Description Described

Ah, description. I have quite a lot of thoughts on it,and generally I think I still struggle with it, but my insight was requested, so here it is.

I've always felt that I'm quite austere with description, and only occaisionally punctuate it with more poetic flourishes. Generally I don't go looking for an image if I don't have one, but if an image comes to mind as I'm writing I aim to incorporate it, and will sometimes reshape a scene with it in mind.

I try never to do a full paragraph of pure description, or if I must I try and add a bit of immaterial incidental activity or some thematic element to make it more dynamic; even something as simple as following a raindrop as it breaks over the stone parapet of a castle and trickles down the sandstone, is cast briefly back into freefall as it passes the window of the young lord's nursery, traces the contour of a gargoyle and finally joins the muddy slough of the courtyard, where it's abruptly spattered by the boot of the smith's apprentice, our POV character for the chapter. (And as an aside, I made that up on the spot as an example. I'm aware it's bollocks and contrived.)

I never ever give a full description of a character when he or she first appears in the narrative. This to me always recalls the days of primary school creative writing lessons, and a full biometric run down of leg measurements, bust size and eye colour according to the handy Dulux reference sheet bespeaks to me preteen dabbling in storytelling like nothing else. Instead, I go for just a couple of words to give the reader a sketch, then a few more hints and mentions throughout that scene when they fit to flesh things out. By the end of the first scene the reader should have a good portrait in their mind's eye of what the character looks like, but not enough to construct a Crimebusters photofit. Later, I'll generally only add further embellishment if it flows naturally, usually in the form of callouts to particular features where that feature is the focal point of a particular gesture or act.

Location setting is more needy, and usually I do open up with multiple lines of description, but I'll almost always try to go for incidental action or thematics to enliven it. For example in Red Flag, the opening description of Darken's fortress takes in its appearance, its local, and its atmosphere, but does so with a distinct emphasis on the imposing, impenetrable fortress-qualities of the place. Then the action kicks off with Hel immediately puncturing these defenses, making the description feel more like a set up for this pay off - which in turn describes to us some facet of Hel without saying anything - and less like a simple verbal painting in of the stage.

For me the hardest description is in pronouns and adverbs. The technical stuff. You know you don't want to keep doing 'He said, she said, he did, she did' but this stuff is very hard to give flow and character without being gruesomely overstated and flowery. In truth almost all dialogue does have to be a 'he said' job, but when things are clicking just right I'll spot without thinking the opportunities for a 'whispered' or a 'hissed' or maybe a 'said with a thin smile' or something. One of those will colour a lot of conversation; like a dye only a drop is needed.

Another skill I'm trying to grasp is the art of description, narrative digression and action amid dialogue. A lot of my stories are really minimal two-hander playscripts with the stage directions rewritten as narrative. I need to work better at realising the potential in prose.

Related to that is long-form sections of speechless action. I'm a speaky writer, no doubt about that, and I sometimes find myself grasping when I need to convey a couple of thousand words with negligible discussion (though I do find myself to have a knack for actual action scenes). I've had to actively study how this is done in 'real' books and again it's almost always about narrative digression. You segue into more conceptual or thematic or conversational prose for a bit as you coast along the action, drawing jumping off points from the events you detail whilst angling your theme to flow in the same direction as the story is heading. It's a good skill, the skill I'm most keen to hone. Narrative voice is where it's at. I generally pinpoint my main struggle with the actual words these days at not having a fully formed voice, and so having to actively work at each line. I can't simply start to 'talk' in narrative on the page. This is why I often favour first-person narration. I'm much better at naturalistic character dialogue and can rapidly assume an in-character narrator. I've also tried to muddy the water with characterful third person narration, but that's tricky and will often come out annoying. It's generally best suited to humour but doesn't have to be. Funnily enough when I was a writing machine back in my teens and stuff would just flow for me, I felt - and I still do feel - that my narrative voice was keenly honed. I had no plot in those days, so my writing was just meandering stylistics, and yet it flowed and had a certain attraction I still can't deny. Somehow over time I've completely lost that skill whilst picking up the (probably more needed) insight into plot mechanics. Characters I've always been good at, although I sometimes find it hard to kick the pebble down the mountain. My experiments in a shared universe have come so much more easily for me because AO'M had already set the shale scattering and all I had to do was jump on and surf down the quarry pit, pulling elaborate ollies and 360s of characterisation with my borrowed board.

...You see? That's what happens when an image hits me. Although it usually helps when it's less stupid.

All Possible Worlds

I always think of concepts like jars of coloured liquid. Every concept has in it a certain amount of story potential liquid. It might be the case that you have an elegantly crafted story based around a few simple premises which, for all their simplicity, afford you reams of material. Indeed, the really simple ideas are sometimes the richest. But excavating every last corner of the material might undermine the elegance and purity of concept of the story. So you revisit the concept in a later story. Here, then, is a perfectly good idea for writers to bring back good ideas. There's no rehashing, no laziness. Here is a reason predicated on getting as much interesting material into the audience's eye as possible.

Here's one of those ideas, that's really simple, but is a vast ten gallon tank of plot juice: The Holodeck. You know, from Star Trek. Concept: A room in which you can create alternate worlds in full detail. That's simple to explain, immediately grasped. And it is FULL of story concepts. You couldn't hope to cover everything it offers in a single story. There's a richness of ideas there that can only be dug into by many stories, from many angles, in many genres.

So it can't just be left to Star Trek. Here's the issue. It's a common one, I've seen it plenty of times, but here's the specific encounter that has me thinking about it right now. I just listened to the Doctor Who story 'Auld Mortality' (Review here), in which the Doctor is an author using the 'Possibility Generator' to create historical worlds for him to explore, in order to better devise his novels. It's a cracking good story, and most of the reviews have yielded to that view. And yet even the ones that are full of praise for it snark at the 'Possibility Generator' and make silly comments regarding the similarity to the Holodeck. As if it's just a stolen idea parcelled under another name.

What a stupid attitude. Auld Mortality mines a bit of the Holodeck concept plot material that hasn't - and couldn't be - explored in Trek. So such comments are ridiculous. People need to be less precious about ideas, less quick to cry rehash or plagiarism, and start engaging their critical faculties. Because maybe, far from being plagiarism or a rehash, the writer has used this concept because he's seen in it the potential to spin a yarn that's genuinely new. Maintaining that attitude only serves to inhibit the exploration of innovative ideas.

Nothing to Report

No news is not good news. No news is merely no news, and it gives me nothing to write about. Here is some minutae:

In writing:

A second serving of ephemeral pulp fantasy is available here.

Not content with driving to me distraction with script pitches, Big Finish are now soliciting short stories for a compilation Doctor Who short story audiobook. I have one idea already I am about to start work on.

In gaming:

Finished Star Wars: Jedi Knight. It's got a reputation as a classic and it's one it deserves. This is a game that is fantastically enjoyable nearly decades later. It shines on level design, pleasantly reminiscent of the Half-Life series, whilst its weapon set is brilliantly well balanced and the force power element lives up to the expectations of a game with the premise 'Play as a Jedi'. Secrets and a well implemented RPG system give it replay value. The live action cutscenes are pretty lame, but they're simply of their time and they have a certain charm.

Started Max Payne. Stuck on it at the moment, but far enough in to acknowledge that the hardboiled noir pastiche vibe is absolutely inspired. The gameplay, with it's then-uncliché bullet time gunfights is entertaining and pretty slick, though a bit repetitive for my tastes. I intend to finish it if I can get through this one hair-tearing part.

Currently halfway through Bioshock. This will get a full-on rambling write up when I'm finished, but suffice to say it is already cemented as an all-time classic in my mind, and THE best example of game storytelling I have ever seen.

In reading:

Don't laugh, but I'm reading a comedy thriller by Boris Johnson. It's actually highly amusing, and crying out for a screen adaptation. How much of it was written by Boris is of course debatable. Curiously, its biggest detractors appear to be Boris' fans.

In watching:

Newswipe is as good as ever, if not even better. This is the best of Brooker's shows, surpassing the flawed Gameswipe (Brooker may have cut his teeth on games coverage, but he is still out of touch), and bettering Screenwipe by being less ephemeral, and having some real gravity underlying its points.

In the Loop - Anyone who enjoys The Thick of It will of course enjoy this. But it is more than just The Thick of It writ large. The American story is as big as the British one, preventing it becoming Malcolm Tucker goes to Washington. Instead both sides are given equal billing, and whilst there are obvious parallels between them, the Americans have a different vibe and a different story to the British. And of course, it is as hilarious as it has ever been. It's not just Malcolm reeling of the quotable lines, either. Every character gets some really shining notes. My favourite quote might come from Addison (playing essentially a slightly nastier version of Olly): "You speak entirely in parables. You're like a crap jesus." Even Malcolm, the only crossover character (Toby is similar, but distinct, from Olly) is not just a retread of the Thick of It ground, as Capaldi saw fit to try and take him in a new direction for his story in the film, and we see a less secure, shark-in-the-pool Malcolm.

And that is the news as it stands at 18:41.

Inactive Architecture

Well, it's out there, now, so I finally feel like I can talk again. Been working on a script pitch for Big Finish over the past week, and I've been somewhat zoned in on it to the exclusion of everything else. But it's done now, and sent, and the deadline is past. It's for the Doctor Who audios, and they open up for new writers so incredibly infrequently this is, like the Scout, kind of a big deal. That is an understatement. I can't put down in words here how big a deal it actually is to me. Suffice to say I am being wracked with anticipation.

The first NEW bit of writing I've done since the pitch-madness was the beginning of a serialised fantasy noir story done to spec for my good friend Leprechaun Features. It's a bit of fluff, nothing more. I made a seperate blog for publishing finished fiction, to keep it distinct. You may find it hyar: www.sufferingfrom.blogspot.com

I'm not sure if I can post up the pitch I sent to Big Finish, so I'll have to keep it under wraps for the time being. I'm sure you're all heartbroken. Sorry.

And Dollhouse. Oh, Dollhouse. The finale was a big step up on Hollow Men, a very weak story that failed to adequately resolve the Boyd reveal and didn't live up to the title of the eponymous poem. It was still entertaining, but ultimately quite disappointing. Epitaph Two (imaginative naming) was a fair bit better. Without the disappointment before it, it'd have been a high to go out on. (Although emotionally, quite the low.) But because it followed Hollow Men, it's own inadequacies seemed more noticeable. Still, Topher's arc is definitely the absolute highlight of this series, and was devestating, and many other characters got satisfying ends as well. (Alpha's was unexpected and lovely, but where was Dominic?)

After Hollow Men I actually wrote my own ending to the series, and revised it a bit after E2. I'm somewhat saddened that I enjoy my own ending far more than Whedon's, and will never get to see it. Alas. The world will never know the wonder of that ending.

I can't write any more, now. I am once again being wracked by the horror and hope of the BF opportunity. Fairwell.

Stop Writing! I Need More Time!

A friend of mine once gave an anguished cry of 'Stop filming, I need more time!' as a stack of DVDs mounted up so high they threatened to cause an avalanche and bury him alive. I'm experiencing much the same with books, at the moment. I bought six more at the weekend, in Waterstones' 'Books of the Decade' 3-for-2, and I could easily have bought nine. The papery precipice of tomes is looming dangerously, and not aided by my chelonially slow reading pace. I have something like 10 books on my immediate reading list, and on top of that, I really want to read Red Seas Under Red Skies (the Locke Lamora follow-on) before the third book in that series comes out later this year. Plus, I really want to avail myself of my brother's comic collection, but each time I finish a book, some internal snobbery forces my hand toward the next 'proper' grimoire in lieu of a 'lesser' comic book. Well, enough of that; once I finish A Game of Thrones, I am going to read Planet Hulk, and my inner elitist can shut the fuck up. I am going to read a series of pretty pictures showing a large green man punching things, and that is all there is to it. After that, I will probably start on Anathem, which has floated to the top of my reading list for two main reasons: One, it looks to provide an exploration of the brilliant concepts I wanted from Thief of Time, but which Pratchett was never going to have given. Two, I fear that if I don't read it soon, Sven may forget all other words in the English language.

I have now drifted wildly far of my point.

'Stop writing!' That was it. There is more to this outcry than the fear of being overcome by mounting literary rockfaces (this has already happened; there are a myriad of books out there I will never get the chance to read). It's also a plea to the writers of serials who feel the need to revisit chapters in their writing history that are already closed.

The latest offender that has come to my attention is Jonathan Stroud, who has announced work on a fourth book about Bartimaeus. He of the Bartimaeus *Trilogy*. Now, the Bart Trilogy is something I've always admired for being an example of a perfectly constructed trilogy. It contains three self-contained stories, and also a powerful arc. Stroud clearly planned everything from the beginning, and used the trilogy structure to accomplish things that couldn't have been done otherwise. And, perhaps most astoundingly, he mounted up tension constantly until a brilliant climax which lived up to the preceding build-up. But now he's adding a fourth book. I should say at this point, I am actually quite excited for this new addition. Stroud's posts on his journal suggest he has spent a long time developing it, and I'm quite hopeful. But no matter how good it is, it will still undermine that perfect trilogy structure, and that capstone ending. Perhaps for this reason I am really hoping that this story will be distanced from the trilogy, linked mostly just by Bartimaeus, and focussing on his character, either as a prequel or a well-distanced sequel. I would actually really like a historical Bartimaeus story, building on his anecdotal footnotes, but I am trying not to get my hopes up, as there is nothing to suggest that this is what it'll be.

On the other hand, there is a book I have no hope for. You've probably heard that Eoin Colfer has produced And Another Thing, the 'final' book in the H2G2 series. Almost the opposite to Stroud's latest, AAT was actually planned for by Adams, and compiled from his notes. But it has been a long time since the other Hitchhiker novels, a time in which people had moved on - nobody was really clamouring for an addition - and besides, the novels were hardly Adams' strongest output. He bemoaned writing them in interviews, and, whilst the first two form a strong suite (notably being the ones that retell the 'traditional' Hitchhiker plot), the later ones meandered in plot and quality quite badly, providing only one really notable strand: that of the hopelessly doomed Agrajag.
Plenty has already been said about this particular case-in-point, so I won't drag on. I would note, though, that I think it would have been much more satisfying had Adams' notes been given the same treatment as The Salmon of Doubt.

Poor Eoin, I am rather ragging on him, but here we go again. I am rather fond of the Artemis Fowl books. They're not perfect - in places contrived and marred by Colfer's eco-warrior agenda - but they are still some of the strongest children's books I've read. (I hold children's books in no lower status to any other, and have no issue comparing them alongside ostensibly 'adult' literature (though arguably neither Stroud nor Adams is), however the majority of children's fiction really is poor, and appears to have been written and published by people who DO feel it only needs aspire to a lesser standard.) Colfer invested the stories with added depth through the interweaving of Irish mythology, cryptography and real-world settings into his plots, as well as broadly-appealing humour and a good sense of character. There was also a refreshingly dark edge to the stories, something fairly rare among kid's books. Here was a kid with no role models and no friends, whose life was devoted to crime, with an almost sociopathic failure to notice consequences that didn't affect him. He's basically antagonistic throughout most of the first book, and still quite shady at times in the second (He SHOOTS HIS FATHER WITH A SNIPER RIFLE). Even in the third book, the supposedly straightened-out Artemis ultimately lets down those close to him.
You'll notice there's a clear character progression there. Again, the first three books form a coherent whole, clearly following a plan from the start. But then Colfer wrote a fourth book. It came out of nowhere and had to go to great pains to explain how it even belonged after the very ending-like ending of the third. Plus, Colfer seemed to have lost his touch with the characteristics that lifted his stories above the average. The humour was now pointedly aimed at children alone, the subtle dark touches eluded him in favour of a few grandiose gestures - unexpectedly killing a major character (spoilers) and bringing back a previous villain driven only by hate - undermined by an excessively nice-and-happy Artemis-and-friends vibe. Plus, the mythology and clever flourishes of previous stories had all but evaporated. It couldn't help but betray its nature as an afterthought, tacked on, forever doomed to live as a red-headed black step-sheep.
And even then, Colfer didn't stop. A fifth and sixth book have since followed, and a seventh coming soon. The fifth book was an improvement on the fourth, showing a return to the the strengths of the initial three, and ending on a surprisingly bleak note that hinted Colfer had a plan once again. (Artemis (with a missing finger) is skipped five years into the future, to find his friends and family all thought he was dead and have gone on in their lives without him.) It wasn't quite enough to make me read the next, however, as I couldn't shake the feeling that the series was becoming an endless episodic morass. (And it seems I'm not alone, as Colfer started making statements about how he wouldn't write any more Fowl for at least 2 years. (Two years which will have soon elapsed, and lo and behold, a seventh book is announced.))

The problem with all of these cases is not that they produce bad books. That is by no means a given, though it is often true. The issue is that they always undermine the serial that they have been tagged on to, sapping the finality of the ending and weakening the structure of the arc. I will offer this in the authors' defense, however: I don't believe that it is always a case of doing it for the money. Authors get attached to characters. It is a hard thing to never write for them again, after even a single story. Devoting time to an arc, which develops and expands characters significantly, is bound to instill a desire to keep writing for them.

And a final footnote (And another thing?): After twenty years, Dianne Wynne Jones has written a third book in the Howl's Moving Castle continuity. So why isn't she guilty of the same crime? Well, because her stories are more like individual episodes taking place within a continuity than they are constant appendices to a finished tale. Castle in the Air is only tangentially related to Howl's Moving Castle, and doesn't step on its toes. In fact, Jones' skill in producing a sequel which delivered what was expected of it as a sequel, and yet is quite a different and original story, is quite the talent. I haven't read The House of Many Ways yet, but I'm hoping she will have accomplished the same again. (Perhaps also worthy of note, the ending of Howl's Moving Castle always suggested that these characters, and the world around them, would go on having adventures, and thus the sequel did not undermine it in the same way as the above examples.)

Gosh, I need to find more words for 'undermine'.

Everyone's a Bastard Who Dies at the End

Snow is almost gone.

News is less depressing of late. I'm still seeing portents, but it is not the shockingly unpleasant reading of late November/eary December. I am still disatisfied with the situation, but it is nice to catch a breather, feel that things are less stultifying and impending.

Thought about writing a short satirical piece earlier, but maybe a little too close to home, a little too vitriolic. I could do to lose some cynicism. Would writing this act as catharsis and release, or would it just focus my bitterness into a gritty little pearl? Don't know. Would be nice to write *something*, at least.

Big Finish impressed me again with Nev Fountain's Omega. It may actually be *better* the second time around. There is so much hidden in here, I am sure I haven't mined it all yet. Unfortunately not one I can easily recommend to non-Who fans as with Chimes of Midnight, as it is quite canon heavy.

Was absent mindedly singing a song earlier, then thought about the lyrics and was cut to the quick. That hurt.

A few books I've read recently -

The Lies of Locke Lamora - Caper story about youthful thieves living it up in fantasy Venice, when shit gets real. Really well crafted sense of place and inter-character relationships. Pretty funny in places, too. Everyone's a bastard who ends up dead (spoilers!), but they have redeeming qualities. More on this below.

A Canticle for Leibowitz - Split into three parts. Parts 1 and 2 are incredible, Part 3 seems a little more obvious and unsubtle. Nonetheless, deeply intelligent writing, witty and pithy. A better portrayal of the division between science and religion that probably any other I have seen. This is a book I will remember in twenty years time.

Flashman at the Charge - I haven't finished this, actually. I got distracted and veered off into the above two books, and trying to pick this back up has been like swimming upstream. I'm halfway in, just after the account of the Charge of the Light Brigade. This is probably the best Flashman has been since, well, 'Flashman'. Less fantastical, more historical, with Flash getting caught up in everything whilst trying to avoid anything. I'll probably pick it up idly in a month or two and finish it in a spurt.

Currently I'm on A Game of Thrones, because I think everyone I've spoken to has told me to read it, so I decided to give in. Another fantasy story where everyone is a bastard and they all end up dead. The front cover boasts about how venomous the characters are. This is in vogue at the moment, but it's getting tiresome. Post Lord of the Rings movies, it is a good way to define an identity for your book that isn't an association with that saga, I guess. And maybe after Potter and Rings, people are becoming a little jaded toward heroic fantasy. It needs balance though. Lies of Locke Lamora got this right, portraying the disingenuous and variously unpleasant people of Camorr, but balancing it against the genuine camaraderie and friendship of the gang.

Just discovered I have to go for a medical exam on Sunday. Not for my own health or anything, but so the government can decide whether or not I'm really ill. Did I say I had caught a breather from the stupidity of the system? Hah. There's a joke.

The Year We Make Contact

I don't make New Year's Resolutions as I have no resolve, however the New Year's Resolution of my monitor was 1440x900px. In lieu of such things, here are things I'm doing, thinking of doing, and thinking I should be thinking of doing:

Finding a new flat - It's pretty clear I should be getting out. I have decided to go live in York. Now I have to find a place. This is difficult because I neither want to live alone, nor with people I can't stand, and people usually need a flatmate ASAP, and don't want to spend time making friends. Also, I am bad at people. I haven't had much motivation to do this yet.

Writing - Something, anything. My creative side is so withered and dead it is saddening. Every time I have brilliant thought I realise it's really only a brilliant concept, and I have no clue of the realisation. I have this one idea for a weird sci-fi/fairytale/folklore mish-mash thing riffing on verbal tradition and old folk stories mixed with futuristic stuff and language, but it's hard to flesh out a plot. Also plays, I am more hopeful for these. I think I may start work on my adaptation of Borges' Theme of the Traitor and the Hero soon. Been planning it long enough.

Posting - I think things, I discuss them, I intend to write them here, I don't. It's not like I have nothing to say, either.

Socialising - Won't happen til I move to York, so on with that, I guess.

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Enough of that. I have been thinking about the election recently. Is there any chance of a Labour majority? I would rather that than a Conservative win, and if I thought there were any chance, I would vote Labour in the hope of it. Otherwise I will be voting Lib Dem. I think a hung parliament with the Lib Dems playing Kingmaker is probably the best I can hope for.

Also, have you been watching Irish politics recently? It's like a Tarantino movie.

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On a related note, I originally started this blog because that ornery Irish bastard Gundrea read some of the stuff I'd blathered about gaming and said I should be throwing it up somewhere. That lasted all of two posts where I blithered on about Metroid Prime, and then I turned into a bleeding heart liberal. In honour of the humble origins of this blog, however, I will now proceed to write mindlessly about videogames once again. I actually only started really being a gamer this year, it was at most a casual distraction prior to this. The fact that this year saw me getting a high end PC and living in a household with all major consoles is not coincidental. Here then, is a year in gaming. (Games marked with a * were released this year. Games marked with a ** were released this year, but originally released earlier.) I was gonna go month by month, but I forgot when I played stuff.

Fallout 3 - This is pretty much the first PC game I actually played when it was relatively recent. So inexperienced and naive a gamer was I one year ago. With wide-eyed innocence I stumbled into the post apocalyptic wastelands, and proceeded to become a saintly swashbuckling wanderer of the wilderness, with my huge Supermutant friend at my side who WOULDN'T TAKE THE LETHAL RADIATION DOSE FOR ME THAT FUCKING GREEN WANKER. I haven't played any of the DLC but I found the world really immersive, and it hed me for the whole game. I didn't roam too far and wide, as I found the gameplay was lacklustre. Much tighter resources could have really made the game, but it was still pretty addictive as was, and the world felt very real. Also, the 50s sitcom section was inspired, and a few more touches like that would have made it a classic.

Warhammer Online - They were fixing the gaping flaws when I quit, but too little, too late. But hey, Lego Universe is going to be awesome right? No need to give up on MMOs just yet.

Mirror's Edge - I invented this game. I mean, really, seriously, I envisioned and described a game exactly like this. It was like seeing one of my dreams realised. Heavenly.

World of Goo* - Absolutely brilliant, innovative, challenging, hilariously funny puzzler. Also has a fantastic soundtrack. I only wish it were several times longer.

LittleBigPlanet - This really is impressive for its innovation and carving a new path for games. It feels like something new and exciting. And is also very fun. It's a shame the level editor sacrificed function for gimmicks, though.

Gears of War 2 - IT'S A GIANT WORM! THEY'RE SINKING CITIES WITH A GIANT WORM! That is all.

Echochrome* - Hardly anyone has heard of this amazing gem. It is based on the works of MC Escher, and allows you to mess with perspective to get places. It's really clever, an accurate realisation of Escher's pictures in a gameworld. Also nice violin soundtrack.

Half-Life 2 - Yes, that is how behind the times I am/was. I always scorned the excessive hype. That was a mistake. It really is that good. Episode One was lacklustre, but the level in the dark was very clever. Episode Two was heavenly. Where is Episode 3?

Portal - Nothing I can say hasn't already been said.

Metroid Prime Trilogy** - Alright, alright, I'll shut up about it.

Prototype* - A good game that several flaws prevented from being a brilliant game. A (badly written) review is on my facebook page.

Castle Crashers - Exactly the sort of thing XBLA needs more of. Played this local multiplayer and it was a blast.

Shadow Complex* - Oh wow, this was good. I mean, pick of the year good. Epic and Chair's love letter to Castlevania and Super Metroid (Sorry!) managed to be a crystallisation of the pure goodness in the genre. The gadgets were inspired, especially the foam gun, and the world a veritable labyrinth. Could only have been improved by a better story and acting, but the laughability of the existing one at least added amusement.

'Splosion Man* - A so-so singleplayer game that had a fantastic completely retooled multiplayer mode. The simple one-button control concept was also brilliantly realised. Fear those rising water levels, though.

Team Fortress 2 - What do you know, I actually enjoy competitive multiplayer FPS. But I can only play Scout.

Trine* - 'It's not bad. In fact it's quite gorgeous and innovative and I do intend to finish it because I'm having fun.' Apparently this constitutes a bad write-up, so I will add that it was one of the most pure experiences I've had in a long time, and the RPG elements fit right in and let you actually play to a role. Sheer unadulterated fun.

Dragon Age* - So, it's official, Bioware have perfected the fantasy RPG. If you like RPGs, you'll like this. Otherwise you won't. It's not anything other than a fantasy RPG, it's just the genre, cut and planed and smoothed and polished to perfection. And full of dicks who hate me. My only friend is a golem. FUCK YOU ALISTAIR! I DON'T NEED YOU! I DON'T NEED FRIENDS!

The Operative: No One Lives Forever - Old, this, but good. Takes the Austin Powers type pardoy 60s spy theme and runs with it, turning it into a very respectable stealth game. An underground hit that I'm surprised isn't better known.

The Legend of Zelda: Spirit Tracks* - Technically I'm playing this this year, but who cares? It's disappointing. It still has the basics, but the magic that made Phantom Hourglass an absolute joy is all gone. Worse, it's been replaced by the most excrutiatingly annoying mechanics ever. I am fed up of this game. The first Zelda game I've ever really got bored of before the end. Sad.

House of the Dead: Overkill* - No gameplay to speak of, but the atmosphere is so thick it's sheer fun anyway. The music is hilarious and it baffles me that the unlockable versions have no lyrics.

Plants vs. Zombies* - It's fun. That's ALL. It's not a brilliant, addictive new super craze. And zombies are really, really tired now. Seriously, what is PopCap doing to mind control everyone? Scary people.

Highlights: Trine, Shadow Complex, World of Goo
Disappointment: Zelda

Next up: Something about books. And more Metroid.

Just A Snippet

Had a few ideas buzzing around lately after a discussion book recommendations. Possibvly something to come of it. Here's a very un-polished introduction to something that could be nothing.

By 1193, King Monaghan had been on the throne of Felin for seven years. The kingdom was one of prosperity and law, though admittedly with more prosperity for the rich, and more laws for the poor. The most significant product of Monaghan's seven year's work was a kingdom that worked. Felin was cohesive. And Monaghan had accomplished this by having a single, clear vision, and being its sole executor. Each word of the law was set down by him alone. Oh, he took advisement and petitions and amendments and pleas for changes this way or that, but he alone heard them, and he decided what of it was incorporated, and in what form. And similarly, he was advised on phrasing and terminology and reference by a counsel of law scholars and judges, the Captain of the Watch and other significant figures; yet he was the final arbiter of every word written, and no single sentence was set without his explicit assent. Thus it was true to say that Monaghan was very much the author of the ordinances of Felin. Of course there had been laws already standing when Monaghan came to power, which could not simply be discarded and replaced overnight. Plus it would have been redundnant to so, as Monaghan would only be replicating much of the terms himself. So it was that for the first year of the King's reign, a counsel of advisors was convened almost continuously to guide the King as he assessed every point of the existing law and amended, excised, retained or refined. And of course, whilst all of this was going on, new laws were constantly being written. Inadequacies in the existing law (as compared to the King's vision) were always being exposed in need of filling. And the whole process was slowed not inconsiderably by the King's unyielding insistence that he would not put his seal to any law whose precise phrasing he had not, at the least, reviewed and validated himself. For three years, the Kingdom was caught in a complicated cat's cradle of legislation. A steadily growing corpus of legal texts emerged which amended and replaced one another until the law attracted comparisons among the court to the obscure and arcane legal system of Ervane and the Lecturers at the University found it as much a headache as their students. Finally, however, the fruit of Monaghan's endeavours emerged. Toward the close of the third year of his reign, the King produced a single, unified text which detailed the entire legal system of the Kingdom, much to the relief of judges and law scholars throughout the cities. It was notable not only as the first time that all the laws had been gathered into a coherent whole, but also as the first time some of those laws had been explicitly committed to text.

With this in mind, it could be said that the King was in a very real way responsible for the fact that, in a few moments time, Theodore Flavet was going to die.