On Releasing Bears and Hidden Parties

I should really get off the Release The Bears thing, but there’s always been something I quite like about the idea of having an instrumental which leads into something totally bizarre and out of a place, a la Mildred Pierce by Sonic Youth, or, more recently (but not quite the same thing), Give Me Back The Nights by DJ Shadow. Seriously, that shit be trippin’ muh-fucka.

I blame Dale totally, of course, for being the one who suggested the idea during the idiotic fake Signposted Disaster world tour. He figured that on our North Pole leg, we should have bears in cages, and play a song called “Release The Bears”, which would then lead to the inevitable (if this is sounding familiar, yes, I recycled the idea in my Fashion Show review further down the page/back in the archives). I did the original electric demo myself, but what with it lacking drums, it sounded a bit shit.

And then I needed a new opening song, and it was perfect. Re-recorded and acoustic-y-fied, I bring you Release The Bears.

http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F24953862 Release The Bears by Signposted Disaster

-anyway-

I’ve been at Lancaster Uni for nearly a week now, and by God I can’t wait to get started with some fucking LEARNING. I’m getting really quite bored by the prospect of doing absolutely nothing with myself for a while before getting up and going to a pointless talk that it’s unreal.

Of course, this pattern will continue into my actualy timetable, but fuck it.

I’ve tried to socialise, but only in the context of things that interest me. Cross dress night, for example, did not interest me. Anything But Clothes night was a similar no-no (that was tonight). The ABC afterparty was also out. Not being a big party-goer/dancer/clubber/drinker rather limits my options in the evenings.

Comedy night, however, shit yeah! I was there like a boss. That floor didn’t know which way to turn when I was sat on it. The comedy was also quite good. Also good was the non-alcoholic pub quiz, during which I got chatting to some American third-years who knew bollocks all about the history of the BBC. Typical.

Of course, this hasn’t stopped people attempting to force parties/dancing on me. I don’t mean that folks have been constantly trying to persuade me to go out drinking with them (I can shoot that down super easily!), more that the kitchen on the floor below me has played the same playlist of pop-punk/emo on two nights this week, blaring it out the windows at full volume, during the early hours.

How does one counterract such a musical juggernaut? Well, acoustic music of course. As it happens, Damien Rice actually quite nicely drowns out anything they can throw at me, even when it’s quietly falling out of the speakers. So fuck you party, I can ignore you just fine.

The people on my corridor/in my kitchen are all lovely. They don’t even try to berate me into drinking, which is a definite plus. One of the guys drinks lemonade and vodka, which made me breathe a sigh of relief as I ordered my Malibu and Coke, secure in the knowledge that my decidedly womanly drink wouldn’t be a mark of shame upon my head.

I guess that you sort of have to be like that in this situation. You can’t go ahead and dislike someone because of what they’re drinking, you accept it as their character and form opinions later. We’ll all be seeing each other a lot over the next year, quietly and openly hearing of their likes and dislikes, witnessing their ups and downs, and sharing a variety of objects (I’m personally hoping that -someone- hooks up with -anyone-, since almost every bloody one of us came with partners at home, and I desire more immediate drama), so to be deliberately antagonistic this early on would just be poor form. Also everyone I’ve spoken to about it says they have low self esteem, so hell, they need to be liked.

Which isn’t a criticism; takes one to know one.

My fridge is broken. I mean, I’m pretty certain it keeps things cooler than room temperature, but not by much. We’ve told the relevant authorities (I think), but given that we’re paying £75 a week rent, and it took two days for them to come and saw off some skirting board to get at someone’s plug socket, I don’t hold out much hope.

After my lecture about English tomorrow I go home for the weekend. It’s probably unwise to detatch myself from uni so quickly, but balls to it, Jen’s at home and by the Nine do I miss her. And someone else is also heading home for the weekend, so at least I’m not the only one.

And when I come back I get cake, so get the fuck in.

It’s twenty to three in the morning. The party has ended.

Five Little Things That Astounded Me In “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy”

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. Super slow, grey and depressing. In other words, absolutely brilliant. My mother didn’t share this opinion, choosing instead to walk out and instead request she see a different film (she chose 30 Minutes or Less, which I’m assured was quite good). But sod her, what does she know.

Now, I could do what everyone except the Financial Times is doing and talk about the fantastic cast, the beautifully subtle acting, the great direction, the gorgeous cinematography and the wonderful music, but I like to pride myself on being different from other reviewers. So, instead, here are the five little things I saw in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy that made me say “no fucking way!”

1. Benedict Cumberbatch is absolutely fucking brilliant

In my old R.S. class, there used to be a bunch of PSHE work on the walls that I would stare at for hours on end to help me through. One of these works was about ginger people, and how gingers are just like everyone else, but they have silly hair. As an ex-ginger (I grew out of it) I felt drawn to this poster (also it was directly next to where I sat), and so poured over every word of it. But one thing always stuck out. The sentence, “Gingers might not make good spies.”

Well, say hello to Benedict Cumberbatch and his ginger hair, being one of the best actors in a spy film filled with huge names. After seeing him in Sherlock, I knew this guy was good, but it was until just now that I realised how good he really is. Benedict portrays one of the most emotive characters in the film, shifting between cocky, straight, deeply upset and rather sinister with what looks like relative ease. He’s cool, he’s witty, he’s quietly gay (lovely bit where he breaks up with his boyfriend), and he’s probably the best actor in the film. If he doesn’t go up for a Best Supporting Actor at the BAFTA’s then he will have been robbed.

Speaking of ginger spies, however…

2. Tom Hardy with hair

Seriously! Who the fuck put hair on Tom Hardy’s head?! That man has been bald in absolutely every film I’ve seen him in (Inception… and, uh… I’ve seen a poster for Bronson?) and now suddenly he’s a ginger mop ‘ed spy who gets the shit kicked out of him by a fellow ginger spy?

Well, bravo to the costume designer who thought Tom needed hair, because his wig is superb and so is he. His own little story is wonderfully told, and Mr Hardy has one of those voices that could melt butter (with the aid of a blowtorch (OK this metaphor is getting too complex)), so it’s always a pleasure to see him in a film, particularly one where he isn’t being strong and cocky but actually a bit vunerable. Good performance, Tom!

Speaking of surprises…

3. Al Capone is English

As Control and Smiley leave the Circus at the start of the film, the camera follows them down the stairs and out the door, showing some of the faces of those who seem to be more affected by the departure. We see our man Benedict, the woman who was Perry in the Harry Enfield, and… wait, is that Al Capone from Boardwalk Empire?

Yep, whoever that guy is happens to be English, and is seen frequently throughout the film without saying a bloody word until his own story comes into play. I’m not gonna sing his praises about his acting; sure he was good and all, but it’s late and he was no Cumberbatch.

Speaking of not singing the praises of a small part actor…

4. John le Carré is an executive producer and has a cameo role

I once read a quote by John le Carré saying something along the lines of “having your book adapted into a film is like burning the book”. OK I totally ruined the quote, but you get the idea. So naturally I was a little surprised to hear that this was being made into a film, particularly since it was previously a TV series already. I wondered what our man le Carré thought about it.

Well, as it happens, he liked the idea so much he actually helped adapt it, put his own money towards it, and went as far as appearing in it in a very small, non-speaking role that you’ll never notice. Brilliant.

5. Studio Canal have changed their logo

WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!?!?!

I Don’t Know How I Justified Seeing This Crap (Review)

Here’s the thing about Sarah Jessica Parker: she’s really, really, REALLY unattractive. She looks old. Like, seriously old. Her hands are horrendous, to the point where you rarely see them on screen. Her face is sagging. Her hair always looks a mess. She played a character for years and years that wore idiotic clothing because she was being kooky and trendy.

I get that some women find this empowering and stuff. Like, go girl, you wear what you like and things like that because you’re your own woman and you don’t need no man to tell you what to do! And I get that, I really do! I understand the need to feel independent and free to do whatever you like!

But SJP can’t pull it off! She’s just… old! And looks awful! I’m not a fan of Botox or plastic surgery or anything, but for the love of God woman, at least look into it!

-anyway-

The reason I’m ranting about SJP is because she has a new movie out, called “I Don’t Know How She Does It”, a movie about successful, working “moms” and how amazing they are because they can juggle their home life and work life. Except they can’t. Except they can. The movie never seems to make up it’s mind.

SJP (full name takes too long and all the women’s magazines I read refer to her as this) plays Kate Reddy, an investment banker who’s really good at her job, and also has two children whom she abandons regularly to be good at said job. Also suffering from abandonment is Greg Kinnear as Kate’s husband, Richard (hey, that’s my name!), an architect who’s fallen on hard times because of the recession, except now he’s picked back up and everything’s hunky dory.

Problem is, Kate has been given a huge, career changing project to do at the same time that Richard has, which involves her flying off to New York from Boston every other day to spend time with Jack Ablehammer, played by Pierce Brosnan, in order to work on the project. If you can’t see the conflict and the obvious plot points by now, you may as well stop reading this review. In fact, get off my blog. Right now. Go. Go read Cbeebies or whatever.

The story’s as cliche and predictable as they get, with Kate managing to do everything, and then not managing to do everything, and then managing to do everything again. Also conflict with her husband. If you’ve ever watched a rom-com before, you know the ending (spoiler warning: she gets it together), but all in all it’s not a horrendous plot. Everything wraps up nicely and everyone gets a happy ending, so it’s all nice.

My main problem lies mostly with the direction. The film will progress along nicely, in a standard rom-com fare, and then suddenly SJP will step out of the film to talk to the audience, or someone will have a description about them written in chalk next to their head, or Kate will have a fantasy about being on TV because she bought a pie instead of making one. It doesn’t fit with the rest of the film, and it’s actually kind of jarring at times.

Even worse, the film will randomly dive off to talk with the side characters in an interview style, as if they were talking about Kate in some kind of weird TV documentary about her. Either that or they’ll try (and fail) to interject some comedy into the goings on by throwing in little quips about being a single mother, or try and make a serious point about equality in the workplace (which is incredibly one sided and made me start to hate myself for having a penis). It adds nothing to the film, and just pads it out more than necessary to keep it running at the ninety minute mark. Honestly, if the cut-aways, freeze frames and dream sequences were cut out of the film, it would be about half an hour shorter.

The acting is average at best. SJP plays the same bloody role she’s been playing for years, complete with voice overs (that sound just like her Sex and the City voice overs), except this time she dresses more conservatively. Greg Kinnear makes the doting husband role his own (or something) and really makes SJP seem like the bad guy in all this, which is never bad.

But what is up with Pierce Brosnan? His accent is supposedly American, but I couldn’t get past how English he sounds all the same. At one point, Christina Hendricks (getting to her) refers to his character by saying “I don’t know whether he’s Scottish or Irish”, which just makes it even more confusing. And I don’t know whether it was just the character, the direction, or indeed his own fault, but his portrayl just seems dull and wooden. I know he’s a businessman, but his dead wife story could have been a -little- more emotional.

Also, Christina Hendricks! What are you doing in this tosh?! You’re a beautiful, successful woman who’s graced such fantastic shows as E.R., Firefly and Mad Men, so why are you lowering yourself to an SJP flick?! I understand that Matthew Weiner is struggling to get Mad Men back and you need the cash, but there must have been better offers!

Every other side character is one dimensional and comic relief, from the robotic secretary to the bitchy stay at home mom, who deliver their lines as you’d expect, and aren’t given any depth or story to extend their roles as glorified speakers. Even Kelsey Grammer (KELSEY FUCKING GRAMMER!!!) is a pointless addition to the cast, given his role is so limited and uninteresting.

So you’ve got a cliche plot, a lame cast, odd directing and some really awful jokes. Any redeeming factors? Well, yes! Thankfully, the scriptwriter (or, the book adapter) saw fit to not have SJP and Brosnan have the cliched affair plot, so we avoid hating SJP any more than we need to thanks to her bad parenting skills. Which is nice.

But at the end of the film, what do we learn? Kate succeeds by neglecting her children heavily for three months, and then it pays off because her boss starts giving her more time off. What does this say to all working mothers? Your children will only hate you for so long? It’s always darkest before the dawn? If you work ridiculous hours for months on end and travel all over the country it’s still possible to correctly raise children? It’s not realistic; chances are that if this were real life, Kate and Richard would be divorced, or one of them would jack in their career to look after the kids. It’s a predictable, unrealistic ending that is so heavily sided to the mother that it neglects to mention that the father in this is fucking amazing and puts up with all of his wife’s shit without complaining too much.

Still, it’s not the worst film I’ve ever seen. “I Don’t Know How She Does It” won’t win any awards for originality, but it’s something to watch if it comes up on Sky and you’re doing bollocks all else with your time. Just, please, can Sarah Jessica Parker retire now? Pleeeeease?

A Comprehensive List Of Everything That’s Wrong With Bodycount (Based On A Quick Playthrough Of The Demo)

DISCLAIMER: This entire thing was based off one playthrough that I skipped the cutscene of and didn’t investigate too much into, mainly because it’s a fucking shooter, and how complex can it really be. Sorry if I’m horrifically wrong about things, but I guess this would be a kind of “average gamer” look at things.

How can you go wrong with a name like Bodycount? Say that to anyone and instantly you’ve injected their mind with violent images of piles of carcasses while a man with a large machine gun stands over them, possibly with a cigar in his mouth, screaming about how other people might want to “get some”. Apply that to a video game and you expect something along the lines of, say, Timesplitters, where running and gunning was the aim and stopping to ask the way was basically out of the question.

So, enter Bodycount, a shooter developed by Codemasters. Wait, Codemasters? They do racing games, don’t they? Well, ya know, Criterion do racing games but they did Black, and that was pretty sweet. Bizarre Creations may be famous for PGR but they also made The Club! …Ok, bad example. Well, there was shooting in James Bond: Blood Stone? …Ok yeah.

Still, racing developer plus shooting IP suggests fast paced kill fest, right? That’s certainly what we’ve been promised from every piece of literature shoved out about it. Needless to say I was getting pretty excited, right up until the demo came out and I spent about five minutes playing it to reach its conclusion.

And so, I take us to our first point of order:

1. It’s too short

The thing that makes racing games tense and exciting is that the races last about five minutes, meaning you’ve got to give it your all to come out on top. The thing that makes gunfights tense and exciting is that they last much, much longer, throwing you into impossible odds and seeing if you come out alive. Do these two types of excitement go hand in hand? Nope!

Other than the hour and a half long break I took to grab lunch and watch a film, the Bodycount demo took me around about five minutes to complete, during which time I felt no impending danger, nor did I feel challenged, and it certainly wasn’t tense. Everything went by so quickly that I barely had time to recognise it as an event, and when I completed the level I felt a little ripped off. How had it taken three hours to download a 1.45GB demo that lasted five minutes?

And after those five minutes, why was I immediately kicked to the Game Library? Do you not want me to play it again, Codemasters? Are you really that aware of how boring your game is?

2. The crosshair is in the wrong place

Here’s a little picture to demonstrate where a crosshair should be on a screen.

Slap bang in the middle, yes? That’s where I’d be aiming if I was firing a weapon, directly ahead of me. Where does Bodycount put the crosshair? About halfway between the middle and the bottom of the screen.

Now, I appreciate the crotch shot as much as the next guy, but this is ridiculous. Is my character too lazy to hold his gun up properly? Is that why I have to start looking at the sky to hit an enemies chest area? I’m running and gunning! I don’t have time to constantly readjust my sight so I can do one or the other!

3. Ironsights make you stand still

The following is an extract from a meeting of the designers behind Bodycount.

LEAD DESIGNER: So, guys, Bodycount’s shaping up to be a balls-to-the-wall action game like no other. But we’re still missing that one killer feature that’ll really set us apart. Steve, whaddya got?

STEVE, JUNIOR DESIGNER: Alright, you know how every other shooter has ironsights?

LEAD: Ok, ironsights, I’m feeling it, keep it coming.

STEVE: Well, how likely is it that someone would be looking down the sights of their gun while running? That’s just so unrealistic!

LEAD: Yes, realism, I love it!

STEVE: So, my idea is, how about, when the player uses ironsights, we force them to stand still, and instead of moving, they can only lean left and right!

LEAD: LEANING! Genius! No other shooter on the market has that! It’s fresh! Innovative! Someone give this guy a promotion! Wait, yes, Frank, you’ve got your hand up?

FRANK, KNOWS WHAT MAKES VIDEO GAMES WORK: Um, this is supposed to be a crazy shooter, right? Like, bullets flying everywhere, racking up combos and points from killing people, basically a little bit of a rip-off of Bulletstorm, yeah?

LEAD: Get to the point, Frank.

FRANK: Well, why are we making our player stop? They’re supposed to be running and gunning, aren’t they?

LEAD: Frank, Frank, buddy. You’ve been in the game too long. You’re stuck in a rut! You’ve played too many games where the player never stops to use their ironsights! We’re trying to keep it original and exciting!

FRANK: But the reason why ironsights don’t force you to stop is so you can aim better and not end up being riddled with bullets from enemies you can’t see, thanks to the fact you’re looking down the sights.

STEVE: Yeah, and that’s why the player is smart enough to use cover! And then they can lean around it to shoot enemies!

LEAD: See, Frank! Steve here knows what it’s about!

FRANK: But the environment is destructible! Cover is only there for a few seconds before it’s blown to smithereens! And people are supposed to be going through the levels quickly! How can they be quick when they’re standing still!

LEAD: Frank, maybe you should go outside for a minute, cool off, ya know?

FRANK: NO! You know what? Fuck this company! You’re all a bunch of fucking morons! I hope this game bombs!

Frank storms out of the room. There is a moment of silence.

LEAD: So, everyone on board with the ironsights?

EVERYONE: Oh yeah, definitely.

4. The environment isn’t destructible enough

I love Battlefield: Bad Company 2. The fact you can destroy the walls on buildings, rendering cover useless, is just fucking cool. Shit blows up faster than you can say “INCOMING!” And Bodycount promised destructible environments, too!

Except, when the game told me to destroy the walls to a building, it didn’t inform me that I had to shoot specific walls. Apparently, the wall I was shooting wasn’t destructible, no matter how many bullets I put into it, causing me to die. Twice. Gee, thanks for letting me know that some walls are more equal than others, guys.

5. You don’t know when you’re about to die

Most modern shooters will, when the player is presented with death, give some sort of graphical clue as to how far away from meeting your maker you are. Whether it’s the screen filling up with red or turning black and white, the sound of your heart pounding in your chest, or your breath growing heavy and laboured, you usually know when the Reaper will be turning up.

Not on Bodycount! Nope, death is as much as surprise as it is to a man who’s just been hit by a bus. One minute you’re alive, the next you’re being given the option to load your last checkpoint. I tried looking around the screen for a health bar and came up with nothing. But even if there was one, there’s no alarm, no visual cue, nothing. Just life, then death. Maybe it’s a statement about the suddenness of arriving at the afterlife. Or maybe the developers are just fucking lazy.
6. It doesn’t make sense, and not even in a cool hipster way

killer7 makes no sense, and that game’s fucking awesome. Viva Pinata makes no sense, and it’s great fun. Bodycount makes no sense, and it’s just stupid. Why is ammo just orange circles with a bullet in the middle? Is this actually a virtual environment? Who are scavengers and what intel are they stealing? Which things on the floor are intel? Is my ammo actually intel? Am I being outfitted with words instead of bullets, like some Fall Out Boy song? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!

7. It’s trying really hard to be Bulletstorm, but it isn’t willing to be as juvenile

I loved Bulletstorm! Juvenile humour, killing dicks, blood everywhere, fucking great! And the number of different ways to kill enemies was unparalelled! Headshots? Check! Launch a firework up their arse? Check! Shoot them in the nuts, then kick their head so hard that it explodes! Check!

So, what crazy kinds of skillshots can you do in Bodycount? Well, you can kill someone with an explosion, or kill them with an explosion when you’re almost dead, or headshot them, or headshot them when you’re almost dead, or kill them with the last bullet in the clip, or… actually that’s all I got. Literally five different skillshots, and all of them unoriginal and dull. Well done guys!

8. Reloading isn’t automatic

You know when you run out of ammo firing a gun? First thoughts usually go along the lines of “shit, better reload!” right? Not for the character in Bodycount! Nope, keep your finger down on the right trigger and after blazing through a clip, your guy will just stand there, dumbfounded at the prospect of putting more bullets into his gun, until you either press the reload button or let go of the right trigger, and then press it again.

Why? This is nursery school shit, guys! I’m running and gunning, I don’t have time to think about letting go of “SHOOT” so you can reload for me! It’s so counter-intuitive to the running and gunning mindset!

9. Your character doesn’t fall, he floats

‘Nuff said.

So, there we have it. Absolutely everything that is wrong with the five minute demo of Bodycount I played. Hope this informed you of every possible reason to NOT give it a try.

Manchester Comic Con – I Didn’t Know The Brits Went For This Kinda Shit

A BRIEF WARNING: The pictures were taken by my mother, which is why they are a tad blurry and not professional, and also why it’s ok to have a picture of a chick’s butt on here.

A SECOND WARNING: After reading this post, you may lose any and all respect you ever had for me.

Let me begin by saying that when my mother burst into my room with a wide grin and a wild look in her eye, before exclaiming that Manchester was holding a comic con (an event I had, in fact, previously mentioned to her) and that we should go, I wasn’t exactly over-enamoured with the idea.

My reasoning was simple: we’re in England. Northern England. The reason San Diego Comic Con is such a huge thing is because a) it’s in America, where all the comic people live (aside from the occasional brilliant comic-er in the UK, such as Alan Moore or anybody who works for 2000AD) and b) it’s in America, where all the crazy people live. Hell, if it were a London comic con I probably would have been OK with it, because at least London is a major city where all the cool shit happens. Not Manchester, not the bloody North. How could anyone throw a comic con in Manchester?

I still wasn’t thrilled with the whole thing as we turned the corner to Manchester Central and saw a line that rivalled some of the queues for rides at Alton Towers. Super, I thought, now we have to wait for about half an hour to get into this lame event that won’t inspire me in any way.

And then I saw a Chinese child dressed as Pikachu, and suddenly the whole day became a lot more interesting.

As it happens, there are a lot of weird, crazy nerds who live in the North of England, and they were out and about in droves, in costumes that ranged from the simple (the aforementioned Pikachu, a troupe of Disney Princesses), the complex (see the picture below), the expensive (Darth Vader, Boba Fett), the genius (spotted a couple of Team Fortress 2 characters, sadly not there together, but I counted a Red Sniper, Engineer and Scout, as well as a Blu Spy), the not-so-genius (couple of girls dressed in the recent attire that My Chemical Romance have donned, more on that later) and the downright slutty (pics of those later).

It was stood in this queue that I saw many things that my small, eighteen year old brain had not witnessed ever before. For example; a man in a banana outfit wielding a wooden Keyblade, fat chicks in sexy Soul Calibur outfits, emos with signs asking for free hugs (I wish I knew why), and people cross-dressing in the name of nerdiness (a constant topic of conversation in the queue involved whether or not some people were men or women).

I mentioned that my day would only be complete if we witnessed a man dressed as Sailor Moon, since my life goals are meager and bizarre, and a man in the queue with us began to talk with us about comic cons. He wore an Invader Zim t-shirt, which made him cool. I never caught his name, but he was a genuinely nice guy, and he told us a wonderful anecdote about how he once saw a Predator cosplayer with a large grin on his face ponting to a Pikachu plushie in an attempt to buy it.

After around half an hour of waiting we finally made it into the convention building (it would be another five minutes to get into the convention proper) where something very wrong happened. Two girls were leaving the centre, when suddenly there was a loud shriek of excitement from the queue. As I turned to look, I noticed these two girls both stop in bewilderment. Jen pointed out that they were dressed as members of My Chemical Romance, and it was at this point when two girls from the queue dove out to HUG these MCR cosplayers. HUG. In front of ALL THESE PEOPLE. WHAT IS WRONG WITH SOCIETY.

When we reached the convention proper, we began to be a tad underwhelmed. As my mother put it, we had paid a fiver to get in to a shopping experience. So really, it was a real convention, with people peddling wares at increased prices because people are bound to pay huge amounts for this kinda shit. There was an Artist’s Alley type affair, with a bunch of comickers I’d never heard of, a video game corner I didn’t hang around, a bunch of footballers who had no place being there, and a Japanese arcade corner that had huge queues and didn’t pique my interest enough for me to hang around for long in.

As for the wares that were being peddled, we had a wide assortment of video game related hats, actual video games that must be considered rare or something, the art from the artists in Artist’s Alley, and an inordinate amount of hentai (seriously, two stands of hentai? Really?), which my mother ALMOST purchased for my uncle as a birthday present until she released that it cost in the region of, oh, say, £25. I guess the Japs take their manga porn very seriously, money-wise.

There was also a candy stall, which offered POCKY, a substance I had heard about numerous times on my travels across the Internets, but never actually found out what it is. My mother, excited through my own personal interest, bought two packets, in chocolate and strawberry flavour.

Pocky is what we know as Mikado, which is sticks of… bread(?) covered in a candy substance. Mikado is tastier, however.

I checked my watch around the time we purchased the Pocky and discovered we had managed half an hour around the convention. With our interest flagging, we headed for the exit, stopping to take a look at the Tokyo Toys stand. And it was there we discovered something that made my heart skip a beat. My mother looked at me and gestured towards it. I nodded, breathless. I saw her move towards the stall owner and ask if he accepted card.

He said no.

My mother grabbed me and suggested that he should hold onto the object out of the goodness of his heart, as it would become a gift for her son.

He said no.

My mother offered a £20 deposit.

He said yes.

A quick departure from the convention to the cash machine and we were back in business.

The item? Well…

Yep. I was bought a Keyblade. It’s a Christmas present, but I was allowed to wander around the convention with it in hand, much to the chagrin of other convention goers who would quite have liked one. It was the last one in stock, too.

Now, I’m aware that a lot of you have just buried your heads in shame at this, the image of me grinning like a tool and clutching a wooden replica of a video game weapon. But I don’t think I’ve been this excited about something in a while, and it was a truly incredible thing to be holding in my hands. Also Jen thought it was cool, so I win.

Mother then decided to go on a small spending spree, purchasing a sweet little pocket watch for herself and a purse in the shape of Kirby for Jen, which was very nice of her.

So, did we enjoy the convention? Well, yes and no. Yes, it was an experience that we will never forget, complete with crazy people in weird costumes and emos giving out free hugs. But no, we felt a little ripped off by the fact that the famous people weren’t that interesting and the event was more of a shopping opportunity for otaku and idiots. Like ourselves.

Still, we walked away with Pocky and a Keyblade, so I consider our trip to Manchester Comic Con a success. Though next year we may just have to go in cosplay. Ya know, to fit in.

A Half Remembered Review of Harry Potter 7.5

Well thank fuck it’s over.

The Harry Potter series was fantastic when I was growing up – the special effects, the magic, the gripping story, the amazingness. And then I grew up, and the films decided to try to grow up as well. But a lot like your average teenager, the series decided to start taking itself a little too seriously, while trying to mix things up a bit with old in-jokes that only old friends get, and then crying for hours on end because of a boy.

I wish I was kidding, I really do, but HP 6 and 7 were angst fests fuelled by characters with annoyingly over-the-top and yet deadly accurate emotions, played by actors who have never managed to develop their craft since they were 11. I barely remember the sixth installment for anything other than that bit where Hermione bawls her eyes out on the stairs because Ron’s dating a fucking irritating blonde who added nothing to the story but stupid teenage emotion.

The major fault with 7 is that pretty much fuck all happened. Aside from the occasional fight scene, what we had was a load of shots of a tent, followed by Harry/Ron/Hermione looking out across a landscape while the camera did a long-shot rotation around them, and then back to the tent.

Admittedly, none of this is the fault of the film-makers, but the source material – yes, I’m saying it, J.K. Rowling started to run out of good storylines. It was going so well up until HP5, when suddenly we had a pointlessly long quest to find a useless object which told us something we already knew, and made it out to be some massive event. Also Umbridge was pointlessly antagonistic, and not even in a hilariously cruel way, just a poorly written and annoying way.

Anyway. Part 2 of the needlessly long 7th book promised us action by the metric fuckton, with spells flying around so much it was like Guy Fawkes Night as done by a bunch of murderous savages. Needless to say I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it – after all, I nearly clawed my own face off in the previous two films.

But after the two-or-so hours of footage was projected onto a screen in front of me, I felt a little happier with the series. Only a little, mind.

Let’s start with the positives – the action wasn’t bad. Plenty of big charging scenes, just the right side of enough violence for a family film, and it was all easy to follow, something I fucking LOVE in movies. The story was unpredictable enough to be interesting, although I suppose if you’d read the books (or been told the ending, as I was) then you probably wouldn’t feel the same way. And, well, it was just good fun.

But if we start looking under the surface, HP7+1/2 begins to show a couple of cracks. The main characters -still- can’t act. They’ve been making these films for fucking years, and they really couldn’t be bothered to hone their craft, even just a little? Daniel Radcliffe gives yet another cliche and wooden performance, Rupert Grint is comic relief and nothing more, and Emma Watson is still gratingly dull. It might not be their fault, but the director trying to make them more like the old films and the source material – for example, Kristen Stewart is wooden in the “Twilight” saga, but she was pretty OK in “What Just Happened?”.

Everyone else gives good performances, but frankly, every good British actor in the film, bar Ralph Fiennes, gets shafted for the Harry/Voldemort battle. Helena Bonham Carter, who has been nominated for fucking OSCARS, is reduced to the occasional evil laugh and about four garbled lines which are basically just “is he dead?” over and over. Only Neville (actor name unknown and I don’t give a shit) gets anything more than a passing nod, and that’s only because he has a pretty major role in the events of the film, yet his performance is so wooden I could use it as scaffolding. My dad remarked that this could be deliberate, but fuck that.

Secondly, all the side plots are pretty much dealt with in seconds because of the Harry/Voldemort story taking up too much goddamn time. The battle between the Weasly mum and Bellatrix lasts one quick quip (which was so over-repeated by everyone on the Internet that it wasn’t funny when spoken) and a brief back-and-forth before HBC gives out her last cry, dies, picks up her paycheck and buggers off to make worthwhile cinema. The major twist of Fred/George (don’t know which) dying is avoided, save for a three second shot of a dead body that might be one of them. Basically, all the plots we could have had some fun with are abandoned in favour for a plot that isn’t strong enough to hold anyone’s attention for long.

Third, why is it so ploddy? The action suddenly stops for about twenty minutes so the big twist can happen, and then starts up again just as suddenly

Fourth, is it just me or was the sound mixing all over the place? When the action got going in the first third, the sound went quiet when all the big exciting things started happening, which then meant the dialogue was a tad on the quiet side.

Fifth,

But despite all my complaints, Harry Potter 7 pt.2 was actually far more enjoyable than the last three films put together. Which isn’t saying much, but still. It’s bound to be loved by everyone and their fucking dog because it’s Harry Potter (it’s got 96% on Rotten Tomatoes at the time of writing), and hell, why shouldn’t it be? It’s lame, cheesy fun that tries to be grown up and instead trips and falls on it’s untied Converse. But fuck it, at least we don’t have to watch anymore Harry Potter films, right?

Right?

EDIT: OH YEAH! Now I remember the other thing I hated! The ending! How hilariously bad was the aging process? It’s like the director sat down with wardrobe and said “right, let’s stick some shit facial fluff on Harry and Ron, and that’ll definitely add about 15 years on.” Barney’s Version it ‘aint.

Bonus Stage Montage – “The Madness Of Bonus Stage”

Embedding won’t work, so just click the link ya lazy sod.

http://www.twitvid.com/2C4WM

Recettear: An Item Shop’s Tale – Review

Title: Recettear: An Item Shop’s Tale

Developer: EasyGameStation

Publisher: Carpe Fulgur

Platform: PC

Genre: RPG, Simulator

Release Date: September 10th, 2010

Japanese games are often considered just a little too weird for the Western audience. Up until recently, it was mostly Square who dared try and breach the market with their wildly successful Final Fantasy series, but as time has gone on, more and more Eastern developers are getting their wackier games out into a Western market. Companies like Grasshopper Manufacture, developers of the totally off-the-wall “killer7” and “Flower, Sun and Rain”, are becoming more and more popular with English speakers. But that’s the problem; the language barrier. Thankfully, Carpe Fulgur, a young upstart localisation company, have stepped up to the challenge of getting lesser-known Japanese games to our Western computers. Their first project? Recettear: An Item Shop’s Tale.

Recettear (pronounced “reck-ett-tear”, which, if said in just the right way, sounds like something totally different) is the story of a young girl named Recette, whose father has decided to up and leave in order to become a famous hero. Sadly, it seems Daddy wasn’t keeping up on his payments on the house, and now the debt collectors are knocking on the door. Enter Tear, a sarcastic, almost world-weary fairy, who suggests that Recette turns her home into an item shop for passing adventurers in order to pay off her father’s rather worryingly large debt in weekly instalments.

Which is all well and good, but by Recette’s own admission, she’s never worked a day in her life. Luckily, running the shop couldn’t be any easier. You begin by heading off to the market or trader’s guild to purchase items, or you can head off to a dungeon and pick up items (but more on that later). Then you return to your store, put your items on display, and open up. People walk in, have a gander at your wares, and offer to buy them from you.

It’s then up to you to haggle with them to make yourself some extra moolah. Obviously you could just sell them the item at its base value, which can earn you a small profit, but to really make some cash you have to get them to pay you more. Doing so is simple; the value of the item is displayed in front of you, and you adjust it with the up and down buttons accordingly. The game even tells you how much of a percentage mark-up you’re giving the item. The rough approximation for what a customer will pay for an item is up to 30% over its base value, but if you feel like really pushing your luck you can go higher. Still, don’t charge them too much, or you’ll lose and sale and crush Recette’s fragile little heart. They can always try and haggle with you to bring your price down a smidge, but the rewards for getting it right first time are well worth it.

See, as well as making money from a sale, you also gain experience for your “merchant level”, and as you level up you unlock the ability to customise your shop more, haggle with the customers for longer, and even have the customers attempt to sell you items. To rake in the major experience, you have to build up your “Just Combo”, which accumulates every time a punter goes for the sale first time, or you give them a good price for their item. Also useful for getting huge amounts of experience points is the “Near Pin” bonus, which is never explained, but from what I gather is achieved by selling the item for a near perfect price. If you have enough products in your store, as well as enough people, you can chain together a huge combo of satisfied customers, and gain a couple of levels in one sitting. It’s a wonderful system that is ridiculously simple with a quiet depth to it.

Of course, buying and selling isn’t the only way to make some hard green in the world of Recettear. To really get the dough coming in, you have to team up with one of the many adventurers that wander into your shop looking for goods, and do a bit of dungeon crawling. The reasoning behind this is simple; the items you find in dungeons can be sold in your shop for 100% profit. Not only that, but dungeons have items that might not be found through the normal avenues, and these rare items can be worth a huge amount. Thankfully, dungeon crawling is an extremely simple affair that will be familiar to anyone who’s played a game of a similar type.

You have one basic attack and one special attack that costs a certain amount of SP (sort of like mana), although as your chosen adventurer levels up they unlock newer and better special attacks. The aim is to kill as many enemies as you see fit, scouring the current floor for chests that may contain a shiny new item (or just trigger a trap) and the exit to the next floor, with every fifth floor being a boss battle that requires a little bit more strategy than your regular foe. You can only carry a certain number of items, so it’s up to you to decided which items are worth more than others, although handily the menu tells you how much each item will fetch back at the store. Even better, your adventurer may come into the shop looking to make a purchase, and any equipment you sell them will be in their possession forever, so it’s in your interest to make sure they’re well equipped, from the outset instead of bringing your stock with you into the dungeon. You can use the items on your adventurer to heal them or restore their SP, but really you can just employ hit and run tactics on a lot of enemies and kill them without much of a fight. Levelling up also refills your HP and SP, so as long as you keep your finger on the attack button you’re good to go.

Which leads me nicely to my first major fault with the game; the control scheme. While the directional buttons control movement, your “primary” key is the Z key, which, to anyone outside of Japan, is sheer madness. Worse yet, the game seems to assume that you know this from the outset (or have at least read the manual) and so only refers to the key in game as the “primary key”. This can be hugely confusing to anyone diving into the game without prior knowledge of the controls, particularly when you’re stuck on the main menu hammering “Enter” and nothing happens.

Another problem is that the game can be crushingly difficult if you don’t know what you’re doing. While combat is a fairly simple system, the financiers aren’t screwing around. Your first payment is for 10,000 pix (the in-game currency), which isn’t too hard to take care of, but the next one up from that is 30,000 pix, and the payments keep getting bigger and bigger. Thankfully, should you fail to meet your payments and have your home repossessed, you will be taken back in time to the first day and given the chance to start again, but with all your experience points still intact, giving you a chance to make even more money than might have been possible at the start.

One of the best things about Recettear is its abundance of humour. Carpe Fulgur have clearly spent a long time translating the rather wealthy script into something a Western audience would be able to understand, although obviously there are still some Japanese touches that had to stay part of the game. The characters are ridiculous and over the top in a charming way, with Recette and Tear acting as the stereotypical comedy duo, Recette being silly and naïve while Tear is the sarcastic, irritable type trying to keep her in line. The script is sometimes dangerously close to being a little too self-aware though; in one tutorial section, Tear makes references to keyboard buttons and the “custom.exe” file, which, naturally, Recette doesn’t understand in the slightest. Thankfully, this cheap attempt at a joke is overshadowed by some wonderfully charming moments, such as Recette’s speech about having to sell all of her organs to pay off the debt, and Tear’s banter with one adventurer about how “seedy” he looks.

Naturally, however, the script can get a little repetitive when it comes to selling products. The customers only have a set number of phrases, some of which seem bizarre even by JRPG standard. An old man, for example, will come to you with a longbow and proclaim that his daughter in law wanted him to buy it for her. Another similarly aged man will pick up some “slime fluid” and chuckle, ever so slightly creepily, that he was “looking for one of these”. It’s hilarious at first how absurd these statements are, but when the fifth elderly gentleman in a row (and believe me, the old men will become the most prolific customers you have) tells you he’s been looking for a candied apple, you start to wonder if there could’ve been a couple more phrases that they could say. Equally confusing are some of your customers; why exactly is the Trader’s Guildmaster coming into your store buying the items that you just picked up from him? If you try not to think about it too much, the process is a lot easier to swallow, but it can be a little weird.

The graphics are a true case of love-them-or-loathe-them. The cutscenes appear to be taken directly from a low-budget anime, with the cutesy manga drawings brought to life through a selection of limited expressions on characters faces. The characters in game are drawn in pixel form, while the environments and enemies are rendered in 3D, and while the graphics are full of colour and the world is varied and interesting, many people may still be put off by the cutesy, Japanese nature of the whole thing.

The sound is probably the biggest let down of the whole game. The soundtrack is quiet and generic enough to be easily ignored and instantly forgettable, and the sound effects aren’t anything to write home about. And if you hate the manga graphics, you’ll despise the random snippets of un-translated Japanese dialogue that are played during conversations, or when picking up an item, taking damage, etc. It’s understandable that Carpe Fulgur would not want to take away some of the Japanese elements that probably took EasyGameStation (the game’s true developers) so long to put in there, but at the same time, the high pitched wails of Japanese teens can get a little grating sometimes.

Pros

• Simple trading and combat systems make it easy to pick up and play
• Wonderfully funny script
• Trading is deep enough to make haggling fun rather than a chore
• Combat is fun, if simplistic

Cons

• Manga-style graphics can leave some gamers turned off
• Forgettable and repetitive soundtrack
• Poor tutorial explains the controls but not which buttons do what
• Repeated snatches of dialogue can become a little annoying

Summary

With it’s cutesy manga graphics, seemingly bizarre control system and somewhat annoying soundtrack, Recettear: An Item Shop’s Tale may seem like a game that’s just a little too Japanese to be of interest to a Western audience. But strip away the graphics and you’re greeted by a simple but deep trading system, fun combat and a great script. It’s not for everyone, certainly, but if you’re looking for something that’s just a little bit more different than you’re used to, this is certainly worth a try.

YATDSS – Mission 6 (March Of The Space Penguins (OR Happy Fleet))

(I love that title so fucking much.)

PETER: Hey, listen Scott. I know I’m not one for sentimentality and all that shit, but, these penguins… you hear stories.

SCOTT: I think I know where you’re going with this.

PETER: Here me out. If we don’t make it out of here alive…

(pause)

PETER: I’m blaming you completely.

SCOTT: And there we have it!

DAVE: Niiiice. Had me going for a sec there, bro!

PETER: Thank you, thank you.

(A very large fish shaped ship appears.)

SCOTT: Oh, very tasteful.

ERM: Silence, human! This is very fashionable in our culture!

PETER: So what, you’ve got fuckin’ bed’s made of mackerel and fish tanks in your shoes?

ERM: Yes, actually!

SCOTT: Gayyyy.

ERM: Enough of your insolence! Men, attack!

(The large fish ship leaves, and enemy waves begin.)

DAVE: Dudes, I gotta insist you stop using homosexuality as an insult.

SCOTT: I’m sorry Dave, it’s just something I don’t even think about anymore.

PETER: Yeah, cos you’re a fag yourself!

SCOTT: That wasn’t even funny.

PETER: Sorry kid, I just like the sound of my own voice.

DAVE: Hey Scott, we can be cool if you help me with these bogus penguin things.

(Scott flies over.)

ERM: You meat-bags are more resilient than most of the others who have been sent to kill us!

DAVE: Bro, you guys are made of meat too.

ERM: Ugh, let a man be metaphorical!

PETER: THANK YOU!

SCOTT: Wow, Peter, looks like we finally found someone in the universe who agrees with you.

PETER: Fuck you, kid. You’re just jealous cos I’ve actually got some in my life.

SCOTT: Oh come on! I don’t even care about it!

PETER: Suuuure you don’t.

(battle carries on.)

SCOTT: So, evil space penguin leader thing, what do we call you?

ERM: Erm.

PETER: Come on, ya fuckin’ bird, you must know your own name.

ERM: Erm!

SCOTT: Hey, c’mon Peter, maybe these things are too stupid to know.

ERM: SILENCE, HUMANS! I am Erm, almighty leader of the Space Penguin Army!

SCOTT: You’re name’s Erm? Fuck, I think that joke’s been used somewhere else.

DAVE: A derivation of it anyway, totally.

ERM: Th-this is an outrage! How dare you insult my name! I’ll attack you myself for your disrespect!

DAVE: Uh, yeah brah, you can handle this on your own.

(Dave flies off as Erm appears in his ship.)

SCOTT: Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!

(They battle. Erm falls.)

SCOTT: All right, time to decide whether to-

DWAYNE: Guys! You’ve got to get back here right away! The captain’s been kidnapped by space penguins!

PETER: Jesus fucking…

ERM: Haha! The sock ruse was just a distraction!

DAVE: Oh great man, make our audience even more of a niche.

ERM: Smell you later, as you would say!

(Erm leaves.)

DAVE: Well, I guess we should all go back.

(Mission Complete…?)

Let’s Ruin: Winnie The Pooh – Eeyore

It all began when my house fell down again, and I looked at it, and I thought, fuck this.

Like the first little pig, I built my house out of sticks, and here it was again, lying on the ground in a tiny little mound, taking up the space that usually my body would occupy, laughing at me. Laughing at me and saying, hey buddy, I’m in your spot, just try and move me.

Every fucking day of every fucking week of every fucking month this happens to me. House goes up, wind goes across, house goes down. Every day. I’d move if the location weren’t so perfect.

It’s not too far from the river that I get tired from walking there, and trust me, I get tired from walking easily. It was close enough to food that I could eat easily. And it was just the right distance away from everyone that someone could come over once a day and help me build my house yet again.

They were sick of it too, I could tell. Each day they were starting to get a little more begrudging about helping me out. A little more annoyed at me for not packing up and moving away to somewhere where the wind wasn’t so strong. I could see it in their eyes. They hated me.

I didn’t want their fucking help. They just decided that I needed it, just because I was so close to the ground that it was hard to look up, and because I didn’t have arms, just legs. Whenever I tried to rebuild the house by myself, I had to use my mouth to pick up each stick and move it into place.

They pitied me, that was it. They pitied me and they made themselves feel better by helping me out. I could do it by myself, oh yes I could. It would take me hours at a time, sure, but in the wood, hours are nothing. Nothing happens that would make you wish you didn’t have to rebuild your house. Except for the times when that dumb bear and his idiot human friend would go on stupid, pointless adventures. Or that time when the little kangaroo was killed by his wacko mother.

I remember that night well. Oh yes I do. The blood pouring out, splattering across my face, some working its way down my throat. It felt good.

It felt really good.

But like I was saying, rebuilding the house was tedious, sure, and it happened every day, and there was nothing else to do.

Only that’s exactly my point. There’s nothing else to do. Maybe that’s why I was angry. Boredom drives people to madness, and there’s nothing more boring than repetition, which to some people is a hell inescapable.

And this is basically what I was thinking when the sticks were gloating at me, on the floor, where I wanted to be later that day. Staring back, challenging me to rebuild them, to carry on doing what I always do and never break away from fear that change will drive me mad.

And here I was, with my usually dour face contorted into a sneer, a growl escaping my lips, growing tenser with every passing second, planning my revenge on a pile of fucking sticks I called home.

I had had enough.

One by one, I picked up each stick, and one by one I moved the stick and placed it in the river, and one by one they drifted downstream with the flow, floating away without a care in the world, hopefully to drown in the sea, the smug little fuckers. I hoped to whatever made us all that I never saw those things again.

And then I sat and I waited. And waited. I didn’t even know what I was waiting for, or if I was really waiting for anything.

All I knew was that the blood that had spilled earlier in the month had not been enough. My tongue craved more. My body desired that red substance that so seldom showed itself here.

It grew like a fungus inside of me, working its way through my body, infecting every fibre of my being until by the time night had fallen, the only thought in my mind was tearing whoever came near me to shreds, sheerly because I could.

I almost felt sorry for the annoying rabbit.

Almost.

A small part of me told me that when, after being asked if I wanted some help rebuilding my house, said in that despairing tone that implied I was beyond help, I ripped out his stomach, I was perhaps going a little far. But the fresh splashes of blood on my face washed away everything I could have once felt, other than pure rage.

Rage born from boredom. From the repetitive life I had been forced to live due to by four stubby legs and the company I kept. From the inane conversations I was forced to have. From being asked every day if I was fucking OK. From my house falling down, and being rebuilt, and falling down, ad infinitum.

I chewed on the rabbit for a short while, destroying his face, squishing and eyeball and not giving so much as a passing thought, before wandering sluggishly into town. His mutilated corpse lay still, as if it were asleep. Shame that he was now missing half his head, I guess.

I made it to the home of the bouncing dickhead who kept bouncing and bouncing and keeping me awake every fucking night and head butted his door. It hurt. I didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t answer and so I banged again and again, trying to repeat the same sort of repetition that had driven me to this. I almost didn’t notice the bear behind me. I almost didn’t see him run off.

Finally he answered, and his often large grin was quickly replaced by a look of sheer horror, and questions of what have you done, and blah blah blah. I wasn’t listening. I was working out the best way to separate that fucking tail from his body while he was still alive.

But he wouldn’t turn around. He just stood there, shocked look on his face, gawping at the blood covering mine, his tiny little brain trying to work out what to say next. I grew bored of this and reared up, with every intention of tearing his mouth off so he couldn’t gawp any more.

The buckshot slammed into my back just as I was about to jump. Clearly I had spent too much time staring at the slack jawed buffoon, and now the bear who almost wasn’t there was stood almost right behind me, boom stick in his hand and a look of terror in his eye. I turned slowly and snarled at him. He greeted this with another blast, which took my head clean off.

I guess in some ways, I deserved it. But as my soul fell into the ground to meet the one who would torture me for the rest of eternity, all I could think was, fuck you bear. I was doing you a favour.