You just got served. And pwnd.
Mrsslippy has gone to work for the night which means I am at a loose end, and lacking in adult supervision.
After sitting through the first half hour of Hellboy II, I decided that I was a wee bit restless, and needed some erstwhile stimulation.
Lurking by the TV is a copy of Dance Dance Revolution - a still boxed present for Mrsslippys birthday that we have yet to plug into the Wii.
Knowing her impatience with instruction manuals, I decided the gentlemanly thing to do would be to open it up 'just to check it works', and see how to navigate through the menus and suchlike.
Purely in the cause of scientific research of checking how sensitive the dance mat is, I thought it sensible to 'have a little dance'.
I'm pretty 'down with the kids', so dressed in true urban streetwise style of my shirt from work and just my pants, I took to the dance floor!
As N E fule no I am renowned world over for my shapes, and have won many a dance off, so it should be easy to recognise what I am dancing to.
So go on - can you tell? First correct answer get a private dance, just for them. I may even tape it so you can watch it again and again and again....
Showing posts with label game. Show all posts
Showing posts with label game. Show all posts
22 July 2009
22 June 2009
I see lead people....
I saw a glimpse of my past today. I ghost of my adolescence.
A phantom. Dead flesh and empty eye sockets glimpsed out the corner of my eye.
And about 4cm tall....
Mrsslippy has just booked us a lovely cottage in Cornwall for a week in September. I've not been that way since I was 3 years old (apparently), and it'll make a nice change from the usual yearly jaunt to The Lake District.
Excited about the prospect of visiting somewhere new, I skipped out of work early to nip into town and buy some OS maps and guide books. Given my new found enthusiasm for walking everywhere, I took a leisurely stroll into town, taking time to soak up the surroundings that usually fly straight past me in the car.
I was ambling down Regent Street when I saw it. I knew the shop was there, but was always in a vehicle. I tried to walk past without a second look, but was hypnotically drawn to the window display.....
Citadel Miniatures.
Or as the Cringleford Lads would say, 'Toy Soldiers'.
Exquisitely painted little figurines from the Games Workshop range of fantasy role playing games.
From the Tolkienesque/Dungeons and Dragons style orcs and goblins, to the full on sci-fi Space Marines of Warhammer 40,000, I used to love that shit.
I wasn't a gamer, I'm not that geeky, but I loved to paint those little things. It sort of started out of necessity....ie I needed a job.
Unable to pay for the fortnightly trip to Carrow Road, and general day to day expenses of a boy growing up on my pitiful paperboy's wages, I had to get a Saturday job.
There was a games shop in town that specialised in board games (not toys!), and as we've always been a bit of a cards and board games kind of family, it seemed like a cool place to apply.
They took me on, and I discovered that there were many more games than just Chess, Triv and Scrabble. There were dozens of D&D style roleplaying games, and the ones from Games Workshop had little lead miniatures to play them with. We also sold the paints, and the brushes - the whole kit and caboodle.
There was (and still is) a magazine called White Dwarf that was packed full of pictures of readers paint jobs, and I just had to try....
As it turned out, I was pretty good, and found that there was a ready market for pre painted figures for the younger kids that came in. The owner of the shop used to have us split the multipacks of figures, so they could be sold individually to kids who couldn't afford £2.99 for three. But he'd have us sell them for £1.20 each to allow for the fact that there would be some single figures that nobody would want.
Lying cock.
It was just a way of fleecing the kids, just like a bent newsagent selling a single ciggy and a match for 20p (but probably more these days).
As a way of redressing the balance, I had no qualms about lifting the stray figure, painting it in the shop while it was quiet, and selling it for my own gains. He still made more than enough from the split packets, and given that he took 20% commission on figures painted by others and sold in his shop, I could leave a few there at the end of the working day, and come back to the shop the following week to find them sold. He got the same as he would have got if we'd sold it unpainted, and I got a nice little supplement to my meagre wages.
Perversely, I now had enough money to go to the football every week, but not the free time...
Thank god I discovered that it was pretty easy to get served alcohol at the age of 15, or I'd have nothing to look forward to an a Saturday (or Tuesday) anymore. The friends that mocked me for painting also mocked my involvement in Venture Scouts, but Scouts with cars (who took it in turns - so no designated driver night for me.), genuine ID's, and a knowledge of all the decent taverns in Norwich was a happy part of my growing up.
So I wandered into Games Workshop this afternoon, and looked at the wares on display. All nostalgic for a youth spent fiddling the boss, or sitting in my bedroom with paint and brushes everywhere.
I had a habit of sucking the tip of the paint brush to get a fine tip on it, and after an hours painting would end up with a some kind of weird emo stripey acrylic lip gloss.
Or sitting on my bed all hunched over with my legs stretched out in such a fashion that I'd cut off the blood supply, and would only notice when I went to stand up and both legs would give way, leaving me laying prostate, frantically trying to rub away the pins and needles that had taken hold of both legs, right to the top of my thighs.
Happy days......
But it appears the figures are now made of some type of plastic, and lack the comforting weight of the old metal ones.
What's more they're around £8 for a single figure! Or you can buy a box of 10 build 'em yourself Space Marines for £20. I remember when you could get 30 plastic ones for a tenner, but they were just for pikey cheapskates. They had to be metal!
And the paint that used to -'ahem'- cost me a quid is now in a pot half the size and twice the price. I'm definitely best out of it, and happy to report I left the shop empty handed.
Because if at the age of 15, painting toy soldiers got me involved in petty theft and underage drinking, if I did it today I doubt I'd get away with anything less than gun crime and a nasty crack habit.
A phantom. Dead flesh and empty eye sockets glimpsed out the corner of my eye.
And about 4cm tall....
Mrsslippy has just booked us a lovely cottage in Cornwall for a week in September. I've not been that way since I was 3 years old (apparently), and it'll make a nice change from the usual yearly jaunt to The Lake District.
Excited about the prospect of visiting somewhere new, I skipped out of work early to nip into town and buy some OS maps and guide books. Given my new found enthusiasm for walking everywhere, I took a leisurely stroll into town, taking time to soak up the surroundings that usually fly straight past me in the car.
I was ambling down Regent Street when I saw it. I knew the shop was there, but was always in a vehicle. I tried to walk past without a second look, but was hypnotically drawn to the window display.....
Citadel Miniatures.
Or as the Cringleford Lads would say, 'Toy Soldiers'.
Exquisitely painted little figurines from the Games Workshop range of fantasy role playing games.
From the Tolkienesque/Dungeons and Dragons style orcs and goblins, to the full on sci-fi Space Marines of Warhammer 40,000, I used to love that shit.
I wasn't a gamer, I'm not that geeky, but I loved to paint those little things. It sort of started out of necessity....ie I needed a job.
Unable to pay for the fortnightly trip to Carrow Road, and general day to day expenses of a boy growing up on my pitiful paperboy's wages, I had to get a Saturday job.
There was a games shop in town that specialised in board games (not toys!), and as we've always been a bit of a cards and board games kind of family, it seemed like a cool place to apply.
They took me on, and I discovered that there were many more games than just Chess, Triv and Scrabble. There were dozens of D&D style roleplaying games, and the ones from Games Workshop had little lead miniatures to play them with. We also sold the paints, and the brushes - the whole kit and caboodle.
There was (and still is) a magazine called White Dwarf that was packed full of pictures of readers paint jobs, and I just had to try....
As it turned out, I was pretty good, and found that there was a ready market for pre painted figures for the younger kids that came in. The owner of the shop used to have us split the multipacks of figures, so they could be sold individually to kids who couldn't afford £2.99 for three. But he'd have us sell them for £1.20 each to allow for the fact that there would be some single figures that nobody would want.
Lying cock.
It was just a way of fleecing the kids, just like a bent newsagent selling a single ciggy and a match for 20p (but probably more these days).
As a way of redressing the balance, I had no qualms about lifting the stray figure, painting it in the shop while it was quiet, and selling it for my own gains. He still made more than enough from the split packets, and given that he took 20% commission on figures painted by others and sold in his shop, I could leave a few there at the end of the working day, and come back to the shop the following week to find them sold. He got the same as he would have got if we'd sold it unpainted, and I got a nice little supplement to my meagre wages.
Perversely, I now had enough money to go to the football every week, but not the free time...
Thank god I discovered that it was pretty easy to get served alcohol at the age of 15, or I'd have nothing to look forward to an a Saturday (or Tuesday) anymore. The friends that mocked me for painting also mocked my involvement in Venture Scouts, but Scouts with cars (who took it in turns - so no designated driver night for me.), genuine ID's, and a knowledge of all the decent taverns in Norwich was a happy part of my growing up.
So I wandered into Games Workshop this afternoon, and looked at the wares on display. All nostalgic for a youth spent fiddling the boss, or sitting in my bedroom with paint and brushes everywhere.
I had a habit of sucking the tip of the paint brush to get a fine tip on it, and after an hours painting would end up with a some kind of weird emo stripey acrylic lip gloss.
Or sitting on my bed all hunched over with my legs stretched out in such a fashion that I'd cut off the blood supply, and would only notice when I went to stand up and both legs would give way, leaving me laying prostate, frantically trying to rub away the pins and needles that had taken hold of both legs, right to the top of my thighs.
Happy days......
But it appears the figures are now made of some type of plastic, and lack the comforting weight of the old metal ones.
What's more they're around £8 for a single figure! Or you can buy a box of 10 build 'em yourself Space Marines for £20. I remember when you could get 30 plastic ones for a tenner, but they were just for pikey cheapskates. They had to be metal!
And the paint that used to -'ahem'- cost me a quid is now in a pot half the size and twice the price. I'm definitely best out of it, and happy to report I left the shop empty handed.
Because if at the age of 15, painting toy soldiers got me involved in petty theft and underage drinking, if I did it today I doubt I'd get away with anything less than gun crime and a nasty crack habit.
19 February 2009
Woes of Warcraft
I read somewhere today that World of Warcraft is the largest MMORPG in the world with over 12million monthly subscribers, but don't count me.
No sir.
I'm clean.
I won't touch it.
Dirty habit.
But it wasn't always so........
For those who have never played it, don't, for those that do - you can quit. I've been there, and it was hard, but it can be done.
I stumbled upon WOW a few years ago after reading an article on BBC online, and the inner geek in me that used to paint Games Workshop figurines thought 'Yeah, that looks sort of fun. If I'm at a loose end of an evening I could probably immerse myself in that.'
But I didn't so much immerse myself as strap on a scuba tank, drysuit, as many lead weights as I could attach to my body, and allow myself to be dragged to the bottomless fathoms of the sea that separates the mighty continents of Kalimdor and Eastern Kingdoms.
I've never been the type of gamer that seeks the adrenaline of racing or sports sims - far too much concentration involved, but here was a game where I could just pootle about, and it didn't matter if my Avatar just sat on his arse for 10 minutes while I smoked a tab, or went searching in the kitchen for more wine.
I started as an Orc (always the bad guys for me), and as I got familiar with the geography, and the easiest ways to level up, started again with a few different characters. Each had different trades, and before long I had my own little cottage industry with avatars making and sending bits of kit to each other to further each other in the game.
But all this was starting to take it's toll on my ability to function as a human being. If mrsslippy was on a night shift, I could start playing as she left, but still finishing off that last piece of a quest, or the last few k of XP to level up at 4 in the morning, with my own shift starting at 7am. I was in trouble, but neither knew nor care.
Who among you has ever really wasted a day....... and I mean really wasted.
And of your own volition?
A day sleeping is not wasted - for you probably needed it, and have recharged your batteries. A day watching shite on telly is not a waste, for you may have found some simple pleasure or entertainment in your viewing choice.
But have you ever spent 6 solid hours wandering around a virtual field (just outside Booty Bay for those of a curious disposition) killing virtual countless gorillas so you can;
I mean, don't get me wrong, Staanglethorn Vale in general is a great place for a skinner, so it's virtual quids in, but levelling from 40-45 is a grind, and that's exactly what it's called. Grinding.
Those who are familiar with the excellent South Park parody will have seen the boys grinding boars in Tirisfal Glades so they could level up enough to beat the guy who was killing everybody. It can't be done, you'd need to move to a new location every few levels where the beasts gave you a slight challenge, but in principle it's spot on. You don't sleep, you don't see anyone, you eat crap, and eventually you're tough enough to do the quest in hand....until the next one.
But you needn't do it alone! That's the whole fun of it surely? With all those other players you can find like minded souls to assist you in your quests so you wouldn't have to grind! I did con one friend into buying it (sorry Bellus- you're probably Level 80 now), but mostly I played alone.
'What's the point of a multiplayer game that you play alone?' I hear you cry. Well I'll tell you, everyone else that plays WOW, and I mean everyone, is a cock. They have nothing better to do with their lives than to play online dressing up. Not me though. I was still very much living in the real world.
Maybe cock is a bit harsh, but players tend to fall into two camps;
I can cope with a dressing down at work if I know I've done something that has let people down, and the consequences are severe, but to be ripped apart by a 13 year old from Sweden because you healed yourself rather than him (if I'd died they'd have summoned me back, but without him, no summon for anyone etc....) is a bit lame. And you can guarantee that before you get to the bit of the Dungeon with the Quest you need, he's got what he came for, and his mum makes him log off to do his homework.
But I was hooked. And it's the worst addiction in the world. You know there's no physical dependency, but when you get in, the first thing you want to do is log in and get questing. Ten more minutes turn into 5 more hours, and you're days off turn into a Lost Weekend in neither Manhattan nor Amsterdam. Empty wine bottles and crisp packets on the coffee table and overflowing ashtrays. Scattered crumbs and ash making the laptop keys crunchy and unresponsive.......
My lucky break came just over a year ago when my laptop and Credit Card died at roughly the same time. After a day of reloading software onto a new laptop, I decided to leave the WOW discs on the shelf, and have a few days off.
When the Credit Card expired later that month, I had still not loaded the game, and was suddenly aware (following an email from Blizzard) that my DD subscription was no longer going through.
'Perfect' thought I. 'It truly is a sign I should stop'.
And stop I did.
For 6 months.
Another email from Blizzard informed me that as I had not used my account for 6 months my characters would be deleted!
Oh noes!
All that virtual gold and virtual treasure in my virtual Bank! All those hours played will have been wasted and wiped away. There was only one thing for it - I would have to load the software, pay for a months subscription and play for a few minutes, just to keep my virtual characters virtually alive!
So that's what I did. I'd broken the habit, and been sucked back in with an 'it will all have been for nothing' suggestion.
Now at the moment I'm trying, and succeeding at giving up smoking. If I had one now I know how dirty and disappointed with myself I would be, and that's exactly how I felt.
I unloaded the software, and vowed never to reload it. Those hours were already wasted. Nothing could bring them back, and shelling out for another months subscription would not be honouring their memory, it would be shitting on it.
Another 6 months down the line, and another email from Blizzard. The discs are still in their box.
So please be upstanding and raise your glasses to the memories of Garomero, Muftak, Porkins, Markkymoo, Maxi et al. Brave soldiers who stole over 1,500 hours of my adult life. Taken from their virtual lives, to virtual death.
Slippymark has not played World of Warcraft for 7 months. He has not had a cigarette for 8 weeks.
No sir.
I'm clean.
I won't touch it.
Dirty habit.
But it wasn't always so........
For those who have never played it, don't, for those that do - you can quit. I've been there, and it was hard, but it can be done.
I stumbled upon WOW a few years ago after reading an article on BBC online, and the inner geek in me that used to paint Games Workshop figurines thought 'Yeah, that looks sort of fun. If I'm at a loose end of an evening I could probably immerse myself in that.'
But I didn't so much immerse myself as strap on a scuba tank, drysuit, as many lead weights as I could attach to my body, and allow myself to be dragged to the bottomless fathoms of the sea that separates the mighty continents of Kalimdor and Eastern Kingdoms.
I've never been the type of gamer that seeks the adrenaline of racing or sports sims - far too much concentration involved, but here was a game where I could just pootle about, and it didn't matter if my Avatar just sat on his arse for 10 minutes while I smoked a tab, or went searching in the kitchen for more wine.
I started as an Orc (always the bad guys for me), and as I got familiar with the geography, and the easiest ways to level up, started again with a few different characters. Each had different trades, and before long I had my own little cottage industry with avatars making and sending bits of kit to each other to further each other in the game.
But all this was starting to take it's toll on my ability to function as a human being. If mrsslippy was on a night shift, I could start playing as she left, but still finishing off that last piece of a quest, or the last few k of XP to level up at 4 in the morning, with my own shift starting at 7am. I was in trouble, but neither knew nor care.
Who among you has ever really wasted a day....... and I mean really wasted.
And of your own volition?
A day sleeping is not wasted - for you probably needed it, and have recharged your batteries. A day watching shite on telly is not a waste, for you may have found some simple pleasure or entertainment in your viewing choice.
But have you ever spent 6 solid hours wandering around a virtual field (just outside Booty Bay for those of a curious disposition) killing virtual countless gorillas so you can;
- skin them for virtual leather to make a nice virtual jacket to give to your virtual alter ego
- sell the rest of the virtual leather for virtual gold to buy a nice virtual sword for yourself
- Level yourself up from 40-41
I mean, don't get me wrong, Staanglethorn Vale in general is a great place for a skinner, so it's virtual quids in, but levelling from 40-45 is a grind, and that's exactly what it's called. Grinding.
Those who are familiar with the excellent South Park parody will have seen the boys grinding boars in Tirisfal Glades so they could level up enough to beat the guy who was killing everybody. It can't be done, you'd need to move to a new location every few levels where the beasts gave you a slight challenge, but in principle it's spot on. You don't sleep, you don't see anyone, you eat crap, and eventually you're tough enough to do the quest in hand....until the next one.
But you needn't do it alone! That's the whole fun of it surely? With all those other players you can find like minded souls to assist you in your quests so you wouldn't have to grind! I did con one friend into buying it (sorry Bellus- you're probably Level 80 now), but mostly I played alone.
'What's the point of a multiplayer game that you play alone?' I hear you cry. Well I'll tell you, everyone else that plays WOW, and I mean everyone, is a cock. They have nothing better to do with their lives than to play online dressing up. Not me though. I was still very much living in the real world.
Maybe cock is a bit harsh, but players tend to fall into two camps;
- Those who are experienced who 't1p3 n teh l337', and generally shout at you for aggroing/not aggroing, using wrong attacks etc
- Those who are not experienced who act as magnets to any prowling mob (monster/enemy), and who pick fights with everyone assuming you will save them.
I can cope with a dressing down at work if I know I've done something that has let people down, and the consequences are severe, but to be ripped apart by a 13 year old from Sweden because you healed yourself rather than him (if I'd died they'd have summoned me back, but without him, no summon for anyone etc....) is a bit lame. And you can guarantee that before you get to the bit of the Dungeon with the Quest you need, he's got what he came for, and his mum makes him log off to do his homework.
But I was hooked. And it's the worst addiction in the world. You know there's no physical dependency, but when you get in, the first thing you want to do is log in and get questing. Ten more minutes turn into 5 more hours, and you're days off turn into a Lost Weekend in neither Manhattan nor Amsterdam. Empty wine bottles and crisp packets on the coffee table and overflowing ashtrays. Scattered crumbs and ash making the laptop keys crunchy and unresponsive.......
My lucky break came just over a year ago when my laptop and Credit Card died at roughly the same time. After a day of reloading software onto a new laptop, I decided to leave the WOW discs on the shelf, and have a few days off.
When the Credit Card expired later that month, I had still not loaded the game, and was suddenly aware (following an email from Blizzard) that my DD subscription was no longer going through.
'Perfect' thought I. 'It truly is a sign I should stop'.
And stop I did.
For 6 months.
Another email from Blizzard informed me that as I had not used my account for 6 months my characters would be deleted!
Oh noes!
All that virtual gold and virtual treasure in my virtual Bank! All those hours played will have been wasted and wiped away. There was only one thing for it - I would have to load the software, pay for a months subscription and play for a few minutes, just to keep my virtual characters virtually alive!
So that's what I did. I'd broken the habit, and been sucked back in with an 'it will all have been for nothing' suggestion.
Now at the moment I'm trying, and succeeding at giving up smoking. If I had one now I know how dirty and disappointed with myself I would be, and that's exactly how I felt.
I unloaded the software, and vowed never to reload it. Those hours were already wasted. Nothing could bring them back, and shelling out for another months subscription would not be honouring their memory, it would be shitting on it.
Another 6 months down the line, and another email from Blizzard. The discs are still in their box.
So please be upstanding and raise your glasses to the memories of Garomero, Muftak, Porkins, Markkymoo, Maxi et al. Brave soldiers who stole over 1,500 hours of my adult life. Taken from their virtual lives, to virtual death.
Slippymark has not played World of Warcraft for 7 months. He has not had a cigarette for 8 weeks.
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