This Charming Man

You'd think the receipt of a rejection e-mail this morning on the basis of “candidates with more relevant experience than yourself “ would put me in a negative frame of mind. You'd be right. However it's not all bad as while I'm head sore and miserable today, I did have a very pleasant time this previous evening in my local Wetherspoon's with a delightfully charming man, who for the sake of protecting the innocent I shall henceforth refer to as Mr Jones. As is normal on such occasions I tend to arrive slightly early and he arrives slightly later than the specified time. This gives me the opportunity to browse the selection of beverages on offer and contemplate what I should drink. I'm not much of a drinker you see. I used to be. There was many an occasion I would go out with friends and drink the night away without fear of repercussions. These days however I'm more likely to end up with chronic acid, leading to sleep deprivation manifested as frequent visits to the porcelain altar whereby I would attempt to have my diaphragm exhumed from my body by way of my oesophagus. The temptation is always therefore for me to have 'foo foo' drinks. The likes of Smirnoff Ice and WKD or any of those that could be referred to as alco-pops, as historically they have caused significantly less troublesome nights and following days. The problem is when I'm drinking with another man it somehow feels wrong. I'm not sure I can explain what it is, but there just seems something unmanly about sitting in a pub having 'man time' drinking a little bottle of an oddly coloured fruit based drink, irrespective of it's potency or alcohol content. Men drink pints. Pints of beer.

I'm old enough to know better and there's so many aspects of things I do or say without concern for what others may think of me as a result that I should be comfortable to drink anything I like, irrespective of how I may be perceived. So why can't I?

Anyway, Mr Jones was a delight as always. A genuinely charming man who it is quite a pleasure to be in the company of. He's the type of chap, and I use the term in consideration of every WWII movie that saw anyone of good standing being referred to as jolly decent, who exudes warmth.

Much of the evening was spent discussing my varied and wonderful neurosis. I say discussing. I suppose inflicting would probably be more apt. Mr Jones being the rapturous Adonis that he is (I know I may be venturing into some form of homo-erotica here, so for the avoidance of doubt: I'm not and neither is he, though if he was and so where I, I most certainly would, though he would no doubt spurn my advances in the most humble of ways and I would find myself alone in the gutter offering my services to the most foul and abusive for little more than a packet of Spicy Nik-Naks and a cup of Bovril) took it all in good humour and at the end of the evening sent me away with a spring in my step. Jolly decent chap.

Wandering far

I've finally finished playing Fallout 3 (PC) for the time being. I've visited every significant location, though not found every bobblehead nor triggered every quest, and you know, that's fine. I never wanted the experience to degenerate into a complete fetch quest, I just wanted to see what the wasteland had to offer.

Leaving the confines of Vault 101 I played the game pretty much as myself, in so much as I can be myself in a fictional post apocalyptic future, letting my personal morality be my guide. As such, as tempted as I was to put a .44 magnum shell into the back of the likes of Moriarty's head and blow the residents of Megaton to kingdom come, I never did so. Maybe next play through. And that's the biggest ringing endorsement I can give. Despite almost 100 hours of wandering the wastes I'd be more than happy to start all over again. Sure the ending is a bit of kick in the happy sack, but that doesn't detract from the delights that have gone before.

I could of course continue playing now, with the Operation Anchorage expansion, though as it's only available through the Games For Windows Marketplace, which would be a reason to disregard it in itself, and the reviews giving the impression that it is akin to sprinkling powered turd on my cornflakes, I think I'll give it a miss.

There's other expansions in the works and I'm sure when Bethesda have finished milking it they'll put a nice little expansion compilation together as they did with the Knights of the Nine for Oblivion and that's when I'll jump back in, only this time as a twisted killing machine bent on intensifying the pain and misery of the inhabitants of this ravaged DC. [insert Vincent Price laughter here]

So with an ever expanding backlog of games it was a tough choice deciding where to go next. Being the FPS lover that I am Far Cry 2 was always going to be favourite, though with the recent system wipe I need to restart both Colin McRae DiRT and Psychonauts so there was a temptation to go back to them. I've also got Beyond Good & Evil and Company of Heroes Gold Edition sitting in my Steam list eyeing me disappointedly. I've not given nearly enough time to zombie blasting in Left 4 Dead, and Mass Effect and Grand Theft Auto IV aren't going to play themselves. Add to that the recent release of F.E.A.R.2: Project Origin and Burnout Paradise Ultimate Box demo's, that gave me just enough to tempt me in with their wily ways, and the excitement is palpable. How am I going to cope?

One notable absentee in all this is Warhammer Online. There was some debate about Warhammer over at the ZTTB site, which I'll expand upon my input in order to explain that while I am still playing it, I'm not doing so as much as I expected.

I dabbled with Warhammer briefly in school, though I was primarily a D&D kind of guy, and maybe my memory isn't too good because I wasn't expecting, well, what Warhammer Online is. I've tried to love it, tried to warm to it's charms, but once the initial excitement wore off I felt that there's just something missing. Now it may just be me being the anti-social nay sayer that I can be, but the reason I liked Guild Wars was because I got to play with people I liked and had fun with. Once all the guildies stopped playing I had no reason to go back and finish it. I was never really into running around alone, and not being sure I could invest the time needed for character development I was never convinced a proper MMO would fit, so I avoided the likes World of Warcraft and Everquest II for this reason and because of the monthly subscription, despite the number of people I knew who where jumping in and splashing around while telling me how lovely it was and to get the water wings off and join them.

Warhammer, I told myself, would be different. Surely going into a massive bloody conflict with several hundred others as body parts fly across the battlefield in a hail of flame and bullets would be my dream ticket, particularly as we had, an all be it brief, history.
It seems strange then that I'm having most fun going off doing the PvE alone. I certainly didn't expect that. I think the cause of this unexpected development is that I've found people still play as individuals, and as such the PQ's work best because people can do their own thing but it still contributes to the overall goal. In the PvP scenarios, unless you have at least a party and preferably a warband going in, it just becomes a free for all. That makes the experience feel somewhat unsatisfying. Hollow.

Having said all that, I still think it's worth picking up and having a play, and despite my reservations I have put my money on the table and will be playing until May, but I really don't know if I'll go beyond that. There's no doubt that WoWers who came across for the launch didn't find it compelling enough to stay once Wrath of the Lich King was released, and there was a significant juggling act to balance the servers. There's also been a number of changes in game since launch that have improved things with Mythic being swift to implement them and the speed with which they've responded to criticism has been commendable. They've reintroduced classes that were removed to ensure the game launched on time and balancing and UI issues have been rectified. All in all it is very solid and well implemented.

The environments are fantastic. The characterisations are brilliant. The Tome Of Knowledge is a stroke of genius. There's a wealth of material in and around the game world that you can delve as deep as you like into. There's an abundance of content, and you're free to sample whichever takes your fancy. Want to play as a High Elf but like the Dwarf story? Go do the Dwarf story then. Once you've basically got through the training quests and got to your first warcamp, your race doesn't have to dictate your quest path. The quests themselves can range from a quick walk down the road to chat to someone, to sprawling multi-part epics. Should you find some like minded people to adventure with, your quests can be shared with the others in your party, with re spawn of components/quest items happening swiftly enough that you don't get bored waiting for everyone to get the loot.

There's so many plus points and great things in there and I want it to be a great success. That's why I'd love to recommend it to everyone as an essential purchase. The fact that I can't saddens me. I hope that anyone who does buy it likes it. I hope it's just that MMO's at the end of the day aren't my bag. I really do.

Not that I can worry about that now. I've got some bloke going by the pseudonym “The Jackal” to kill.

At Home with The Dentons - Episode Four:

Return of the Other Guy

Paul: Hi JC.
JC: Hey Paul.
Paul: Guess who I bumped into at the Greasel Pit.
JC: I can't possibly imagine.
Alex: Yo! Yo! Yo! JC Dawg. Man you is lookin' wicked!
JC: Paul may I have a word, in the back?
Paul: Sure JC.
JC: Why? Why in my perfectly balanced and beautiful harmony would you bring that runt back here?
Paul: JC, he's family.
JC: I hate you.

Well, well, well.

I accept that faith requires a certain degree of detachment from reality. If it didn't, cynicism and logic would take over and we'd all be soulless automatons. Or Mr Spock. I am differentiating between religion and faith here as while I don't subscribe to any particular religion, I do have faith. I trust that's clear. No? Oh well, what a pity, never mind.

Sometimes I hear tales that are somewhat far fetched. Often though I can see the seed that spawned the tale and see where things may have been exaggerated or poetic licence taken. A tale I read this week though just seems so far removed from any kind of reality I'm at a complete loss.

North Wales circa 630AD. A particularly attractive young girl with a reputation for possessing great intellect decides to give herself over to Christ and become a nun. The local prince thinks that would a terrible waste so goes to see her to suggest instead she become a princess. Not a bad deal you might think, and certainly Disney have made a few bob by suggesting that it's every young girls dream. Anyway, our heroine decides that rather than be a princess she'd prefer to remain chaste and live in poverty. Great intellect you see.

Unwilling to take no for an answer the young prince goes from charming suitor to potential rapist, and our heroine takes flight down the hill towards the local church where her family are attending mass. I know what you're thinking, she's planning on becoming a nun but doesn't go to mass with her family? She's not that committed is she? Anyway, being the sensible and level headed dashing young prince that he is, our villain whips out his sword and lops her head off. The head rolls down the hill and comes to rest on a slight plateau. Suddenly, water starts to spring up through the ground, bathing the head and ruining her hair do.

Our heroine's uncle, who was taking the mass she didn't bother going to, hears of his niece's fate. Again, I know what you're thinking, where some particularly chatty sheep watching that suddenly ran into the church to bleat? Someone send him a tweet on his i-phone? There's no suggestion that there were any witnesses so what alerted him remains a mystery. Having been alerted though, he and her parents leave the church and attend to the head, picking up the soggy bonce and taking it back up the hill to where the body lay, placing it back on the neck and covering it with a cloak. You'd think at this point that seeing their murdered daughter lying on the side of the hill sans head there'd be some form of outpouring of sorrow. A desire to apprehend the murderer. Pay last respects. No, they all went back to the church to finish mass and possibly tea and biscuits. Maybe a flan.

With mass over, the family head back out to the body and the uncle kneels beside her, bearing his soul in prayer. Personally I imagine this bit to be like Britain's Got Talent with the holy trinity hovering over their buzzers while watching. The uncle, managing to complete his prayer without a single “X” wins a holiday home in Bangor and his niece resurrected. Yes, when he removes the cloak the head has been reattached and our heroine is fine and dandy. I wonder if he thought to say “Ta-da!” as he pulled the cloak away, and I hope he got a round of applause. Again though my imagination runs away with me a bit because the picture I can't get out of my head is that of Patty Mullen in Frankenhooker. Not exactly saintly.

Now obviously I didn't pay much attention to biology classes as I really would have expected decapitation to be terminal and so anyone having been dead, and we're not talking slight misunderstanding with finding a pulse here, to then be up and about at the very least would have been accused of being a witch, with the village gathered and set to collecting kindling. And if not a witch then what? You're dead but now you're walking about. That would make you a zombie? Surely? Again, villagers, kindling, marshmallows.

Attention now turns to our villain. Maybe it's just me, but if I'd just decapitated someone on a Welsh hillside I think my immediate reaction would not be to hang about. I think at the very least I would leave the area, possibly burn my clothes, but definitely not put my sword into the ground and lean on it. So what does our villain do? He puts his sword in the ground and leans on it while the family come out, collect the head, put it by the body, cover with the cloak, return to the church, finish mass, come back out, pray, and finally remove the cloak (ta-da, round of applause, bow to circle, bow to the stalls). I'm sure he did regret this somewhat odd decision as once our heroine was breathing again, her uncle called forth the wrath of God and the ground opened and took the prince away, presumably to the bowels of Hell. Bit excessive if you ask me, given that even decapitation didn't appear to cause any real harm in the end. I think had he gone to the court of appeal he'd have had a case.

Resurrected and by all accounts ecstatic at being able to breath again, our heroine spends the next twenty two years of her un-death as a recluse, until Jesus himself appeared to tell her that her un-death would soon be reclassified to re-death.

The site where her decapitated head came to rest and the spring appeared is now a place of pilgrimage for people to bathe in the waters, preying 3 times to be cured. Much like the way you'd call Beetlejuice, with just as likely an outcome.

Go to St Winefride's Well, Holywell and see for yourself.

At Home with The Dentons - Episode Three:

The Dentons Reloaded

Paul: Hi JC.
JC: Oh, erm, Hi Paul. Didn't hear you come in.
Paul: I thought that with you and Helios being so tight you'd have known I was coming in.
JC: Well yes, obviously, I was just, erm, distracted.
Paul: With what?
JC: Oh y'know, ensuring global stability, making sure environmental conditions in Newcastle, New South Wales are varied enough to annoy Professor Franks. The usual.
Paul: And you normally do that with your pants down?
JC: Yes.
Paul: Hmm.

Aisle be there

Standing by the pastas in the supermarket today I became very self aware. I'm not a thin man, but I'm hardly gargantuan either. My waste is more rounded than perhaps I'd like, and yes my rear end can comfortably fill a Victorian armchair. Standing on the bathroom scales would suggest I'm obese, though it's marginal and I am working on it. The point is, no matter how much you shunt, push and grunt, that shopping trolley is not going to fit up my arse.

At Home with The Dentons - Episode Two:

The Two Dentons

Paul: Hi JC.
JC: Hey Paul.
Paul: Doing much?
JC: Just making it rain on the Isle of Man.
Paul: Why?
JC: To make it wet.
Paul: Oh. I'm going the pub, coming?
JC: No.