing… I can’t find him. Anywhere. And I’ve looked. For years.

You see, there are forty-five “Great People” to be attracted to your Civilization in Sid Meier’s Civilization Revolution (or Civ Rev to us happy addicts who play it). And there is an achievement worth 45G for, over the course of all your games, having each “Great Person” join one of your civilizations. In real terms, that makes Plato worth 1G. One. A single, solitary Gamerpoint. Barely noticeable. Worth a smidgeon of effort perhaps, but no more than that. But what happens if he’s holding the other 44G hostage until he’s found? And what if that last achievement is the only one you’re missing

Plato's head on a stick

from an oh-so-rare (for me) perfect 1,000G score?! I so hate Plato.

But who knows, maybe I haven’t really looked? I’ll let you be the judge. Here comes the science bit; a game routinely lasts around five or six hours, though it can be much longer. There are 16 different civilizations to master, and there are five different difficulty settings (all the way up to the truly fearsome Deity setting). So, five or six hours x 16 civs x 5 settings + all the times I didn’t even win a particular game + some occasional online matches… it all adds up to about a squillion hours, in the more than two years I’ve been playing since it came out and, guess what folks, I am short exactly one noted Classical Greek philosopher!

So, where the hell is he?! If he was this hard to find when he was alive, then he’d never have learned a thing from Socrates, or taught a thing to Aristotle, and then where would we all be? We’d all be un-reconstructed Monarchists most likely! I mean sure, his bio talks about how he helped to “lay the foundations of Western philosophy and science”, yet they make no mention at all of the fact that he’s also a World Heavyweight Champion at Hide ‘n’ Seek! Maybe he’s pulling a sicky, like he was when they topped Socrates? But wherever he is, I have to find him. I feel like Ahab with his whale, it’s become an obsession. In fact, the only thing that would be worse than never finding Plato, would be if they never made Civ Rev 2. Come on Sid, you know you want to.

I was introduced to games early on. I remember ancient Space Invader and Bubble Bobble machines in shops selling chips. I remember randomly being dumped on a friend of my dad’s one day, because they needed someone to look after me. And…, being a pain in the ass, they set me in front of an aging BBC Micro and loaded up Elite (instant silence and an end to questions was their just reward for this masterstroke). I remember my oldest friend and an Atari set up in his living room. There was Pong, and something called Yar’s Revenge (by odd coincidence, out now as part of Games Room), and Pac-Man ofcourse; but it was my beloved Joust that I remember most fondly. I remember finding friends in the children of a local schoolteacher, and their introducing me to the joys of Repton and Imogen; strange characters in stranger worlds, who were part of a living, breathing puzzle. But all of these were just stolen moments. Chances grabbed by an opportunist kid somehow drawn to the flashing lights of vector-drawn graphics and 2d-sprites on out-of-date hardware (even then) and out-of-place games. No, it wasn’t until later that I was really to get the chance to play.

Seaside towns, with seafront businesses; candy cane and candy floss; yellow man and dulce (don’t ask; they’re local things – one sweet, one salt); sunny days and castles made of sand…, this is where I grew up. Amid an era when tourism stayed to the island on which you were born. Where tiny baggage allowances and low-cost flights were still but a dream in Michael O’Leary’s fevered brain. I was lucky to be a child when the arcades were still to be found. Palaces of entertainments, monuments to man’s ever-demanding search for joy; I lived in a Golden Age. Smoke-filled and saccharine, they were places as exotic and noise-filled as a Moroccan bazaar, populated by strange tribes with their own language and rules of social etiquette. And although children, and adults both, made their pilgrimage to these temples throughout the Summer months, I was that rare thing; a local child. A child who could play all year round, who could face row upon row of gleaming cabinets on wet Winter days, sharing these enormous spaces with just a handful of souls. No queuing, no distractions, no fuss. Heaven, in a town with little else to occupy in the cold Winter months.

It was here that I would cut my teeth and earn my spurs as a gamer, peering up at JAMMA cabinets twice as tall as I was. For an hour or so a day, I’d strive to make loose change last forever, and hometime never come. At first it was just the thrill of doing well; of learning to fly where once I stumbled. But very quickly it was more than that. I’d found a refuge in a place filled with puzzles, where the difficulties of the day were cast aside as carelessly as the schoolbag I abandoned on the floor. I’d drop a coin in the slot, find my hands unconsciously in position to play, and instantly feel better about my day. Dropped into a land with unique rules, where action and consequence could be first understood, then predicted, even mastered. Why the blocks fall this way; how a specific enemy behaves.

When I look at the way I play now, I see reminders of the child I was. The unconscious manner in which I hold a joypad – I’d have to stop and think to tell you what any of the buttons do, yet moves and sequences flow effortlessly from my hands. The world still falls away to a forgotten shadow as I get to grips with a new game, and new rules. Whatever the time, whichever the game, a part of me is always that little kid, lost in world’s not of his making. Delighted at each new twist and turn of discovery, and in each new skill acquired. And just as easily shedding the troubles of reality as I strive to make one life last forever, and hometime never come. Well, not until I’ve left my worries behind, anyway.

The young girl’s counting is replaced with techno beats and I find myself staring at the eyes of J Allard. As Microsoft’s bald-pated overseer of the original Xbox looks at me, he seems to be supressing a knowing smile. Normally that would seem odd, but I have little time to think about it as enemies begin clicking their way down the playing field, Tempest-style. They are shaped like the ‘X’ from the Xbox logo.

I open fire from my hooves and (I’m guessing), my mouth. It’s hard to be sure, considering my giraffe is shaped much like an inverted CND symbol. Somewhere, Gary Oldman calls for “EVERYONE!”. He is determined to see Leon dead. I always loved Leon.

Killing a few ‘X’s, I pick up my first jump pod. A soundbite suggests that I “enter the ballpark”, and “steal the ball”; I think it calls me “Jim”. Allowing my Power Zone to fall to the baseline I stop firing. Then I wait for the remaining ‘X’s to come closer, then trigger my jump and, ramming sideways, charge them off the rail. This seems to raise my multiplier. I bellow like a bull and pick up another jump pod.

“GIRAFFETASTIC!” the screen proclaims, and my giraffe says a lot of encouraging things. “Top Hole” it says, “Well Done”. Then I am faced with the following message;

CONGRATULATION! YOU SUCCESS!

& WINNER IS YOU!

BUT OUR GIRAFFE IS IN

ANOTHER CASTLE!

You Are Getting Respectable

and so ends the first level of Space Giraffe.

You gotta hand it to Jeff Minter (sometimes known as Yak), but when the veteran games developer sets out to make something new and fresh, he’s capable of making something quite unlike anything you’ve seen before. Released in the Summer of 2007 for Xbox Live Arcade, I bought Space Giraffe straight away, as much out of respect for Jeff Minter as for interest in the game. It seemed like this was an ‘Indie’ game; before there were any ‘Indie’ games on Xbox Live. This was before Community games had even been announced for the Xbox 360. It was interesting and original, and a shooter; and everyone loves shooters, right? But it was also really strange (I swear, what I’ve written is an accurate description of the game!), and it was very hard to know what you were supposed to do. Visually it’s so psychedelic that keeping track of opponents and their attacks can be as much about luck as skill, and strategies for getting great scores have to be discovered rather than just learned. So, first time, I got nowhere with the game. And that was a shame. Because underneath the craziness, perhaps even because of it, there’s a really special game here.

Having returned to the game in the last few months, I can honestly say, you’ve never played a game that looks or sounds like this. Even loose similarities to the great Tempest are soon forgotten as you get to grips with the complex strategy. Where else can you rebound enemy bullets to the sound of dialling a touchtone phone?! You’ll collect sneeze bonuses while the screen swims with distortion and your giraffe thinks you’re lovely! You’ll gorge on flowers collected with your own hooves from bonus rounds, and listen to many bleating ruminants (possibly llamas, but don’t quote me on that). And after all this, you mightn’t like it. You might really not like it. But don’t you think you owe it to yourself to find out? With the whole experience available for only 400 Microsoft Points and the always free demo, there’s a game here touched by genius. For some who can invest enough in the game to really get to grips with it, they’ll find a game that rewards their patience. It’s clever and weird and challenging, and quite simply, it doesn’t feel like any other game out there.

Who knows, maybe if you’re very lucky, you’ll get to be called Super Mega Awesome! like me, or even Caprichoso-tastic!

“Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!”

You gotta hand it to the guys at Rockstar Games. I mean really, I love you guys. You build an entire city, fill it full of crazies and moments of incredible beauty; then you hand me the keys and say, “Go play.”

And even that’s not enough. No, then you go and write some of the smartest, funniest and sometimes wildest, characters and dialogue ever to light up the screen and leave me to fall in love.

Well, it’s like this; that I come to the end of Grand Theft Auto IV. It’s been a journey, no doubt about it. And I sit here composing myself, even as I’m amazed at how a game known for its explosions and chaos has managed to bring me a feeling of grieving. Small maybe, but genuine. The melancholy of something lost… of times shared. It’s been a journey - but now it’s time to finish it.

I’m leaving the apartment as Little Jacob’s text arrives. He’s going to track down some goons for me, so we can follow them to their bosses. He tells me I should get tooled up, so I grab a fast-looking car from a slow-looking driver, and head to a local arms dealer. I turn on the radio.

“Okay, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ’cause it’s cooooold out there today.”

Expecting to need them, I buy body armour and load up with enough guns to shame an 80’s action star. I meet up with Jacob, and we chase the goons he’s found to an old warehouse down by the beach. Jacob talks the whole way. I even understand some of it.

“It’s coooold out there every day. What is this, Miami Beach?”

All hell breaks loose. They must have forty guys out there, so I send Jacob to find me a way outta here, and then I take my time. Forty guys and a boatload of ammo is no match for good cover, a sniper rifle and patience. But as it turns out, I miss a badguy standin’ behind me as I enter the warehouse. I don’t last long in the crossfire.

“Not hardly. And you know, you can expect hazardous travel later today with that, you know, that, uh, that blizzard thing.”

Ammo, armour, track the villains and snipe my way through the goons outside. I’m careful not to miss any. I head inside and eventually make it through a tough fight. I chase my enemy onto the roof as he gets into a helicopter. I swim for a nearby boat, but I’m not fast enough and he gets away.

[mockingly] “That blizzard – thing. That blizzard – thing. Oh, well, here’s the report! The National Weather Service is calling for a ‘big blizzard thing!’”

How many stages does this mission have?! Ok, third time’s a charm.

“Yessss, they are. But you know, there’s another reason why today is especially exciting.”

Third time, I get blown up. I swear… it’s a contender for cheapest in-game death, ever! I begin to climb into the boat, and get blown up by a rocket before the world’s slowest animation allows me to sit down. This happens many times in the coming months.

“Especially cold!”

The days blend into each other. I’ve done (tried to do) this mission so many times, I know all there is to know. The car chase route, goon positions, ammo and health kit positions… I would know them in my sleep, but it all leads to the same place…

“Especially cold, okay, but the big question on everybody’s lips…”

She mocks me with her promise of an affordable half-half mocha frappuccino

Happiness Island! The villain legs it while my way is blocked by Liberty City’s finest. They’re heavily armed; I guess protecting tourists is a top priority for a city as dangerous as this one. I take my time and take out the cops methodically, but the villain gets away; I keep up with him, and get cut to pieces by the cops. My best attempt, I make it to the base of the Statue of Happiness. The badguy shoots me himself.

“On their chapped lips…”

Over an hour for each attempt… it’s become a war of attrition and I’m losing. Not cool Rockstar, not cool.

“On their chapped lips, right: Do ya think Phil is gonna come out and see his shadow?”

I’ve been shot, blown up, beaten to death, dropped from a helicopter, driven off the road, burned, stabbed, and once… I swear I was run over by a Swedish family car!

“Punxsutawney Phil!”

… And yet, every day… I wake up, I get the text, I buy the armour, I buy the guns, I meet Jacob, I follow the goons…!

“Thats right, woodchuck-chuckers – it’s GROUNDHOG DAY!”

Why won’t it end?!!

I hate you Rockstar. I hate everything you stand for. In fact, that’s it! I’ve had it! I’m never playing this game again!

Good. Now that’s decided, I can finally get to finishing The Lost and The Damned and The Ballad of Gay Tony, and getting some serious multiplayer going.

I love you Rockstar.

That’s right folks, it’s up to you, as Polar, the err… Polar Bear, to save the day one slidey block puzzle at a time. “Raaar.”

Yeah, ok, so maybe the storyline’s not going to win many people over. But then, this is a puzzle game, and that means gameplay is king. And, thankfully, gameplay is where Polar Panic is right at home.

Taking its cue from games like Bomberman (and some other very old games – Pengo, anyone?), Polar Panic sets the player in a block maze with a host of bad-guys and a ticking clock. The player has to make it to the exit before the time runs out. But to do that, you first have to take out all the bad-guys. Sounds simple, right? And at first it is. But soon larger waves of enemies are introduced. And then enemies with better weapons (guns, flamethrowers, ice-machines and more all make an appearance). There’s even the occasional boss battle. Add more complicated mazes, tighter time limits, trapped polar bears, collectible snowmen, switches, explosives…! Suffice to say, there’s plenty to keep you occupied. The game even does a good job of introducing the player to new difficulties in stages, meaning you may be drowning, but at least you know what it was that killed you. Well, it is called Polar “Panic”, after all. And it’s fun.

You see, the trick here, is that Polar Panic makes a virtue of its ice maze. Some blocks you can destroy, some you can’t. But most can be used as (possibly) mint-flavoured weapons, and slid toward your enemies to help freshen their drinks, refrigerate their food, or squish them into paste so you can progress to the next level and do it all over again. The result, is that while you’re constantly searching for the right line of attack, you’re never too far from a weapon in need of a good shove. So before you know it, you’ll be bobbing and weaving, luring in opponents, and squishing to your heart’s content.

There’s more good news too; by offering up three different modes, the good people at Eiconic have added some nice variety. The ‘Story’ mode features a balance of hectic arcade-gameplay and some tricky puzzles that are usually done on repeat plays; the ‘Puzzle’ and ‘Survival’ modes divide up these qualities to make purer types of game. ‘Survival’ is exactly what you think it is, waves of enemies and no end in sight. Whereas the ‘Puzzle’ mode removes the enemies all together, and leaves the player with enough sliding blocks and switches to bake a noodle the size of Alaska (see what I did there? “bake”? “Alaska”? Oh, suit yourself).

So, good gameplay, and variety…, what’s not to like? Well, for one, it lacks the level of addictiveness we’ve come to expect from good puzzlers. And while the 50 Story levels, and 50 Puzzle levels will keep you entertained for a while, the Survival mode is the weakest of the three; so it lacks the huge replayability many puzzlers offer. I should also say a little something about the presentation. With cuddly bears and cartoon styling, the game feels as tho it’s aimed at younger gamers. It’s pretty enough, and the music’s got some nice tunes; but with gameplay that gets hectic, and puzzles with tight time limits, it’s a bit tough for some younger gamers, and a bit sweet at times for older ones. None of which stops it from being fun tho.

On the first Xbox (the one the size of Scotland), I set up broadband for the house. All ready to embrace the online revolution that was Xbox Live, I spent an hour or two that afternoon coming up with possible cool-sounding names for my Xbox handle and that night, set out to make one of them my own.

How hard can it be?

My first choice was taken. “That’s okay,” I thought, “it’s to be expected.”

And my second. And my third, fourth… fifteenth. Not to be discouraged, my Xbox Live service was kindly offering suggestions, such as; “How about adding a random 16-bit alphanumeric after that?”, or “Have you considered adding ‘teh kill3r’ to the end of that?”, and the equally helpful  “How about choosing something that’s nowhere near as cool instead? Norman maybe, or Bert? Only with a random 16-bit alphanumeric after them cos they’re taken, obviously.”

it mocked me!

All suggestions delivered with the kind of cheery enthusiasm really only found in machines, cartoon characters based on lines of soft-toys, and occasionally newlyweds. I had worked my way through the entire list, and I was no nearer my goal than when I started. My Halo 2 disc sat there, glinting in a mocking way (this is a fact; I in no way imagined it!). It was at this point, ridiculously keen as I was to get pwned by legions of American 8-year olds, that I made my fateful error.

I pressed the Random button!

“Nope!”, “That’s rubbish!”, “Bleurgh!” I thought, as I dismissed out of hand the first 50 or so useless suggestions. Until, in my desperation, my eye settled on “Vagabond”.

Kinda conjures up images of a traveller, a rogue, a man who lives on his wits, I thought. “Well… I’ll change it later”, I said to myself.

I make no excuses. I wholly admit that the mistake was mine. I accept all guilt and responsibility. Because quite apart from it being a bit rubbish, I had simply given no thought to how it would be received by the legions of oh-so-special Halo 2 players that have helped make the internet the place it is. Simply put… three syllables is too many.

“What’s that? Veggie-something? I think he like vegetables or something man, I don’t know.”

Not brocolli

They even thought my green Marathon icon was meant to be brocolli! If they were being ironic, I wouldn’t have minded… but when one kid slowly sounded out the syllables like he was reading in front of the class for the first time, I knew it was time for a change.

“Vadge… A… Bond?!” he proudly pronounced. “What’s Vadge-a-bond? Is that a girl thing? Have we got a chick in the room?!”

Friend Requests rained from the heavens. There were three requests that I send photos of myself. One persistant little bugger wanted to know if I was married! I have never been as popular since. Yet, call me weird… despite this; I still set my heart on changing my name ASAP. To something short, one syllable preferably, so no-one could ever get confused over it… say… Skill.

Pure evil

Normally a game’s set-up is so routine, we barely even have to be told. There are cardboard cut-out enemies to fight, and they represent the epitome of evil. Nazis maybe, or the Hordes of Hell, or perhaps Simon Cowell, but some great evil anyway. It removes all those nasty moral questions about killing them by the thousand.

And then there’s the villain. We recognise him because he’s the one with the over-the-top laugh, twirling his moustache (because moustaches are evil obviously), and trying to destroy/take over the world. He will then insult the hero’s hair, maybe chat up his girl, or inflict various flavours of manufactured pop on the world; so we know it’s ok to hate him, and we can be mean to him when we get to the final level, without feeling bad about it.

At this point, the player steps forward as a lantern-jawed, steroid-abusing behemoth with perfect teeth, and sets about unlocking all those achievements for “10,000 decapitations in a level”, or “Skewered 300 maidens in 1 minute!”, or whatever.

And all is right with the world.

Moustaches are evil

But wait… what is this? From the very start, Batman: Arkham Asylum defies expectations. The lantern-jaw is still there. And more muscles than you’d see on your average Governor of California. But by stepping into the shoes (and cape & cowl) of a psychotic vigilante instead of the game’s hero; traditional roles are reversed.

The game begins, as many do, with the hero imprisoned, and needing to escape before he can begin to save the day. But when he makes his move, it’s the player who tries to stop him. Before we have a chance to come to terms with this shock, we’re almost immediately set to attacking unarmed psychiatric patients. Armed with a host of (mostly handheld) weapons, they offer little but sport for the Batman. The player is even encouraged to consider the violence as a score attack game, with multipliers and bonuses for successful attacks. Later, combat can be reminiscent of Manhunt from Rockstar Games. It even includes the silent one-hit takedowns from behind, that were so common in Rockstar’s grisly opus. And that’s not all; the player is given a device which registers the heart-rates and anxiety levels of his victims. We’re encouraged to take enjoyment from the very fear we create.

During all this, corrupt (presumably), or possibly terrified police and security forces do nothing to stand in the Batman’s way. All so the player can try to stop the hero from doing what he does best – rescuing the citizens of Gotham from lives of boredom, trapped as they are by society’s limits.

Some concessions have had to be made, in an effort to appease outraged parent/tabloid editor. A back story, for example, is presented for our clearly insane, rodent-obsessed protagonist; filled with tragedy and the deaths of loved ones. He wasn’t always a monster, we are told, once he was just a lonely child. And (in the PlayStation 3 version of the game) there’s a mode that lets you play the hero in a more traditional way. Yet portraying such a complete villain in the game will clearly horrify and upset many people. And setting back any hope of treatment, or recovery, for some of society’s most unfortunate citizens (as an armed and armoured vigilante), never feels like anything less than a crime.

Despite this, I believe the game is a triumph. Both Rocksteady, and publishers Eidos Interactive, deserve to be commended for taking such a bold new direction with the game. Not since Manhunt have gamers been given the chance to consider just how violent their hobby has become; and how that violence reflects on us as individuals, and on society as a whole. Let’s hope that other developers will be inspired by what they’ve done, and find the courage to try bold experiments of their own.

Only it’s not always like that, is it? If we walk down the street with open eyes, turn on the news, or recall our own misfortunes, we can see that life is seldom so neat. So how come games seem to offer little else, other than the dream? Why is it that the only real threats to peace, justice and the videogame way, are boredom, the occasional difficulty spike and maybe the next game coming along before we’ve finished the last one?

Maybe we can blame Hollywood; that’s always fun. It makes a change from games always being the villain. I mean, sure, the badguy might escape at the end… or there’s some small suggestion of his return (sometimes from the dead) just before the credits roll, but that’s just to leave room for the sequel. Where are all the successful badguys? The criminal masterminds who take early retirement, buy a small country with a beach-hut and take up surfing? The serial killers who parlay their life of crime into fame, fortune and a 5-year book deal? Or the petty crook done good, who “keeps his hand in” running the criminal empire, but mostly takes time to play golf and enjoy the wealth and happiness that have most undeservedly come to him? In life, such villains are commonplace (often in politics, or teaching, sometimes traffic wardens), but Hollywood’s long love affair with the ‘moral’ ending shows no sign of faltering. And I can see this reflected in many of the games we play.

"Forget it Jake, it's Chinatown."

I racked my brains trying to think of the number of times the villain got away. Where he didn’t end up riddled with bullets, arrested, betrayed by his girlfriend, or killed in some spectacular way. And outside of the middle parts of trilogies and continuing series, I could only come up with one. Directed in 1977 by Roman Polanski, Chinatown may stand alone as an occasion in cinema where the badguy walks away scot-free. No justice rains down on him, nor the wrath of some chisel-jawed, hero cop who just won’t let things go. No, he just walks away. Left to continue his life of villainy without fear of consequence. The police too afraid of his power and influence to interfere. His prize gripped in his hands as he walks out of shot and into cinematic history.

a very happy badguy

When Chinatown was released it became an instant classic; awards rained from the skies and praise was lavished all round. So why does it seem now, like some failed experiment, that was never to be repeated? And more tellingly, why don’t games, like books, take advantage of their talented creators to break more rules, and make more brave decisions? Literature has always had more range in its endings, but then our still-oh-so-young gaming industry has never aped literature half so much as it does the silver screen.

But perhaps it’s our fault. Our appetite for ‘Hollywood endings’ seems matched only by our appetite for popcorn, and for soft drinks that come in buckets. If an audience bays for more after being led down well-trod paths, and if the brave, or not so easily marketed, isn’t met with the rewards it deserves, then is there a future for the successful villain? Or the unusual ending? So, are the entertainment industries limiting us, or are we limiting them?

Since first appearing in the classic Moonwalker games; MJ has endeared himself to fans with his superhuman antics and his surreal world (not to mention that killer soundtrack). What other character has ever lived in a world so strange? Where touching a chimpanzee results in being transformed into a death-dealing, laser-firing, body-popping robot? Or the way his dance of death (literally) defied gravity, physics and the limits of the human body. He landed in arcades and on home consoles like a traveller from Mars, and set feet and trigger-fingers tapping to the beat. A true icon of gaming had arrived.

Other good things followed too; his increasingly outlandish appearance, and increasingly unbelievable physical moves, saw him appear as a Special Guest character in the Space Channel 5 and Ready 2 Rumble Boxing franchises. Both series were a good fit as he moved with impossible speed and grace, and spun and tilted in ways no mere human could hope to achieve.

So why didn’t the character go on to spawn more franchises and cross-over games? Was there no room for a Space Michael Kart Racer on shop shelves? Well, I can’t help but wonder if it was around this time that developers started to lose a grip on their creation. As developers looked to improve on past successes, design choices seemed to get stranger and stranger – leaving the partly-real world of early games far behind. A number of stylistic redesigns saw him end up looking like a goth/vampire character from Japanese anime; very far from the more regular appearance of his early sprites that had helped to cement his popularity. Sound design too was poor, with MJ apparently speaking an alien language of woops and hollers understandable only to him. Plus his constant queries as to “Who is bad?”, never seemed to be met with a satisfactory answer.

Game design and production were generally excellent, but there was one early, and now infamous, glitch in his games which resulted in the character moving backwards while the sprite’s animation was clearly walking forwards. Game designers claimed the glitch to be an intentional piece of design, but almost no-one was convinced.

And perhaps worst of all, were the plotlines. A convoluted and bizarre backstory was allowed to grow around the character. We were told that he lived in a fantasyland, that he acquired great wealth only to lose it again, and that he married Elvis Presley’s daughter of all people! But this only served to distract gamers from the great games that had made his name in the first place.

Whatever critics might say about the eccentric appearance and the strange goings on in the plotlines, it can’t be denied that Michael Jackson has left a significant and enduring legacy to gamers. With fun at their heart and a sense of the performer throughout, he leaves fans with a collection of memories as unique as he was. But is that the end?

Almost as quickly as we heard the character was no more, Dave Perry (formerly of Shiny Entertainment) announced that he had been developing a new game around the character. Like Duke Nukem before him, I suppose this offers a ray of hope to those fans who wish to believe their hero may rise again. That funding and a brave developer could be found to revive the project. But whatever the future brings, there’s always that back catalogue to delve into. To reminisce, to revel in the good times, and to pay respects to this truly great entertainer.

I remember the first time I heard someone suggest that games controllers were off-putting to new players. The idea hit me like something completely new. How could this harmless, friendly little device that I knew so well, prevent people from doing the very thing that it was designed to do?

But then, maybe it’s no surprise that I didn’t get it at first. After all, I got into gaming early. At three and four years old, I’d led the forever-locked-in-a-maze Pac-Man away from those pesky ghosts. Up was ‘Up’, and down was ‘Down’, and the one button on the joystick wasn’t even used to play the game. But it isn’t like that any more.

An early attempt at a full-body motion-controller

I look at the controller in my hands, usually forgotten as soon as the titles roll, and I find myself wondering; how many control schemes, and attack patterns, and intricate sequences have I mastered over the years? With two analogue triggers, twin joysticks, a pair of shoulder buttons, four face buttons, Start and Back (often used in-game these days), a D-pad and that big glowing X, modern controllers are complex and subtle tools. They’re as useful as ever though; I direct Pac-Man around those mazes still but the controller is still just as at home in a rich and complicated gamescape. Looking at it now, it’s obvious that so much control could be daunting to a new player.

Even if I didn’t see it, Nintendo sure did. And they set out to make the world of games a whole lot more accessible. Nintendo have declared that they’ve shipped more than 50 million Wiis and sold more than 100 million DS and DS Lites worldwide. Big numbers. And with so much at stake, it was only a matter of time before the other big players tried to get in on the act and tap into Nintendo’s magic formula of more accessible gameplay for a much wider audience.

This E3 saw Microsoft enter the game with its much-touted Project Natal (the promise of controller-free control doing away with everything but the player). And Sony has come up with the snappily-titled “Motion Controller” which comes across as a ‘wand’ closer to the Wii-mote but with added EyeToy camera recognition.

The potential is awe-inspiring. This new technology can be an easy sell to someone who’s never so much as shot down a Space Invader or circle-strafed an end-of-level boss. And it’s a whole new toolset for developers to get their teeth into and let their imaginations run wild. So why am I not more excited?

Well, really it’s this; games allow me to be super-human from the comfort of my sofa (horizontal gaming ftw), not just merely-human while I work frantically. I’ve been wall-running with Persian Princes, and I’ve turned cartwheels and somersaults down ancient corridors with Lara. I’ve defeated Sheng Long and I’ve gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson. So the idea of throwing each punch, pathetically swinging my foot in a vain attempt at an overhead kick, or clumsily miming out such actions as climbing a ladder fills me with dread.

Where will my adventures and my feats of legend come from if in the end, I am only me, and not one of the many gaming heroes I’ve been through the years? I want to climb skyscrapers and swan-dive off cliffs, be as acrobatic as an Olympic gymnast and as skilled as the world’s greatest martial artist. Motion-control clearly has the potential to bring us all manner of new experiences but might it also rob me of my superhuman prowess? No amount of being able to move in-game objects with my hand is going to replace my lust for adventure.

In the end, we shall all just have to wait and see. Will our familiar controllers become obsolete icons of a bygone age, or will the new ideas of an industry hungry to expand its audience become an entry point to more established gaming, rather than a replacement? Who knows, but I say this to you, Sony and Microsoft, don’t forget us gamers in your rush to steal Nintendo’s thunder.

And whatever happens, I’ll still have to lead poor Pac-Man around that maze, and I wonder if up will still be ‘Up’ and down will still be ‘Down’.

In a small way, with Wolfenstein 3D, we’re looking at the gaming equivalent of one of these great men. Perhaps more than any other game, it holds claim to being the grandfather of modern first-person shooters. Before Duke Nukem 3D, and before DOOM, it first had PC gamers circle-strafing back in 1992, and has been ported to multiple systems since. Now Nerve Software and Activision have brought this landmark title to XBLA, so it’s time to grab that chain gun, run sideways just as fast as we can, and see what all the fuss was about.

The game has you step into the army-issue boots of William “B.J.” Blazkowicz, an allied spy captured by the Nazis and imprisoned in Castle Wolfenstein. Armed with a pistol and a knife (presumably taken from a guard) B.J. sets out to escape the castle and take on the might of the Nazi regime. His one-man assault on one of the most powerful military forces the world has ever known will see him come face to face with highly trained officers of the SS, attack dogs, genetically-engineered undead mutants (with a third arm sprouting from their chest, no less), and eventually one of the most infamous bosses in the history of gaming and the world; a mecha battlesuit-wearing Adolf Hitler who has to be seen to be believed. All while still finding time to scoff roast chicken dinners and loot treasure, ofcourse. This is history as it happened. It did happen like that, right?

The setting does present an issue from the outset. With limited graphical power, id’s designers needed a way to set the game in time and place. This was achieved with heavy use of Nazi symbols like the Swastica and more images of Adolf Hitler than you can you shake an Iron Cross at. Seriously, I think I’ve seen more images of Hitler in the last few days, than I’d seen previously in my entire life. And it’s this aspect of the game that has been known to cause controversy, and in the past saw copies confiscated in Germany. One of the factors that will determine how much you like this game, will be how you personally feel about the use of such images.

There are other issues too. There are six episodes (each containing ten levels), but each episode typically features only three enemy types plus an over-powered boss. Music and sound effects are simple and repeated endlessly, though done with some charm. And all gameplay takes place on a single plane; there are no steps, or balconies, or even aiming up or down, the game is played out entirely on flat ground. Also, the game is entirely singleplayer, and on all but the hardest difficulty settings, not overly long.

I had a lot of fun with this game. I loved seeing what was possible back in the day, on limited hardware. I got a kick out of id’s bloodthirsty art at times, and the core gameplay can be fun. But id’s-own DOOM, did all this better only a year later, and in the world of the modern shooter both level design and gameplay are just too basic to really hold your attention. I guess that like Buzz and Sir Roger, though it’s place is assured in history, the game is just showing it’s age. After all, we’re not asking them to lead the Olympic team, or Captain the next shuttle mission, are we?

Fighting this beast is clearly out of the question, so like Indiana Jones before the boulder, I will run. I will run for my very life. And this time, there will be no pause button, no extra lives, no continues… just the race, and the frantic headlong rush to survive.

The Running of the Bulls (known locally as encierro) takes place every July in the Basque city of Pamplona, as part of the festival of Sanfermines. A tradition for centuries, it was brought to international attention by Ernest Hemingway in his book The Sun Also Rises. And this, perhaps more than anything else, has turned the event from something enjoyed by a handful of locals, into a spectacle involving many hundreds of runners from all around the world. But regardless of where they’re from, they all come seeking to test their nerve, and their speed, against Spain’s proud bulls.

The event is dangerous. Every year between 200 and 300 people are injured during the run, and since 1910, 14 people have been killed in Pamplona.

This year, numbered amongst the runners, will be this Ready-Upper.

When I tell people that I intend to run in this year’s encierro. I’m treated to the same look I sometimes get, when I tell someone I like games. It’s a look many of you will be familiar with. The one that seems to say, “There’s a crazy person here! I hope he’s not contagious.” But I suppose that’s to be expected. After all, why would I, or anyone else for that matter, want to put life and limb at risk in this way?

It does set me to thinking though; is there a connection between my love of videogames and my desire to take part in unique, and needlessly dangerous, sports and events?

It seems to me that we each of us, as gamers, make a conscious decision to fill our lives with adventure. We’re everyday thrill-seekers chasing after our dreams and the chance to overcome impossible odds. We refuse to stand still and wait for life to pass us by. Instead we grab every experience that comes our way, be it from the comfort of our sofas and our limitless imaginations, or the ways in which we stretch and challenge ourselves to grow ever stronger. We choose lives less ordinary. And we never regret it.

Perhaps seen in that light, my choice is an obvious one after all.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one. A man walks into a bar carrying a corpse under one arm. He says to the barkeep, “Hey barkeep, how about a couple of drinks for my friend and I?”
“What’ll you have?” says the barkeep with a smile.
“I’ll have a Scotch.” says the man. And with a practiced flourish, a Scotch is set up on the bar.
Turning to the corpse, the man pauses for a moment, “What’ll you have, eh? Oh, I know, we need a drink that’ll really wake the dead. Get my friend a Zombie.” he says with a grin.
“I’m very sorry Sir, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” asks the man.
“You see, you came in as last orders were ending,” the barman explains, “I was glad to serve you a drink, but now the clock has moved… so I can’t serve your late friend.”

It’s never good to be late. And you’re beyond late Bats, you didn’t turn up at all! I can’t believe I threw a party and you didn’t come! Do you know how hard it is to throw a successful soirée, when the guest of honour doesn’t even show? I swear, for some of the staff up here at Arkham it was really torture. Mind you, some of them seemed to have fun. I guess it is true what they say; “You don’t have to be crazy to work here… but it helps!”

So how come you didn’t show? Where was the Bat? Was he convalescing? Can’t he take a joke? Did the Batmobile get towed? Too many speeding tickets, huh? Or you slept in? I hear that global warming can really mess with your hibernation patterns? Oh, I know, your only clean batsuit was the one with the rubber nipples?

Well, whatever the reason, I don’t mind, I’m not cross. In fact, I’ve decided to invite you to my next shindig all the same. See, I’m having something of a… moving house party. Much as I’ve loved being here, I find the decor a little drab for my tastes. And between you and me, not everyone here seems entirely sane. If I don’t get out of here soon, I think I’ll go nuts! So a change of scene is what’s called for, and I’ll be moving out later this Summer. I’m trading up to something with more of a view. But there’s time for one last evening spectacular before I go. Invites are to die for. Be sure to R.S.V.P.

The funny man with the plan,

Joker

Temporary resident,
Arkham
Floor 7
Room 55

The above letter was delivered to the Gotham City Herald after Eidos Interactive and Warner Bros. Interactive Entertainment, in association with Wayne Enterprises, confirmed that Batman: Arkham Asylum will be released at the end of summer 2009.

My life is over.

There really is no escape. No hope of redemption. This is all there is now.

As the fireball tears through the sky, and then through the field destroying everything in its path, my mind turns back to all the warnings I had. All the missed chances and spurned opportunities to choose something different. To not end up here.

Of course now it’s too late. As fire rains from the sky, and everything it touches is lost, there is little to be gained by dreaming of other choices. In a way, perhaps there were no other choices. Perhaps my fate led me to this. After all, I had faced so many dangers before and come away unscathed, I thought this would be the same; when I was told of the dangers, the risks… I just laughed them off. Surely I was more than a match for any challenge.

Well, I was wrong.

As I fire off a few ineffectual shots, the dragon merely smirks from his place in the sky. His victory was assured the moment I set out to face him, and he knows it. The rest was inevitable.

As I glance to my right, I see the dawn light and my heart sinks. The battle has gone on too long. I blink my eyes for what feels like the first time in weeks, and I take stock of my situation. My body screams for rest, my mind now barely functions at all. My mouth is dry, my throat parched, I can’t remember ever having eaten and yet somehow, impossibly, I carry on.

At first, I’m not sure what I’m seeing and then I doubt my own eyes. But it’s there. An opening. An impossible chance. I take careful aim, not rushed now, I know I’ll only get one shot. My concentration is total.

And just like that, I fire.

Instantly I know my aim is off. The shot ricochets at an angle I hadn’t planned. But then, like with so many shots before, chance intervenes. A lucky bounce, a well-placed peg, a fortunate glance… pegs light up like fireworks, each one seemingly urging my shot ever closer to that unreachable orange glow, hiding behind a once impenetrable wall of blue. The angles craze the mind. I’m shouting at the screen now. It bounces first one way and then another. Away from my goal, and then towards it. It comes close… time itself seems to stop.

The difference now is so small. The difference between success and failure. It all hinges on that orange glow… will it light? A narrow miss brings disappointment, but a hit? A hit brings the singing of angels, and the heavens themselves will open and every colour in creation will light the sky.

The match is over. The contest won. I must have sleep, and now at last I will have… after this next game.

The dragon’s victory is complete.

Most addictive game evar!