doof doof doof doof doof
thish thish thish
doof doof
Check 1, 2... Check...
ffsssshhhhhhhhhh *a smoke machine belches out a thick cloud forming a near-opaque mist*
It’s that tingly few seconds after the last support act of the evening has wrapped up. The drumkit’s been replaced, but you can’t see it because of that curtain. Sure, you can hear the mammoth sound the drumkit makes during a simple soundcheck, but you can’t see a thing, save for a tiny bit of smoke slipping out from below the curtain. If the weight of expectation, impatience and curiosity could be transformed into a physical object, it would most likely bring the curtain down to the ground and with it, smash the stage in half. Which is fair, considering this is the first show of a whole new tour, in support of a whole new album.
“I hear they’ve changed the musical style completely,” you hear one voice pipe up. A deeper voice rebuffs, “Yeah, but it’s not all that drastic a change... I hear”. Hmmm... That’s neither here not there. “The band’s changed its ideology though for this album. They’re less shrill about their viewpoints and more refined when it comes to putting them across,” squeaks a little voice. Is that a good thing? If it ain’t broke, why fix it?
You ask yourself questions, knowing full well that you don’t have the answers. But the answers are only a matter of a few seconds away. “What have they changed for this tour? Have they changed costumes, stage placements or props? Are there some new band members? Has the old guard been replaced? Will they still do that extremely childish-but-fun thing where an effigy of some idiot is set aflame on stage at every show?” Each second drags on and on and on...
Until the curtain rises...
Pompous? Perhaps
Self-aggrandising? Slightly
Overly indulgent? Possibly
Typical View from Beneath? You betcha!
Welcome to VfB version 5.0. Or Vv5-... no wait a minute!! VvV, if you REALLY wanna be cool (that is frickin’ awesome, if I do say so myself — Ed). It’s the first design revamp in over two years and I think it’s pretty cool. How the content will differ after this four-month hiatus, remains to be seen. In fact, that’s for you, the VfB Massiv’ (formerly known simply as the VfBers) to tell me. And now, on with the show.
Given that there’s a glut of terribly bitter bile waiting to be spilled, let’s kick off this new era on a positive note. In the time since my last communiqué, I managed to acquire an absolute beast of a computer. *Leans forward and kisses the starship-looking mofo of a black and white CPU* Oh. A speck of dust. Best get rid of that. There we go. So as I was saying, I finally have a machine capable of playing every single PC game available today (not counting old ones with backward compatibility issues *sniff* Full Throttle) and I decided to make the most of playing a tonne of different games. FPS, RPG, RTS and all the other little abbreviations you can think of. I binged like there was no tomorrow.
But just like a womaniser, who after years and years of fucking all sorts of women gets that little moment of clarity, that epiphany if you will and goes back and knocks on the door of his one true love, I too had my epiphany. So the womaniser goes and knocks on his one true love’s door. Most often, she’ll let him in and agree to talk. Or they talk on the porch. It’s all good. Mushy shit follows and they end up in each others’ arms, slobbering all over the other and marvel at the fact that their bodies still fit so snugly together like jigsaw puzzle pieces.
And then there’s those times when the one true love introduces our womaniser to her husband, who introduces himself with a finger-crushing shake of the hand. Obviously, he has a solid well-paying job and no vices whatsoever, as our womaniser nervously thumbs the top of a hastily ripped open pack of cigarettes in his pocket. If that wasn’t a big enough kick in the crotch of our womaniser, this guy who just happens to be in good physical shape, is a devoted husband, a doting father and a generous and gentle lover (the womaniser can only assume). The best part comes when the one true love politely requests our womaniser to leave, because the family needs to pack and head to the airport as their perfect little child enters the room to politely say that he has completed his homework for the week and the next and then jumps into his father’s arms. The perfect husband and father has, after all, planned a vacation in Galapagos Islands. As you do.
In a related scenario, the womaniser knocks on the door and finds that his one true love is dead. Okay, that’s not quite as funny, but you get my point. Fortunately for me, my one true love was neither dead nor in the arms of some guy with a laptop who was going to take it the Galapagos Islands.
In fact, my one true love had gone and gotten herself an almost complete makeover. The proud owner of what can only be compared to a body sculpted by angels, one true love hadn’t lost a shred of the intelligence and wit that I’d fallen in love with so many summers ago. Gorgeous, smart as ever and so understanding (no backward compatibility issues here). Sigh. Thank you for coming back into my life, Monkey Island.
This series by the infinitely talented team at LucasArts, originally launched in 1990 (so you can imagine what the graphics must have been like). I played The Secret of Monkey Island at the start of 1999, if memory serves and I played the sequel soon after. I remember how I laughed at the dialogue and some of the inane things that happened. Even with those blocky as hell graphics, the changes of expression were noticeable and added so much (surprisingly) to the experience. The games and indeed the series, were essentially point ‘n’ click adventures. It was a crisp and compelling storyline laced with memorable characters that kids could get into, combined with the kind of wit and satire that would make adults chuckle, that made the Monkey Island franchise such a tour de force.
The series was responsible for getting me hooked onto other point ‘n’ click adventures and later, full-blown role playing games, where a story-driven narrative (as opposed to bang! bang! driven narrative) had me hooked. Kudos Bioware for Knights of the Old Republic (obviously), Mass Effect and the delectable Dragonage: Origins. These restored my faith in gaming in an age when (without a sliver of offence meant, I assure you) games like Manhunt, GTA: San Andreas, Bully, Rapelay (utterly disgusting concept) and their ilk were all out to garner controversy by alienating gamers rather than draw in new gamers and watch the community multiply.
Anyway, it all came back full circle when I got hold of the Special Editions of the two Monkey Island games I’d mentioned. Totally revamped graphics (with the option to switch back to the classic look at the touch of a single key) and smooth voice acting make it seem like a new game, but the humour and wit that drives the story forward is classic old-skool stuff. While I’m sure the idea that something related to Lucas was going to be involved in retouching up a classic (RE: All the belly-aching about Star Wars and Indiana Jones), must have sent alarm bells ringing across the world in the minds of all sorts of fanboys (big and small), it’s incredible that the game’s charm and beauty has been preserved, while dressing it up for the 21st Century.
Sigh.
Right, well, seeing as how I’ve just gone on and on and on with the good stuff, I’ll leave you to bask in the warm and tingly sentiment expressed so far. The unpleasantness shall commence in the next post.
(Note: To you lazy members of the VfB Massiv’ who seem content to read this stuff on Facebook, I urge you to actually see the new look VfB and tell me what you think.)
