My Toughest Test.

Overcoming challenges is as much a part of gaming as having fun. Adversity breeds defiance, creating the chance for one individual to prevail where so many have failed. It can be a formidable task, one thwart with many potential impediments specifically designed to prevent you from achieving your noble goal. Given the opportunity I would prefer to play a game that offers a balanced challenge, feeling more organic rather than intrusive. I’m rarely permitted the time to really engage on a competitive level, nor really retaining the desired aspirations to persue it. So it’s always a surprise when a game captivates me to the point that I actually want to test my abilities in a much more rigorous environment. Not only that, it also encouraged me to unlock the Platinum trophy too.

In the formative years of the PS4 I was obsessed with the acquisition of Platinum trophies. For almost 3 years I persisted in the retrieval of as many of these vacuous little trinkets as I could discover. Throughly scrutinising online guides and walkthroughs in the unenviable pursuit of some bronze trophy that was preventing my acquisition of a precious Platinum. But I grew weary of the commitment required to successfully precure such trivial decorations and found that I wasn’t really enjoying the experience as much as I should. Having neglected their incentives gave me a greater independence to go after the ones that I’d actual enjoy collecting, such as the ones avaliable in Titanfall 2. A game that earned my admiration, and by extension my respect.

Most of the trophies come naturally, simply by interacting in a way that suited my own play style. Having finished the game on its pedestrian difficulty I felt inclined to attempt it’s most challenging mode. Despite a number of hindrances and a particularly irritating boss, much of difficulties presented can be handled with adjusted strategies or agile reflexes. With some persistence and a little luck I had accumulated all but 1 trophy. A trophy of such esteemed notoriety that countless dedicated forums are congested with posts concerning its insufferable implementation.

“…becomes the master” is the searing hot rage turd that precipitates the collective ire of everyone who has ever dared attempt to unlock this achievement. Essentially you have to navigate a very elaborate obstacle course, purposely designed to teach players how to negotiate environments in a much more versatile manner. A course populated with static enemies that are scattered throughout, requiring you to combat or incur a hefty time penalty, whilst sprinting, sliding and wall running. Naturally completing the course is a relatively simple task, the burden comes from the time sensitive parameters needed to accomplish the trophies asinine objective.

The time requirement needed is blistering 33.65 seconds. To put that into perspective the quickest time I had managed before attempting this was a notably sedate 56 seconds. My personal best after 2 hours practice was just under 40 seconds! There’s absolutely no latitude in this challenge. Movement, jumps and slides are critical. The precision necessary to ensure a brisk and somewhat unencumbered run relies chiefly on your capabilities. Attributes that you should have refined through the course of the campaign. Jumped too soon? Reset. Missed a target with your grenade? Reset. Every single action you take has to be explicitly considered. You have to memorise a route so fastidiously that it has to become second nature. Study sections of the course to ensure that you can maintain the momentum necessary to reach the desired time.

Implementing the runs, jumps and slides with an emphasis on coordinated shooting for someone that posses the dexterity of an arthritic sloth and mental acuity of a half eaten trifle, its exceptionally difficult for me. For a teenager I suspect this is as easy as tying you shoelaces without grunting as you bend down, but for me not so much. With gritted teeth, sweaty hands and discernably greyer temples than when I had started I persevered. With ample time, patience and an entire year’s worth of luck I finally managed to snare that illusive Bronze, with only a quarter of a second to spare. As well as attaining the coveted Platinum trophy too.

And as satisfied as I was, darting into my kitchen at 1 in the morning with my arms raised as though I just inhereted the accumulated wealth of Qatar, I felt exhausted by the entire process. What this adversity had taught me about was my limitations. In 5 years time I probably won’t possess the necessary hand eye coordination to complete such a multifaceted objective. Nor am I probably going to care. My pursuit of Platinums has been well and truly sated…..for now.

Is Grand Theft Auto V The Game Of The Decade?

Grand Theft Auto V was released almost 7 years ago. In that time it has generated in excess of $6 billion from a $265 million production. At this point it would be easier for the treasury department to convert copies of GTA V into legitimate currency. No wonder then that RockStars prominent teenage driving simulator has now been declared the best selling game of the decade! Hardly surprising considering the popularity of the series, the pervasive monetisation of its online campaign and the fact that people must simply have forgotton that they own it. Its currently the sixth best selling game of this year?! Of course much of its venerable success can be attributed to its burgeoning online presence. What is a little harder to comprehend, though again no less shocking is that GTA V has also been deemed the “best” game of the decade.

In a poll created by LADbible, a most reputable publication that admittedly publishes some pretty amusing articles, the conclusion of over 9000 votes was that GTA V was the best game of the last decade. But is it really? Trying to establish a consolidating representative that adequately encompasses an entire decades worth of quality is a difficult task, particular one so objectively subjective. Evidently a games profitability and popularity are a significant measure of a games standards, as well as other contributing factors such as bias and the venerated ubiquity of the product. The GTA series has always received significant, though needless flack for its “controversial” depictions of females in their games, excessive language, gratuitous violence and flagrant abandon of one’s morals, but there’s also a growing trend that suggests the series, specifically GTA V is overrated.

Some argue that GTA V didn’t take the risks that IV did. Choosing to instead adhere to the traditional juvenile irreverence and vibrant locations that made Vice City and San Andreas such an exuberant place to violate. Embellishing the same scathing satire of American culture that has become the eminent social commentary of the franchise. GTA IV however was a ponderous bore. As bland as a Coldplay song called “Biege”. It was so committed to being gritty, nihilistic and grey (so very grey!) yet failed to populate its imitation Gotham City with any redeeming characters.

I personally don’t agree with the verdict, but I don’t dispute it either. There’s no other franchise that provokes the same dedicated fanfare as GTA. Perhaps The Last Of Us, Uncharted 4 and The Witcher 3 would be my own personal considerations, but I certainly don’t begrudge a game with such notoriety receiving such a prestigious accolade. Even if it is just LADbible readers.

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What do you think? Is GTA V the best game of the decade? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

I can’t recall a Christmas I’ve looked forward to more than this one. As a kid Christmas was euphoric. It was a culmination of an entire year’s worth of good behaviour, with some interim caveats of delinquency to break up the otherwise exemplary attitude of my year. But as you get older the “magic” of Christmas fades. Cynicism thrives, the innocence of youth becomes tethered by the necessities of maturity and Christmas, well Christmas is just an excuse to eat, drink and frankly socialise with family members you avoid for the other 364 days of the year. But this year, this year is different. My daughter is 3 years old. She’s boisterous, incessantly defiant of her loving, nurturing and unashamedly handsome father’s “just” authority, but mostly at this time of year totally beside herself at the prospect of a jolly old fat man with a raggedy white beard and a penchant for breaking and entering. Delivering gifts to children because of some arbitrarily defined set of rules, designed to blackmail them into behaving, that has become a customery tradition, one she doesn’t fully understand.

Her excitement for Christmas is positively infectious. Seeing her bounding out of bed to inspect the leftover mince pie and milk left by Santa brings such satisfaction. Watching how genuinely aghast she is by the sudden appearance of Christmas presents under the tree because some fictitious pilgrim covertly infiltrates households across the globe to leave gifts for the good is delightfully wholesome. With kids the magic of Christmas is restored. A congruent reminder of what it was like for us when we were their age. The boundless possibilities that adolescence presented us. So this Christmas embrace the facade, disgard the cynicism that afflicts our miserable everyday lives and indulge, gorge and celebrate the irreverence of Christmas. With copious amounts of your favourite libation to accompany you. Remembering to of course drink responsibly. At least until the kids have gone to sleep anyway.

Have a very Merry Christmas! Especially my little princess.

I Hate Politics.

Politics is a topic I try to avoid vehemently. It’s such an inflammatory subject that brings out the absolute worst in people. And yet we can’t help but talk about it either. It’s impossible for two people, with distinctly polarising views to discuss any political discourse in a calm, eloquent manner without one/both of the opposing parties descending into puerile insults or invective mocking. A general election, especially one of such significance to British sovereignty only escalates these morally deficient sentiments. The level of petulance on display from supporters is something I’d expect from a couple of Star Wars fans bleating on about how Rhian Johnson did/didn’t ruin their beloved franchise. Professing a political affiliation can negatively influence a person’s opinion of yourself, as people seem fit to judge you purely on a set of principles that conflict with their own morally ambiguous standards. Posturing has become or has perhaps always been the common vernecular in political circles, something I abhor in general, let alone attributes intended to inspire confidence in a politician I’m supposed to trust.

Being a politician seems to contradict every value I’ve ever been taught. There’s a facilitation of division and promotion of lies, all distributed through various literature and advertisements which I find most egregious. Yet what’s more execrable is that someone has taken the time to articulate complete and utter bullshit! They’ve knowling and deliberately constructed full sentences for the purpose of deception. How can supporters be so conditioned to accept and even defend the fallacious propaganda of a political organisation and vote favourably? Since when has lying been considered democratic? That may seem like naive reasoning I suppose, but is it honesty really such liability? Now I’m not singling out any specific party, I certainly don’t have a dog in this fight. Though it’s fair to say that Boris Johnson is certainly not a man I can personally endorse, but then again none of them are. The Borough that I live in has been a conservative held constituency for nearly 2 decades, that has subsequently re-elected the same MP for a third term. Being a small town means that any impactful development is largely negligible: Cleaner streets. Less crime. Reliable bus services. Nothing too challenging. Its evident from the results that a majority of the voters appointed this local representative because of his individual efforts, not because of BJ’s blow hard boasts. But he still represents BJ and the party as a unifying entity. Surely a general election should be less about the cart, but rather the slightly blithering horse pulling it? A more informed vote would be whether or not we want BJ to be prime minister?

This is where division starts to metastasize into other irrational tangents. Brexit for instance, which to me has always been less concerned with preserving the sovereignty of our nation and its values, and totally subservient to discriminating against racial and cultural diversity. Sure it doesn’t explicitly stipulate that, but the emphasis on immigration as well as being proponent of “British jobs for British workers” is inherently discriminatory. There’s a small yet critical distinction between being racist and exercising racially insentive views. Sadly the perpetuation of the former is startling apparent, especially when politicians like Trump and BJ only propagate such attitudes. People feel emboldened by it, secure enough to express deep-rooted beliefs that previously would have been subverted by rational thought or you know, decency! Whether this was intentional or not, perhaps to exhume some allies that secretly share the same ideology is unclear. But what I do know is that politics is an underlying contribution to a bigoted society we find ourselves in.

We argue, taunt and relish in the failures of others differing political views. Social media is an autonomous network of connectivity utilised to deliberately undermine a user they will probably never meet, without fear or accountability. Division isn’t simply an attitude adopted by far right extremists you don’t see, but extends to co-workers, friends and even family. Politics is as influential now as it has ever been, for good or ill. But the people entrenched in the political vacuum seem less concerned with the sanctity of human life than they are about the preservation of some arcane philosophy that conserves segregation as a means of independence. Left. Right. Centrist. It doesn’t matter when no one can be honest with themselves let alone to others.

Happy Birthday PlayStation!

Can you believe that PlayStation is 25 years old. They grow up so fast don’t they? No one deserves to celebrate more than Sony’s flagship console. It pioneered an exceptional slew of franchises, challenging the established loyalty of its rivals fans, including handing SEGA enough rope to hang themselves from. Selling an estimated 104 million units worldwide, 71 million more than its most fierce competitor, Nintendo’s N64, the PS1 revolutionised the industry by proving that the future of gaming was on CD-ROM, not the traditional gaming cartridges that was the accepted conformity. Whereas SEGA’s painful deficiencies where all too evident with the Saturn, PlayStation strolled into the mire with a confident swagger you’d expect from a well established company like Nintendo. Whether it was Crash Bandicoot, Metal Gear Solid, Tomb Raider, Resident Evil or Final Fantasy VII, PlayStation always had a game that catered to any proclivity. My own PlayStation, long since lapsed into an eternal slumber, nestled securely amongst other vestiges of gaming nostalgia was the first games console I exclusively owned. Up until that point ownership of a games consoles like the Sega Mega-Drive and SNES were shared equally with my sister, with the added proviso that we’d begrudgingly relinquish control over to our parents when the inclination suited them.

This perpendicular little unit, with its boomerang controller and grey aesthetic was my muse as an adolescent. I’d buy accessories, peripherals as well as memory cards in a variety of iridescent designs, like a penguin gathering finely coloured pebbles for a potential suiter. It was something that relatively speaking was mine and mine alone. Sheltered from the prying intrusion of my inquisitive sister behind my locked bedroom, my PlayStation did admittedly promote the social emancipation that has become a defining attribute of my life, but also gave me great comfort at a time that couldn’t have been less enjoyable. Whatever I was going through, however apprehensive I felt, the PlayStation was always there to placate any anxieties I had, supplying a remedial solace I so desperately needed. Something I’m particularly greatful for now.

PlayStation as a brand, as well as an institution has left an indelible mark on so many. An influence that has only flourished with each successive generation. Sony have made many mistakes, most of which can be attributed to their own burgeoning hubris. But even their most eminent blunders can be excused by the years of joy created by its most prestigious progeny. So let’s raise a glass of your favourite libation and toast a games console that deserves not only recognition for its committed exultation but our indebted respect. Cheers!

Friends Like These.

One of my best friends in school was a renowned bullshitter. He was notorious for fabricating some our years most incredulous, though mostly benign stories. For the purposes of discretion, the anonymity of any known acquaintances, and more specifically the identity of this pathological liar, I’ll refer to him as “Brian”. Brian was an amiable guy, not particularly bright nor an exceptionally charming in his demeanour, but harmless. Brian was one of the few people I knew that could engage in long, meandering conversations that were derived from a truth, yet completely distorted by lies. Tales embellished by details so absurd that substantiating the veracity of his claims was a largely a futile endeavour. Evidenced by other more credible testimony that conflicted with his own dubious assertions. He expressed these exaggerations with such a confident swagger and genuine sincerity that you could never bring yourself to question him. But beneath the eccentric declarations and masculine bravado was a sensitive kid that simply wanted to be liked. Desperate to be admired by his peers for who he was. I’d always admired certain qualities of his, especially his integrity as a friend. I recall not doing my science homework, an all too common occurance I’m ashamed to admit, resorting to desperately copying his homework almost word for word, with Brian being punished for replicating my homework! But he never confessed to it. Never ousted me as the forger, but merely laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Throughout school, along with a couple of other degenerates, we formed an unshakable bond, with Brian’s lies being the catalyst for our little school yard menagerie. Brian was essentially Bethesda, except I could rely on him on occasion. We’d listen to his frivolous anecdotes, comparing details and deriving any salient information from his overly rehearsed routines. Most infuriating about him was the way in which he could attract women. It was simply uncanny. Unfair even! He also possessed this uncanny aptitude for getting us into trouble. On more than one occasion I found myself in the middle of some sort of psychical altercation, simply because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut! And I am not a war like person. Yet despite his misguided efforts to solicit respect from his peers, our reliance on his unreliability was really the nucleus of our social group. We bonded over the absurdity of his declarations, waiting to discover what ludicrous situation he had found himself in when we weren’t around. He wasn’t always the easiest person to socialise with, and certainly didn’t help himself with his elaborate tales. But he enjoyed being around people, even if he didn’t always relish his own company.

Its true that you never have the same friends you had at school, though that’s probably a good thing. He annoyed me more than I’d care to mention, provoking the ire of many of my classmates. We drifted apart after school however, with his shenanigans a far less endearing gimmick when you’re in your 20’s. But even though school was over half my life ago I still treasure those times, even though one the most galling aspects of my friendship (the lies) is somehow my most treasured.

Just Stop With The Uncharted Movie…..Please!

Okay, it’s finally happened. The interminable “Uncharted movie” has reached peak “what the fuckery?!” with this incredulous casting. Markey Wahlberger, once designated to play the role of Nathan Drake, has instead been cast as Sully, Nates friend and tutor. In essence the film has taken so long to be made that he is now old enough to play the mentor of the character he could have been playing nearly a decade ago! At which point between the innumerable directors that have abondened the project, as well as the revolving door of horribly miscast actors and screenplay alterations do you just accept defeat, simply put the whole sordid business down to experience and just move on to the next poorly realised video-game adaptation, conceived within the corporate maelstrom of financial exploitation and conceptual ignorance? A rather expansive and convoluted question I’ll grant you, but not one that can be answered by casting Marky Mark!

I’ve always maintained that if an Uncharted movie has to be made then Bruce Campbell would be the only sensible choice to portray the cigar chomping patriarchal treause hunter. Who else could escort a hooker to church with the same beguiling groove? Markey’s attachment to the project, in any capacity is frankly insulting. If we’re honest we already have an Uncharted movie, 5 of them if you include Chloe’s extension to the series, which you most definitely should. A cinematic interpretation of Uncharted is like adapting “Raiders of The Lost Ark” into a novel: Sure it could be done, but why would you want to when the spectacle of the story is already encapsulated, besides money of course. You can’t get blood from a stone and cinema certainly can’t make Uncharted anymore cinematic than it already is.

Stop. Just stop!