It’s a title that needs to be pronounced in slow, gravely tones, like the sound of a gravestone being dragged across shattered bones. Feeeeeaaaaaarrrr…
But you can’t say it like that; note the full stops. F.E.A.R actually stands for First Encounter Assault Recon, which is apparently a branch of the
Oh.
Zuma is a game by PopCap, and that should really tell you all you need to know. It’s neatly presented and brightly coloured, the gameplay mechanics are simple and repetitive, and it’s addictive to the order of making Colombian drug warlords slap their own foreheads and say “Oh, of course!”. It is available over Steam individually for a few invisi-dollars, or as part of a PopCap Favorites (sic) combo pack for slightly more invisi-dollars but you also get Peggle, Bookworm Adventures and Bejewelled, as well as something called Insanaquarium, which isn’t very good.
But: Zuma. It works a bit like this. A stream of brightly coloured balls rolls slowly down a winding trough towards a hole, and if the balls ever reach the hole then all the balls fall down the hole and it’s game over oh noes except you have three lives. In order to prevent this calamity you, as an immobile stone frog apparently on a Lazy Susan or something, must fire more balls at the ones already in the trough. In true puzzle game style, getting three or more balls of the same colour in the row causes them to disappear for some reason and we can all agree that’s basically a good thing and we can get on with our lives.
So here it is. World of Warcraft is the best worst single-player MMO you’ll ever pay money to not play.
I’m quite pleased with that.
The slate sky threatened the coastal path with a glowering promise of rain as the old man made his way slowly towards the headland. A sharp and mean breeze whipped at the folds of his grey robe as if the elements themselves had taken it upon themselves to torment him.
‘What’s that fucker doing here!’
‘hehehehe’
‘Im going to mow him down. Splatter his pea brain all over my wind shield.’
‘LMAO. Ooooo baby you talk sa tough.’
‘Don?t y& know it bitc# &’
Lol
WTF I haven?t seen him for months =-9uhnm,;?
57ooooot ./.,ml;hgfgd
I eyed the client across my desk. She was an unremarkable AV.
‘Is that it? Is that all?’
(more…)
“I wanna show you what I’m capable of…” The vocal almost drowned by the complaining whine of tired servo-assisted couplings, but I make myself focus on the sound of the snare. Repetitious tsk tsk tsk tsk, letting the beat sink into me, tapping my response in the combat command panel. The bass kicks in and it’s all I can do to resist the urge to dance in my control harness. My mech is nimbler than most, but sixty tonnes of nuclear powered combat machine does not throw shapes with alacrity.
We are at war with Carthage again, you say? I am old, so the war does not concern me, except that I hope it will remain distant and food will be on our tables. You tell me soon you will set sail to Tartessos to burn it. Your leaving does concern me. I hope you will return, alive and sound of limb. Your father was my friend and I see much of your father in you.
On the outer edge of the universe, beyond the fly zone from the centre, all alone and in private, Rover had established his experiment. He sat in a large cocoon shaped chair, suspended in a translucent bubble, many kilometres above the island, overlooking its rampant growth. It was where he went to meditate. Every now and again words would whisper from his lips in broken sentences as he argued with himself and reasoned his next move. It had been many years since he had completed his civilisation. It had been more than satisfactory. Not only was it aesthetically exceptional, but it was also self-sustaining. He adored the architecture, which was wholly unique and utterly surprising. It adhered to organic principles of design, yet was obviously man made and purposeful. He looked upon his works and they were good.
I hadn’t noticed just how long I stood there, but as I stirred from my thoughts, I realised that some time had passed. The amber glow of the falling sun shone through the dull high windows, casting shadows upon the dusty academic tomes. My choice to return to the sanctum of the library was perhaps too soon, but I need the distraction, if only momentarily. I had returned to work, despite the concerns, to this the twilight shift and it suited my mood.
Standing, out, into the bedroom. And opening a drawer where men’s clothes lay neatly folded. A reflection in the window, on the other side a fine snow is beginning to fall. Underneath a pile of jumpers there is an envelope with six old photographs locked away inside. Take the envelope, close the drawer, and leave the bedroom, and close the door. Back into the kitchen. The photographs in their envelope are placed underneath the letter. A sigh shakes through the air.
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