How to Be Bad

The oft mourned developers, Bullfrog Productions, were responsible for a lot of things. A lot of very good things. Chief amongst which was an apparent ability to make Peter Molyneux’s “grand ideas” actually work. Second amongst them, though, was a nifty management sim with an RTS streak and a dirt-black humour. Dungeon Keeper.

I was ten years old and had little experience with games on PC, aside from educational stuff on old Acorns and even a BBC based text-adventure game at school. Oh, and watching my Dad and Uncle play DOOM. Essentially, what I knew about games, was Mario, Sonic and Ducktails. Happy characters, bopping around in cartoon worlds, saving the day. And I wasn’t all that good at them.

I can vaguely remember hearing my Dad explain what this new game he had bought was and feeling a gleeful grin on my face. Now, for context, I am a massive wuss. Mars Attacks gave me nightmares when I first watched it. As a young thing I was not good with the jumpy, scary things. Despite this, I remember the thrill I felt when I heard this was a game where you could be the dark and nasty things that lurk about the edges of good and right. I was intrigued and I watched. And it was beautiful.

I shouldn’t need to go into the actualities of the game by now. If you liked it, you loved it and, if you didn’t like it, you probably don’t like games that much so won’t care. Needless to say, everything about the game was superb: from the succulent purring of Richard Ridings’ malevolent PA/mentor, via the diverse and twisted creatures you lured and coerced into your force, to the depth of challenge involved in proceeding through the game, there was little that was not done just right. It was a perfectly formed, morbid assault on the senses. Like a Dark Mistress. If I could only play one game ever again, I would choose Dungeon Keeper.

This is why the last week has seen me not quite at my chipper and upbeat self. I could have been intensely happy. I could have been. But that would have relied on too much. For, you see, Bullfrog Productions are no more; lost to the great sponge of innovation that is Electronic Arts. And, along with Bullfrog went all of their amazing and diverse properties, including Dungeon Keeper. This was ten years ago and, for most of that time, I think the public were content to rest in the knowledge that there was little to hope for in terms of a new game in the series.

How I long for those days again.

There is a new Dungeon Keeper and I will never play it. There is an argument to say that no-one actually plays it, no matter how many times they may prod apathetically at their mobile devices.

Yes, that’s right, it’s a mobile game, and a “””””free””””” to play mobile game at that. There aren’t enough irony markers in the world to surround the word “”””””””free”””””””” in that sentence.

Again, I will not go into the details of these horrors here. Many others have done that far better than I. And I will also not try to attempt to unravel the mysteries of how a programmed and animated process of extorting ransoms in exchange for the promise of gameplay that never really seems to be met has become one of the most successful enterprises existing today whilst somehow avoiding countless legal disputes over its infinitely generous description of these games being “””””free.””””” That is a hopeless case I do not want to get involved in.

No, I simply want to pass on my feelings to you, in order to release the stress and heartbreak that I feel.

I have some reasons to be cheerful, though. First of all, both Dungeon Keeper and its sequel are available on GOG.com for a ridiculously low amount of money (in accurate terms, you can buy two whole games that are truly rich, entertaining and enjoyable experiences for the same price as 1200 “gems,” the equivalent of digging out a basic room, on the mobile app) and are likely to exist there forever, hopefully. You should definitely have a go on these games if you want to get into games and don’t really care about graphics (like right-minded, sensible people should).

Secondly, there are virtuous and noble developers out there in the world and, one of them are being spiffingly awesome and making Dungeon Keeper 3 themselves! by attempting to create a new, spiritual successor to Dungeon Keeper and, from what there is so far (WarFor the Overworld; available through the Steam Early Access program) it looks like they might actually do very well at this.

But, and this could be a huge but, there is still the problem of this new “app for throwing money down a metaphorical toilet” version of Dungeon Keeper. Not in or of itself, mind, because such things can be cheerfully ignored (he lied), but more as a representation of a wider trend.

Microtransactions are a concern. Developers that build games roughly around a skeleton consisting purely of microtransactions are more so. Developers that will gleefully throw away good IP with a devoted following on to the trash heap of mobile “”””””””Free-to-play””””””””” are the most concerning. EA, already fairly unpopular as game publishers, will definitely have lost points for allowing this to happen whilst, at the same time, presumably refusing to allow the rights to the name “Dungeon Keeper” to anyone wanting to build a game that at least attempts to do the name justice i.e. Subterranean. EA’s attitude, quite clearly displayed in this interview by senior producer Jeff Skalski, is that this is the type of game people want and it’s not their fault if some people (traditional gamers e.g. people that have been clamouring for a DK sequel for a decade) exist behind the times. They say all this beneath a guise of admiring the game and wanting to spread it to a wider audience. I can think of a better way of doing that. But what has concerned me are the huge amount of positive reviews, both in the app and in outside journalism. They think that this (link NSFW) is not only acceptable, but in demand. They agree that this is just what games are like now, that complaints are simply unjustified bitching from uncultured heathens locked in the past behind an impenetrable wall of nostalgia. I cannot understand how everyone is not raging about this.

To go mildly off topic for a bit, I had been immensely excited around the time of the new console announcements due to a certain announcement that told the world that a new Mirror’s Edge game was on the way. Again, I had been waiting for this news for a long time.

Guess who publishes Mirror’s Edge? Guess how I now feel about the prospect of a new game in light of this sham of a Dungeon Keeper game?

Microtransactions are dangerous because people are buying into them. The more people buy into them, the more publishers feel justified in bringing them into more games; even AAA games. Gran Turismo 6, a Playstation staple, has recently bought into the microtransactions model, albeit at a much less intrusive scale but then you do pay upfront for that game. When a game is built around farming money, it abandons all chance of being any more than an unfulfilling time or money sink, and this is creepily becoming “just a thing” in games; where quality is sacrificed in exchange for mechanics intended purely to drag the money from your pocket. Sure, there are plenty of developers out there with good intents, and there will continue to be so. But, if new gamers are brought playing games that hold gameplay to ransom, how can we be certain that these Indie developers of the future will find a market enough to keep them up and running?

Sooner or later this bubble has to burst. If it doesn’t; if people keep just accepting games like (I hate to call it Dungeon Keeper) this new app, then a market that has been so rich and diverse could start to look a pretty dire prospect. We may have loved the game back as it was in the late 90s, but with a dark twist of irony we could see similar scenes play out in the video game world; this time, we could be innocent folks staring down the blood-stained scythe of Horny as he tugs on the chain-leash held in the gnarled hands of AAA publishers.

A Sticky Situation

Hide your kids, this discussion is gonna get blue.

For a start, you should read this article by Paul Bernal. It covers the main points of the issue I'm addressing far more intelligently than I could and fairly succinctly highlights all the issues such a motion could raise beyond the "well-meaning" original intentions. I am fully in agreement with what he says and I don't think I'll look to cover any of these points here.

But there is something I want to add regarding the "moral pressure" apparently present that has brought forward this push.

Our Glorious Leader has made his bold and totally vapid stance in the name of protecting children from corruption. The outcries of parents everywhere for a safer world for their kids has been heard, and it has been taken on board. Kids will no longer have to fear the necrotic and toxic presence of pornography online. Thank God.

But who is it that has worked so tirelessly to secure such a bright future for our young ones. Which champions of decency have brought forth salvation to our decrepit lands. What's that? The Daily Mail and The Sun?

It's been mentioned a lot in my online social circle. The irony... no, wait. That's far to light hearted and innocent a term. The SHEER-FUCKING-HYPOCRISY of these two bastions of sleaze shutting down the presence of naked peeps on the Internet is too much to bear. Can we so simply overlook The Sun's daily breasts on Page 3? Or The Mail's horrendously creepy stories that tend to centre on how attractive infants are becoming? Quite frankly, if we're taking moral advice from these bastards, I don't want to be innocent.

But this is not the time to be debating the morality of pornography, (Summary: It has dodgy parts. But, for the most part, it's just people having sex. Are we back to saying sex is immoral again? Because, no.) Now is the time to be questioning just why people should have to take an extra effort to partake in a fairly normal endeavour with absolutely no moral questionability whatsoever, just so lazy, half-arsed parents don't want to put any extra effort into bringing up the kids they are so clearly unsuited to raise.

Because there is yet more depressing irony to the notion that a Prime Minister who spent so much time claiming he would bring discipline back to the younger generations would be doing so much to actually alleviate the responsibility of those who actually need to be sorting this out. Parents. It's not all parents. It's obviously not all parents. Dad's all across the country are probably feeling a bit uneasy right now. But I also assume/know there will be a lot of parents who don't want this. But no-one listens to the majority. They don't need to complain.

I was lucky. I had sensible (well... ish) parents who understood that kids will do all the things that they have done, and the best means of "protecting" children from inevitable experiences is to actually explain these things reasonably and sympathetically.

Sadly, this is not a universal trait. There is that minority of parents who just leave their kids in the dark, and assume its everyone else's job to keep kids in check. This has been felt in schools, where parents blame teachers for the behaviour of their own kids, and in the rise of aggression in kids today (admittedly an assumption, but hard to deny). So when these parents take that rare and fleeting moment to actually take notice of their kids and find that they have seen a pair of boobs on the Internet, then it's obviously Google's fault. Nothing to do with a lack of attentiveness on their part. It's the same argument that was bandied about against gay marriage: "How do I explain this to my kids?" Maybe just by talking to them for once.

As a gamer, this is nothing new. Every week, it seems, there's some parent group bemoaning Grand Theft Auto or Call of Duty for teaching their kids to be violent. This is, of course, utter bullshit. I've played GTA since the London edition, and all it's taught me is that, after 7 or 8 games, GTA gets kind of tired. But still, you get the same, tired Mums Groups that write in to say video games should be banned; never seeing the fact that, if they just stopped buying them the damn things, there wouldn't be a problem.

But no, they have ranted and raved for tougher action and so now everyone has to be labelled a perve for having to stick up their hands and ask for porn. I await with baited breath for the inevitable news story that suggests someone is guilty of a crime based purely on their having "opted-in" to mature content. Our Fearless Overlord even went as far to take a stab at Internet providers and search engines for not doing enough, despite filters already being in place for this very purpose and the ever adapting procedures for taking down and filtering abuse-based content from search results. Yet, at the same time, you can guarantee that The Sun will keep tits on Page 3 and The Daily Mail will continue to salivate over 8-year old girls because El Presidente won't want to bother his press pals any more after the mild inconvenience caused by Levenson.

In short, this whole issue has made me irate, infuriated and just a little nauseated. I can only hope that this news will shortly be followed by the now traditional Tory U-turn, or by the revelation that, in practise, nothing will be changed and all this was just a cheap PR exercise. But I fear the threat of censorship, I fear the potential scapegoating and, above all, I fear for a future that takes us back to the dark ages of 'no sex please, we're British,' of kids that get confused because they grow up with an understanding that sex is all shady and immoral.

I thought we had made an advance since those days.

Music Through the Ages

A friend of mine (Chris Slight. You should check him out, he does all kinds of fun awesome stuff here) put forward an interesting question via the magic Twitter tree. It was about music, and I like music, and I also like personal development, which this question also addressed. Hence why I liked the question.

He asked the world (how magical Twitter is) to suggest the very moment, as symbolised by a particular musical track, where, essentially, your musical mindset got blown right open.

Can you see why I liked it?

But I instantly found it difficult to answer. Not because I couldn't think of one, but because I could think of too many. My whole life has been a train of various musical explosions that have left me changed somehow. It's still happening.

But it left me inspired, so I thought I might pass on a collection of the biggest alterations. I don't think I could really be able to highlight any specific song, but here, instead, is a chronological list of musical incidents that changed everything.

1: Pink Floyd

Bit vague, but you'll see.

Pink Floyd were pretty much my earliest sonic experiences. My family will often dwell on the various occasions where, as a small, semi-conscious being, I would recite and demand highlights from pretty much the entire Floyd back catalog. Money may well have been my theme tune.
My first ever live gig was seeing them, aged 7 (or, at least, I'm pretty sure it is. It might have been Status Quo a year or so before). And, when I think about the music I listen to today, it all stems from what Pink Floyd were doing. Strong, complex melodies, evocative lyrics, experimental traits. Pink Floyd shaped what I liked and I've followed through with that to this day.

2. Manic Street Preachers - If You Tolerate This (Then Your Children Will Be Next)

Typically, despite my father's influences, I passed into a phase of just tagging along with the 90s pop music that littered my generation. Backstreet Boys, B*Witched, Oasis, etc. Fun tunes, but hardly nourishing. Then, I heard If You Tolerate This by the Manics. It was like a jump start. My brain still snaps whenever I here that acid-edged first chord. It was so far removed from the saccharine beats of the Top of the Pops fare and reconnected me to the idea of music being a conduit for deeper sensation and emotion. 

3. Nirvana - Nevermind

I really didn't want to say this, because I'm sure everyone who lived through the ages of 13-18 felt this, but Nirvana really did mean everything to me. Nevermind was an obvious progression on the idea of music being of the emotions and something so raw and powerful as this album was always going to be a teenage gospel. At the age of 25, angst is a bit of a laughable attitude for someone who hadn't ever lived under a bridge and had, in fact, just woken up from a nice nap, but there's something about wanting that feeling of anguish when your brain and body is physically mutating. But, of course, underneath that, is a massively strong pop mentality. Cobain always said he loved the Beatles, and Nirvana, themselves, were absolutely huge. It was telling us that, actually, 'Popular,' as a concept, is a hugely flaky one. Nirvana made it popular to be unpopular, to be outcast. They didn't set out to do that, but they filled a void that an age group needed, will always need. They were the support group.

4. Blur - Think Tank

It should be stated that I always loved Blur. They were always more interesting to me than Oasis and I always had more fun with stuff like Parklife and Country House than I ever did with Wonderwall. They were a happy fun-time band of joy. Then, Out of Time was released from the imminent Think Tank album and I felt my heart burst.
Perhaps, the departure of Graham Coxon led to an inevitable release for Damon Albarn to approach this album somewhat more selfishly, but the result was breathtaking. It was totally different to Blur as I knew them, but at the same time they seemed so much more solid, more engaging. A very heartfelt and diverse album, ranging from the madcap We've Got a File On You to the mournful and melancholy Battery in Your Leg interspersed throughout with an eclectic fusion of unfamiliar cultures that would become a very prominent part of another Damon Albarn group's finest works. I remember not really knowing what to feel about the album when I first got it, other than that I loved it. I see now how it helped me Blur up the dividing lines between what had always seemed to be wholly disparate notions of genre in music.

5. Radiohead - Kid A

I'm not sure this needs explaining, really. Everyone remembers when they first heard Kid A and then went, '...right...' before hearing it for the fourth or fifth time and uncovering the sheer marvel of what had been acheived. Even now, I can listen to it and find something new, discover a new level that suddenly changes my favourite song on the album. The depth to an album created with electronic instruments is unfathomable and, suddenly, it wasn't enough to me to just be a guitar and drums band. It was all about an entire aesthetic and a soniscape to the music you created. Half of the experience of listening to Kid A is getting lost in the feedback aura that underlies the melodies and vocals that; typical of all Radiohead work, do the work of snaring you once you get sucked in. It changed my approach to music so much and left me wondering where exactly we could go from there.

(This is maybe just me throwing in an honourable mention, but as a stark contrast to this, it was around this time I also first heard Manchild by the Eels, which always floors me because of how simple and sparse it is. But, I don't necessarily think it changed my perceptions of anything, it just impressed me as to how much it achieved with so little. It does, however, lead into this...)

6. Eels - Electro-Shock Blues

 I had to mention this album. As much as Kid A is a technical triumph, it will always, for me, lose out to the emotional masterpiece that is Electro-Shock Blues. It's a return to that idea of the raw, unharnessed emotional power of music, and this album packs absolutely everything in. It plays with you, bats you up, drags you down, scrapes you along the floor. And all with a very restrained ensemble.  Much of the album is limited to just a man and his guitar. It's the light moments of embellishment to a track that suddenly hit a feeling home. But, why is it so game-changing, you ask? It's that moment, after several listens; when you've gotten used to the ride, where you realise that it's a concept album. It's one long story, told as subtly as possible.
It wasn't that this was my first exposure to the idea of a concept album. I knew of 2112 and Sgt. Pepper, but these examples, and others like it, were showcases; big operatic pieces designed for staging. Electro-Shock Blues was like a private story; like reading a diary. It was so personal, so intimate, and yet so well crafted that it could send you on a ride with so sparse a sound. It made me fall in love with 'albums' as an art piece.

7. Tom Waits - Kommienezuspadt

It was kind of tempting to say Little Drop of Poison instead, just for the reason it was how I found Tom Waits, but that wouldn't really be what made me find him so game changing. Because, the first album I got was Alice, and its one of his slower works. And, to a certain degree, his more traditional. And, as it was, when I first took a listen to it, it seemed a fairly standard, soulful blues/jazz affair. It was good, but I could feel it slipping into the obscurity of my iPod. And then Kommienezuspadt came on.
If you haven't heard the song, I can sum it up fairly easily. It's mental. And it is pure Tom Waits. The unusual, squeaking gravel of his voice, the rag-tag sounding band throwing in a Polka feel into a walking jazz rhythm. Surreal lyrics in what I assume is German but may well just be made up. It was an unbridled horror show and it was fantastic. THIS song, got me into Tom Waits, and Tom Waits doesn't do music any other way but his. And that turns out to be pretty important to me.

And that probably sums me up. I keep thinking of ways to fit other examples in, but they would really just be albums or songs that I really like. These were definite instances where I felt my mind absolutely change. Not necessarily in a U-turn, or anything, just a tweak of the wheel along a different line, but a definite shift which gave me reason to change my habits.

I Will Survive

I feel calm now. I've needed this calm.

I've been having a hectic few weeks. Spent a lot of time on various Pacific Islands really exploring myself. It's been eye opening. Oh, and traumatic.

But I've survived. And I'm different now. I'm not sure if that is in a good way.

At least... that's the general idea.

The truth is, I've been "busy" scraping through some survival games, both quite similar in nature. Unprepared white, young, Westerner gets trapped and stranded in uncharted lands (and yet neither game was Uncharted), forced to do desperate and horrible things to survive the attentions of crazed psychopaths and their hired goons.

Farcry 3 and Tomb Raider.

The short and succinct review is that I had a lot of fun with both, and that's all that really matters when it comes to these things, really.

And they got me thinking, which is another good thing, but I've been thinking about this whole survival thing, as it's obviously a big deal now. People want to scrape out of a hole having come through the ringer and ending up fulfilled. A metaphor for life. But playing through these stories has left me contemplating a big issue in all modern gaming: How hard can you make a game in this day and age?

Because if there is one thing I realised in playing through Farcry 3 it was that, for a survival game, it was jokingly easy.

I was really up for it. I was dropped into a hellish position and I was totally ready to fight and claw my way out. Then, my reality was utterly shattered when my first friendly contact was a cheery fellow in an army shirt, cargo shorts and black-rimmed glasses called Dennis. Now, don't get me wrong, Dennis was a bit of a dude. But he wasn't a survivor. I didn't get the impression he had been living the life of the wilds, on the verge of insanity. Rather, it seemed more likely that I had been rescued by a guy who had just come out of Starbucks with his MacBook in his Cambridge Satchel. I want to feel like I am constantly in peril, so throwing "The Tribal Hipster" at me kind of broke me out of the fantasy.

Ne'ertheless, I continued, taking my first steps in a game that rapidly became no longer a fight for survival but an exercise in performing a coup d'état on the resident criminal overlord so you could take his place. My first case-in-point being my first encounter with the native wildlife, a rather angry rattlesnake sat between me and my first synchronised view point liberated radio tower. Now, seeing as I had just about clung to the idea of survival, I wasn't going to waste ammo on a snake that I could potentially just edge around. So, calmly, carefully, I stepped around the coiled serpent hoping to make the stairs without inspiring aggression. This did not happen. Instead, the bastard bit me and I fought desperately to wrench it from my arm and fling it as far as possible from where I currently was.

And then... nothing. The red mist faded, my rapid pulse slowed and I stood, perfectly happy but for a puncture in my arm and a small chunk of missing health. But that was it. And so, I came to the conclusion that I was clearly invincible to have resisted what was clearly a venomous snake with no ill effect. And then I proclaimed how stupid that was.

And that's the general point here. You pitch the consumer the term 'survival' with the promise of nail-biting terror and flittering about the edge of death for an entire game. And then give us immunity to poison, disease and ferocious tigers. And fire, let's not forget fire. Many is the time where, having actually, for once, on rare occasion, run out of ammo, I resorted to C4 to deal with dangerous foes, burning down half of the jungle with me still in it. And then just patted my arm down and got on with things. And then I bought some more ammo with the thousands of dollars I was able to gather from the island's various jobs and gambling dens. Despite fearing I would need every last cent I could scrape from the enemies that fell in my sneaky, jungle native wake, it actually became a constant bother as guns were constantly becoming free to buy, you could make all the meds you needed and armour was just lying in random huts along the beach so that I had no need for money other than the odd bit of ammo and unnecessary secret maps, leaving me with the constant warning that I had no space in my wallet anymore. I would chase down sharks just so I could get more space for the literal fortune that was clearly to be found on this "den of nightmares."

There wasn't even a decent boss fight. No king of combat that would stretch your abilities with rifle and knife. The focal antagonist; an amazing character, wonderfully performed, who adorns the cover of the box, is removed from the story almost by a stage hand with a shepherd's crook and a 'wah, wah, wahhhh' soundtrack. The big boss, crow-barred into the story near the end, is felled by the dreaded quick time event, as is every notable villain in the game. By the end I felt thoroughly tired from being constantly dragged through important plot points rather than being dropped in and left to eek my own way out.

Tomb Raider was often guilty of exactly the same things as Farcry. Near the beginning, you are instructed to hunt down some food, presumably so that Lara doesn't die of starvation, and left with the assumption that this will be a regular occurrence. But, I don't think I hunted down anything else in the entire game, other than for something to do. I didn't really see that it was integral to Lara's survival, and I completed the game fine without it.

This was on hard mode, which only really seemed to apply to combat, and which roughly equated to a multiplier on the number of enemies faced in a given encounter. This wasn't so much survival as churning through gunfire to the fun, runny-jumpy-climby-puzzley bits behind. Once more, supplies were in plentiful supply; I don't think I went 5 steps without seeing a quiver of arrows, and the fire sources needed for much of the exploring and puzzle solving were never too far from hand, although a number of the set piece rooms early on were played quite well with convenient waterfalls sat between you and the most accessible brazier. But this was quickly snuffed out with the acquisition of an ignition device strapped to your torch and, later, a zippo from a dead pilot. Like they didn't want you to be too worried about surviving when all that beautiful scenery was there to be looked at.

I want to end this by saying that I genuinely did enjoy both of these games, although I did start to get worn out with Farcry once Vaas was removed. But I loved Tomb Raider and am really excited for the future titles. It's good to feel like playing a Tomb Raider game is no longer an act of shame. But, at the same time, I liked these games for reasons outside of what, to me at least, came across as the main selling point. The 'survival' aspect. Bar a few set pieces in both games, I didn't feel exactly stretched by the situation. And, the rare moments that I did, my hand was being held the entire time with QTEs. And it's disappointing. I can't be alone in wanting a real challenge of survival gaming skills. The success of Dark Souls and its sequels attests to the demand for difficulty in games. So lets see it. For the next survival title, I genuinely want to feel like I only just made it out alive. Make me work for my endorphins. Make me guess what buttons I have to press to get out of trouble. Otherwise, I may as well be playing some bizarre version of Guitar Hero.

The New Cash Cow

Dead Space is a terrifying horror series that I, regretfully, have yet to snap up and play past the demos. If I'm honest, it's because I'm incredibly fragile and, given the choice between putting myself through a nightmareish fight for survival and having a nice sit down with a cup of tea and a zero per cent chance of nerve-janging, Lovecraft inspired mutant zombies, I will consistantly choose the latter option.

But, I appreciate a good, fully-immersive world, regardless of its living standards and, from the tiny, tiny bits I have played of Dead Space (Only the first demo. I wasn't very good at it either), you really felt the struggle. Makeshift weapons, limited resources and a menu system that remained within the gameplay created a truly realistic and, importantly, unbroken survival experience. I can't really explain why I haven't played more.

So news that the new, third installment is changing, subtly, the game's style; its experience, has, unsurprisingly, met a wall of controversy. A new, more practical weapon selection, a sign of a shift from survival horror to all out action, which could make the game a jarring, possibly even disappointing addition to a well-acclaimed series. But, undoubtedly, the most feather-ruffling revelation about the game is the implimentation of micro-transactions or, more importantly, the ability for players to use micro-transactions to gain upgrades much quicker than through the basic gameplay.

Micro-transactions are not a new thing. If you have games on Facebook or your smart phone then you'll have seen them, probably even bought into them. These usually take the form of small purchases of specific resources that speed up the gameplay of, otherwise free, casual games, although you will also see packs of extra levels or costumes and other such pointless decorations that can be purchased to expand more elaborate console or PC games. Dead Space 3 would appear to be the first example of a premium, console game making use of in-gmae micro-transactions on top of the original purchase of the game.

So what problem does this cause? None, really. It has been made clear that the resources you will be buying are still available to collect during gameplay, although far slower. And, seeing as it's a single player game, one person making use of the micro-transactions will not gain a direct advantage over those who don't. The advancements may not even make too much of an impact to gameplay. Unlike the free-to-play games that saw the genesis of the phenomenon, I doubt the game will become a tediously long exercise of patience for the player to see progress. It will likely prove an entirely unobtrusive, optional feature of the game.

But, on the cynical side, it just would be EA that pulled this stunt first. Games at the top end of the spectrum already carry considerable price tags. It's a hell of a step to take to try and ask for more after this. And, here are EA just going ahead and doing it. It's not necessarily any worse than the business model of Blizzard with World of Warcraft, which not only charges for the game and its expansion packs, but also pays a monthly subscription that you need to play. Admittedly, this is intended to go towards the servers that run the expansive online community, but you naturally assume that the most is being made of this. It is, at least, not as blatent as what is going on with Dead Space 3, where money is being asked in exchange for things you will get anyway. True, it is optional, and no-one needs to take up these transactions (at least, I hope. I presume there will be no tricks to make playing the game without transactions painfully difficult.) but there will be people who do take this up. And it will encourage future use of this model in premium games. There is a clear line that you hope will never be crossed and assume there is sense in the publishing agencies to never try. But you never know with these companies.

The thing that bothers me the most, though, is what this does to the quality of the game. Especially with the Dead Space series, where immersion into the environment is vital for the success of the story you tell. If you then give the option to players to buy whatever they want, whenever they want, how do you also maintain the sense of fear, the sense of isolation, and desperation. With a single player game like this, where you are trying to move through a narrative, I can only see it being ruined when you reach the designated marketplace for whatever transactions are going to get crowbarred into the game. It's bad enough playing something where the mentality is to try deserately to conserve resources only for the game itself to let you in on a massive stockpile of health and ammo just in time for the nearby boss that you'll have to face. Having points where you are literally broken from the experience whilst you sit through another invitation to go to the PSN store (or other, xboxy equivalent) just in case you want to pick up some mega tools for the next fight is going to make playing these games a ridiculous exercise.

In an interview, the game's producer, John Calhoun, said that including micro-transactions was intended as a way of boosting the audience - There's a lot of players out there, especially players coming from mobile games, who are accustomed to micro-transactions. They're like "I need this now, I want this now". They need instant gratification. So we included that option in order to attract those players, so that if they're 5000 Tungsten short of this upgrade, they can have it.. - This sounds flimsy at best, and reeks of a guy trying to make excuses for money-farming. The fact is that "instant gratification" has been a part of games since probably the first Ataris. You want all the weapons now? Just type in idkfa. Invulnrability? That'll be Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start. What is being implimented in Dead Space 3, then, is simply the marketing of cheat codes. However, it seems as though they're already in danger of being undercut.

What Would Simon Do...

... With HMV?

So, as we all know, HMV gave a pretty serious cry for help earlier this month and went into administration, a situation I believe they are still in at the time of writing.

This is pretty sad, albeit, not for me right now. It is sad for the 18 year old me that used to look to HMV as a haven of music and film and pretty funny posters. This is not what HMV is right now, though. In today's world of digital downloads and free torrents, HMV stands as a beacon of slowpokedness, like a museum for the way people used to shop with adjoining gift shop of things people would really rather buy elsewhere. It was fun to look around, with the odd highlight sparking a degree of interest and excitement but, so often, you'd only find the realisation that you can get everything inside cheaper on the internet.

It's so hard to stand unique to the internet as a retail outlet, rather like this post so far compared to all the other posts about HMV. Especially as a store selling entertainment based products that seem so far out of date in the world of YouTube, Spotify and iTunes. The internet has brought us instant gratification. FREE, instant gratification. HMV, seemingly, have no answer to this, other than shifting their product range to include hardware and fashion accessories, a move that seems more desperate than inspired. It got itself stuck in retail no-man's land; desperately trying to keep up with the popular market which has reached a phase of almost constant fluctuations and change whilst, simultaneously, isolating the smaller, alternative crowds that used to be the stalwart clientele of record stores. It's no wonder it has been constantly falling into decline year on year.

That's the obvious and well documented history to the present.

But what now? Apparently, HMV's debt has been bought and so it looks likely that the chain will continue. But to what end? What changes will new bosses bring in to right the course? Probably more desperate market battles that it will inevitably lose. They might sell off assets like Fopp and the live venues to plug a few gaps (this seemed to start with the sale of Waterstone's last year) and, personally, I would welcome the much more eclectic Fopp being made free from the much less interesting main business. But, really, they should be embracing the positive aspects of both of these arms of the company. Living in Cambridge, I have been stunned a number of times by HMV over the last 12 months. First, their departure from the Lion Yard, which was what I knew to be their home from my first visits to the city at the age of 16 and, when I first heard about the location's closure, assumed spelled the company's demise. Turned out this was due to redevelopment of the centre and led to the next shock, which was the movement to a location on the other side of the city that had passed through several hands quite quickly in recent history. IT was exciting at the time, as the space had loads of space over 3 floors, suggesting we might be about to receive a mighty HMV flagship, perhaps with a live floor. In reality, the new location ended up being just another HMV, with the biggest amount of space given over to headphones and tablets, as well as a cafe that was always empty becasue of both Caffe Nero's and Starbucks having locations not 30 seconds away. And an empty second floor, presumably the stockroom.

The last shock was their sudden fall into administration. Not because I couldn't see it coming, more because it seemed the company was going to teeter on the edge of death until the money ran out completely. They'd just disappear, silently, into the night and get replaced by another Primark or Poundland. It seems a long stretch for the new owners to turn this round, but I've got my mind stuck on wondering what the hell I would do if it was me.

Watching High Fidelity has, surprisingly, been pretty enlightening. It showed me that music is almost infinitely varied and expansive, far more than movies at the moment. Therefore, it makes sense for HMV to revert back to centring their business around music, which, somehow, is something I feel it has managed to lose sight of. One of the lasting draws of HMV has been its browsability. The problem, however, is that you are only ever looking at the same old jewel cases that, in the end, don't appeal anymore. If today's public were, on the whole, still bothered about cases and album art then there wouldn't be such am exodus away from buying physical copies of things. What really sells music to people is how it sounds so, it makes sense, giving the customer a chance to listen to new things might be a good step to take if you are trying to encourage physical sales in a physical shop.

The follow-on problem that this presents is that most of HMV's focus has been on the popular end of music. The part of music which is really, repetatively boring very easy to listen to in various mediums. The internet is, as I said, a place for instant. If you want to listen to something mentioned in the popular culture, you just stick it in YouTube, check it out and then torrent it if you like it. The question that, then, springs to my mind is thus? Why bother with this market? I know modern retail is all about hitting every market and generalising to make the most sales but, for me, that is entirely counter productive. If you spread yourself too thin, you leave yourself open to more and more competition. It makes sense to me that, if you want to increase demand in your store, you make yourself as unique and interesting as you can to your chosen market and hope that word of mouth raises excitement and interest in what you are doing. So, why not localise. Obviously, leave some space for the mainstream music, but give just as much space over to what's hot in the local area. Make some room for gigs, or team up with the local popular venue if there isn't the space. Allow people to find things they couldn't find anywhere else, unless they are truly devoted hipsters, I guess.

Record shops were all about a close-knit group of shoppers looking for the new best thing. HMV, as it operates today, is about trying to sell things to people that downloaded it last week. I can't help but look at Apple and the success of their retail outlets and suspect that, in the future, success will not actually rely on selling products. It will be more about the community you can draw in. It doesn't make sense for HMV to be selling the means for customers to get their music elsewhere with iPads and other tablets. The ambitious plan would be to create their own, unique mp3 player with the aim of selling music purely digitally, keeping hard copies for the dedicated, vintage chasers. The future of record shops might well be purely rows of listening stations, a cafe, a stage and, as always, some enthusiastic staff that all have a great knowledge of the local music that the store will be promoting, maybe even producing. Or, whatever the best way of creating a place where people can go, discover new music, local to them, share discoveries with other customers and the staff, and then, maybe, buy a few hot, undiscovered albums on your HMV mp3player.

So, that's my solution. I might be spouting craziness, but that's the kind of thing I yearn to have access to. Sure, I'll download things, but I also love the idea of talking to those in the know about the local music catalogue and picking up something after they give me a listen. A genuine feeling of walking in there with no idea of what I'll uncover. An HMV free of Beatles t-shirts, awful posters and One Direction wristbands.

I can but dream.

Time After Time (...before time, then at the same time... or something)

I'm over a week late with this. I blame time streams.

So it's half time in the latest Doctor Who series. Thanks America. Season splits are an awesome idea(!) But anyway...

I love Doctor Who. The concept is brilliant. The character is just my favourite shade of nutty. The presumably accidental idea of regeneration is such an amazing addition to character development and I imagine offers so much room to play. It must be a dream to write for.

I'd hate writing for it.

There's been something amiss with this series. Possibly, there is a part of this that stems from the fact it is a new episode of Doctor Who, rather than a new episode of Mr Moffat's other project, Sherlock; a series so good it makes Lucy Liu an unattractive concept (see thoughts on Elementary, i.e.: why bother, there's already Sherlock. Lucy Liu isn't going to make that go away). But it is more than this. There is room in my life for two awesome series, I can't see why I would exclusively want only one.

And before anyone suggests the problem may be very Matt-Smithish in appearance, don't bother. As far as I'm concerned Mr Smith, along with Miss Gillen and Mr Darvill comprise the best line up of Team TARDIS since the reboot. I can conceive of the notion that Matt's portrayal of our favourite (and only) Gallifreyan is precisely why I still watch.

And I don't think it's the writing. Moffat et al have fairly routinely produced thundering rollercoasters of enjoyment for every episode. He's definitely stretched the suspension of disbelief at times but it has tended to work out fine by the end.

This series, though. I don't know. Something is getting me rankled about the story so far. I couldn't work it out until this sub-finale that... oh. Spoilers are probably going to crop up from here on in. Fair warning.

As we said our goodbyes to the Ponds, whisked off into the past to a Manhattan made inaccessible by a highly unstable time stream, there was just one thought which totally killed the ending for me, and suddenly made all my problems clear as crystal.

Time travel is a really idiotic plot device.

As I sat there, watching Matt Smith shine in his moment of utter despair, telling us exactly what the Doctor would have felt as if it had really happened, all I could think was, 'Why did they not just arrange to be picked up outside of New York a year later?' I didn't see anything to block doing this, other than nobody thinking logically. The Doctor and River could have just got into the TARDIS, set a course for Boston, a year after the issue with the Angels and picked up Rory and Amy who would have had a lovely, year long adventure in America. At no point did it come across that this would be impossible.

And I think that this issue stems straight from how ridiculously complex time travel ends up being. It's easy to think about it, easy to picture obvious physical laws that would theoretically exist in travelling through time. But try sticking it to a narrative and, unless you are rigid, you get problems. It feels like the Doctor's writing team were working on mixed messages, or maybe were simply using differing and contradicting possibilities as it suited the story. Which is fine. An artist has got to have license and audiences will be willing to accept things like this if it makes the story compelling. But I am absolutely the most pedantic person in the world, and I will sit there and gripe when you suddenly close a door you had been prancing through, back and forth, for 5 series previously. And time travel has lots of doors. Loopholes, even. And I know that this is why I get a bit uncomfortable around time travel. It is the ultimate Deus Ex Machina (there's an ultimate problem, but who cares? We'll just go back in time and make it so it didn't happen), but you can't have it solve every problem, or there would be no tension. Thus, inconsistency is inevitable.

Yet, I have so much experience in watching and enjoying time travel stories. Aside from the good Doctor there is a plethora of stories I have experienced that have used time travel as a key feature. In fact, it happens so often I can't think of any specific examples other than Back to the Future. Oh, and Night Watch by Terry Pratchett. Well done me. They do, however, somewhat conveniently, offer me contrasting approaches to time travel. Everyone knows Back to the Future. Kid unwittingly ends up in the past and screws everything up so has to unscrew everything or he ends up having never existed. A classic grandfather paradox. He then finds out that the minor screw up that remains has altered his time and made his father a major success, before two more films happen. The point being that the story adheres to the idea that you can change the past and alter your present, retaining your old knowledge at the same time. And I hate this. The completely nonsensical detritus that remains when these stories have bulldozed through a time stream.

The other example, Night Watch, does things a bit differently. I'll try to sum it up without spoilers. And remember what happens. Let me just read the Wiki entry...

...

OK, so, essentially, the time travellers take up roles within the original passing of time, the protagonist filling the role of mentor to his younger self, ensuring that things go as recognised in history. I think things do sort of change, but it's insinuated that it all leads to the same result, anyway. It follows the logic that, if you go back in time you cannot change anything because you would already done those things in your time line for you to be where you started. If that makes sense. Its a much more solid time stream without paradoxes littering the story. Much tidier, much more comfortable to live with.

But that's probably the only tidy way of doing time travel: whereby, you aren't changing anything. The problem you get then is 'Why bother time travelling at all?' This is why I don't want to do time travel. It rarely adds to a story's cohesion, and that clearly matters to me far too much. I'm very willing to see people try but I think I know too much about time travel now to be as able to disconnect myself from what I see as glaring paradoxes.

Obviously, hating the concept of time travel and loving time travel stories is a bit weird. But at least it's not a paradox. I can take comfort in that, at least.