John Walker's Electronic House

Speculation over the future of the adventure game has possibly become the most tiresome dialogue within the videogaming press. In fact, even introductions pointing this out are cliché-ridden territory, and deserving of a sunken heart. So I’m sorry. Does it help if I point out that for once, I might have a positive suggestion, rather than forcing out half-laughs at another vapid attempt to resurrect decade old rabbit and dog jokes?

The problem is, the genre is suffering from the same wasting disease as the Conservative Party. It so desperately wants to appear up-to-date, relevant to a new generation, but cannot escape its own dated core. Every corporate redesign, younger-faced spokesperson or ill-advised PR event on a bouncy castle only serves to highlight quite how out of place it looks. So, unless the FPS suddenly invades Iraq and starts introducing ID cards, there doesn’t appear much hope for the traditional adventure game ever regaining a hold in a modern market. Solution: be something new.

A genuinely interesting development for adventure games.

STOP THE MUSIC

This is everywhere, but it’s still worth the link.

The DS is not safe. How to protect your children from paedophiles… especially in cars!

And in a small miracle, Penny Arcade manage funny.

Seems like it’s time for a television update, what with nearly all the shows back up and running, and how much these entries annoy Nick. I’m not going to go through everything – just the things I have new thoughts on. (OMGSPOILZERRZZZ all the way through – really, don’t read about anything you might want to watch, apart from My Boys).

Studio 60 – NBC

What has happened? From the best show on television before Christmas, to something I’m not sure I’d be bothered if I missed. Please, let this be a three show blip. Let it be the evil of sweeps week combined with network pressure. But don’t let this turgid, cliched tripe be the direction Sorkin’s choosing to head in.

First of all, I could not care less about whether Matt and Harriet get together. I have no reason to care! They’ve been broken up since the start, and all we’ve seen is them snipe at each other. How am I invested in this? How am I supposed to have an emotional investment in whether they break up or get back? Dear God, all I want is for them both to shut up about it.

Then Danny and Jordan. Once more, huh? Four weeks ago Danny announces entirely out of the blue that he’s in love with her, despite their almost having never had a conversation beyond sarcastic remarks, and now I’m supposed to believe they’re crazy about each other? No! This is what happens in shitty romcoms – not dramas by the best writer in television. And getting trapped on a roof together? Pointing out that it’s a trite cliche doesn’t stop it from being a trite cliche, Sorkin. It’s a statement saying, “I know this is terrible writing, and I’m leaving it in anyway.”

I loved Studio 60 for the passion Matt and Danny had for their television programme. Now the show lies all but forgotten, a lame background for miserably unfunny stories about wild animals stuck under the stage (American Humane are just, like, so annoying, man! Trying to protect animals, the bastards. They’re not PETA, Sorkin, you great twat), or Saved By The Bell level sitcom idiocy like Tom’s date confusion. There wasn’t a single thread running through the recent two-parter that wasn’t ghastly. Of course the banter was fun, often funny, because Sorkin does good dialogue. But that’s not going to paper over the ravines in the leftovers of the plot. AND THE FORIEGN MAN SPEAKS ENGLISH ALL ALONG!!! Good God.

My Boys – TBS

There were no reasons for having high hopes for this one. With the hateful 10 Items or Less (it’s “fewer”, cretins) on right after it, and the channel not exactly renowned for its original programming, there was little reason to think it would be any good. And the pilot episode wasn’t exactly stunning. But there was enough to keep me, and I mean me, intrigued. Set in Chicago, it’s about a female sports writer for the Chicago Sun Times, covering the Cubs. So yes, wrong team, but at least the right sport. The show’s gimmick is central character PJ’s baseball metaphor based narration, and unsurprisingly, this is the weakest part. Each episode is somewhat laboriously likened to some aspect of team management, the team being her group of male friends. Seeming to play poker about nine nights a week, they sit around PJ’s apartment, or hang out at the local bar, and banter at one another. And here it shines. The cast is superb, and while they take a few episodes to click, once in place they are an extremely believable group. Jordana Spiro (who has apparently been in CSI) plays PJ, and while she’s a teeny bit to girly to fit the character perfectly, mostly does a fine job. The guys are comprised of relative unknowns, mostly from comedy acting backgrounds, and Jim Gaffigan who is perhaps relatively unknown as well, but is one of the funniest stand ups currently working, and has starred in a bunch of short-lived sitcoms and whorish ad campaigns.

There’s nothing outstandingly original about the stories, mostly focused on relationship making and breaking, but it’s the fine chatter, and excellent timing from the cast that make it well worth seeing the full thirteen. There’s more coming in the summer, and for those who can trick their internets into believing it’s in America, or those who really are, the whole lot can be seen here.

Heroes – NBC

Just keeps on being fabulous. I’m still feeling smug about being the one who predicted this one, while everyone poo-pooed it around me.

House – Fox

The predictions made by all was that this would run out of steam as it ran out of medical mysteries. It seemed a fair prediction. It was hard to guess that the medical nonsense would take a back seat to the far more compelling nature of House’s continued descent into narcisism and misery. This week’s, for instance, with some rubbish about a Romany teenager with the usual chain of exploding internal organs was a complete throwaway in its eventual solution. Because far more interesting was how House would win back his disabled parking spot from the new wheelchair-bound member of staff. And you knew he would. The mid-season arc came to the most amazing conclusion, taking House further down in your estimations, and yet, at the same time, much further up. He’s one of the very few genuine anti-heroes television has to offer, with seemingly no redeeming features, and yet how could you be anywhere but on his side?

Scrubs – NBC

…had a musical! And like Buffy before it, rather than using it as an easy gimmick, it’s a proper plot-advancing episode, and one of the funniest in all six years.

And now, of course, it’s not.

And the snow’s gone already, thanks to the miserble rain, and now intense sun.

It is, of course, law that I may not enjoy snow, ever. Where I grew up in Guildford, you could see the town’s borders each winter, outlined by the edge of the snowfall in all the surrounding areas. And now, I pick Bath, where the snow never falls. But wait! Last night it did! Last night upwards of seven flakes of snow fell on the town, before committing miserable, slush-based suicide straight away.

In Chippenham, but twenty minutes from here, they’re reporting several inches of snow. Bath got half a millimetre.

Conclusion: God hates me.

It’s snowing!

Ok, I’m going to try and not just post about the kitten forever more, but forgive me this:

And a quick trip to the vet this morning resulted in Dexter’s ear mites getting treated, the first necessary jab, and drops for his gummy eye. Otherwise the vet was really impressed with him, and how healthy he was.

Thankfully he’s sleeping now exactly where you see him above, as this morning saw the discovery of the mouse cursor, and a brutal attack on my monitor, followed by somehow firing off about thirty applications at once, and then creating this really rather impressive graph with Excel.

If that mobile phone rings, I think he’ll hit the ceiling.

The inevitable further photos.

We need a name. Suggestions below please.

Back from America, settled into the new house, broadband running (although not yet at full speed), and this afternoon we might well be getting a kitten. Could life be better?

Well, it could be, obviously. I could have spent my week doing something other than filling in taxes and all the accompanying anxiety. Or I could have less work that I’m behind on. Or I could not have yet another stupid head cold, thanks to my snot-filled nephew. (Although I can’t get cross with him, because he’s so ridiculously cute, especially after I took him upstairs to outside Graham’s bedroom door, and he obligingly screamed for a bit to wake him up (it was 1pm, in my and Wil’s defense)).

But then, kitten! Kitten! Tiny little bundle of fluffcute. That’s if we get it. It might be a disgusting, mutant creature, intent on our grisly deaths, or worse, one of those awful blue cats with the smug faces. Expect to see photos should it fail to disappoint. Expect to see 3900 photos now Craig’s got his new camera.

(Of course, should we not get the cat, then we’ll have the no pussy blues – This joke (c) Graham Smith)