Tail-end gaming

I'm finding that one of the advantages of coming to a console at the end of its functional life - as I am doing with the PS2 - is that not only are the games all so much cheaper than they would otherwise have been, bought at the time of their release, but they've all been played and reviewed and assessed and scored so thoroughly that I can cherry-pick the best PS2 games of all time in the certain knowledge that nothing better will come along since nothing else is being made.

That's the theory, anyway.

In this vein, I have obtained and played some pretty nifty games since Xmas. God of War caught my eye back when it was first demo'd at E3 2004, and now has the distinction of being one of the very few games that I've played to completion. It was just hard enough to be engaging and challenging without being frustrating. It looked pretty, it responded well, and the story was a little less shallow than action games normally sport. And it has a sequel due in April for which I already have funds earmarked.

Not yet completed, but just as compelling, is Fahrenheit, which initially came to my attention as Indigo Prophecy. It has a unique interface that makes playing the game more like directing and starring in a movie, and has a plot to match. I'm looking forward to tackling it again soon, now that I have God of War out of my blood.

Another vaunted game to come straight from Sony is Ico, progenitor of the equally acclaimed Shadow of the Colossus. I've had the pleasure of playing Shadow, and still want to find the time to finish it, so grabbed the chance to try Ico. Right away, it's got my undying love. The completely unique - to my knowledge - game mechanic of shepherding a helpless, defenceless game character through a strange and challenging temple is not only clever and emotionally captivating, but so cleverly and smoothly integrated that you don't realise how much you've invested yourself in the characters until the first time you fail to protect your charge. I found myself out of my seat crying "Noooo!" and practically scrabbled in my haste to restore to the previous save point in order to get it right. That kind of compulsion is exceedingly rare, in my experience, and justifies my instant attraction to the game. Now excuse me while I feed my need.

Looking forward to (reprised)

Out soon:

• 02/02 Arthur and the Invisibles
  
• 16/02 Hot Fuzz
• 02/03 Ghost Rider

Down the line:

• 30/03 300, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (I kid you not!)
• 13/04 The Invisible, The Reaping
• 04/05 Spiderman 3
• 29/06 Shrek 3
• 13/07 Harry Potter 4
• 21/09 Resident Evil: Extinction
• 30/11 Beowulf
• 14/12 I am Legend (soooo much!)

Apple bloopers

The Get a Mac ads are really silly. And ineffectual, I'm guessing. But they've spawned some wonderful spoofs, so I forgive them. A bit.

Gods, I ache

And it's all the rabbits' fault. I do want a Wii more than ever now, though.

Blockbuster twofer

Given how often we rent DVDs, I really must remember to take advantage of the 2-for-1 that the Oyster provides on DVD and game rental. Come to think of it, so should you!

Shiny song

Sarah Brightman - Anytime, Anywhere

First snow of 2007

I can't say I was completely surprised by the fresh carpet of snow on the ground this morning. There was a very light flurry yesterday morning as I headed off to Upney station, and I had a feeling it heralded greater things yet to come.

These pictures don't do the scene justice. I definitely need to get my act together and start carrying around a camera capable of seeing what I see.

(Inter)National Rum Day

As Zara finishes her exams on Thursday and will be celebrating in York this weekend, she has declared Saturday National Rum Day (not to be confused with National Hot Buttered Rum Day, which is an American tradition and involves way too many calories to be something Zara would be doing) and will be imbibing the magic molasses mix all day accordingly. Since this sounds like a fabulous idea, I will be joining her in spirit(s) here in London, and I invite all to join us, wherever you may be. Let's make National Rum Day a new institution! Spread the word!

Jury service suddenly seems daunting

Particularly relevant to me in light of my approaching jury service, Channel 4 ran a pseudomentary last night - Consent - dramatising the proceedings of a 'typical' UK rape trial:

Innovative recreation of the judicial process, which aims to bring viewers as close as possible to knowing how a real rape trial works. The film begins with a scripted drama, in which an office party ends in a rape claim. The action then shifts to a real courtroom setting, in which real barristers, solicitors and a real judge and jury debate the fictional case.

It struck me that it is quite possible that I might have to sit in the jury box and watch a verdict being delivered that I simply don't agree with. I don't know if I could endure watching someone go to pieces over losing their claim when I think they're in the right. Suddenly the responsibility of the service has struck, and now I find myself hoping that if I am called at all, it'll only be for the most trivial, obvious verdicts. At the same time, I'm chastened by the knowledge that it is pure cowardice that drives the desire. It's all moot, I guess, since the process is ostensibly totally random and I have no way of influencing my exposure either way. So I'll do my avoidance thing and entertain myself with Charles Stross' take on the whole matter instead.

Contrary to expectation

I do so love confounding people's assumptions. On my way home last night, I was sitting across the carriage from a guy playing his music loud enough to be heard clearly. After about 15 minutes of this, I leaned over and tapped him on the knee to get his attention. With that slightly irritated look of the veteran commuter, he unplugged one earphone and asked what I wanted.

"That music you're playing," I began, and immediately a stormy countenance replaced the mildly vexed one. "What is it? It's very good."

Cue confusion and mental backpedalling.

How would you respond?

There was a theme to my interaction with the nursing staff of the King George Hospital today which, I think, illustrates a fundamental problem with the NHS as it currently exists. Here, I'll let the conversations speak for me:

"Morning. I'm here for a 9am ultrasound."
"Do you have a bottle of water with you?"
"?! Um, no. No-one mentioned anything about a bottle of water."
"Never mind. Just follow the signs to the waiting area."

"Morning. I'm here for a 9am ultrasound."
"Have you checked in at the front desk?"
"?! Um, no. No-one mentioned checking in at the front desk. The nurse who sent me here mentioned water, but nothing else."
"Never mind. It's a bit of a hassle, but I'll get you checked in. Just go inside and wait for the doctor."

"Hi again. Thanks for that."
"That's okay. Have you made a follow-up appointment with the specialist?"
"?! Um, no. No-one mentioned I had to make any further appointments."
"Never mind. Just go to the Outpatient desk when you're done here and make an appointment."

Sticks out like a sore thumb on a duck, doesn't it? There seems to be this assumption on the part of the entire NHS that everyone in the machine knows the procedure without having to be told. I guess, in many cases, the patients are so institutionalised by the amount of time they have to spend enduring the process that this may well be true, but I'd still put money on the bulk of us being occasional visitors needing a little assistance.

The icing on this particular medicinal cake came when I reached the Outpatient desk:

"Hm, let me see. Nope, nope, nothing there either, May is solid, nope... I can get you an appointment in July, will that be okay?"

Okay?! What a ridiculous question to ask. I can hardly argue for an earlier appointment if his schedule truly is that full, so I have to assume she was asking if I'd prefer to wait even longer.

"Actually, my diary's jammed solid until April 2008. Can I see him then?"

Gah.

There ya go, Lucky

No more confusion.

Cookie monsters

It's quite astounding just how many cookies try to make their way onto a pc in an average browsing session. I'm not too bothered by the occasional cookie designed to assist me in logging in or saving a selection, but the hordes of advertising trackers and browsing habit loggers can be quite overwhelming. I was particularly bemused, recently, to have Firefox warn me that Barclays wished to install a cookie called useraccesstracking. No prizes for guessing what the cookie is for. Why would I want Barclays to know what my login patterns are? That's right - I don't!

Switching your automatic cookie handling off and manually authorising - or not - each and every cookie that hurls itself at your PC is an exercise I can heartily recommend, even if only for a day, to acquaint yourself with the hidden machinations behind the innocent facade.

Open source swarms

Imagine a host of these micro 'copters hooked up with wireless comms and trained to flock. Fly, my pretties. Fly!

Hm. Where are those fighting robot rules?

M = DV

It's frustrating me that the book I am currently reading is so enjoyable, considering it has been allowed through to publication with glaring clangers which form the basis of the entire plot and, in my opinion, render the whole effort pointless. Here's my favourite :

As the giant cloud receded from the binary stars of Sirius A and B, it cooled in the frozen wastes of interstellar space to minus 270 degrees Celsius. Its molecular structure tightened and drew closer together. The incredible size of the cloud shrank but its mass became all the greater. As its mass increased, so did its velocity; from one-tenth to one-fifth of the speed of light.

What?! Firstly, reducing the volume that a quantity of matter occupies increases its density, not its mass. Secondly, although objects seem to gain relativistic mass when speeds approach that of light (when viewed from a different frame of reference), all of the special relativity equations rely on the invariant mass of an object. Quite a spectacular piece of rubbish, no?

It should be irrelevant that the book was written by a manager, not a scientist, since we all have our hobbies and passions, and cosmology could very well be his. But I can't get over the niggling feeling that a scientist - or, in fact, anyone with a modicum of physical science knowledge at secondary school level - would have avoided that stinker. Failing that, a halfway decent editor versed in the genre should have spotted it. Looking over the publisher's offerings, though, they strike me as a bit of a vanity press which, if true, would explain it. There really should be a disclaimer across the front of their books, though.

There are some other choice ham-handed attempts at camouflaging the writer's apparent ignorance of simple science, like the pole-switching electromagnet perpetual motion machine fib, or the quick glossing-over of a simple geology lesson, that keep sticking in my mental craw. I'm ploughing on regardless, as elements of the story are rather fun, but I fear it's going to be an airport read, in the end.

Metro Marianne

Unless I'm much mistaken, I've been sharing my journey in to work the last few days with one of the finalists of the last Make Me a Supermodel series. It's not too surprising, I guess, considering that the show was based in London, and that it would have provided her with huge exposure to continue working successfully in the UK. I've not been even remotely tempted to annoy her with fanboy requests for attention and autographs - that's the kind of thing I would hate in her position - but smiling a knowing smile to myself serves just as well.

Xmas spin

Contrary to appearances, it's been a remarkably eventful few weeks. Come to think of it, that's not contrary to appearances at all, merely contrary to my rate of journalling.

I've survived hosting a quite literally insane number of lunches/dinners/drinks, not to mention all the events I've had to attend elsewhere. I shouldn't complain, I guess; 'tis the season to overindulge on all fronts so, by all accounts, I've had a successful Xmas. I've been quite spoilt on the gift front too; dvd's, books, clothing, games and scents have showered down, and I've even finally had Sky+ installed, compliments of an unexpected salary bonus.

Fate gives, and she takes away. The Sky+ engineers cunningly severed our NTL broadband cable, and have been recalcitrant in returning to fix the mistake. Also, as if capitalising on my incipient citizenship, a jury summons has arrived for me, and I will be serving Her Majesty in Her courts for at least the first two weeks of February. How Clotho must have been laughing.

But I am still full of the bliss of my first festive week off in 9 years, which ended in a kick-ass Bond party on New Years' Eve, at which I won a Texas Hold 'em poker tournament, and a flying visit to a 50's swing club in Soho for the midnight countdown. Now I just have to hold on to that feeling in the face of the January blues.