Monday 24 September 2012

Turn, Turn, Turn

A late start, a long day and an overcast sky filled with rain found me walking home in a contemplative mood this evening.  Sodium lighting reflected off the rain slick street while traffic lights painted the pavement neon red and green and a cool, clean bite in the air nipped at my nose.  Autumn has arrived, furtively, like a thief stealing in the back door.

I love this time of year.  In truth, I love a lot of the year.  High summer evenings of endless light and deep midwinter mornings of hard packed frozen ground both make me smile quietly and step that little livelier.  But it is the cusps of the seasons that I really enjoy.  The first crocus flowering, a splash of colour amidst slumbering grass as winter gives way to spring.  That first, hot day of summer when you look up at the trees and realise that the world has gone green while your back was turned.  The first day when your breath prickles in your lungs as winter bites.

None of them, however, are as good as autumn.

Pick Me.
Maybe it's the brambles, dark and rich and as redolent of childhood as any madeleine.  Fleeting and free (both literally and metaphorically), I can't resist stopping and snaffling a few from any bush I pass.  I find it odd that other town dwellers don't do this.  (And I know I'm not the only one who wonders at this.)

Or maybe it's that other treasure of the autumn woods, the conker.  Is there anything better than the anticipation of splitting open that spiky shell, wondering if there will be that single, perfect nut within?

I always think this colour should be called pastel gold. 


Or perhaps it's neither of those.  Perhaps it's the long, sinuous light that spills across the countryside, turning straw into gold and painting the sky with pastel metals.

Or is it that autumn is a slightly bitter-sweet season?  A last hurrah before the quiescence of winter?  A sense of huddling up against the storms to come, of making good and mending before the chill seeps into our bones.  Of endings to come, as leaves turn and fall and the daylight shrinks away, ceding mastery of the world to the cold, sparkling night.

Maybe it's all of that, and more.  The smell of humus (one "m") as your feet crunch through fallen leaves.  The infuriating day when it is too hot in the sun and too cold in the shade.  The sudden downpour driven sideways by the wind.  Everything.

Hello, Autumn.  Welcome back.  I've missed you.

Thursday 13 September 2012

Normalising Single Parenthood From 3+

Or: I Totally Forgot About Postman Pat, Or: Well Done Cosgrove Hall.

After my epic whinge about Fireman Sam yesterday, my friend Vic pointed out that Jeff Pringle, the school teacher in Postman Pat, is a single dad looking after his son, Charlie.

Jeff Pringle
Charlie Pringle
And she's right.  I'd forgotten about Jeff and Charlie, as it's been ages since Alex watched Postman Pat.  (He liked it when he was about 2, but then moved on to Timmy Time then Fireman Sam.)  Vic did also say something about Charlie looking remarkably like another character in the show.  I just can't recall who...

Wednesday 12 September 2012

Socialising The Stigmatisation Of Single Parents From 3+

Or: I've Almost Certainly Thought Too Much About This But Dear God I've Watched This Episode Of Fireman Sam 20 Times And I'm Going Mental.

For the most part, the characters of Fireman Sam are pretty standard children's TV fare.  There's the dopey-but-likeable Elvis, the stuffy-but-likeable Officer Steele, the token-female-firefighter Penny, and, of course, our lantern jawed hero, Sam.
You could concuss a donkey with that chin.
The crew go around saving the various denizens of the not-in-the-least-bit-offensive-to-Welsh-people Pontypandy from differing degrees of peril, ranging from "mild" to "pretty much non-existent".  It's all very gentle and entertaining, in a brightly coloured, clearly designed to sell toys to three year olds kind of a way.  It's also very inclusive.  There's only around 15 - 20 people who live in Pontypandy (depending on the series you're watching) and at least 20% of them are from minority ethnic groups.  We've come a long way from the original Fireman Sam series, who's big concession to multiculturalism was an Italian woman called Bella Lasagne.

I wish I were making that up.

Sunday 2 September 2012

Fringe Frolics: part two

Just a sample of the tickets I collected over the last month.
So, the Fringe is well and truly behind us now.  A full week has passed since I've had to write a 120 word review of anything and it's about time I wrapped up my Fringe stats.  Now, I can't be bothered working out the coffee intake, or the junk food factor (let's just say both were WAAAAY too high), but I can tot up stars and shows easily enough.

Final Results
Shows seen: 45 (+2 I paid to see)
Mean number of shows per day reviewing: 3.75
Total stars awarded: 142
Hang-on-you-can't-take-a-mean-average-of-ordinal-data mean number of stars awarded per show: 3.1555...
Cumulative damage to faith in humanity (n of 1 star shows seen): 1
Cumulative faith in humanity restored (n of 5 star shows seen): 3 (we're in credit!)
Best Theatre: Solve.  An excellent little play of menace, guilt and warmth, brilliantly scripted and wonderfully acted.
Best Comedy: Jollyboat.  Pirate themed musical comedy.  So good I bought the merchandise.
Best Shakespeare: Othello: The Remix.  Othello, in rap.  Much, much better than it sounds.
Worst Shakespeare: A Midsummer Night's Dream (As You Like It).  An EIF production costing £24 a ticket and completely self-indulgent.  'Dream On', the entire cast of which had learning difficulties, was genuinely a better show.
Worst show: Poison.  Drugs are bad, mmm-kay?  Astonishingly heavy-handed and utterly banal.
Times Soaked: 5.  (After a bad start, August picked up somewhat.)
Times Sunburnt: 0.  (Just not that much.)
Stupidest Thing Done: Following The Noise Next Door around from 12:30am to 7:00am after a full day reviewing, when I then had shows to review at 11am.
Best Thing Done: Following The Noise Next Door around from 12:30am to 7:00am after a full day reviewing, when I then had shows to review at 11am.
Hours Slept on Tuesday 28th August (the day after the Fringe finished): 18.

See you next year!

Wednesday 22 August 2012

Unsolicited Fringe Advice

A ticket, apparently.
I'll provide an update to this year's Fringe stats at the weekend, but in the meantime, here's some unsolicited advice to acts and venues from one who has seen an awful lot of Fringe shows.

THEATRE COMPANIES

  • Cut, cut and cut again. If it's not vital to your message, it shouldn't be kept in. This is not just Fringe ADHD - although that's part of it - it's also a side effect of the venues. Chances are your audience will be hot and uncomfortable. Unless you've got an interval, I don't want to be trapped in the sweat boxes that are Fringe venues for more than an hour. Even with a break, seats tend towards the masochistically uncomfortable, so keep it as short as you can.
  • Work with your space and work your space. Fringe venues aren't theatres, unless you pay a lot of money, and they have issues. Chances are you won't know what those issues are until you get there, but once you're in situ, check them out. Scope out your audience's sight lines and adjust blocking and set as required. (An otherwise excellent show I saw recently would have been greatly improved by the simple addition of risers under the set's chairs, so the back row of the audience could see wat was going on.) Related to this, the Fringe is your best chance to go crazy with direction. Be inventive. Have your cast on stage to begin with, or use the cramped space to make the audience uncomfortable. You'll never get a license to be this creative anywhere else.
  • Pick the right play. Look, The Crucible is a good play, but it's one that demands range and gravitas. You need actors with CHOPS, damn it. You don't need a youth theatre. Or students. Pick something that works with the skills you've got. If your cast is a bit weak, do something with big, bright, easy to spot, and easy to differentiate, emotions. Not something doom laden and shouty.

STAND-UPS

  • Cut, cut and cut again. Have you written a gimmick to get you through your hour? Cut it, it almost certainly isn't as funny as you are normally. Doing your first fringe hour? Chances are you've only got 45 minutes of good stuff. On the Free Fringe? 30 minutes is quite enough. Get a mate and share the billing. All these apply to the big names as much as the little guys. An hour is a long time in comedy and it ALL has to be good stuff, not just most of it.
  • Don't be afraid to lose stuff. I've lost count of the number of times I've heard a comedian say "that's my favourite joke of the show, and I'm keeping it in even if it never works". If it doesn't work it has no place in your show. Full stop. It doesn't matter if you think it's brilliant. Your job is to make us laugh, it's not our job to find you funny.
  • If you're playing to ten people in a tiny room, saying "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage... ANDREW BELL!!!!!!" makes you sound like an egotistical prat (particularly as that's my name, not yours). Even if you ARE an egotistical prat, that's not a good start to a show. Do something different. Sneak out. Dance out. Just wonder on stage and say hello. You're not at Wembley, you're in a back room at the Tron. Live with it.
  • Funny songs need to have jokes in them. Being cleverly done is not enough.

VENUES

  • Stop trying so damn hard. Poker chips for tickets, themed bars, staff wearing "funny" t-shirts. I'd prefer it of you put this effort into slightly more comfortable seats, to be frank.
  • Allowing audiences to queue outside performance spaces then going "shhhhhhh!" at them is ineffective and makes you look like dickish librarians. Organise somewhere else for us to queue. Even if it's outside or a bit of a distance away, that's preferable to being harangued by someone with a t-shirt with a concussed cow on the front.
Thanks for listening.

Friday 10 August 2012

Festival Frolics

The lot of a Fringe reviewer is not a glamorous one.

Festival Frolics, week one


As I'm sure you'll have noticed from my Facebook stream, I'm reviewing Edinburgh Festival shows again for ThreeWeeks. If you haven't noticed this, how the hell did you end up on my blog?  As you might also have noticed, I've got a job interview for a statistics job coming up, so I thought I'd get back in practice by collating a few stats about my reviewing. And also have a whinge about the various trials and tribulations one faces as a reviewer.  Because, you know, everyone loves to hear how hard it is going to see loads of stuff for free, right? Right?

Sunday 05 Aug - Tuesday 07

Shows
Shows seen: 15
Total number of shows seen since start of Fringe: 15
Mean number of shows per day reviewing: 5
Total hours in shows (official timings): 15 hours 30 minutes
Total stars awarded: 46
Hang-on-you-can't-take-a-mean-average-of-ordinal-data mean number of stars awarded per show: 3.0666...
Cumulative damage to faith in humanity (n of 1 star shows seen): 0
Cumulative faith in humanity restored (n of 5 star shows seen): 1 (we're in credit!)
Best Theatre so far: The Dead Memory House (Summerhall, 3.00pm & 6.00pm, £10)
Best Comedy so far: Austentatious (the Counting House, 1.30pm, free)
Worst show so far: Luke And Harry's Dot Dot Dot (Just The Tonic at the Caves, 2.00pm, £8)

Life
A truly terrible ploughman's lunch, courtesy of the Tron.
Damage to waistline: Sunday - one fried breakfast, one slice Spanish omelette, one muffin, one steak pie, one cherry pie.  (Ouch.)  Monday - one scone and jam, one grilled chicken sandwich, one light dinner at JRB's, one piece of carrot cake.  (Much better.) Tuesday - one scone and jam, the world's worst ploughman's lunch, one ice-cream cone (double, with flake), dinner at home. (Not too bad.)
Caffeine comsumed (EEUs*): 17.
Mean caffeine  consumed per day (EEUs): 5.666...
Miles walked (via Google maps): 9.9
Times soaked since start of Fringe: 4.
Times sunburnt - hey, it could happen! - since start of Fringe: 0

*EEUs, or Espresso Equivalent Units, are a handy measure of caffine that I just made up where one espresso or one can of fizzy pop = one EEU and one large espresso based coffee (e.g. a cappucino) or one 500ml bottle of fizzy pop = two EEUs. Only caffeine consumed in direct service of reviewing is counted. (i.e. Caffeine at home doesn't count.)

Thursday 28 June 2012

Dragon's of Amalur: Dogma-ing (part one)

So, I note that a recent post said I'd try and write more.  I also note that I had to dust off my keyboard before settling down to write this.  Hmm.  3/10 Bell, must try harder.  Anyway, moving on.

A Tale of Two RPGs


Left: Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning  Right: Dragon's Dogma
It's a good time to be a fan of open world RPGs.  Last winter we had the all conquering Skyrim, spring gave us the cumbersomely titled and ill-fated Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning from Big Huge Games while just this month Capcom have weighed in with Dragon's Dogma.  All three are worth a play, but the latter two are what I'm going to talk about here because they are remarkably similar, completely different and, ultimately, not quite successful, for me at least.

Monday 30 April 2012

Day One DLC

Mass Effect 3

Before the Great Ending Fiasco of 2012, there was another issue that roused the passions of the Internet (not hard) in relation to ME3.  That issue was Javik, the glowing eyed woodlouse kinden to the right (bonus points if you get that reference).  For those that don't know, Javik represents a piece of day one DLC.  If you bought the Collector's Edition of ME3, he came as part of the game.  If you only bought the standard version, Javik and his related mission would set you back an additional $10 (or there abouts).  And the fans went wild, just not in a good way.

Before we get into why Javik (and day one DLC in general) isn't actually a bad thing as far as I'm concerned, let's be clear about what we're talking about.  We're not talking about "Project $10", despite the annoyingly similar price tag.  Project $10 is something that you only get if you buy a game new and, usually, represents some aspect of functionality that has been intentionally crippled and must be restored.  ME3 actually has this, in the form of the "Online Pass".  Project $10 is a bad idea for many reasons.  It's also not what we're talking about.  Day one DLC is some addition to a game that is available for purchase from the start.  It's an expansion pack, only released when the game is brand spanking new.  Not having Javik doesn't impair my ability to play ME3, in the same way that not having the River expansion doesn't limit you from playing the orginal Carcassone.  (Which you should totally do, by the way.)  He's an extra.  A bit of fluff for those willing to shell out.  He's the blackend soul of the games industry and represents everything that is wrong with the world.

The thing is, because it is available from the start, from the moment the game hits the shelves, there is a feeling that day one DLC represents a piece of the game you've paid for already.  You shelled out £40, damn it, don't you deserve the whole game?  Well, yes, but who's to say what the whole game is?  Mass Effect 3 is easily 20 hours long.  That's no Skyrim or Kingdoms of Amalur, but it's about 2.5 cover based shooters.  (Three, if you're using Gears of War 3 as your measuring stick.)  That's a goodly amount of game.  £2 per hour, if you play through it only once.  Isn't that good value?  Is it somehow incomplete?  Are we somehow entitled to get everythinga games company does just because we bought the game?

I would have thought the answer was pretty obviously "no", but geekdom is nothing if not prone to a sense of misplaced entitlement.  Bioware cheated us out of a bit of ME3.  Stephen Moffat denied us our god given right to a full season of Dr Who.  George Lucas betrayed his fans and deserves to be forced to the Phantom Menace on endless loop until he weeps for mercy.  (Well, ok, maybe that's a little too forgiving.  Let's make it just the bits with Anakin and Jar-Jar.)  But the truth is we're not entitled to any of these things, just as we're not entitled to a decent ending to ME3, or anything else beyond what we paid for.  (Which is, let's remember, simply the opportunity to shoot imaginary men in the face with imaginary magic power IN SPAAAAAAAAAAACE!  It's hardly world peace.)  Despite this, people get all het up about day one DLC, as if it's the worst thing since International Rugby Challenge.  (And if you get that reference too, you're obviously Douglas Aiton.)

It's not though.  It's just an expansion pack.  Buy it or don't.  It's your call.  Just don't try and claim that you're entitled to it.

Saturday 21 April 2012

Back In The Saddle

So, life's been a bit shit of late and I've not written anything in ages.  Then, last week, I heard (of all things) Alistair Campbell's Diaries on Radio 4 where he said "the only way to survive depression is to try and get something good from it".  Not exactly earth shatteringly profound, but it kind of struck a chord.  I've ended up with more free time than before and I might as well make use of it.  I've got a project in mind, but I'm also going to try and make time to post more often here too.  That said, a week later and I still hadn't actually written anything when this article in the Herald caught my eye:

Male, Pale and Stale (hat-tip to the Alternative Celt for first bringing it to my attention).

Go read it.  It's... perfectly competant journalism, which is about as much as one can hope for these days.  I'll wait...

[Muzak plays.  It's probably The Girl From Ipanema, but you can't be sure.]

Back?  Good.  I wonder if anyone else noticed the thing that annoys me?  I'll give you a clue, it's in paragraph 11.  Anything?  More specifically, it's the first line.  In fact, it's
"Ms Kenny and Ms Mackay claim the success..."
 Still wondering what the hell I'm harping on about?  Ms Kenny and Ms Mackay.  These are two Ph.D holding professionals.  We know they have Ph.Ds because the Herald told us so in the fourth paragrpah when it refered to them as Dr.  Why the hell have they been stripped of their titles?  I've never seen this happen to a male academic.  You don't suddenly become "Mr" after the first use of "Dr".  I don't think I've ever seen it happen to women either before now, come to think of it.

So what's going on?  There are two reasons I can think of for using Ms here.  One is that, for some bizarre reason, this was the stated preference of Drs Kenny and Mackay.  It is possible.  People do odd things, after all.  The other is that the Herald feels that Kenny and Mackay's gender is more relevant to their findings than their qualifications.  "Look," it seems to say, "it's no wonder they think more women should be in power, they're women!  And bless their little cotton socks, they're using that delightful 'Ms' title, as if they have a value beyond their marital status!  Aww, they probably think they're feminists, too!"

The strangest thing about all this is that the article as a whole is very friendly to Dr Kenny and Dr Mackay's points.  There are quotes from a sympathetic female local councillor.  There is pretty in-depth coverage of the research (by newspaper standards).  There's not even a dissenting voice.  So why this underhanded demotion?  Is it a bitter sub taking a stab at women?  Someone higher up who doesn't like the agenda but can't swing the Herald away from the (generally) feminist left?  Or is the whole piece just a re-written press release and some tired journo didn't think about what the change implied?

Damned if I know.  Still, it got me writing again, so I guess that's something.

Next time: back to wittering about video games in a fashion no-one cares about!

Friday 6 January 2012

On Your Marks, Get Set, Batman!

One of the things I learnt during my confusingly longer than three weeks stint at ThreeWeeks was that if you want to write for a living, you have to actually write stuff.  It doesn't matter what (well, obviously it does, but not as much as you might think) or where, just write, damn it.  So that's what this blog is: a disjointed mess of personal thoughts, complaints, musings on video games, pictures of Alex and anything else that comes to hand and/or mind.  Not all of it will appeal to everyone - hell, I'd be a touch surprised if any of it appealed to anyone - but let's just see how it goes.  And I promise to actually keep it up this time.  (Said the vicar to the nun.)  With that said, let's dive straight in with a bit of video game criticism.

Batmam: Arkham City