It’s been a remarkable day for British politics, if you care about that sort of thing. Jeremy Corbyn’s victory has seemed likely for some weeks now, but today’s result was overwhelming. Even accounting for any Tory saboteurs who slipped through the cracks, 60% in the first round is extraordinary. It’s an indisputable public mandate. In the face of party calls for a more centrist response, a Labour base who were seemingly unsure about the party’s last choice in ‘Red Ed’ have rallied unanimously around an even more radical candidate. Continue reading Court Jezter
In a desperate bid to prove that I really do know what I’m talking about when I clock in last this year, here’s my truncated list of Fantasy Football 2015/16’s flukes and chancers. Where’s the fun in banking on Aguero, anyway? Continue reading BPL Fantasy Football 2015-16: The definitive last-minute guide
A 350 word review of House of the Dead 3, which I did for a thing.
Recent complaints about short games ring a little hollow in the presence of 2003’s The House of the Dead 3. Arcade conversions have a proud history of failing to mask their meagre content, but this lesser exclusive in Sega’s original Xbox partnership really took the biscuit. At a generous half an hour to completion, the full console and light gun package would have set you back £12 every minute.
The prices might have dropped a bit, but you still get that sense of decadence. HOTD3 looks more than its year ahead of Halo, with detailed models and fluid animation streets ahead of the Xbox launch crop. The Sniper Scope accessory is just as opulent: the only person who could miss with this gun is the sucker with the bread to buy it. If you’ve still got a CRT to hand it’s a solid arcade replica, with linear kickback and squeaky pump action reloads. Titan Concepts’ creation is also suitably massive: at nearly three feet long with all attachments primed, it’s either the most ludicrous peripheral ever devised, or the most stringent adherent to minimum viewing distances.
The 30 minutes we get is a masterpiece of operatic silliness. You play as either Lisa Rogan – daughter of missing HOTD protagonist Thomas – or his erstwhile partner G, as they explore another derelict facility. Without the trademark ducking and dodging of sister series Time Crisis, gameplay is a finger-aching barrage of zombie archetypes brought to life with surprising character. Bosses are a treat, ranging from a creative spin on the ever-present plant monster to a mutated, body-farming sloth. The port does also unlock HOTD2 upon completion, tacking on a good hour of a frankly better game.
It’s all camp of the highest order, and not the disarming Resi 1 kind. Mandatory auto-reload puts pay to any lingering tension, and cheap deaths will have you raising the continue limit to beat the final boss. But HOTD3 is extraordinarily overwrought fun of a sort we’re unlikely to see again. Unwieldy plastic tat and £40 shooting galleries, or indies and Kinect? It’s a bit of a no-brainer.
It’s probably contrary to the point of an article on anything to declare, first sentence, that you have very little to say about it. I put it down to some sort of writer’s block at first, but the more time I dedicated to sorting through my thoughts and feelings on Alien: Isolation, the more I realised how fleeting they are.
Continue reading Alien: Cremation
It was a science fiction RTS, of that much I’m certain. An opening mission on a rocky outcrop, and laser fences, those were important. The marines were stout staples of Warhammer design, comically chunky in that way early polygonal games often were; the watchtowers hulking and triangular. Yet every unit would glide along, and the buildings were almost crystalline, like squat Burj Khalifas. I don’t think Dubai was a playable faction, but I wouldn’t put it past myself to forget.
Was there really a base commander unit, marking out holographic construction areas? Were there even aliens? The designs were vivid enough that I sketched them endlessly, to the extent you can sketch with finicky fingers and a case of felt tip pens. School had a BBC Micro and Granny’s Garden; my uncle’s house hosted intergalactic warfare. Fifteen years later and I can barely summon the husk of a spaceship’s hull. The details have merged to form a police e-fit of a game: a bit of Dune here, some Tiberian Sun there, and a dash of Earth 2150 for good measure.
It’s often said – and just as often ignored – that history is a games writer’s greatest asset. The ability to spot a reference, to pick out scavenged systems and recycled character tropes. One wry observation that Super Mario 64 beat CoD: Ghosts to dynamic fish AI can bag a million hits. And there’s a lot to be said for that. There’s a reason I’ve amassed so many Steam games. There’s also a reason that I haven’t played half of them. Gaming already has a proud and lengthy history, but it’s always been uniquely, relentlessly forward thinking. Keep your copy of DOSBox, but don’t wallow in wanton nostalgia. Gaming is going places, whether the gamers want it to or not.
Sir Isaac Newton was a prescient sort of chap. When he laid down his Third Law – that every action has an equal and opposite reaction – he hadn’t just defined a physical constant, but a social one. Praise or hate, affirm or deny, the internet has never been more liable to knock down your door and tell you just how wrong you are. Continue reading Remember Me Not
As a male human attempting to write a dissertation on gender issues in games, I am, as you may already have identified, a colossal prick.
I’m also tasked with encapsulating and explaining the public discourse on women in games. This would be a whole lot easier if any such thing existed. Continue reading Antisocial justice warriors
A ‘statement of intent’. That’s how both Wayne Rooney’s contract extension and Juan Mata’s arrival have been touted: a sign that Manchester United can continue to attract the big players with more than Europa League aspirations.
As I write this, Fellaini has just given the ball away against Crystal Palace. Wilfried Zaha has just been on the end of a 0-4 thumping in Cardiff, and Shinji Kagawa is contemplating a final season at the club without scoring a single goal.
It is a strange league and a strange media climate in which the managers on Merseyside are praised for canny acquisitions, yet Arsenal and United investing obscene amounts into well stocked positions is a magic tonic for success. Our big heaired Belgian was a panic buy, and whatever belief Ozil invested in the Arsenal squad seems to have dissipated as he fails to perform with any consistency.
Continue reading Rooney, and the death of the Man United midfield
There’s an adage almost as old as the internet, far preceding the antics of our friends at the MailOnline, that “any sufficiently advanced troll is indistinguishable from a genuine kook.” In the context of clickbait, content deliberately geared for gathering hits and eliciting response, what I’m about to say is rather inadvisable.
You’re more likely to have heard of this than read it. It’s an article on USgamer, Eurogamer’s most recent play in the games journalism power struggle, about the upcoming Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2. And it’s about rape.
Much has been said already, but the most effective argument comes courtesy of Youtuber InternetAristocrat (most of the responses I’ve read are as badly written as the original article). I’d advise you click above and below to fill yourself in. Continue reading You’re not helping: on censorship, sexism and Lords of Shadow 2