reverse

Haruki Murakami is an author I have only recently discovered, but his thoughts are sticking in my head like crystal clear memories from my childhood. There's no reason why they should, they just do.

I can't remember what page it was on, but it was in Hard Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World, which I have just finished reading. The main character, a thirty something male that isn't named, is waiting for his consciousness to end and for his mind to be transported into his subconscious. In effect, he is waiting to die.

So, in the forty or so hours he has left, he takes a trip around Tokyo, and goes into a video arcade. He plays a game where he defends a base from invading tanks with a turret. He is beating the game at first, but as more and more tanks invade, he struggles to cope and eventually dies. The game says:

GAME OVER: INSERT COIN

So he does, and has another go. Same result. The character comments that it is an impossible game to win, because if he was good enough to cope with as many tanks as the game throws at him, it would never end. They would just keep coming and coming and coming, and he would be stood there forever destroying tanks.

What Murakami is commenting on is the endlessness of the mind, but enough of all that philosophical rubbish. It made me think about games for about five minutes while on the bus this week.

It's true - games are a never ending form of entertainent. Theoretically, you could play them for eternity. To extend longevity, they simply get harder - more enemies, better skilled AI, faster action. It's improbable that the human brain could cope, but if you were as good as, say, D.A.R.Y.L, you could stand there in the arcade until the Sun burns out.

Sure, modern games are a little more complicated, and story based titles have an 'ending' as such, but they all operate around the same premise. Take Metal Gear Solid 2 for example. That had one hell of a convoluted storyline, and once the gamer had reached the end and sat there through the twenty minute ending movie, you have finished the game.

Not so.

Play it on the harder difficulty, get all the dog tags, expose all the easter eggs, it just goes on and on.

Think of World of Warcraft. Once achieving lvl 60, the game doesn't crash. You can continue to kill beasts, fight other players and explore the environment until the servers give up. But just because you don't gain any more exp, it doesn't mean the game crashes.

And so, games are designed to be eternal. They never finish. Imagine if a game designer programmed into the code that his game would stop working once the ending FMV had been unlocked. Gamers would be in uproar. By the very nature of the medium, they have to have replayable value. For £40 it's essential.

So next time you boot up the latest Miyamoto masterpiece, remember Murakami's tragic hero as he awaits his own death, stuck in an endless videogame. If you had enough beer and pizza, you too could be playing for a long time.

life without Internet access is like life without a bed . . .

. . . you can sleep, but it's just uncomfortable.

And unnerving. Having moved flat this week, I can no longer leech off of the family computer, and that wonderful broadband connectionn that keeps the blood flowing to my heart. I have, in an act of complete desperation, purchased a laptop, which, I have been informed by text message (isn't technology a wonderful thing?) will arrive at my doorstep shortly.

Until then, I've had to go without. Let me tell you how 'going without' Internet access feels.

Lonely, for a start. I haven't been able to instantly message my global friends list for a week now - how can I feel important if I don't hear that reassuring 'bleep-bleep' noise at least fifty times a day?

Out of the loop: I don't have an aerial for my television, my radio is still at the family home and I can't seem to muster the strength to attwempt the ten minute walk to the local newsagent, so I have no idea what's going on in the world. More importantly, I can't keep refreshing Gamesindustry.biz every five minutes either - keep up the good work Rob!

Falling behind - the single worst side effect of going without Internet access for more than two days: my guild mates in World of Warcrft are leaving me in their wake. I'm lvl 51, Xero is 54 (last time I checked) and everyone else seems to be 60. I need my bloody laptop!!!! Must grind!!!! Ahhhh!!!!

pr for the people

I've often thought that at the heart of all this crappy game journalism that seems to be flying about are crappy games journalists. But it's not all our fault. I've come to realise that crappy game PR is to blame too.

For as long as I can remember, game PR's ship out bog standard press releases to the mainstream media, notifying of releases, new features and general uninteresting rubbish. Instead, they should be thinking harder about tailoring press releases to specific journalists that talk about interesting subjects.

For example, game PRs should have gone nuts when the figure for the in-game economy for Everquest was worked out as the 77th richest in the world. That should have been all over the mainstream media.

When Hollywood scriptwriters get on board with games, and find the transition difficult, that should alert PRs to an excellent opportunity for features in arts suppliments.

When political activism starts happening in MMOs, that needs to be shipped out to broadsheet news desks across the country.

When we start to see accurate, historical storytelling in action shooters, we need features on living World War 2 through games.

I'm not saying it's easy. In fact it's very difficult to persuade mainstream journos to write about games in an intelligent fashion. But it's possible. And it won't start until PRs pull their fingers out.

. . . and breathe.

Perhaps, instead of moaning, I should do something about it myself . . . from the dark side.

apologies . . .

Sorry if I've been neglecting you of late. The thing is, I've been playing games every spare minute my life will allow.

Have had wild, unrealistic thoughts recently about opening a game shop.

Hear me out.

I'm keeping the ultimate selling point of the place close to my chest, but, basically, there's nowhere, at least where I come from in London, that caters for hardcore gamers and the culture that surrounds them.

Yeah, sure, that are tonnes of GAME shops that sell games, take your money and say thank you very much, have a nice day etc have you got a loyalty card.

But there's nowhere I can go, buy games, play games with others over a coffee or something and have a chat with similar thinking people about games I love.

Watch this space.

Will playing an MMO take years off your life?

Funny week, really.

I just can't quite remember specific incidents, only a general haze of adventuring, questing, grinding, and flower picking.

Everone ribs me for it, but I don't care, flower picking is great fun.

In a vain attempt to keep up with everyone else (one of our guild members reached level 40 last night and bought a spanking great horse to prance around on - we ribbed it for having a dress, but secretely were very very jealous) I've been playin World of Warcraft obsessively lately. I play when my girlfriend is in work - I play when she's asleep. I stop playing when she gets up for work, have breakfast with her then start playing again. I sleep for a few hours a day - usually in the afternoon - about the time Neighbours first edition is on, which is fine by me, because, you know, it's rubbish.

I seem to be getting on OK, but a few things, little things mind, have been happening that, perhaps I'm being paranoid here, seem to me just a little disturbing.

For some reason the fingers on my right hand, the ones I use to move and click the mouse, twitch, lock, then twitch again, for no apparent reason, for five minute bursts.

Fair enough, I can handle that.

Then there's my jaw. It aches. Why would it ache? Because of a lack of sleep? It makes no sense, but, as clear as a flower ripe for picking, it does.

And then there's the obvious side effects - bloodshot eyes - constantly, yawning every waking minute, even though you're at the stage where you've 'gone past tiredness'.

But, perhaps most worrying of all, I don't piss as much as I used to. I drink just as much as I used to - perhaps even more (coffee breaks are a regular feature of our guild). WTF is all that about?

So, I ask you - does playing an MMO take years off your life? If it is to me - WTF is it doing to that crazy lvl 59 that was playing yesterday? Why isn't he dead?

I'm instantly reminded of that documentary on MacDonalds 'Supersize Me', where that American guy almost killed himself by eating nothing but McD's for a month. If I keep this up, will I get fat(ter), have serious kidney problems and puke regularly?

I see disturbing similarities between the two addictions. McD's sell you food that's deliberately addictive, unfulfilling and, according to the documentary, makes you ill.

WOW is designed to make you addicted to it - the level up mechanic is designed by psychologists who are experts in reward systems; it constantly leaves you thinking about it when you are not playing, so much so that you ignore other responsibilities; and, as far as I can tell, makes you ill.

Of course, I don't give a shit. I love the fucking thing, even if it is the bane of my life. (I'll be lvl 40 by the end of next week you mark my words) But, just in case there's no post next week and you're wondering, I may have to get carted off to a hospital farely soon (at least, that's not if my girlfriend doesn't kill me first).

A few hours with the Colonel

I'd never been to HMS Belfast before - I'd always wanted to go, for no reason in particular except that it's there - and a very big there at that. When Ubisoft invited me to their press event for Brothers in Arms: Road to Hill 30, which would be on board the mighty warship, I thought I may as well kill two birds with one stone.

I was prepared for the enormity of the place, the bumbling 'crew' and the reams of tourists that blight my home town of London so. What I wasn't prepared for was the Colonel.

Yes the Colonel.

Colonel John Anstal, a retired US army vet of over 30 years, is doing the PR circuit for the games upcoming release. Gearbox (of Halo on the PC fame) have made him a full-time executive in charge of getting all the military stuff exactly right.

A couple of things about the Colonel first. He's very American, and very Colonely(?). He's in your face, loud, abrasive, over the top, enthusiastic, compelling and lovable all at the same time. He's exactly the kind of person you want on a press tour publicising your game, and exactly the kind of person to win over all the cynical game hacks that sat around the briefing table on board HMS Belfast on Wednesday afternoon.

Here's my interest - Ubi claim the game is the most authentic/realistic tactical action game ever. And it's all down to the good Colonel. He put the poor Gearbox dev team through basic military training so they could better express the reality of war to gamers. He advsied on tactics. 'Flank him!' he kept shouting as we bumbled our way through a playtest. He researched the event in WW2 that the game is based on - a period just after D-Day. He even chose the real-life soldiers the games central character is based on. Most impressive, and, in my opinion, necessary, the Colonel has the backing of vet's associations, thus minimalising accusations of trivialising the war.

And so, it seems, games are becoming a valid method for telling historical stories. Forget documentaries and historical textbooks, I'm comparing these games to films like Saving Private Ryan, which, although not telling a true story, are based on fact, and really give the viewer a sense of what it was like to be at war. This game, Colonel Anstal would have us believe, is the best game available to this end. It will be a very interesting feature, I think, that discusses games as storytelling mediums.

I questioned the Colonel on these subjects. His dialogue is full of slogans - 'brilliant software', 'excellent representation', 'this is why I believe . . .', but underneath all the fluff, he genuinely believes in the game, and has a passion for it. Nothing can give you the interactive experience a game can and thus nothing can give you the feeling of being at war as well as a game. With graphical power rapidly improving, military advisors being employed to make sure everything is as accurate as possible, you can learn a lot about humanity's brutal past from electronic entertainment.

Of course, Ubisoft's main concern is to make a fun game, and, from my playtest, that remains a sticking point. But the good Colonel seems to have done his part. Leaving a windswept HMS Belfast, I felt like I'd just had a history lesson, and it didn't bore me at all.

I'm a zombie and need sleep

Right, since I've managed to pull myself away for five mins, I may as well let you know how it's going -

I got WOW on Staturday night and it feels as if I haven't slept since. I wouldn't have bought the game if it wasn't for a mate of mine. I've never played an MMO before, and I think they can be quite intimidating to the uninitiated and solo players.

So, wanting to play with my mate, I did the same as he had, (he had been playing since the games release on Friday).

Night elf, priest, herbalism, alchemy, pvp Shadow Moon server.

That was Saturday night.

Now - Level 16 and more spells than you can shake a mystical staff at.

The game's amazing, utterly depressing and completely addictive. I'm not going to go into the functions of the game etc, but why this is the most addictive game I have ever played.

There seems to be a constant competitive streak among many players, in that they do not want to be left behind. I've seen players in the level 30s, which blows my mind - they must not have slept one hour, or have jobs, or have girlfriends, or need to eat or drink.

In other words, I play all the time so I can keep up with my friend, and all his other friends, so we can quest together and generally be on a level playing field.

It's a curious, and utterly new feeling for me in a game.

Then of course, there are more traditional gaming thrills to be had, like the moment you learn a new spell, and kill a beast three levels higher than you with it for the first time.

Or when the sun is coming up over the horizon in real time, just as the sun is coming up outside my window, during a gaming taht has seen the last seven hours lost in an eyes blink.

Then, there is the pleasure only an MMO can give - like running into Horde territory with two mates and taunting other players into a duel, only for them to sound the alarm and draw a huge mob that runs you out of town.

Savage.

Utterlly compelling, sad and wondrous. Fuck the server problems - wipe the next year off my life.

depression + 9999999999999999999999999999999

What is depression?

Is it just a chemical reaction, in the pit of your stomach like a cancer?

When you are told by 'professionals' that you cannot write, your confidence will inevitably be affected. It is then up to the aspiring journalist to do something about it, be proactive, practice until your fingers bleed - until you start to inhale the stench of cheap plastic keys eroding from the mesmerising flurry of digits protruding from your palm.

I, on the other hand, do not take criticism well, even constructive criticism. I am, as they say, depressed.

Fuck everyone and the stinking world we live in.

Fuck the media, fuck London, fuck Bath, fuck writing, fuck inverted pyramids, fuck careers and, most of all, fuck games.

Fuck game company PRs masquerading as games journalists . Fuck T-Shirts, fuck jeans, fuck trainers. Fuck short haircuts with a bit of fucking stubble.

Fuck the Internet. Fuck blogs. Fuck advice on how to write videogame news for 16 year old gamers.

Fuck getting a trendy flat near a trendy bar. Fuck expensive rent you can afford. Fuck art on your fucking wall. Fuck intelligent comedy/music/film.

Fuck awards shows, fuck festivals, fuck scouting the Internet all day for a nice cultural news story that would make a good feature. Fuck freelancing.

Fuck thinking you have a valuable opinion of games. Fuck thinking you can express your useless opinion in words. Fuck thinking you can add to the heap of shit people read every minute of every day, for the rest of your life.

Fuck it all.

I tell you what, how about I go and get the easiest, boring, pointless job this rotting society offers, spend my life playing games, die and wish I was back in my mother's womb waiting to explode in a fury of blood and dead tissue so I could try all over again.

Because that sounds infinitely more fun than going to an interview, getting pissed off, getting over it, trying again, getting pissed off again . . .

I'll get over this, don't worry, and I'll try again. Because I'm too much of a coward to give up. If I had an inch of bravery in my gaping soul, I would jack it in, but I can't.

The scariest thing is, if I come to realise I'll never be good enough to write about games, I have nothing to fall back on. I'm trained for nothing. All of a sudden I'm reminded of the summer, when Wayne Rooney got injured against Portugal and everyone started asking what Plan B was. Nobody had an answer. And we all know happened next, don't we?

I'm going to post this now before I lose my nerve.

The Playstation Generation

The Independant has come, for me, to be a shining beacon of tolerance, rationalism and sanity in a generally fucked up mainstream UK press that has, including the Guardian, made me increasingly despondent of late.

The normally insightful and observant Johann Hari, who is a regular columnist for the virginal tabloid, said something today that caught my attention, not only because it stuck out like some sore thumb that had been stung a million times, but bcause of the context in which the dreaded word was placed.

To quote:

' . . . Wherever this British bourgeoisie gathers, there is a mood of quiet triumphalism. I earned my Mercedes; they (the poor) earned their Burberry hats and their scuzzy flats. And when - just occasionally - this belief is shaken, they reach for the soap. They scrub themselves down with the argument that nobody in Britain is really poor. They've all got fridges and jaunts to Ibiza and PlayStations, haven't they?

On the one hand, while reading this on the train home, I was shocked that a (sniff . . . previously) broadsheet carried the word PlayStation in the gargantuan accumulation of words that is the Inde nowadays, but more pertinently, what it's place in that paragraph says of our beloved hobby.

Are PlayStation lovers Chavs, as the writer suggests?

Are we all poor?

Is gaming, in the eyes of middle class Britain, still viewed as a low-art pursuit?

Of course it is. But it has clarified something for me. The Playstation marketing campaign of the mid-90s, for all its achievements, will ultimately be remembered for getting ravers to play games, not for dragging gaming into some mythically respected vacuum.

In the eyes of people like Johann, gamers may no longer be spotty nerds with no social skills. They have transformed into drug/booze fuelled louts who listen to The Streets.

We still have a long way to go, it seems. Credit though, must go to Ms Hari for putting capital letters where they should.

Tsunami Disaster Appeal raffle results

Just held the raffle. We sold over 200 tickets which is fantastic. Thanks to everyone who donated.

Results:

CeX £100 voucher: Elizabeth Losada, ticket number 44 orange
Framed Cricket 2005 sleeve signed by Michael Vaughan, kindly donated by EA: Mike, ticket number 29 orange
Framed A3 Tiger Woods Golf 2005 signed by Tiger Woods, kindly donated by EA: Ade Adebangbe, ticket number 6 green
Slimline PS2, kindly donated by GamePlay: Miss E Lecca, ticket number 91 green

Comiserations to the losers. Your donations have gone to a wortthy cause.
To the winners - congratulations, your prizes will be sent out to you very soon.

Which wraps up the whole big screen game tournament.

Breathe.

Until next time, which will hopefully be in a couple months - don't forget the victims of the tsunami. Just because it's off the front pages, it doesn't mean they stop needing our help.

Life bar refilling too slowly . . .

I am tired, overwhelmed, humbled and delighted all at the same time.

Which is a bit confusing.

The weekend, after starting slowly, really picked up on Sunday - we had some really good gamers in, who put on a great show for the grand final at the end of the day. I've got some pics I'll be uploading soon, so keep checking back.

We made over £1,000 which is wonderful, especially as we could only have 4 people playing at once. I had ideas to have 16 at one point, and realised that would have been rediculous - 4 is perfect.

Tickets are still on sale for the raffle of course, and you can get some by calling me, requesting them here or by some other electronic technologically fabulous way. Only £1 each - and you can win a framed A3 poster of Tiger Woods Golf signed by the great man himself - a framed Cricket 2005 sleeve signed by Michael Vaughan and a slim line PS2.

It's worth it - for the prizes, and for the cause we have all worked so hard to raise money for.

Microsoft have the winners addresses - they guarantee delivery by the end of Jan. Vouchers will be sent out by the end of Jan too to the runners up - Fearless - on both days.

We hope to do it again in the future - but bigger and better and we will raise even more money. Keep your eyes open.

For now, see you on Live - wyp100 - and I'll show why I wasn't allowed to enter!

Game tournament tsunami disaster appeal

The place: Vue Cinema Leicester Square
The cause: The millions of victims of the tsunami disaster
The time: Sat/Sun 8th/9th Jan 2005 9am to 5pm
The prize: consoles, games, mrchandise
The price: £3 to play - £1.50 to watch

Come down this weekend and play games on the big screen against the best the UK has to offer to raise money for the millions of victims of Boxing Day's tsunami. Those who have survived face the grief of the death of their loved ones, homelessness, starvation and disease. They need our help - now's your chance.

Any questions - post a comment and I'll get right back to you.

Menacing Mince Pie of Fatness (+7)

Christmas is over and I must have put on two stone.

Santy brought me Prince of Persia: Warrior Within. I haven't opened it yet.

Probably won't.

I have, however, delighted in downloading a name edit FAQ for Pro Evolution Soccer 4 from Gamefaqs.com and spent ten hours (I shit you not) yesterday making sure every transfer (including Tiago to Chelsea), stadium name, team name, player name, shirt number, name on shirt, commentary name and team selection was right.

All the while my uncle and aunt were downstairs getting ignored.

I loved every minute of it.

Playing an actual match at the end of it all was a bit of an anti-climax. So much so that I almost erased eveything on purpose so that I could do the whole damn thing again.

But I didn't.

Even I have a line - and I almost crossed it. Luckily, I stayed on the side of cool - clinging desperately to the ten hours my life will never have the opportunity to get back.

That's right . . . I said cool.

Ubisoft and rating 10

I'm 10 on Halo 2, which isn't important.

What is, is that Ubisoft sent me a lovely cocktail shaker.

It contails umbrella stick things as well.

Still can't believe EA own 20% of the damn thing - which means 20% of my lovely New Year cocktail will be EA'd.

I haven't got that kind of space, on account of the vodka and strawberry.

Damn EA. Not only do they take over every game publisher there is, but they are taking over my drinks as well.

I consider this very, very, hostile.

Now nine - later . . . fifteen

Seven seems like such a long time ago - a distant memory, filled with slow movement, poor weapon selection and general n00bish behaviour.

No longer - now that I am rated nine on Halo 2.

It hasn't taken too long either, which is good. What isn't is that I have now seen, and been on the receiving end of, people with a dirty, bulging 15 next to their obscure gamertag. These people are to be feared. When one appears at the top of the rating table for an eight player slayer rumble pit optimatch, it's probably best to accept defeat before the game has begun.

Bungie's rating system is a curious beast. They have detailed the workings on their website, but it's more complicated than finding your way around Future Publishing's hallowed walls. What is clear is that you get major points for finishing above people rated higher than you. Which is fair enough.

I managed to get to nine after a game stopped halfway through because of a loss of connection. My impatient opponents quit while I, clinging on to a faint hope, stayed. When it re-initialised, I automatically won, beating many with a higher rating than me who had pissed off.

Thanks guys.

It's fascinating to experience the various peaks and troughs of demand for the game. On a lazy Sunday afternoon, the game struggled to find me enough players for a rumble pit game. Obviously the entire world was reading The Mail on Sunday over a Sunday roast.

Try any evening during the week and it's busier than Meadowhall at Christmas. And full of American pre-pubescants who are better than me.

Bastards.

Nothing like the feeling post-game, when a balanced selection of players have fought to the bitter end though. I had a game recently on Ascension where I finished one kill behind the leader. Bottom place was two behind me. It was one of the most adrenaline pumping, life affirming ten minutes I've had with a joypad. Cries of 'good game' afterwards fill the soul with a sense of camaraderie you just don't get in single-player games.

It's what online gaming was invented for.

Tell you what though, 25's must play Halo 2 online like God would. I'd love to see them in action, and would probably keep crouching/standing in a vain attempt at showing some freakish respect.

And then die.

Pop goes the Street Fighter II competition

Last night's Joystick Junkies Christmas party was a joyous affair and, I'm pleased to say, devoid of the unholy pain in the ass that is networking.

I'm not saying it didn't go on - it damn well did - I'm just saying I didn't feel the need to take part, and instead concentrated on consuming alchohol. Whenever the first three drinks are free I'm bound to suffer a hangover of at least +7.

Overheard an interesting conversation while in the toilet though - talk of mags going under, two from the US and a couple here in good 'ol Blighty. Not really networking though - unless you count earwigging while relieving yourself of bodily fluid.

No, I don't either. And another thing - I refuse to give money to bog attendants, even really happy sociable ones. I'll even not wash my hands to avoid them.

Er . . . oh shit.

Chris was in great form. That's Chris Birch, founder of Joystick Junkies for all you media daahling newbies. Being a masked party as it were, he was oblidged to wear one. Not many people did - and those that did didn't make much of an effort either. The 'best mask' competition embarrassed me somewhat. I thought about coming in my Master Chief helmet. Glad I didn't. Would have shown everyone up.

Pop - the West End nightclub that seems to have become home to the pissed electronic entertainment gliterati of London - is a curious place. There is ample space for dancing, which many did, but it has a somewhat cheap plastic feel. When there is nowhere to sit, it's easy to feel isolated from the main throng, and the VIP area is dug in like an alabama tit. No roving reporter is gonna get a story from those hallowed walls.

Chris always brings in retro arcade flat tables to his parties - from Digital Tables. MAME and a few joysticks = wicked night out. Although there was less of a presence this month than the party in October.

Street Fighter II was of course the most popular among attendees. Now I consider myself something of an expert at the game, on account of winning my school championship back in the mid-90s, but playing upside down is a challenge for the best Japanese Zangief players, let alone my crude Western Guile button bashing.

Hold down, up and kick, oh shit, invert everything god damn it, invert!!!

Two guys button bashed on Street Fighter II so hard, they managed to exit to windows and lock themselves out of the game. Yes, that's right, they were locked in Windows. Windows XP as well. Much amusement trying to negotiate Mr Gates user friendly interface with a joystick and six buttons.

Never mind. Had a decent stab at Golden Axe with a mate as well, which was boring as hell. People still harbour love for these games, warped by a perverted sense of warm nostalgia. Somehow, they are better than what we have now. Bollocks.

Remember all those cartoons you used to love when you were a kid? Don't watch them again, they're shit; it'll ruin any memory you have of a fantastic childhood. It's the same for games.

Except Street Fighter II of course.

rating level 7 = crap

First off, I'm completely new to the whole online gaming thing.

Having just got broadband recently, and now having hooked up XBox Live, I can safely say Halo 2 online is one of the most refreshing experiences I've had infront of a small screen and a console. It is also my first online gaming experience ever.

Call myself a hardcore gamer - no wonder I didn't get that job at Games Master.

Playing with others online is so different - I know I'm a virgin, but I think what Bungie have done to make it welcoming is excellent - pairing players up with a similar rating for quick matches - and should be applauded. As a newbie, I was anxious about getting my arse kicked, not just with Halo 2, but with online gaming in general.

I don't, which is great. XBox Live has opened a whole new world of gaming to me, and I'm sure, a million other gamers across the globe who, like me, have previously only played multiplayer with Pro Evolutiion Soccer and a multitap, or Streetfighter II down the arcade.

Still feel as if I'm playing a hideously futile game of catchup, with online FPS gamers who have been doing this for years on the PC. They are just so fast.

I will probably never get to a level where I'm actually good, but that's not the point. I'll have an amazing time trying.

Have to beat seven though . . . somehow, must creep up to double figures . . .

Media Darling XMas Party

I'm suffering +9 of a hangover this morning, so please excuse any typos you might find in the vague recollections I have of last night. Unfortunately, I cannot find any blue health potions, and my health bar regeneration rate is suffering from something of a relapse.

I didn't know half as many people in the place as I should have, so I clung on to those I did, which was primarily TMOS Features guys. The buffet dinner was sumptious (I had a feta cheese bake think), complemented by constant canapes that sparked the tastebuds into life. The only think drowning the talk of some theatre production or latest celebrity stunt was the chink of champagne glasses . . .

Which made it all very boring. If there's one thing about parties thrown by members of the press, it's nothing like I would imagine a party thrown by a Future publishing mag. You can't relax. It's a networking opportunity. How could I relax with the editor, deputy editor, executive editor and deputy features editor within earshot?

These guys are proper heavies - so much so I often think they have their own gravitational pull. The way PRs and ambitious hack contacts get sucked towards them reminds me of the Enterprise and some electrical disturbance. It is a constant threat.

After the suitably minimalist bar in Kensington had its last breath sucked out, we advanced to a hotel until around three. I shared a cab with a Feat writer who told me to lighten up - as she did last year. And, like last year, she won't remember a word of it.

It's the only thing holding me back she said. Next interview at Future, I shall try and lighten up. I think I was a bit of an arsehole in the last one.

It's alive!

Amazing really, that I managed to get out of bed and do this.

The start of something beautiful.