Heavy Rain

Friday sees the release of a genre-busting video game on the PlayStation 3 that has been described as 'interactive fiction' and 'virtual theatre'. Heavy Rain looks set to be the nearest we've come to a narrative-driven interactive movie, with many likening it to the films of David Fincher. In gamesworld its release is highly anticipated, with even the Guardian wondering whether this is the most important title of the decade. 

Heavy Rain is about making decisions. Reviewers have spoken of the game's 'unprecedented emotional connection' (Games TM, #93); the characters are apparently so believable you can't help but become totally immersed in their lives. Rather than move them around an environment, you control decisions and actions via the PS3 controller (many of these actions are completely mundane, others a matter of life and death), thereby affecting how the storyline plays out.

From the instant you are given control of Heavy Rain, there comes the realisation that you’ve never played anything like it before. Ethan Mars lies asleep on his perfect bed in his perfect house, it’s Saturday morning and glorious sunshine pours through the ceiling-high sliding doors. A floating icon prompts you to nudge the right analogue stick, and as you do so, Ethan stirs. Press the stick fully and Ethan sits up, but you do it slowly, unfolding the animation as your character awakens from his dozy reverie.

Ethan then spends the rest of his Saturday morning just the way you’d expect a successful young architect to spend it. He stumbles into the bathroom, with various button prompts fluttering around the room indicating various objects to interact with; the sink, an electric shaver, a toothbrush. Ethan cleans his teeth, you sweep the controller from side to side to mimic his actions, maybe he has a shave (if you’re so inclined), he takes a shower, goes downstairs and glugs orange juice from the carton, makes a coffee, does a little work, maybe watches some TV. All this more virtual theatre than ‘game’ - you as director more than ‘player’ - making decisions, twiddling sticks and pressing buttons to guide Ethan about his morning. (Telegraph)

You control four different characters during the game, starting with Ethan; and the fate of each lies in your hands. Reviews have spoken of the 'weight of consequence' that you feel as you manipulate these characters (once somebody dies there is no going back to an earlier saved game). Moreover, reviewers are suggesting players navigate their way through the story just once, for fear that playing again will simply feel like watching a bunch of deleted scenes. But rather than let the game gather dust on completion Games TM suggests letting a friend or family member have a go, even if they're not usually interested in video games.

But what do I know? The game hasn't been released yet, but for the past week I've been poring over written and video reviews online, and basically getting myself worked up into a frenzy that should see me buying the game as soon as it hits the shelves. 2010 looks like being a great year for my PS3 and me: I'm already eagerly awaiting the console's release of GTA: Episodes from Liberty City (March) and for months have been dreaming of Rockstar's latest, the massive Read Dead Redemption (think: GTA set in the Wild West) due for release in April. Can't wait!

Machinarium

Late last year, as the dark nights closed in and the air turned cold, I began playing Machinarium, an addictive little point-and-click puzzle game. Initially, it was the beautiful visuals and atmospheric soundtrack that lured me in, but soon, after completing the demo's first three levels, I found myself sucked in and dutifully downloaded the rest of the game.

You control a little robot, Josef, who goes about a city undoing the mischief wreaked by the Black Cap Brotherhood. They're planning to blow up the tower but there's also Josef's girlfriend to free too - she's been locked up and forced to cook. Using the mouse you solve various puzzles to move on to the next level. If you're anything like me, this usually involves clicking virtually every pixel on the screen to find something to pick up and/or use. A hint is available for each level in the form of an animated thought bubble and if you really get stuck you can get more help by accessing and completing a separate minigame. Because there's no dialogue, either spoken or written, this comes in the form of diagrams. It was a beautiful experience playing this on cold winter evenings: I recommend dimming the lights and wearing headphones for full immersive effect.

Machinarium was developed by a group of Czech developers who financed the projct themselves. The mp3 soundtrack by Tomas Dvorak comes with the download. The game is available on PC, Mac and Linux.

You can play the first three levels of Machinarium free online here.

more near misses

On a daily basis I take my life into my own hands by doing something apparently simple like walking to work. Why? Because if you're a pedestrian in Bristol you're the lowest of the low. Car drivers rule. They drive where they like; they park where they like. If it means a woman with a pushchair has to walk out into the road because somebody's parked on the pavement then tough. Moreover, zebra crossings serve only as a nice pattern painted on certain stretches of road. It's taken me a while to realise that you're not actually expected to use them to cross a road safely.

This morning provided yet another example: at a zebra crossing in Clifton two cars drove obliviously through while I was midway across. To be honest, there was no near miss involved - I could tell they weren't going to stop, so I made sure I did. But as I reached the pavement I noticed a guy who'd been walking past had stopped and was facing me.

"None of them stopped???! It's unbelievable! Two cars just drove through while you were crossing!"

This nice friendly American couldn't believe it. I explained that I was used to this occurrence as a pedestrian in Bristol. Zebra crossings count for nothing here. Neither do pedestrians. Even many cyclists seem to think that the pavements are there solely for them.

Getting around is a far cry from what I had become used to in Brighton where public transport is taken  seriously (as it is in most other cities) and the council, years ago, decided to try to do something about traffic congestion. There, there's an excellent bus service with electronic signs that give out real-time information regarding when the next bus is due; as a result bus use in the city has soared; car parking is tightly regulated with wardens everywhere so drivers know they can't park wherever they please; and the rail network serves a string stations from Falmer to Worthing. Never, while I lived there, did I ever consider the need to drive a car. I've always walked, got the bus or jumped on a train.

But as I've discovered over the past year, none of that seems to work here, so getting around is a pain. Walking 3 or 4 miles in a city shouldn't be the quickest way for me to get to work but it is. Bristol is the opposite of Brighton & Hove: the sketchy bus service operated by First is despised and expensive; the local rail line serving many inner suburbs is underused and ancient (and again operated by First). Consequently, for a city that prides itself on it's green credentials, everybody drives. There seems to be no real appetite for change - if there was everybody would surely have pulled their finger out by now? And even if there was a decent bus or tram service I'm not sure the people of Bristol would use it. They seem to be too happy in their cars trying to mow down people like me on zebra crossings.

The council's answer to all this is clear: get a bike. But, to be frank, given my experience as a pedestrian on the city's roads, cycling seems suicidal (I've seen an accident here where a cyclist ended up under a lorry and it wasn't nice). You would expect one of the largest cities in Britain to have a modern, 21st century transport system in place to get people around. Sadly, there seems to be little chance of that happening here anytime soon. Bristol, I'm beginning to discover, is a bit of a backwater.

finished!

Back in 2008 Rowan posted a series of unfinished sentences on her blog. At the time I thought I'd give it a go but then put it off so many times that I never got round to it. I've always meant to though and recently, with Blogger introducing the concept of pages (rather than just posts), I've taken the opportunity to provide a bit more background info to this blog and finally get around to answering the 40 sentences. You can find them here.

Midlake

Midlake are a difficult band to pin down. Their first album sounded a lot like early Grandaddy; the second had a 70s rock feel about it. Their latest, the recently-released The Courage of Others, has a more folksy, Fairport Convention air. With each album their songs seem to have become less infectious. So it was slightly unfortunate for me, then, that during last night's gig at the Anson Rooms any early material was eschewed; many of the songs were newer material and as a result I became easily distracted by the chatter coming from the back of the auditorium - usually in front of where we were standing (it never ceases to amaze me how people can turn up for a gig and just talk all the way through it. I have some live Elliott Smith somewhere where, between songs, he makes a barbed comment about the noise which prompts a huge cheer and applause from the front). Midlake put on a tight performance, the banter with the crowd was nice and they ended with the beautiful Branches as an extended encore so I left happy enough. I guess I'm just one of those 'earlier material' snobs at heart...

smooth

Forgot to mention the incredibly smooth pebbles on Budleigh Salterton beach. Granted, I still wouldn't want to walk over them barefoot but they certainly had a Zen-like charm about them.

done!

January seems to go on forever: cold, dark, snowy, icy and bleak; basically, a grim old introduction to a new year. But luckily for me, in her infinite wisdom, M planned ahead and late last year booked us a night away at a B&B in a location only revealed to me on the day. So last weekend we headed south, via her parents' in Somerset, and spent a couple of days on the south Devon coast. We visited Beer, a nice little fishing village, then Sidmouth and ended up in Budleigh Salterton, a very pleasant seaside town and winner of my award for Friendliest Place in Britain. It was so friendly, M (born and raised in Cornwall) had to grudgingly re-evaluate her lifelong suspicion of Devon folk. No mean feat. We stayed in a very comfortable B&B on the outskirts of town and enjoyed a meal in comfy local pub on Friday night. As we walked back along the seafront the moonlight reflected on the calm sea was an unforgettable sight (typically, I whipped out my Canon G9 at this point but unfortunately it doesn't handle night very well). We woke on Saturday to clear blue skies, sunshine and a heavy frost. After downing a huge breakfast and checking-out we headed across town to the nature reserve and embarked on a riverside walk inland. Never have I been greeted by so many people as we passed. We ended up at Otterton Mill, a centre for crafts with a gallery, bakery, restaurant and shop before walking back to the seafront. We spent another night in Somerset before returning to the city on Sunday. The following day was 1st February so that was another bleak old January crossed off. 'Done!' as Gordon Ramsay would say...

The Road

Last night we went to see The Road - the film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's post-apocalyptic novel.

My God was it bleak. Probably the bleakest 111 minutes I've spent in a cinema. Very harrowing stuff.

None the less it was a hugely enjoyable film. I'm just not sure I could sit through it again (though I'm strangely drawn to reading the novel now).

I came out feeling I needed to see an episode of [the terrifically upbeat and enjoyable] Glee before heading to bed, just to put me back on an even keel. I didn't and consequently had a nightmare where a woman stood behind three open coffins in a church battled to stuff the suddenly lively cadavers back in during a service...