I watched the Watchmen and made a tired pun about it
Watchmen finally hit UK cinemas last week, and my contemporaries and I made a pilgrimage around the weekend to see it (in the biggest motherfucking cinema I’ve ever seen, seriously, what’s the deal with that?).
After a modest period of casually asking each other what we thought of it (british to a man, can’t show too much uninvited enthusiasm) shit-eating grins broke out all round, and happy fanboyism commenced. In case you haven’t heard, it is good, and faithful to a degree I didn’t think possible. Alan Moore is a writing deity in my book, but he’d do well to stop grumbling about other people paying him multi-million-dollar homage and start complaining about the people who watch the damn thing.
I’d wondered how public opinion would regard Watchmen; western culture doesn’t deal well with pragmatism and mixed motives in its news reports, let alone its entertainment. If hell froze over and the mature themes in Watchmen – a comic that muddies the waters of morality around terrorism, murder and rape – weren’t censored or omitted, how would the stupid, cow-eyed masses of the public react to it? Condemnation? Dare I hope for a reconsideration on the unsympathetic reactions to what we are told to regard as criminals? I was beginning to fear for British tabloids‘ readership.
I needn’t have worried. Rather than discussing the plot and characters, the blood-spattered smiley has been supplanted in the hearts of the population by a giant, glowing dong. Transfixed by the shiny (helmeted) objects, the media pundits narrowly avoided discussing questionable morality and instead fixated on Doc Manhattan’s freely swinging member. You’d think that in light of recent events, radioactive cocks would be a sensitive subject in the UK, but noooooo.
I do love how, although taboo in most circumstances, unrestrained wangers are considered more suitable for public consumption (steady now) than questioning the moral status quo. Still, at least my Comedian badge is bona-fide geek cred, right?
Puzzle Quest Galactrix – the thinking gamer’s domestic abuse
I’m conflicted about tagging this as a game review. Because I’m not completely sure that’s what Puzzle Quest is.
It masquerades as a simple Popcap-esque brainteaser, a little casual gaming sundae laced with sprinklings of RPG-element crack to drag you in. Any friend of mine will tell you I’m a total slug for RPG games, and I do love a good DS-based casual puzzler (plus god knows I loves me some crack). So what’s the beef bringing the savoury spoilage to my delicious ice cream metaphor?
Well, it’s a tasty treat, but critically, it’s by no means a fair one. It repeatedly occurs that I’m grinding my opponent into dust only for the random tiles replenishing the board to trigger some chance hurricane of destruction that maxes out the enemy’s special move gauges, gives the cunt seventeen turns and I lose my shields. This isn’t a bloody game, it’s a device by which I repeatedly provide my opponent a stick with which to batter me. It’s like playing a game of football where every five minutes the referee declares the opposition striker gets to kick you full-on in the balls, and you’re not allowed to guard.
This is repeated ad infinitum, until I’m developing the gaming equivalent of battered wife syndrome. Knowing that any given move could cause the game to smack the shit out of me, I’m paranoid about making any move. My stylus shakes indecisively over the game board, obsessive about preempting the vicious onslaught – but if I don’t choose, I don’t get beaten, right? On some level I recognise that at some point playing Puzzle Quest I have fun, but I consistently come to the conclusion that the only winning move is to put the DS down and make myself a sandwich. Which feels like cheating, because a sandwich is a winner every time.
The most annoying thing about these games is not that they’re bad. Rubbing dog shit around inside my underpants doesn’t make my life a misery – because lacking any incentive, I just don’t do it. Like an abusive spouse though, the good times with Puzzle Quest are good. That glorious weekend at the beach. The time it got me a Mining Laser for valentine’s day. But then, the dinner’s not on the table, and I’m getting my face battered with a sock full of loose change. By which I mean mine tiles and a damage multiplier.
So is Puzzle Quest a good game? Yeah, I suppose it is, in the same way (to make the standard internet comparison) Hitler must have been a charmer – because there’s no way he’d have got those minorities gassed if he’d scrimped on the gameplay.
Or something like that. Anyway, play it for a bit, and tear your own fucking hair out. You don’t need me to tell you this shit.
