Since the dawn of time, mankind has sought to quench its most primitive carnal desires; to levy the swift eradication of any species that can be used as a food substitution. To fornicate with anything that retains a pulse and a suitable orifice or a denoting phallus. And above all else humanity has strived to complain about bloody everything! I am a revered luminary in this participle field of hereditary conduct. Moaning has become a staple of effusive solidarity amongst my local residents and the binding unification of the British people, through typically derogatory countenance. The weather for instance is the rhythmic literate of all British derision and the fettered proverb for national ambivalence. “Oh its too hot, I wish it were cooler”. “Oh its too cold, I wish it were warmer”. Seriously, if Goldilocks had been written today by myself, the porridge would be too hot, too cold, and the one that was just right, would have discarded in the nearest waste receptacle, and replaced with a bowel of Co-Co Pops. If it’s not the atmospheric climate, then it’s mocking the stationary resilience of our national transportation, the degradation of our roads, or popular culture. Research I conducted and verified by a private, anonymous source proved that sinking of the titanic was a direct result of not employee incompetence, negligence or latent municipal visibility, but actually a disgruntled spotter bemoaning the girth of the doors in the cabins “I’m telling you, they’ll never be resilient enough to support 2 people!” And the moon landing was merely a false pretence instigated to facilitate man’s accentuated curiosity, and prove conclusively that this celestial mass is in fact made of cheese. That last bit was completely irrelevant to the point I’m endeavouring to make, but moaning seems to have been culturally diffusive across the globe, especially among the gaming community.
The detracting promiscuity of gamers is always fodder for interpretation, with many opinions imparted with similar arresting authenticity of an angular regaling you with the vascular circumference of a fish they once caught. The biggest accusatory grievance professed by these acolytes, is the current generation of consoles reliance on Indie contributions rather than high spectrum content. Gamers appear genuinely bewildered as to why powerful pieces of hardware such as the PS4 and Xbox One retain side scrolling, 1 dimensional content. But lets face it; their simple, immediate and cheap to develop, which is beneficial for individuals such as myself ,who have to prioritize expenditures and seriously question how I’m going to explain to my girlfriend that I have spent the electric money on FIFA 15! Some gamers feel that games should reflect the affluent hardware we are exposed too, retain the conventions of contemporary fidelity and set aside this sustained rural community that are besotted with cubicle pixelations that, to them is little more than nostalgic whimsy. Though I do agree that indie games with moderate polish that relish in the effusive memorial of classic gaming, should be something that is more auxiliary rather than a the focal attraction. But–and I can’t emphasise this cursory note enough–have you ever looked at the big multi selling games of the past generations? You have! Good, then you’ll agree when I say that they are ugly! Most, despite their anecdotal prowess, have aged about as gracefully as Axl Rose, ie: not well. Yet titles such a Sonic the Hedgehog have preserved its traditional simplistic sensibilities despite the ascendancy of time, even without the providence of 1080p. Just saying.
Is there too much emphasise on Indie gaming? Let me know you thoughts. Cheers.