Glimmer Men
On occasion I like to embark on an evening of culture and sophistication. Other times, like last night, I like nothing more than blasphemy and knob gags. I've been looking forward to this for some time. Since embarking on my Twitter obsession and discovering Richard Herring hadn't died in a unfortunate éclair incident and was touring in fact. So Thursday 19th March 2009 at Liverpool's Unity Theatre myself and my ever tolerant wife, having Shanghaied my mother into caring for our daughter while we went out to enjoy ourselves, met a couple of friends and laughed our socks off and wiped tears of joy from our cheeks.
Herring bounded onto the floor like an enthusiastic kitten. Actually, given his current girth and hairiness maybe Ewok would be more appropriate. Not one of the cute ones like Wicket or the baby in the basket who shields his eyes when C3PO does his 'Vader impression, maybe more a Chief Chirpa. Whenever I've seen him on television he's always appeared sprightly, even when being melancholic, though as this is around the midpoint of the tour with material he first performed at the Edinburgh Fringe in August 2008, I was expecting him to be more subdued. His Empire destroying skills had clearly not waned through touring however.
Hitting the floor running with the single greatest piece of blasphemy I've ever been condemned to Hell for enjoying, we were taken on a journey through Herring's adolescence as he examined his inability to commit, his childish behaviour, and his obsession with masturbation and the need to catalogue it. He read passages from the young Richard's diary, much of which will be familiar to anyone who has been aged between 13 and 17 and written bad poetry, and talked of his upbringing and the effect being the son of the Headmaster during this adolescence has had on his psyche.
We learned amongst other things of his early obsession with comedy and breasts. His fleeting moment of coolness when Dexy's Midnight Runners released Geno. His first love, and meeting her again after twenty years. His uncontested genius at Maths and History. His freakishly small hands and their potential uses.
Sometimes pushing the envelope and referencing current news events, Herring managed to draw a few sharp intakes of breath before the guilt edged chuckles forced their way out. Mostly though the show was a considered retrospective of his formative years rather than a barrage of jokes or satires, and as such it felt like sitting down with an old friend recounting the stupid things you did in your youth. Only this friend was smarter and funnier than you and had you known each other as youths he would never have associated with the likes of you. Obviously.
Closing with a prolonged conversation between himself now at forty-one and at sixteen, he juxtaposed his ambitions then with his position now and ends with a touch of reverence for his father, before one last punchline to send us out happy.
On exiting the venue there was the opportunity for a brief meet and greet while Herring sold merchandise and collected donations for Scope (at this point I should say a big thank you to Mal and Tiff who in offering us a lift home allowed the bus fare to go to a worthier cause). Maybe I won't go to Hell. Maybe just a few millennia in Purgatory.
Richard Herring's The Headmaster's Son is touring until the end of April. Details can be found at http://www.richardherring.com/
Not living in Scotland and not being an Express reader I wasn't party to the ground breaking scoop of 8th March 2009 when Paula Murray unleashed both her barrels on the Dunblane survivors.
In the days that followed publication, numerous messages started bouncing around the Twitterverse and links were posted to the article. Like many who have read it, I was aghast at the depths to which this journalist was willing to stoop. After reading it, I read it again. I was looking for the public interest. I was looking for, well, the story.
I've since sent a few e-mails and signed a petition but I still feel genuine anger. This anger isn't just about the article, it's also about the Press Complaints Commission's codes of practice, and oddly, it's also because despite the few e-mails and the petition signing, I feel so useless and somehow, vulnerable. I don't know what else to do and so the anger turns to frustration which in turn spins back round to anger. But this post isn't about me. Truth be told it's not about the Dunblane survivors whose only misdemeanour seems to be acting like normal teenagers. It's about a shining (though perhaps in context that should be rusted and faecal splattered) example of the gutter press and her character assassination of the most vile kind. It's about Paula Murray.
I keep wondering why she felt the need to attack these survivors. Was Paula Murray involved in some horrific accident that left her in a coma through her teenage years? Was she so ostracised by her peers she spent her adolescence locked in her bedroom, cardigan buttoned to the neck, nose in an Enid Blyton? However she spent it, she clearly never uttered a foul word, had any form of sexual encounter or made any obscene gestures, as that would just be hypocritical.
Anyway, one much wiser than I has collated the details and explains the situation much better than I ever could, so I would ask those few who stumble across my words to please read his: http://bit.ly/3hukrY
O' Brother
Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a little watermelon who's name was Martin. Martin was a happy little watermelon who looked forward to growing up and being a nice big watermelon. He would spend his days in his little corner of the greenhouse, practising his dynamic tension and waiting for George to visit. George tended to Martin and was an accomplished gardener. Each day he would stand over Martin and smile down at him. He'd check the soil, give him a dash of water and take hold of him, squeezing a little. Though they were quite rough, Martin felt at ease when George laid his hands on him. He would have liked to make friends with the strawberries too, but he always felt they looked down on him, so he focused all his attention on George and making George proud. Martin liked George. George was his best friend.
One morning, Martin was aware that something was different. He took a moment to compose himself and started his dynamic tension routine, only he couldn't. He had no flexibility. Every part of him was taught. He concentrated and could sense the vitamin C levels within him had peaked. He realised he was now a fully mature watermelon and felt elation and pride. The strawberries could look down on him all they wanted, he knew when George arrived he would be proud of him. He felt himself glow, his green flesh incandescent.
As the sun started to fall on the west side of the greenhouse, it's rays smashed through the glass roof and shone on Martin like a spot light. George would be visiting soon and Martin, eager to please, made every effort to soak up as much of the sun's rays as he could. He really wanted to look his best when George arrived.
Martin felt a chill and looked up to see George stood over him, casting a shadow. As George bent down, Martin could see his smile. Martin had never seen George so happy, and so felt happier than he'd ever felt himself and relaxed as George laid his hands on his ripe body. Martin was soon being carried on a euphoric cloud. George had never held him this long before. His hands were caressing every part of his flesh, his fingers probing every pore. Martin felt alive in a way he could never have imagined. George's fingers reached underneath, into the dirt, and Martin started to drift off as if into a dream. He'd never been touched there before, it was exciting, electrifying. Every fibre of his being trembled, and then the pain. Incredible pain. Mixed with the exquisite pleasure of touch Martin was dumbfounded. The contradiction was terrifying, alluring. The combination unbearable, delightful. Through agony and ecstasy, Martin passed out.
When Martin woke he felt weary. He was exhausted. There was something wrong with his soil, it was hard. The greenhouse glass was fogged, only one pane seemed to be allowing light through. He could just make out George stood by it, though he seemed shorter, half the height he usually was. No, wait. George wasn't shorter, Martin was taller, higher. As his mind cleared a little more Martin realised this wasn't the greenhouse, and he wasn't sat in soil but was on some kind of wooden board. As George approached Martin saw he had something shiny in his hand. A ruler? Was George going to measure him? George took hold of Martin with his granite like left hand. His grip was firm and lacked the care Martin was used to. George raised his right hand and Martin now saw the knife clearly. This was wrong. There's been a mistake. They've been friends for so long. Friends don't hurt each other.
Martin wanted to scream, to plead with George. He wanted to remind George of all the time they'd spent together and how George was like a father and best friend all rolled in to one, but he couldn't. Martin was a watermelon, and watermelons can't speak. He began to weep.
As George's knife tore through Martin's flesh and cut into his body, a few of Martin's tears escaped.
Credit Brunch
In case you are unaware, Quake Live is a first person shooter developed by id Softw
are which you play competitively through your internet browser. The goal for id was to bring an enhanced version of Quake III Arena to a wider audience and in order for it to be free to users the project would be supported from in game advertising. Based on the queues to get in so far it has certainly attracted an audience and id can start to push numbers under marketing types noses and open the bidding.
Some orange juice and the end credits to Walk Hard on TV later and it's 2 hours 47 minutes since I joined the queue and the character selection screen has appeared. As well as choosing your character you can familiarise yourself with or edit the controls, customise your crosshair and change a few colours. Nothing too involved or daunting. As one of the ideas behind this endeavour is to make it accessible to to the widest spectrum possible, thus far it's promising. Even my dear mother-in-law could follow this. Meanwhile the main body of the game starts downloading in the background so at this point it's all pretty seamless.
One major concern for online gaming virgins, or even veterans who just suck, will be the prospect of giving this a try only to to find themselves repeatedly fragged out of existence before so much as getting a shot off. I've certainly stopped playing games before due to the constant deaths brought about by those who have dedicated themselves to honing their skills. All credit to them for their dedication, and I don't wish to detract from their ability. It's just not much fun for those of us who have other commitments and are simply looking for a bit of entertainment. This is where the game's Placement Match comes in. Before you head in to the big frag fest you have to play what is effectively a tutorial. This is ten minutes of learning the basics and battling an AI opponent, at the end of which the game evaluates you. The beauty of this is that it means when you do enter the real gaming arena you'll be playing against opponents of similar ability, which should make for a far better balanced and enjoyable game.
In entering my assessment a lovely young lady named Crash took me into a side room and explained about the weapons, health, armour, jump pads, and took me on a brief tour of the arena. She then proceeded to blow me to smithereens. Ten minutes later and we were tied at 14-14. Next frag the winner. A bit of cat and mouse, a few stray rockets, a quick run to a health globe and as I turned the corner I saw her heading for the red armour. If I could just hit her before she picked it up. Yes! Take that, bitch! Boo-yar, who's the man? I rule!
I'm sure id have just been very clever with the tutorial as they wouldn't want people bowing out at this early stage, so keeping the match tight allows the inept such as myself to still feel we've accomplished something and willing to go on.
The game itself runs incredibly smoothly and once the competition was under way it was easy to forget that this was running in a browser. The visuals are tremendous given the platform. Obviously they don't compare to the likes of Crysis or even Half Life 2, but they do surpass the original Quake III Arena's visuals, which lets not forget took a top notch high end PC to do it justice on release, and yet here it is running in Firefox. This was just a 1 on 1 tutorial though. What would it be like in the big arenas?
Continuing you are returned to the main site where you have the option of taking your skills online or practising further. The lower part of the page shows your statistics and will be continuously updated as you play. No doubt a great source of embarrassment for the likes of me with an accuracy rating of 20% in the tutorial. There's not going to be many numbers to be proud of in there.
I should stress that on completing the tutorial the last thing to do is decide that it's lunchtime and head off to make an egg sandwich, pour a fresh glass of orange juice, and sit down to watch the news while you eat, as when you return your inactivity will have had you logged out.
It's 13:42 and I'm 28,430th.
14:32 and I'm back in.
Unsure of whether I was truly ready to take on human opponents just yet I went into practice. Anyone new to this type of thing would be well advised to do the same. Here I could choose the game type from Clan Arena; Capture The Flag; Team Deathmatch; Free For All; and Duel. Selecting Clan Arena gave the choice of 35 arenas, the time limit, the round limit, the bot skills and the total number of players. Listed like that it can seem a bit daunting, but the interface is easy to follow and 
in seconds I was choosing my side and rushing around at breakneck speeds. Requiring eight rounds to be won for victory, things didn't start well. The Blue team were 3-0 up and I was starting to remember why back in the day I went with Unreal Tournament's more controlled and tactical antics instead of Quake III Arena's frenetic action. All too soon I was mashing the space bar and left mouse button and while I'm sure there is an art to doing this, it all felt a bit random. Any deaths attributed to me felt more down to luck than skill. Maybe I'm doing myself a disservice. Only way to be sure I suppose is to go up against humans.
The site offered a Capture The Flag game as a 'Best Pick' so I braced for impact and headed in. Allowing the game to decide which team to put me on I had a look around the level. We're in space with each team having a multi-tiered platform at either end and a central plane between us. To the sides are some more platforms, some jump pads, and some glowing discs. Wondering what the discs do I decide to investigate further, but there's no time, the countdown, 3...2...1 it's over and there's already a red skeleton in front of me flying into the air off a jump pad and heading for the blue flag. I instinctively jump and start firing my shotgun, but he's turned and is heading off the platform. I give chase and we both launch across the sky. During flight I've collected a Railgun and anticipating his landing point, I fire. The skeleton hits the ground and the blue flag is freed. Elated, I launch into the air and head towards the red flag, adrenalin fuelled and hungry for blood, until a rocket blast blows me off and I fall into the void of space. So it continued for the next ten minutes. The red team won 6-1 and I sat third out of the four blue team members. I'm not the worst, and I'm hungry for more. Back at the main page there's a number of matched games for me to join so I head in again.
Playing with humans certainly felt a more solid and rewarding experience, though I think I'll spend some more time practising as despite the slightly disconnected feeling, there's no doubt familiarity with the maps will stand me in good stead.
Quake Live is everything Quake III Arena was, and more. Working through a browser gives it a level of accessibility beyond the gaming crowd. I'm sure some purist will bemoan the fact that their beloved pastime will now be shared by all and sundry, though thanks to the matching system they are unlikely to ever meet.
While I was eager to give Quake Live a try, I didn't expect to particularly enjoy it. I was more interested to see how it would work and what concession would have had to be made. It is a truly incredible achievement and a considerably better gaming experience than many retail products. I should warn Vista users that at present Aero isn't compatible, though the game will turn it off for you on launch.
My only real criticism is of the current waiting times. For Quake Live to be viable it needs to attract advertisers and for that it will need to captivate and sustain significant numbers. It's accessibility once you're in will certainly help in that regard, though if the waiting times don't improve people may not be willing to wait. I'm sure once the beta ends and it's fully live it won't be an issue. For now I'm in, and I'm staying put.
Try it yourself at www.quakelive.com
