Quick Catch Up

A selection of the things I’ve been interested in lately and wanted to share a little bit about…

Gone Home

 

 Billed as a first-person exploration game Gone Home, the first game from the Fullbright Company, is both familiar and unlike any game I’ve played. Using the familiar techniques honed in dozens of first-person shooters over the years the game sees you as Kaitlin Greenbriar, a young woman back from a year travelling in Europe, she returns home in the middle of the night to find an empty house and sets about discovering what has happened in the time she has been away.

From the setup it might sound like this is a horror game, and despite some very atmospheric presentation, and the notion of exploring this massive house on your own at night, that isn’t what the game is about at all. Instead by exploring the house, uncovering notes, diaries, receipts and clues you begin to piece together the story of the rest of Katie’s family, stories that are both sad and true, heartfelt and familiar and subtly, brilliantly, realised. Her sister Sam is the main focus of the game and at certain points she narrates dairy entries that help fill in the blanks. The game is only a few hours long, and outside of the exploration there isn’t a lot too it, gameplay wise, but the attention to detail and way in which the family secrets out themselves to you organically through your exploration make it a really unique and engaging experience. It’s the sort of game that is best unspoiled, but if you are interested at all in narrative techniques in gaming and engaging with smaller, more personal stories, then Gone Home is well worth checking out.

Searching for Sugar Man

Winner of the Oscar for best Documentary this year, Searching for Sugar Man is one of those stranger-than-fiction stories that is really best discovered for yourself. It concerns a small-time musician discovered in Detroit in the late 1960s and the surprising story of his unknown legacy. I really don’t want to say more as half the fun of this very enjoyable film is uncovering the pieces of the puzzle, suffice to say it’s a journey worth taking and is surprisingly life-affirming as well.

Fez

Back to games and Fez was something of a breakout indie hit last year when it was released on Xbox Live (it was also prominently featured in Indie Game: The Movie that I reviewed here), with its recent Steam release though I’ve finally gotten round to playing it, and it is wonderful. A charming mix of old school 2D platforming with a modern twist, the fact that you can rotate each world in 3D, turning one 2D level into 4 separate ones, allowing you access to new areas, doors and secrets, all in the name of collecting cubes. Wrapped up in it all though are layers upon layers of secrets, codes and cryptic puzzles that reveal elements of the game most people probably won’t find. The game works well enough as a relatively straightforward platformer, the graphics are great, the levels evocative of the 16bit era without being beholden to it, combined with the great soundtrack it makes the world a great place just to explore. But dig a bit deeper and Fez becomes something else entirely, and even if you need a bit of a push to uncover some of the extra content, it’s worth it just to see how far down the rabbit hole goes.

The West Wing

Yes it’s old, but it’s one of those TV shows that I never watched, for one reason or another, however now all 7 series are available on LoveFilm I finally succumbed and found myself watching the first 4 episodes in a row. Suffice to say I’m enjoying it and I’m sure it only gets better, but I just wanted to acknowledge the fact I‘m plugging one of the holes in my TV watching history, and having it all available to stream and watch whenever I want is wonderful, if dangerous.

So that’s it for now, not sure if this will become a regular article or not, may depend on what I find myself enjoying in the future, but it’s good just to put some thoughts down without the need for a full article, and to hopefully draw your attention to things that may be of interest. Normal service (whatever that looks like) should resume shortly.

Indie Game: The Movie

A documentary about three indie developers and the development of their respective games doesn't sound like the richest subject for anyone other than die-hard fans of the medium. Thankfully Indie Game: the Movie isn’t really what is pertains to be, there is little here in terms of in-depth behind the scenes information on how these games are created, or the technical aspects of design. Instead it is much more interested in the people behind them, what drives them, the fears, worries and neurosis that drive people to spend 18 hour days coding pouring themselves into a game with no guarantee at the end of it of any level of success or acclaim.

The film focuses on three games; Braid, a breakout indie hit that was celebrated as kick-starting a lot of the interest that such games have garnered in recent years, Super Meat Boy, an old school challenging platformer hoping to make it big on Xbox Live and Fez, a years-in-development passion project of one man, hoping to stay relevant in the fast paced world of modern gaming. They are three individual and interesting examples to focus on, and now having lived past the ending of the film as it stands (Fez was not yet released at the time of filming) it’s interesting to look back and see the trajectory that each of the games, and their creators have taken in the years since.

Of the three sections the pieces with Jonathan Blow reflecting on Braid felt the least compelling, but also seemed to serve a different purpose than the others, which were focused more tightly in games being finished and marketed and eventually released into the wild. Instead Blow reflects back on how his game was received, and the reasons behind making it in the first place. All three games come from very personal places from their respective developers (and two are single person projects) and the way these people open up and reveal themselves through their work, and lay themselves out is both fascinating and engaging. I wouldn't say the documentary has an agenda as such it merely found some interesting people and wanted to tell their story.

In the case of Super Meat Boy we had my favourite parts of the film, the work of just two guys, living hundreds of miles apart it is a testament to hard work, skill and good fortune, a real underdog story that builds a surprising amount of tension towards the end through some skilful editing, but also because you find yourself invested in these people. Throughout the film similarities between the personalities are revealed, they are all slightly awkward, and self-critical, each drawn to games creation for slightly different reasons but with a shared passion, and desire to bring a part of themselves to the table, and to produce something that others will enjoy and engage with.

It’s an affirmation of gaming as an art form and means of expression, but also of humanity itself, in all its forms. Phil Fish, the creator of Fez is a divisive figure, and watching him almost implode several times in the film is sometimes hard to watch, but he lays himself out in a way that still garners sympathy. He can be volatile and obsessive, but it’s those qualities that allowed him to make a game as impressive as Fez single-handed. There’s a moment filmed at the annual Penny Arcade Expo is Boston where Fish is showing off the game and you just see the faces of the PAX visitors light up as they get their hands on his demo. There in the background Fish stands, making notes, but a sly grin soon emerges onto his face. It’s a fleeting moment but one that speaks volumes to what drives him, and also to the wonder that gaming can ignite; that spark of imagination that captures people of all ages and backgrounds.

For those unfamiliar with the world of video games there should still be enough here to enjoy, much like King of Kong before it, the games themselves work as metaphors, a gateway into a community or a life. Of course not detailed here are the many similar artists that work on projects without seeing much success, the failures and the bankruptcies, but this isn't a piece focused on the economics of game development. Instead it celebrates the capacity it has to unite people in shared experience.

As one of the creators of Super Meat Boy, exhausted from weeks of non-stop work and years of worry, sites back on his sofa and watches YouTube videos of people playing, loving, hurling abuse at, but always embracing his creation, his wife breaks down. After spending a couple of hours in this world, of fragile dreams and heartfelt expression, you might well do too.

The Forgotten Future

The future is grim. At least that’s what a lot of the media I consume has been telling me for a while now. The apocalypse is coming, and when it does things won’t be pretty. Zombies, nuclear fallout, mutants, death and destruction, these themes are prevalent today. The reasons I’m sure are multitude, our lives today often eschew real danger, that desperation for survival has been neatly curbed by modern life so abundant at times with Maslow’s basic needs that on some level we just take this for granted. If the power goes out for a night, or (heaven forbid) your internet stops working, it’s as much an inconvenience as anything. So the idea of suddenly having nothing, of fighting just to survive one day to the next has a certain morbid appeal. But equally this trend could be symptomatic of a world that often seems on the verge of a collapse, from the banking crisis to nuclear threats, terrorism and global warning there is a very real fear permeating society that the current status-quo may not last.

These are fascinating subjects to think on, they mine deep and rich wells of human psychology and moral conundrums. They allow a form of escape, as so much of our media does, but in a world unbound by the rules we encounter every day. And yet… and yet I worry that the desire for, and volume of such scenarios has been to the detriment of other, potentially more relevant and interesting ideas. Fight or flight is easy, and exploring the depths of moral depravity in desperate situations an effective way of emotionally engaging players / viewers, but I’ve been wondering lately to the actual value of this, not that media has to be valuable, as such, or teach us things, but when it all seems to be visceral, shock tactics and barrel scraping I often crave something more subtle. Not as a rule, but as a counter-point, hegemony in any subject belies a certain redundancy in ideas and in message.

Such thoughts were largely brought to life playing through Naughty Dog’s excellent PlayStation 3 game, the Last of Us. As an example of game story, technical accomplishment and moral ambiguity it sits unparalleled in recent memory. It is also a rather grim and increasingly brutal experience to play through; largely because it features such well realised and rounded characters that you form strong attachments with. Despite this as I reached the end of the game it almost felt like a tipping point. Like it was the pinnacle of this kind of narrative. Stepping into another ruined, crumbling post-apocalyptic world doesn’t hold much appeal to me at the moment, and I don’t think it’s just because the Last of Us drained my empathy supplies. I think it’s because of a lack of balance, in the genre and across the media. Put more specifically, where is light to balance the dark? Not necessarily in terms of the issues raised or emotions dealt with, but there seems to be a distinct lack of ambition and belief in us as a species, and the possibilities for our future. We are at risk of seeing a generation’s views on the potential of society being boiled down to unavoidable death and destruction.

Back in the 1950s and 60s, when the space-race was afoot and optimism abounded both here and in America the results of this were born in shows like Star Trek. These presented a view of a united future, a vision of progress and harmony that still managed to engage with the big questions of the day. They may look antiquated and silly now, but there is something about that optimism and vision that I miss nowadays. Maybe this is part of the reason that JJ Abrams recent reboot of the franchise seemed to strike something of a chord with people, it found that lightness of touch and positive tone that imbued the future with a sense of fun so often missing from the dour, grey blockbusters of recent times. And it’s not like the world 60 years ago was such a wonderful place to live in, the legacy of two world wars and numerous other conflicts left their toll, but the possibilities of science and technology to reshape the future was enough to inspire a generation to reach the moon, an otherwise impossible-seeming task.

Maybe today we lack this (some would say naïve) belief. Those that lived through this era and didn’t see the radical changes promised grew disillusioned, and whilst I would argue looking back and comparing modern life to what it was shows many of these revolutions have indeed happened, just gradually and in differing ways to those that were envisioned, I also understand the feeling. I am not endorsing happy-clappy whitewashed visions of a future filled with unrecognisable people. What I want to see more of is people chasing something other than pure survival. Something bigger than us individually, a goal of betterment, that speaks beyond the individual. You could make the argument that some recent games, such as Mass Effect work more on this side of the spectrum than the irradiated wastelands of Fallout and Stalker. Indeed Mass Effect is modelled a lot on the Star Trek notion of co-operation between races and galactic conflict. It’s no surprise then maybe that the best parts of those games are frequently the mini stories it manages to tell, outside of the wider galaxy-in-peril narrative, just regarding characters and how they interact.

This wider issue is also intertwined with a general desire to move away from more galaxy-spanning narratives to smaller scale, more human endeavours, but even with this they often use nightmare visions of the future as a way in; an easy shorthand for dropping the normal pretence of behaviour and morality. It’s harder to craft more nuanced stories, or envision futures without such eye-catching visual backdrops, but I also think there is greater potential for empathy, and for the players and viewers of the media to engage with the moral questions they may actually face, in worlds less alien than we typically see.

So by all means give me moral quandaries, represent the full spectrum of human emotion but don’t limit yourself to the negative just because it is easier. There is an exciting and invigorating vision of our future waiting out there for someone to capture it. A world in which the best as well as the worst in us is explored, and our potential celebrated. I’ve seen the end of civilisation. I’ve walked its ash-strewn streets and bombed out buildings. Fought its wars and done what needed to be done in order to survive.

And I have emerged unsatisfied, wanting to see the other path.  

Kentucky Route Zero

When is a game not a game? And does it matter? Unlike other forms of mass media, which are much more easily identified and categorised, video games straddle an uncertain line with the label of ‘game’ being almost increasingly outdated and unrepresentative of the breadth of experiences currently available.

This is especially true in the indie scene at the moment, and one of the most esoteric and talked about games to emerge this year is Kentucky Route Zero. Describing it is tricky though. It features an old antique delivery driver in his quest to make his last delivery, along the fabled Route Zero, a road that isn't really like any other road. Presented in a stark geometric art-style with a heavy emphasis on mood and atmosphere it is less a game, and more an interactive story, a Lynchian tale populated by strange characters and undercut by a heavy dose of melancholy. Each Act of the game (there will be five, so far two have been released) is split into scenes, usually labelled as you move from place to place. So far each of the Acts has been relatively short, but perfectly suited to the game's needs. Any longer and the sparse, often dreamlike dialogue and lack of interactivity may have rankled, as it is the game raises endless questions and draws you in to whatever is still to come.

Whilst the game can certainly be described as weird, it all feels of a whole. This is a game with a clear vision, aesthetically and thematically and it works so well in communicating this through its narrow focus. A version of this game with more traditional mechanics wouldn't have the same impact, the same haunting quality. At times the distorted eerie music coupled with some of the games striking yet simplistic visuals (it does some amazing things with implementing 3D spaces into an ostensibly 2D game) evoke a mood and a feeling unlike any I've played in recent times. Aside from observing locations and talking to people there is not much in the way of mechanics here, though in the dialogue you are often presented with multiple answers to questions, or lines of enquiry but there seems to be no consequence to your choices. Instead they allow you to internally paint a view of the characters, like a choose-your-own adventure game you find yourself building up a back story through these options, and that in turn filters through to how you play the game. Naming your dog Homer might not impact the game per-say, but that small aspect of customisation is enough to invest you that much more in the story.

This is very much an art-piece as it were, but it's not so wrapped in up pretensions to make the experience dry, in fact it is often absurdly funny, the question seems to be whether you are up for taking the plunge and seeing where the game decides to take you. Time will yet tell if the ideas will dry up, or whether the ending will provide a satisfactory conclusion to the groundwork laid so far. Certainly there is the possibility for it to all fall apart, but based on the Acts released so far this is a confident and intimately designed game with something to say, I just look forward to wherever the journey takes me next.

Seven Psychopaths

Following up In Bruges was never going to be an easy task for writer/director Martin McDonagh, after coming seemingly out of nowhere his debut film became something of a deserved cult hit, mixing black humour and a surprisingly touching story of a pair of mismatched hitmen hiding out in Bruges. In Seven Psychopaths McDonagh’s preoccupation with violence remains, though the film itself is a very different beast tonally to its predecessor. Lacking the deeper emotional undercurrents of Bruges, Psychopaths instead delves deep into meta-commentary regarding the notion of violence in movies and our collective enjoyment of it. Colin Farrell stars again, this time as Marty, a struggling screenwriter with a premise for a new film (called Seven Psychopaths) but not much more. His best friend Billy (Sam Rockwell) is a dog-napper, who runs a scam alongside Christopher Walken’s Hans, who uses the money to support his cancer-ridden wife in hospital.

But, following the accidental theft of a dog belonging to renowned gangster Charlie (Woody Harrelson) things start to get out of control as the psychopaths Marty seems so interested in for his proposed script start impacting on his life. There’s a certain unreality here that McDonagh plays up far more than he has done previously, the almost cartoonish violence and hyper saturated LA locations suit the larger than life characters that populate the film, Rockwell and Walken are the stand-out performances, the former initially seeming to fill his usual role as the unhinged outsider, only to have the character become something much more interesting and deranged by the end of the film. Walken embodies Hans with a lifetime’s experience with nary a word, and his stoic and deadpan sensibility give the film its emotional core, what of it there is. Farrell does a great turn embodying the cliché’s alcoholic Irish writer with pathos and his trademark bewilderment, and Tom Waits needs only two scenes to risk stealing the film, playing one of the titular psychopaths who stops by for some tea.

Structurally interesting the film starts at a pace and then slows towards the end, finally giving the characters and ideas time to breathe. Whilst it is fairly constantly entertaining and engaging, there is a certain surface level enjoyment that pervades throughout. The conceit of having characters discuss the clichés of cinematic shootouts and corny dialogue, whilst participating in the same scenarios themselves, has potential but never quite feels fully realised. The act of pointing out your own flaws never works as a way to excuse them; an aside regarding Marty’s script’s lack of female characters, and its objectification of women feels knowing, until you realise that the film itself suffers from this same issue, and no effort is made after the fact to correct this. 

It’s perhaps the curse of trying to be too knowing and ironic, but the lack of empathy hurts the film in the long run. It’s often very, very funny as well as shocking and unexpected, but ultimately somewhat hollow. Marty’s dilemma throughout the film is how to make a film about psychopaths that is somehow uplifting and promotes peace, if McDonagh had managed to solve this conundrum then the film may have had something to say. As it is, it remains a somewhat glib but nonetheless enjoyable romp but one that never quite gels into a cohesive whole.  

Monsters University

A new Pixar film is still something I treasure, despite the company's recent dip in quality they remain the premier animation studio working today, a company with dedication to story and quality. But despite this I wasn't sure how much I was looking forward to Monsters University. I love the original film, but dislike prequels as a general concept, they generally reek of marketing gimmicks and cashing in on famous brands / names without actually narratively doing anything interesting. They are stories where you know the destination and as such they often feel inconsequential. This argument could be made against MU, for a start as a concept it's a little odd at first to base a film around a monster's desire to become a scarer, when you've already established in the original film that scaring is not what they should be doing, but ultimately it rises above this to become a worthwhile film in its own right.

The film follows Mike Wazowski (Billy Crystal) as he looks to fulfil his lifelong dream of studying at Monsters University, and sets out detailing how he meets James P Sullivan (John Goodman) and how a rivalry became a friendship. For the first two thirds the film largely concerns itself with the standard college comedy template, but given a Pixar, family friendly, twist. I wouldn't necessarily take this adherence to formula as a criticism, the characters are engaging enough, and the setting so wonderfully realised that it is a pleasure to just spend time in this world. But it's the last third that really makes the film, and elevates it from being a perfectly fine, but somewhat run of the mill Pixar entry, to one with a lot more on its mind. Because when it comes down to it the film isn't really about following your dreams and endorsing the popular message that you can do whatever you set your heart to. Instead, in a wonderfully subversive way, it points to something much more nuanced and interesting. It's a film about finding your place, but also about failure and how we respond to it. It's about what we do when things don't go our way, when our dreams fall apart, and the way it deals with those ideas in the context of this family movie about monsters that really surprised me.

It's a shame then that the first half of the film lacks much of this subtly and ambition, again it is perfectly entertaining and frequently very very funny, but it feels somewhat inconsequential and small scale, with the attachment we have to these characters from the first film doing much of the heavy lifting. There are some nice nods to the original however, and the film wisely steers away from just checking the boxes (this is how X happened, this is how Y got their job at the plant) which are so often the focus of other prequels. In fact the film's treatment of the only regular recurring character, Randall, is pretty effective, giving the audience all they need to know without making it the focus of the film.

On the scale of Pixar Monsters University still sits towards the lower end, all told, but that is largely as a result of the bar being set so high by the company's back catalogue. And whilst it may still feel slightly unnecessary as a film, I liked that they were able to take a potential cash-in and imbue it with a message and with heart that surprised me (unlike, say Cars 2). It is also far less uneven than last year's Brave and fills me with more hope for their upcoming Finding Dory. It's still a shame to see quite so many sequels emerge from a studio that made it's name with genre-bending original ideas, but Monsters University also sits as proof that we shouldn't write them off just yet.

Cloud Atlas

That this film exists remains, even on second viewing, something of a mystery to me. It feels like a happy accident, that the Wachowski’s and Tom Twyker somehow managed to smuggle a film this ambitious, daring, bizarre and potentially ridiculous past the studio heads. That someone signed off on over $100m feels like a thing that doesn’t happen in modern Hollywood. But boy am I glad they did.

Yet what I like about Cloud Atlas isn’t just that it strives for something beyond the standard summer blockbuster. Not even that it takes a somewhat silly premise, actors playing multiple roles, often under layers of make-up, and runs with it beyond what you may reasonable think. No, what is so great about Cloud Atlas is that, for the most part, it works when it really shouldn’t. Comprising six separate and interlinked stories, over a timespan of hundreds of years from the 1800’s to the far flung future the film wastes no time in dropping the viewer into each of these situations without much explanation, but masterfully drawing you in. Whereas David Mitchell’s novel separated the narratives into a concertina structure, with the first half of each moving forwards then concluding in turn, the film mashes them all together, a tactic that, for such wildly different stylistic and tonal choices, again shouldn’t work and yet it does. One of the film’s biggest weapons is the editing which, as the best editing should, feels invisible and yet is unlike almost any film I’ve seen. Events and scenes in one story are given extra weight or meaning thanks to juxtapositions in others. Characters played by the same actor can give payoffs to setups they themselves offered up by way of another time period, and by layering montages of visuals over voiceover the directors manage to find a way of making the stories feel cohesive through their shared themes and ideas, rather than characters or plot.

It’s a remarkable feat all told, and one that feels effortless when you watch despite the complexity of design that sits behind the surface being almost unimaginable. Yet the film does stumble, some segments are better realised than other, some actors excel in some roles and feel horribly out of place in others, and some of the cross dressing / multiple roles are somewhat ill-advised. On occasion the overt earnestness of the story verges on camp, but it always pulls back from the brink to wow you with a sequence, or moment that feels revolutionary. The film should not be praised purely for having something to say, not treating the audience like an idiot and having ambition, though these are all positive things that surprisingly few big-budget films manage to achieve these days. But even outside of these Cloud Atlas just works, it is a thrilling, strange and constantly engaging piece of art that never lets its contemplation of more weighty themes get in the way of its primary purpose: to entertain. A world away from the maudlin philosophising of the Matrix sequels, this feels like the best of the Wachowski’s, the hyper-kinetic editing and playing with structure from Speed Racer (which I still think is a criminally underrated film), to the techno-noir cool that made their name. The addition of Tom Twyker to the pair can’t be dismissed either, directing half the segments himself he brings wonderful humanity to the picture with a deft touch, whilst his musical contributions bind the film together beautifully.

This is a film I’m sure I will revisit many times, and enjoy showing to unsuspecting friends and family. I can imagine seeing new connections and deft touches with each new viewing. It’s not perfect, but I love it flaws and all for its clear-eyed positivity, and its brazen desire to break all the rules. I’m still not sure how it got made, but I will always be grateful for its existence: a rush of pure cinema that was somehow let loose into the world.

Ryan Davis

I woke today to the tragic news of the passing of Ryan Davis on July 3^rd. If you are in any way connected to the videogame industry then you may have heard of him, or the news as it broke late last night. What surprised me, and speaks to his personality and influence, was how crushed I felt as the reality of what had happened sunk in.

He was only 34, he was very recently married. These things are tragic and yet don't fully explain how devastated I felt. I did not know Ryan Davis. But I did.

For nearly three hours every week, as part of the Giant Bombcast, a gaming podcast, I listened to Ryan and the rest of the crew chat, joke, mess around and occasionally talk about videogames. That adds up to a lot of time over a few years. Giant Bomb as a website, if you are unfamiliar, is all about personality, and front and centre of this was Ryan. He was the glue that held the disparate parts together, his way of wrangling order from chaos was unmatched, his warmness, sense of humour and force of will, singular.

It feels selfish to put what has happened in the context of me, but it's all I know. Along with much of the internet today my thoughts and prayers go out to those who really knew him, who worked with him and loved him. I'm just a fan, a listener who will never again get to hear him excitedly announce a new show, or make a fool of himself on camera for the pure amusement and entertainment of others. I'm struck by how, in this modern age you can feel a connection with people you never meet, who live lives completely removed from your own. It's a wonderful gift. But today it hurts.

The comments that have poured out today speak to this, thousands revealing of how their lives were made better by another as tribute. That speaks to the best of this world, in times when so often on the internet the opposite is all we see.

But mostly it speak to Ryan and the person he was.

I didn't know him, but I miss him all the same.

The Hunter

It watched the man step out into the bitter night. It saw the gated door slammed shut and the man's breath clouding, a shudder not far behind followed by ginger steps across the wooden porch. The ice from this latest spat of unseasonal weather remained, invisible as it may be, and the old timer was taking no chances. Bereft of his cane he steadied himself against the railings and began descending the steps. Even for winter it was a bitter night, the observer didn't feel it though. Its concealed presence on the other side of the street cast no shadow onto the snow-dappled ground. Its breath formed no condensation. Its narrow-slitted eyes unwavering in their attention.

The old man was at the bottom of the steps now. He took a quick glance back at the brightly lit porch before pulling his chamois coat tighter and pressing on down the path ahead. The figure smiled, a patient smile. A smile born of experience. It had been the same as this for the past three nights, the slow shuffle to the path followed by a turn to the right, to collect logs for the fire. On the previous nights though the man had emerged earlier, when the sun was still setting and the darkness yet to close in. But not tonight.

The figure crouched, a brief release of excitement in an otherwise controlled performance. It was so close now. Its last kill had been a week ago, it wasn't like it needed to feed but the thrill, the joy of it drew him ever back. Its senses felt sharp, its muscles taut. As the man disappeared from view the creature crept forwards. Its soft leathery feet making no sound on the hard concrete, its eyes clearly making out the way despite the lack of anything but the moon for guidance. It had been leaving the town when it had come across this place, and the opportunity seemed too good to pass up. Isolated at the end of a long, hilly road the cottage was well set back from the road and lay alone, surrounded by dense woodland and fields. In the day, when the light burned it, the creature took refuge in the woods. What little sunlight made it through the persistent cloud subsequently failed to break through the tightly packed leaves and branches leaving the creature relatively free to wander. From this shaded position it had come to observe the life, as it was, of the old man currently struggling to lift logs into his feeble arms. He lived alone, and stayed indoors mainly. Only venturing out when the postman came, for a chat, or to clear the fallen snow and ice from his patio and garden.

From outside looking in it seemed a waste. A waste of life, to be spent in such isolation, in such mundanity. The creature was incensed by this. It's bloodlust growing with every thought, its patience tested with every day spent watching, waiting. But it had to be cautious. Time the great teacher had imparted that lesson and it heeded it well. Its continued existence was testament to that, its relative rarity compared to the past a constant reminder. The confidence of power is foolishness, and so he watched and waited. Until tonight.

Moving closer still the nameless creature entered the gate silently and made for the cover of the trees to the left. It's inky black skin made it hard to detect but it was taking no chances. Meticulous hunters they may be, but a frailty that had never been bred out remained, the creatures were no match for gun or flame, the development and use of which had diminished the once thriving populations to what they were now. Ancient they may be, but it was only a select few who survived the upheaval mankind wrought on the world. An age, a second, a century but a blink. Their perception of time shifted so that it seemed a blur, this ascension. This infestation of a once empty planet. So they retreated to the shadows, what remoteness remained provided shelter, but the instinct remained. The urge to hunt and to kill. They could not bend to it, they could not adapt. So those smart enough, cunning enough, forged a life as best they could, picking on the old and frail. The weak and alone. Somewhere deep inside the shame of this burned, but those flames had long since been dimmed. Survival had prevailed and any semblance of fairness swept aside. As the creature watched the man now, struggling to balance logs in his arms, his body quivering in the cold, it felt momentary disgust with all that had lead to this point. But the rage was entering its eyes now, it was ready to throw caution aside. Why worry about one little old man, a legacy of pain and death and triumphant destruction pared down to this? Its last victim, an old lady it had found walking the long road back to town one night was a distant memory now. At the time the taste of her had been as sweet as any it remembered, but the thrill never lasted these days. With no challenge, no righteous competition it was a hollow victory. It was a slave to its impulses. To its past.

The man turned away now, this was the chance. The creature made his way up behind, its feet expertly navigating the icy patches that remained, the snow that had settled muffling the sound. It raised its hands, that familiar rush coursed through its very being, its claws outstretched it leapt. The old man had no chance, he hadn't even moved.

Except.

Except... blinding pain rattled the creatures skull knocking it backwards. Light shimmered and the sky encircled. It lay on the freezing ground as the figure of the old man swam into view. In his hands was held a large axe, the logs lay fallen to the side. The axe handle came down again, the stricken creature was now the helpless one, unable to move, it gasped as new waves of pain drowned its meagre consciousness.

“Disappointing.” The old man grunted as he grabbed the unconscious creature by the legs and began dragging it along, “I was hoping for a bit more of a fight.”

*

When the creature woke it was strapped down to a wooden table, the room was dark, but the nearby embers of a fire provided illumination enough for it to take in its surroundings. Sparsely decorated, the kitchen was rustic but modern. It tried to move, fruitlessly and awaited the end.

The man entered soon, except now he was different. There was a spring in his step, his ambling gait had been replaced, his withered tiredness replaced by an oddly youthful excitement.

“I wanted you awake for this” the man spoke calmly as he approached, the axe still in his hands. “We do best to abide by the old customs, and at least for that you deserve a death of some honour.” The creature understood him, but could not respond. It regarded him with a look as icy as the old man's tone.

“You do what you were raised, same as me I reckon. Heard rumours of one of you in the village last couple weeks, wasn't hard to clock when you turned up here. Your kind never can resist this place, especially with such easy prey lurking within.”

The man leant on the axe now, surveying the creature with contempt, but little joy. “Have to admit you were more cautious than the others. Tricky one I've got here, I thought. But still predictable. I'll not prolong it, just so you know. But wanted a chance to see you. To remember. It's bigger than us, my dad used to say, this war. I don't know much about that but I do my part. Mostly though I wanted you to hear this. To hear that we will end you, your entire parasitic race. To let you know that you lost. To see that look in your face.”

The creature's eyed narrowed, its release was coming. This world wasn't theirs any more. It refused to close its eyes as the axe swung down.

*

The man mounted the head above the fireplace, as he always did. The creature joined its brothers, their lifeless eyes staring forever ahead.

Stepping back down from his handiwork the old man grabbed another log from the basket and threw it on the softly glowing embers of the fire, before sitting back down in his armchair, his feet resting up on the nearby table. In front of him the fire sparked back to life.

2013 Blog Update

So another lull befell my blog, as it is want to do and once again I return to it. A cleaner look now I hope, a fresh lick of paint to accompany the return to writing and sharing. As ever my thoughts when it come to this blog shift and blur, I want it to be an outlet for things that are on my mind, and the writing I do here and elsewhere, but also somewhere that somehow represents me as I am in the moment. So whether this is articles on particular aspects or pieces of media that provoke a reaction in me, or an excuse for me to wax lyrical about something close my heart, my overall aim is purely that I keep it up, however sporadically and irregularly. But I will try and be more regular, I will try and put more of myself out there because... well because I can I suppose and because we all crave our voices to be heard sometimes.

My latest review for D-Pad review sits below this post (unless you view this in isolation) and I will continue to use this as a platform for my writing there. I also have a (very) short story I'm hoping to finish up and post soon, for a nice change of pace and to keep my fiction writing muscles from atrophying completely. So if you are reading this, then thanks and I look forward again to seeing what this blog becomes, and where my writing takes it.

Dave

Journey: Collectors Edition Review

Journey: Collector’s Edition is actually a somewhat misleading title for this selection of thatgamecompany games. In fact it functions more as a boxset of the studio’s work to this point, containing as it does all three of their PS3 titles as well as a raft of extras a bonus material that make the value proposition considerable even for those already familiar with their ouvre.

The company’s first game, flOw, was based on co-founder Jenova Chen’s MSE thesis. Taking the role of a series of more complex aquatic organisms the game sees you delve deeper and deeper in a microscopic world consuming, growing and evolving over time. With no real goal or fail state the game functions more as a sandbox experience, and whilst basic, looking back it clearly sets the tone and feel of the subsequent games the studio would release...

You can read the rest of the review over at D-Pad here.