When I was a teenager I used to play sandball. I don't know how widespread the sport is, but it's basically indoor beach volleyball. You stand in a giant room made of netting on a ground covered in beach sand, and you play volleyball.
Tangent #1: It always seemed like an odd kind of sport to me, but I suppose when you're in the middle of the desert you seek to replicate the beach experience in whatever small way you can. It did not look like this.
Sandball was the only sport I ever enjoyed. It was light on teamwork and you only had to move a metre at most. It was my kind of sport.
Sadly, my sandball career ended when I collided forcefully with my teammate Kristian. A difference in height led my forehead to connect with his chin. My glasses snapped in half and cut a deep wound along the underside of his jaw. That as enough for me really.
Tangent #2: Ever tried to get sand out of a head injury? Brutal.
When I was a child I used to like sport and activity. I thought I was hot stuff as a glided along on roller blades, my acid green Skate or Die singlet glistening in the sun. I spent hours lazily passing the basketball back and forth with my neighbour Ciarne.
Sadly, as I aged sport became competition and my interest evaporated. Suddenly I was playing against a group of screaming crazies who, in my imagination at least, where four metres tall. My lack of ability made me a subject of scorn from opponents and anger from teammates.
Kinda took the fun out of the whole thing.
Tangent #3: I was awesome at hacky sack in the NES's California Games. Take that world!
My favourite sporting memory is of the last PE lesson of Year 10. Throughout high school my friends Ryan and I had developed the avoidance of sport into somewhat of an artform. On the last day of the year - his last day of school - we were forced to play cricket and, as always, banished far into the outfield where we could be ignored.
Late in the game the ball came sailing out towards us as we sat disinterested on the grass. It approached. It sailed past. We allowed the enraged screams of others to float over our defiant heads.
It was glorious. Everyone else failed to understand how we could do this, how we could show such disrespect for sport.
Like all the rest of the world's constructs, sport isn't evil. But people had used sport as a mechanism for punishing me for years. On that day, I did the same. Some poor jerk had to run the length of the oval to retrieve that ball. He yelled the standard obscenities on the way past of course, but they fell on deaf ears.
Stefan tells stories, writes about stories and tells stories about stories.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Smash it up
I'm looking forward to Super Smash Brothers Brawl ... Nintendo's upcoming Wii fighter featuring seven bagazillion characters.
And a YouTubed copy of the intro video from the Japanese release has been leaked to the internet!
I love writing sentences like that.
And a YouTubed copy of the intro video from the Japanese release has been leaked to the internet!
I love writing sentences like that.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Game of the Galaxy
Super Mario Galaxy has been named IGN's Game of the Year.
It defeated finalists Call of Duty 4, Bioshock, The Orange Box and Mass Effect.
Take that HD sucka fools! Bwa-ha-ha!
Seriously though. The gaming press and hardcore gamers seem to have quietly decided the Wii is not a 'next gen' system, owing to the PS3 and XBox360's superior graphics and innards.
In an environment like that, it's cool to know someone remembers that it's gameplay that's important.
On a similar note, Leen and I are using our Australia Day public holiday to play through Super Mario Brothers 3 - as downloaded from the excellent Wii Virtual Console. It seriously has to be one of the greatest games of all time. Frog Suit for the win!
Happy Invasion Day!
It defeated finalists Call of Duty 4, Bioshock, The Orange Box and Mass Effect.
Take that HD sucka fools! Bwa-ha-ha!
Seriously though. The gaming press and hardcore gamers seem to have quietly decided the Wii is not a 'next gen' system, owing to the PS3 and XBox360's superior graphics and innards.
In an environment like that, it's cool to know someone remembers that it's gameplay that's important.
On a similar note, Leen and I are using our Australia Day public holiday to play through Super Mario Brothers 3 - as downloaded from the excellent Wii Virtual Console. It seriously has to be one of the greatest games of all time. Frog Suit for the win!
Happy Invasion Day!
Testing ...
Ah, the digital world. Just when you're getting into the swing of things it all goes a bit pear-shaped.
I haven't been able to update this thing successfully for a week. Quite the douche chill. So I present, for the overwhelming joy of the readership I assume to be committed and vast, the Test Post! Unless it doesn't work again. Which means you aren't reading this, and I've suffered another quiet failure.
Marvel at its eloquence.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Evan Almighty - 20 minutes of it. A Review
I had the misfortune of seeing - as opposed to watching - the first 20-odd minutes of Evan Almighty.
It was awful.
The thing is, it should have been quietly bad and slipped by without anyone noticing. Instead, it stands as a testament to all that is wrong with the universe. It's like someone couldn't get their "giant bronze statue of massive jerks" project off the ground and decided on a different form of testament.
The film stands nominally as a sequel to Bruce Almighty - in which Jim Carrey got to play with God's powers for a while, in the process realising that no amount of omnipotence could allow him to achieve anything worthwhile. It was marginally funny at the time. Sadly, Jim Carrey's acting in The Number 23 shows that life has imitated art, and Bruce is now tinged with sadness.
Evan sees Steve Carrell reprise his role as a news anchor that appeared in Bruce Almighty for 15 seconds as the butt of a joke. Within Evan's first 10 minutes his character has changed into a congressman; immediately jettisoning any reference to the previous film.
That's why this movie is so offensive. The original script obviously had nothing to do with Bruce, but was renamed in a vacuous attempt to cash in on its vague popularity.
Evan sees Mr Congressman charged by God to build an ark before a flood washes all away, in a plot bearing zero resemblance to the last outing.
"Dude! I got this script. It's got God in it. It's kinda junk though."
"Didn't we just have a God film? That one which Rachel from Friends' huge cans?"
"Oh totally. Bruce Almighty. Jim Carrey was in it. I'm jealous of his over-expressive face. I could score major chicks with a mug like that. Let's draw him into a career-destroying soft thriller that folds in on itself under the weight of meaningful plot twists."
"What? Like a Bruce Almighty sequel? I wasn't really listening - I was busy thinking about the prostitute in the trunk of my --"
"Yeah! We'll totally do that. This script here has God and everything. Can we make it a thriller?"
"Not really. However, there don't seem to be any funny gags in it. That kinda counts. He'll have to wear a shitty beard."
"Nah. Lets get that other guy from Anchorman just before his career takes off."
"Done. Let's burn that hooker corpse."
"As soon as I sleep this off."
That, my friends, is totally how that went down.
Morgan Freeman reprises his role of God in the film. In Bruce he taught a lighthearted lesson. In Evan, he's a total jerk.
"Holy crap! You're God! Did you miracle me into a congressman?"
"No. Even I don't know what that's about."
"Oh. That's cool. Do I get to play with your powers now? I could make Jim Carrey talk like an idiot! Haw!"
"Sorry. I don't do that any more. You've got to build a boat."
"What? Why?"
"Oh. You know. Faith or something. I'm sure you'll learn something about family and crap. I really only watched the first 20 minutes."
"Oh damn. Wait! Why do I have this giant beard? How is this relevant? Animals are doing stuff for me? Why? Who will vote for me now?"
"You're lame. This is lame. I'm gonna go do another Batman film. In that I play a mechanic dude how hangs out with the Dark Knight, making him cooler than God."
"Isn't that kind of blasphemous?"
"Yeah, see? Lesson."
I never caught the end, but I'll hazard a guess that a Lesson is learned and the flood never happens. Maybe a recipe for happiness falls out of Evan's beard.
Of the number 23 or whatever.
On a polar opposite note, I just watched a movie called Juno. I'll write about that when its unstoppable awesomeness lets go of my brain. Suffice to say, it has two actors from Arrested Development in it. That's how awesome it is, it draws hilarious awesome people into its orbit of awesome.
It was awful.
The thing is, it should have been quietly bad and slipped by without anyone noticing. Instead, it stands as a testament to all that is wrong with the universe. It's like someone couldn't get their "giant bronze statue of massive jerks" project off the ground and decided on a different form of testament.
The film stands nominally as a sequel to Bruce Almighty - in which Jim Carrey got to play with God's powers for a while, in the process realising that no amount of omnipotence could allow him to achieve anything worthwhile. It was marginally funny at the time. Sadly, Jim Carrey's acting in The Number 23 shows that life has imitated art, and Bruce is now tinged with sadness.
Evan sees Steve Carrell reprise his role as a news anchor that appeared in Bruce Almighty for 15 seconds as the butt of a joke. Within Evan's first 10 minutes his character has changed into a congressman; immediately jettisoning any reference to the previous film.
That's why this movie is so offensive. The original script obviously had nothing to do with Bruce, but was renamed in a vacuous attempt to cash in on its vague popularity.
Evan sees Mr Congressman charged by God to build an ark before a flood washes all away, in a plot bearing zero resemblance to the last outing.
"Dude! I got this script. It's got God in it. It's kinda junk though."
"Didn't we just have a God film? That one which Rachel from Friends' huge cans?"
"Oh totally. Bruce Almighty. Jim Carrey was in it. I'm jealous of his over-expressive face. I could score major chicks with a mug like that. Let's draw him into a career-destroying soft thriller that folds in on itself under the weight of meaningful plot twists."
"What? Like a Bruce Almighty sequel? I wasn't really listening - I was busy thinking about the prostitute in the trunk of my --"
"Yeah! We'll totally do that. This script here has God and everything. Can we make it a thriller?"
"Not really. However, there don't seem to be any funny gags in it. That kinda counts. He'll have to wear a shitty beard."
"Nah. Lets get that other guy from Anchorman just before his career takes off."
"Done. Let's burn that hooker corpse."
"As soon as I sleep this off."
That, my friends, is totally how that went down.
Morgan Freeman reprises his role of God in the film. In Bruce he taught a lighthearted lesson. In Evan, he's a total jerk.
"Holy crap! You're God! Did you miracle me into a congressman?"
"No. Even I don't know what that's about."
"Oh. That's cool. Do I get to play with your powers now? I could make Jim Carrey talk like an idiot! Haw!"
"Sorry. I don't do that any more. You've got to build a boat."
"What? Why?"
"Oh. You know. Faith or something. I'm sure you'll learn something about family and crap. I really only watched the first 20 minutes."
"Oh damn. Wait! Why do I have this giant beard? How is this relevant? Animals are doing stuff for me? Why? Who will vote for me now?"
"You're lame. This is lame. I'm gonna go do another Batman film. In that I play a mechanic dude how hangs out with the Dark Knight, making him cooler than God."
"Isn't that kind of blasphemous?"
"Yeah, see? Lesson."
I never caught the end, but I'll hazard a guess that a Lesson is learned and the flood never happens. Maybe a recipe for happiness falls out of Evan's beard.
Of the number 23 or whatever.
On a polar opposite note, I just watched a movie called Juno. I'll write about that when its unstoppable awesomeness lets go of my brain. Suffice to say, it has two actors from Arrested Development in it. That's how awesome it is, it draws hilarious awesome people into its orbit of awesome.
1d20+16 (10+5 fire)
Yesterday was a wonderful day.
You may ask why as you sit there perusing the internet while doing something I imagine to be effortlessly fashionable and chic. Sipping lattes? Arranging elegant photos into pictorial arrangements? Reviewing high cinema? Updating your beret appreciation blog?
Well the answer is the thus: Yesterday Wizards of the Coast released the version 2 rules of Dungeons and Dragons Miniatures!
It was an exciting time for myself. This game is quite the hobby of mine and a total revamp of the rules could've led to disaster. If they were crummy, it would've rendered the 1,000 of miniatures I own obsolete and sent me careening for some other hobby to indulge in with the guys.
All I could think of was smoking crack. That would've been expensive and weird, so I'm glad the rules are great.
Deeply Uninteresting Geek Tangent: The rules are simple and elegant. They retain strategy while streamlining the game and add or update a number of elements including shifting, champions, charging and ranged targeting. Crits are a concern, but I'll hold judgement until I see them in play.
As socially unacceptable as it is, I've been a Dungeons and Dragons fan for quite some time.
When I first got in to journalism I struggled with the clinical nature of the writing. Removing my opinions led me to believe that it was all a bit dispassionate. I later found out I just wasn't doing it right.
At the time though DnD offered a great antidote; firing the imaginative muscles by writing nutso crap about dwarves and orcs. For someone too lazy to write a novel, it was a great way to write in the days before blogs.
Those who introduced me to it thought my inaugural character 'Gravox the Dwarf' implied a lack of seriousness on my behalf. We soon got over that though.
People slag off the hobby a lot. It's an understandable opinion. DnD conjures images of a group of people wearing paper mache elf ears and talking in olde english through vocoders while they try to imagine what girls truly look like. My experience hasn't been like that. Well, except for one guy...
The dynamic of playing is the same as when a group of guys sit down to play poker.
Well, now that I've sold you on that I can get on to writing about something else. In the meantime, start rolling up your character while I iron your cloak.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Air
Behold! The object behind my hyperventilation!
Apple's new Macbook Air is an object of geekery of the highest order. While I wouldn't go out and buy one now, it's packed full of awesomeness. Check this: It has no disc drive, owing to Apple's assertion that such a device is all but obsolete! You've got to admire the thought.
Why the obsolescence? Why, iTunes allows all to download movies and TV shows at their convenience. Therein lies my 'wouldn't buy one right now' mentality' - Aussie's iTunes is yet to offer such things, no doubt owing to our draconian media policies and/or owners.
Of course software is still installed via disk, so the Air can wirelessly co-opt the drive of a nearby machine. True, this isn't a computer you'd buy without a desktop to anchor it to, but once our 'net speeds and download limits catch the rest of the world we'll be flying.
How awesome is that? It's a valuable first step in the march towards me owning four pairs of microprocessor pants which regulate the colour of my shirt, order new milk when my fridge is empty, co-ordinate the playlists found in my media centre sunglasses and regulate the pacemaker I need in such an inactivity filled technoparadise.
You can also upgrade to a solid state hard-drive. No moving parts! This machine is awesome. All who disagree are mistaken.
Of course, the fact that it looks amazing is nothing to poke a stick at either.
If it has any failings, it's that it's operating at a PS3 'operating too far in the future to be relevant yet' level of advancement.
But I can't help but imagine sitting on a bus, pulling out the envelop I would always carry this in - for melodramatic purposes - and opening up my minuscule super machine.
"Oh, me? No I'm just watchin' a movie. Yeah, it's a bit bumpy, but this thing has no moving parts so, ya know, 'tis cool ... Wha'? DVD? No, I downloaded all my content. How? Well wirelessly of course. BEAMED TO MY EYES VIA INVISIBLE DATA STREAMS TRAVELLING THROUGH THE AIR ITSELF!"
"Yeah. You're totally running away. That's cool. I can chase ya. This thing barely slows me down. Weighs like three pounds."
Apple's new Macbook Air is an object of geekery of the highest order. While I wouldn't go out and buy one now, it's packed full of awesomeness. Check this: It has no disc drive, owing to Apple's assertion that such a device is all but obsolete! You've got to admire the thought.
Why the obsolescence? Why, iTunes allows all to download movies and TV shows at their convenience. Therein lies my 'wouldn't buy one right now' mentality' - Aussie's iTunes is yet to offer such things, no doubt owing to our draconian media policies and/or owners.
Of course software is still installed via disk, so the Air can wirelessly co-opt the drive of a nearby machine. True, this isn't a computer you'd buy without a desktop to anchor it to, but once our 'net speeds and download limits catch the rest of the world we'll be flying.
How awesome is that? It's a valuable first step in the march towards me owning four pairs of microprocessor pants which regulate the colour of my shirt, order new milk when my fridge is empty, co-ordinate the playlists found in my media centre sunglasses and regulate the pacemaker I need in such an inactivity filled technoparadise.
You can also upgrade to a solid state hard-drive. No moving parts! This machine is awesome. All who disagree are mistaken.
Of course, the fact that it looks amazing is nothing to poke a stick at either.
If it has any failings, it's that it's operating at a PS3 'operating too far in the future to be relevant yet' level of advancement.
But I can't help but imagine sitting on a bus, pulling out the envelop I would always carry this in - for melodramatic purposes - and opening up my minuscule super machine.
"Oh, me? No I'm just watchin' a movie. Yeah, it's a bit bumpy, but this thing has no moving parts so, ya know, 'tis cool ... Wha'? DVD? No, I downloaded all my content. How? Well wirelessly of course. BEAMED TO MY EYES VIA INVISIBLE DATA STREAMS TRAVELLING THROUGH THE AIR ITSELF!"
"Yeah. You're totally running away. That's cool. I can chase ya. This thing barely slows me down. Weighs like three pounds."
Friday, January 11, 2008
Testing.....
Blogger ate my last two blog posts, so here is the exciting-for-readers test post!!!
Enjoy its velvety richness.
Heath Ledger died yesterday. Sucks.
On a related note: Too soon?
Enjoy its velvety richness.
Heath Ledger died yesterday. Sucks.
On a related note: Too soon?
Game of the Year
IGN has named Super Mario Galaxy as their Game of the Year for 2007.
It defeated competitors BioShock, Mass Effect, Call of Duty 4 and the Orange Box.
Suck it HD sucka fools! Lolz!
Seriously though, in a world where the Wii has been downplayed by the gaming press and many 'hardcore gamers' as 'not a next-gen console' owing to its inferior hardware and graphics technology, this is great news for people who like great video games.
It defeated competitors BioShock, Mass Effect, Call of Duty 4 and the Orange Box.
Suck it HD sucka fools! Lolz!
Seriously though, in a world where the Wii has been downplayed by the gaming press and many 'hardcore gamers' as 'not a next-gen console' owing to its inferior hardware and graphics technology, this is great news for people who like great video games.
"I could rob you. But I won't. I'll wait for paradise."
Yesterday a pleasant older man came to the door and asked if he could tell me a bit about God.
He was a Jehovah's Witness, he said, and proceeded to read me big passages from a tiny bible.
Before that, however, he said "Oh! You're home! I've knocked a lot ... I could have robbed this house many times!"
This did not engender my sympathy.
His pitch was thus: My neighbor's house was built by someone, even if I didn't witness the act. Therefore, God made the universe ["Doesn't that make sense?"]. Well, that's what I got from it.
Nerd Tangent: This conversation happened as I was five episodes deep into a Star Trek Voyager marathon. It was all I had not to say "Well, maybe our gene pool was seeded by a more advanced species, whom are leaving us be until we develop warp capabilities. Or maybe subspace distortions are keeping them away. Check for tacheyon emissions."
When you're the most sober guy at a crazy, drunken party, you learn not to engage with those who have drunk the most. A drunken conversation is one thing, but draping a napkin over your shoulder while someone spends two hours slurring on about the girl who does/doesn't/might like them lots/too much/not enough/not in the right way/like an ocean to the sea is another.
In much this way, I greeted the pleasant man's every word with "um-hum".
"I don't know if you have your own beliefs...." "Um-hum."
"I quite like this city." "Um-hum."
"Would you like 47 pamphlets?" "Um-hum."
"Doesn't what I've said make sense?" "Um-hum."
"God's going to create a paradise on earth." "Um-hum."
"Shall I visit you again?" "No".
See, I hold no ill will against this man - apart from the 'rob my house' crack. He has his beliefs, and they call on him to spread his message to others. That's cool. But I have my beliefs as well. They don't match.
I could see in this man's eyes that he knew he was getting nowhere, but he pressed on. Apparently, God knows the world stinks, and said ages ago that he'd come back and fix it all up when it got bad. The current poor state of affairs implies that the time must be upon us. Thus, a paradise is imminent.
Actually, that all sounds pretty good. I don't really get why we can't skip to the paradise, but I often make my cat jump before I feed her ham, so maybe it's that kind of dynamic.
The man ended our time together by asking if I wanted some pamphlets. taking my grunt as an affirmative response, he pulled out a stack of light magazines and went through the contents of each one. I reached for them. He recoiled.
"Oh...I...suppose if you'd like more than one you could take them."
"No ... I ... I thought you were offering."
"Oh ... um ... here."
"No ... it's cool. I'll have this one. About moral corruption."
"Ok. Bye."
"Seeya."
It was awkward.
Hopefully I can read the others when the paradise shows up.
He was a Jehovah's Witness, he said, and proceeded to read me big passages from a tiny bible.
Before that, however, he said "Oh! You're home! I've knocked a lot ... I could have robbed this house many times!"
This did not engender my sympathy.
His pitch was thus: My neighbor's house was built by someone, even if I didn't witness the act. Therefore, God made the universe ["Doesn't that make sense?"]. Well, that's what I got from it.
Nerd Tangent: This conversation happened as I was five episodes deep into a Star Trek Voyager marathon. It was all I had not to say "Well, maybe our gene pool was seeded by a more advanced species, whom are leaving us be until we develop warp capabilities. Or maybe subspace distortions are keeping them away. Check for tacheyon emissions."
When you're the most sober guy at a crazy, drunken party, you learn not to engage with those who have drunk the most. A drunken conversation is one thing, but draping a napkin over your shoulder while someone spends two hours slurring on about the girl who does/doesn't/might like them lots/too much/not enough/not in the right way/like an ocean to the sea is another.
In much this way, I greeted the pleasant man's every word with "um-hum".
"I don't know if you have your own beliefs...." "Um-hum."
"I quite like this city." "Um-hum."
"Would you like 47 pamphlets?" "Um-hum."
"Doesn't what I've said make sense?" "Um-hum."
"God's going to create a paradise on earth." "Um-hum."
"Shall I visit you again?" "No".
See, I hold no ill will against this man - apart from the 'rob my house' crack. He has his beliefs, and they call on him to spread his message to others. That's cool. But I have my beliefs as well. They don't match.
I could see in this man's eyes that he knew he was getting nowhere, but he pressed on. Apparently, God knows the world stinks, and said ages ago that he'd come back and fix it all up when it got bad. The current poor state of affairs implies that the time must be upon us. Thus, a paradise is imminent.
Actually, that all sounds pretty good. I don't really get why we can't skip to the paradise, but I often make my cat jump before I feed her ham, so maybe it's that kind of dynamic.
The man ended our time together by asking if I wanted some pamphlets. taking my grunt as an affirmative response, he pulled out a stack of light magazines and went through the contents of each one. I reached for them. He recoiled.
"Oh...I...suppose if you'd like more than one you could take them."
"No ... I ... I thought you were offering."
"Oh ... um ... here."
"No ... it's cool. I'll have this one. About moral corruption."
"Ok. Bye."
"Seeya."
It was awkward.
Hopefully I can read the others when the paradise shows up.
Shiny Trashcans
You know those people you meet who are just effortlessly good looking? So good looking that you need to hate them in a pointless attempt to even out the free ride through life you're sure they've lucked into?
See, attractiveness in and of itself is fine. I know plenty of good looking people who are awesome. But attractive, vacuous morons are a constant source of irritation.
The thing is, when someone is really good looking, they learn they can do no wrong. They end up in a cycle where the vast majority of people treat them great, and the few people that are willing to call them on their idiocy are pushed aside for being a negative nancy. They take nothing to heart and thus never improve. Hence the irritation.
They're like highly polished, stainless steel trashcans.
Tangent #1: The above informs my strong opinion that everyone should have to suffer through at least one truly awful haircut during adolescence for character-building purposes. Then they can know what its like on the other side of the tracks once they've blossomed. I myself attribute my strength of character to having sported a mullet for much of my childhood. It was a ringlet-infused party in the back, and confused shame in the front.
Of course, this rant is another way for me to talk about video games.
I'm a Nintendo guy. Always have been. My first gaming console was a Nintendo Entertainment System that came as a Christmas present I shared with my brother. I have gone on to own a Gameboy, Super Nintendo, Nintendo 64, Xbox, Gamecube, and now a Wii. As you can see, I have only taken one brief detour from the Nintendo path.
Tangent #2: At the time, Christmas was the only way I could hope to own a game console. I loved it, and grew to monopolise it, despite my brother holding equal share. We got two game - Ninja Turtles and Legend of Zelda. Dazzled by product placement I latched onto turtles and wasted hours on what may be the brokest game in history. I never completed it, and came close to juvenile stroke. My burgeoning gaming addiction was obvious, and while my brother also enjoyed the pastime he never fell into digital oblivion like I did. If we would fight, he learned the best way to punish me was by claiming that his half of the console included the controllers. He would then disconnect them and walk away, leaving me to enjoy my half of our now stylish paperweight.
When the Wii was announced I was pumped. My interest in gaming had waned owing to a lack of time and a broken, cracked X-Box. Everything about the Wii sounded innovative and fun. I couldn't wait, and promptly lined up on release day to pick one up. It has gone on to the be the single greatest piece of technology I've ever purchased.
The thing is, since all my gamer friends have picked up an Xbox 360 and giant plasma screen. This leads to obvious comparisons about their main difference - graphical output.
Tangent #3: The Wii outputs at 480i, while the 360 outputs up to 1080p. I'm the kind of ravenous nerd who prides himself on knowing what these numbers mean. Suffice to say, the 360 looks shinier. My own TV is a plasma that can handle up to 1080i, but I don't have anything that plugs into it that delivers that kind of resolution.
This ongoing graphical debate seems to show up that there are two broad categories of gamers - those who appreciate graphics from a technical standpoint and those who appreciate them from a design standpoint.
For example: I am currently playing Super Mario Galaxy. My 360 friends are playing Call of Duty 4. Now, Call of Duty 4 is a great game, and technically the graphics are excellent. They look near-realistic throughout. However, a blackened, burnt out building is just that, no matter how well rendered. I'm not all that interested in looking at that all the time.
Now Galaxy is lampooned by the 360 crowd for falling short of the High Def margin. But I think it looks better. It obviously doesn't have the grunt of the 360 behind it - you'll always know you're watching a video game with its expected jaggies - but the creativity of the design drips off the screen.
Numerous galaxies are all unique. Countless planets are-self contained explosions of gorgeous.
Now both are accessible. My preference doesn't invalidate that of others. I notice however that Wii games are often written off immediately as graphically inferior, and no more is said. On the other hand, stunning graphics are used to defend games that just aren't that much fun to play. Shiny trashcans.
That bugs me. I'm obviously biased towards the Wii, and I'm kind of lukewarm on the whole First Person Shooter thing these days, but it is irritating.
Graphics are important, but no more so important than the other factors of game design - controls, camera, gameplay, intuitiveness, story, etc, etc.
Tangent #4: Maybe I'd be more into graphics if my eyes hadn't been sitting behind glasses of varying thickness since the age of two, when my rebellious eye was fixed through corrective surgery. I've got to sit pretty close to the TV.
At the end of the day, the Wii is a vastly different system to the 360. Neither is superior. I like it that way.
To sum up the moral of the piece, as if I was Bob Saget whispering softly to a girl named DJ; don’t judge a book by its cover.
See, attractiveness in and of itself is fine. I know plenty of good looking people who are awesome. But attractive, vacuous morons are a constant source of irritation.
The thing is, when someone is really good looking, they learn they can do no wrong. They end up in a cycle where the vast majority of people treat them great, and the few people that are willing to call them on their idiocy are pushed aside for being a negative nancy. They take nothing to heart and thus never improve. Hence the irritation.
They're like highly polished, stainless steel trashcans.
Tangent #1: The above informs my strong opinion that everyone should have to suffer through at least one truly awful haircut during adolescence for character-building purposes. Then they can know what its like on the other side of the tracks once they've blossomed. I myself attribute my strength of character to having sported a mullet for much of my childhood. It was a ringlet-infused party in the back, and confused shame in the front.
Of course, this rant is another way for me to talk about video games.
I'm a Nintendo guy. Always have been. My first gaming console was a Nintendo Entertainment System that came as a Christmas present I shared with my brother. I have gone on to own a Gameboy, Super Nintendo, Nintendo 64, Xbox, Gamecube, and now a Wii. As you can see, I have only taken one brief detour from the Nintendo path.
Tangent #2: At the time, Christmas was the only way I could hope to own a game console. I loved it, and grew to monopolise it, despite my brother holding equal share. We got two game - Ninja Turtles and Legend of Zelda. Dazzled by product placement I latched onto turtles and wasted hours on what may be the brokest game in history. I never completed it, and came close to juvenile stroke. My burgeoning gaming addiction was obvious, and while my brother also enjoyed the pastime he never fell into digital oblivion like I did. If we would fight, he learned the best way to punish me was by claiming that his half of the console included the controllers. He would then disconnect them and walk away, leaving me to enjoy my half of our now stylish paperweight.
When the Wii was announced I was pumped. My interest in gaming had waned owing to a lack of time and a broken, cracked X-Box. Everything about the Wii sounded innovative and fun. I couldn't wait, and promptly lined up on release day to pick one up. It has gone on to the be the single greatest piece of technology I've ever purchased.
The thing is, since all my gamer friends have picked up an Xbox 360 and giant plasma screen. This leads to obvious comparisons about their main difference - graphical output.
Tangent #3: The Wii outputs at 480i, while the 360 outputs up to 1080p. I'm the kind of ravenous nerd who prides himself on knowing what these numbers mean. Suffice to say, the 360 looks shinier. My own TV is a plasma that can handle up to 1080i, but I don't have anything that plugs into it that delivers that kind of resolution.
This ongoing graphical debate seems to show up that there are two broad categories of gamers - those who appreciate graphics from a technical standpoint and those who appreciate them from a design standpoint.
For example: I am currently playing Super Mario Galaxy. My 360 friends are playing Call of Duty 4. Now, Call of Duty 4 is a great game, and technically the graphics are excellent. They look near-realistic throughout. However, a blackened, burnt out building is just that, no matter how well rendered. I'm not all that interested in looking at that all the time.
Now Galaxy is lampooned by the 360 crowd for falling short of the High Def margin. But I think it looks better. It obviously doesn't have the grunt of the 360 behind it - you'll always know you're watching a video game with its expected jaggies - but the creativity of the design drips off the screen.
Numerous galaxies are all unique. Countless planets are-self contained explosions of gorgeous.
Now both are accessible. My preference doesn't invalidate that of others. I notice however that Wii games are often written off immediately as graphically inferior, and no more is said. On the other hand, stunning graphics are used to defend games that just aren't that much fun to play. Shiny trashcans.
That bugs me. I'm obviously biased towards the Wii, and I'm kind of lukewarm on the whole First Person Shooter thing these days, but it is irritating.
Graphics are important, but no more so important than the other factors of game design - controls, camera, gameplay, intuitiveness, story, etc, etc.
Tangent #4: Maybe I'd be more into graphics if my eyes hadn't been sitting behind glasses of varying thickness since the age of two, when my rebellious eye was fixed through corrective surgery. I've got to sit pretty close to the TV.
At the end of the day, the Wii is a vastly different system to the 360. Neither is superior. I like it that way.
To sum up the moral of the piece, as if I was Bob Saget whispering softly to a girl named DJ; don’t judge a book by its cover.
Monday, January 7, 2008
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