Okay I’m not going to try and sugar-coat this shit, but I
will at least say that there was beer involved and a fair amount of Youtube
crawling. As I meandered through my extensive list of favourites, my face
pallid and oily in the eerie blue light of my laptop, all the while leeching
off some poor saps unsecured network, I was struck down by a gut-wrenching
burst of nostalgia. Reminiscence and beer, that’s my story, and I’m going to stick to
it, especially seeing as after five years as a reformed man, I was once again stealing someone else’s
precious internet bandwidth. I won’t burden you with my petty excuses but let’s
just say this unpleasant business was proving to be a necessary evil, in the
face of the sheer congestion being caused by too many computers and far too
many avid online enthusiasts back at my flat. On second thoughts, nostalgia may not be the
right term of endearment in this scenario. Maybe I meant stupid. Actually that
has a nice ring to it. Fucking stupid - that’s going to be my leading line in every future article which at any point involves someone managing to go out of
their way to disable their wireless password. Herp derp derp.
So beer,
stupidity and traces of maudlin conspired to get me reflecting about the year just
gone. Being the terminal nerd that I am, I managed to punctuate the long
periods of student stress and bone-idleness with a few mentionable gaming
moments. So here they are, well some of them at least, in no particular order
of appearance. Sure it’s over four months into the new year and I’ve
theoretically missed the boat on any 2012 summary articles, but maybe I’ve just
been too busy enjoying myself to waste all that energy on agonising over the
last twelve months of my sorry existence. Or perhaps I’ve just been using too
much of my neighbours bandwidth. Somebody really needs to let their ISP know…
1. Two Weeks of War
.jpg) |
| I was strangely unsettled by some of the images I found after Googling "caveman"... |
A story should always start at the beginning and back in the
early reaches of January 2012; I came sauntering through the door of my new
flat, only to be confronted by the unfortunate revelations that my new home had
desolately cold wooden flooring and I was meant to have organised the internet
plan. As the house was only going to be occupied by a few of the future tenants
over the course of first month, I had only really succeeded in inconveniencing
myself and my good friend Rory. What followed next was a brutal fourteen days
that served mainly to remind us of how little we appreciated something until it
was suddenly gone. In an attempt to stave off the pangs of our various online
addictions, we binged on Archer and Adventure Time, trawled through a shared
archive of obscure manga, and stoically prepared for frostbitten toes by
shopping for cheap yet tasteful slippers.
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| A symbolic representation of me dismembering Rory's hopes and dreams |
Our LAN and console options were
disgustingly underwhelming up until the day when I noticed a Dawn of War game
box laying dust-covered and forgotten on Rory’s Anime shelf. Somewhere in
amidst the next forty minutes of strategic discussion, Space Marine impressions
and a mutual loathing directed towards The Imperial Guard, nostalgia turned
into bragging before finally souring into the sort of dick measuring contest
which would inevitably culminate in an official challenge. Plenty of DirectX
errors and CD swapping later, and my filthy Necron warrior rush was joyfully
ransacking Rory’s horribly unprepared Tau base. Such a momentous occasion
certainly deserved some form of pomp and ceremony, I settled for recording our
match history on the kitchen notice board. In stubborn denial of the fact that
my master’s league StarCraft 2 division probably suggested an inherent RTS
prowess, Rory pummelled me with Dawn of War challenges. Over two blood-thirsty
weeks we traded in Eldar blood and armoured wreckage. Beer rounds and household
chores were decided in misty Ork infested swamplands and shattered Necron
ruins, and I capered around the flat like a tyrannical lord.
When our internet
was finally enabled, Rory uninstalled Warhammer and Frisbeed the discs under
his bed. The score stood at 14 – 1. That one loss haunts me to this very day.
In a moment of strategic madness, I launched an Orkish assault across a river
against Rory’s heavily fortified Space Marine defence. It was like a horrible
green and guttural parody of The Charge of the Light Brigade. Turns out that
bastard had a hankering for some pretty expensive whiskey the very same night…
2. Brown Souls
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| Try and say that name 3 times in a row with a mouthful of crunchy peanut butter. |
Brown Souls is the razor-sharp nickname that my friend Casey
and I use when referring to Dark Souls. If you haven’t had the pleasure of
being put through that meat grinder, then you’re missing out. Dark Souls is an
RPG released in 2011 and developed by Bandai, the same twisted company that was
responsible for the creation of Demon’s Souls. Dark Souls is famous for its
beautiful visuals and bleak storyline. It’s also notorious for having the sort
of learning “curve” that makes descending Everest seem like a drunken stumble
off your back porch. The dungeon crawling will wear through the fabric on the
edge of your seat, the enemies will have you necking pure ethanol out of the
bathroom cabinet and the boss battles will undoubtedly be your failed defence when you’re dragged in front of a judge for your umpteenth charge of domestic
abuse.
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| Stomping the yard |
I first played Dark Souls back in the summer of 2011 when Bethesda made
a dogs breakfast of patching Skyrim on the PS3. I’d like to say it was love at
first play, but they don’t call me “Honest Jim” solely because my intimidating
physical stature demands a prestigious moniker. Truth be told, I fucking hated
it. I was stuck in the second area for the better part of two days and I came
within a hairs-breadth of throwing in the towel. Dying and having all of the
enemies respawn truly is a devilishly unforgiving feature, and the undisputed
bane of hack-and-slash progress. What was this brutal combat style that
required me to think and dodge and time all of my attacks with absolute
precision? “Surely I can pause and plan my next move then? What?! No pause?!!
You expect me to make all of those clutch calls in real-time?! Did I mention
that this boss is at least three hundred feet tall?!!! No breaks? No breaks…”
So I manned up and stepped up, thanks in no small part to many hours spent trawling
the Dark Souls Wiki. I fell in love with the beautiful and diverse
environments, the grim setting and the enormous sense of achievement that I
would feel after having overcome each neck-craning hurdle. It must be noted
however, that I played the entire game offline so it wasn’t until almost a year
later that I experienced the blessings and the curse of Dark Souls online
features.
That’s where Casey comes in. He’d tried Dark Souls and it had broken
his spirit. On a miserable winter night, he and I made the sleep-deprived
decision to try and attempt a play-through of Dark Souls in tandem. Hilarity
ensued. Sure the bosses became easier, and if not, then our mistakes became
comedic gold. Dungeon crawling transformed into a slap-stick fiasco as we steam
rolled our way through each area, living in fear of every Black Knight
encounter or the dreaded Curse Toads. Had the unthinkable just occurred? Was
Dark Souls actually easy?! Not a fucking chance. We were simply experiencing
the calm before the proverbial storm. Two swords or in this case – two
Pyromancy Flames – must always be better than one, but while we had doubled our
efficiency when it came to dungeon crawling, another more insidious threat had
increased exponentially. Basically we’d packed the PvE, but we’d left the PvP
home alone, and this time McCauly was Asian, in his mid twenties, running low
on cheeto’s and just generally pissed off.
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| Keep those prunes to yourself, that name is laxative enough... |
Through the use of certain magical
items, Dark Souls allows malicious gamers to invade the game world of other
less spiteful players. And invade they did. What Dark Souls now lacked in
creature-intimidation, it more than made up for in relentless human ambushes.
Casey and I were sorely, grossly, horribly outclassed when it came to PvP. Our
items were a lot crappier, our skill sets were dreadfully inappropriate and we
just generally sucked when it came to duelling other players. We were cattle,
just waiting to be farmed for our humanity, and subsequently our progress
ground to a halt. We found two areas to be of particular concern – The
Catacombs and Blight (Brown) Town. Both of these areas are tailor-made for
guerrilla warfare, due to the tiered level design and the limited amount of
places for which Casey and I could retreat too. It would only be a matter of
time before we saw the malevolent red glow of an invading spirit swarming
towards the precarious ledge upon which we were foolishly trying to make our
last stand. Brown Souls was back, and with a vengeance. All the lip-chewing,
hair-raising, pants-BROWNING tension had returned in droves. Now if I still
need to explain the staggering wit behind our nickname then frankly, I’ve
failed miserably in life, and I’m off to buy another pack of adult diapers.
3. League of lagers
At least I can say that I tried to put up a fight. For weeks
moving into months, I stubbornly remained loyal to StarCraft 2 despite the mass
exodus of people I knew who were jumping the fence to frolic in greener
pastures. The Battlenet became an even lonelier place, those cold metallic menu
screens seeming to highlight the desolate “0” that hovered above my friends
list. I consigned myself to a solitary existence of grinding my way up the 1v1
ladder, just as the isolation ground away at my soul. It was only a matter of
time before I eventually caved under the badgering pressure of my friends and
flatmates, but while it may have been time to move house, I had packed nothing
but scepticism and sour grapes.
 | |
|
Well father fuck me. Over a year has passed and
I’m man enough to admit that I was wrong. League of Legends is an excellent
MOBA game. The different champions are fun and diverse, the items are relatively
balanced and the strategic gameplay has been well developed to promote and
reward effective team-based tactics. Okay fair enough, I’ll get my nose out of
Riot’s ass. Some of the champions are pretty underpowered or situational, such
as Heimerdinger – a squat little afro-haired mechanic, who specializes in
throwing spanners and peppering the ground in automated turrets. Other
characters like Darius – an axe wielding death machine with a permanent scowl,
most likely due to his rapidly receding hairline – are horrendously powerful
and downright game-breaking if played right. The LoL Meta-game also dictates a very
rigid team composition and any deviation from the recommended strategic line-up
of Tanks, DPS carries and junglers will usually result in a guaranteed defeat,
assuming you’re matched against a team of reasonably similar skill. But therein
lies the greatest problem.
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| An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind... |
LoL is to date, a staggeringly popular game with an
enormously active player base. Unfortunately, and I’m going to be as blunt as
possible here, a depressingly large chunk of that player base is made up of
Grade- A assholes. In this case, the definition of asshole can be used to
encompass any number of negative gaming traits. Seriously, this shit is next
level - Trolls, flamers, racists, alleged rapists and a staggering number of
people who claim to have slept with my mother. By all accounts, the lovely Mrs
MacTaggart has really done the rounds… I’ve lost track of the amount of
keyboards that I’ve left broken and stamped with an imprint of my groaning
face. This game really does bring out the worst in people. Everyone’s an
expert, or a critic or an ignorant idiot who thinks it’s a stellar idea to try
and jungle Kassadin. Okay, maybe not everyone. Maybe not even the majority, but
I’ve still had more than enough bad experiences to convince me that LoL has the
worst online gaming community that I’ve ever climbed through my bedroom window
to find banging my girlfriend/sister/mum/dad… yep… even my dad.
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| Bad taste... |
I will
grudgingly admit that it kind of makes sense though. This isn’t an FPS team
deathmatch where one prodigal player can potentially carry the entire the team,
this is an un-oiled machine attempting to grind away on five chipped, rusty and
different shaped cogs. LoL demands a basic level of cohesion. Failing that, or
at least appearing to be the reason that others are failing, will usually earn
you the ire of your teammates and the mockery of your opponents. And damn it
sucks having up to nine people haranguing you while you try to play. Seriously,
there’s only so much abuse that your online anonymity can buffer you from
before you just stop enjoying yourself.
One clever blogger might even compare the experience to a night out on the town, where it takes a fair alcoholic basting before I’m socially lubricated enough to Parkinson’s my way around a dance floor. Well that was easy enough then. Introduce a dash of liqueur and some suitably harsh consequences for any game related screw-ups and the rest of the hilarity pretty much writes itself. Predictably enough, the screw ups and hilarity would increase at an exponential rate as more chemical debauchery took place, which was all well and good as long as we kept reminding ourselves that it was the social sauce responsible for the match history plastered with 1 kill – 12 death, jungle Yi games… League of lagers was like an oasis for five parched, jaded and disillusioned men. An oasis admittedly consisting of bad ideas, terrible plays and even worse dubstep. All of that aside, lagers came at an important junction in all of our LoL playing hobbies, breathing interest, laughter and fun back into a game that we sorely wanted to love playing, but we just couldn’t for the life of us remember the fuck how to do that.
One clever blogger might even compare the experience to a night out on the town, where it takes a fair alcoholic basting before I’m socially lubricated enough to Parkinson’s my way around a dance floor. Well that was easy enough then. Introduce a dash of liqueur and some suitably harsh consequences for any game related screw-ups and the rest of the hilarity pretty much writes itself. Predictably enough, the screw ups and hilarity would increase at an exponential rate as more chemical debauchery took place, which was all well and good as long as we kept reminding ourselves that it was the social sauce responsible for the match history plastered with 1 kill – 12 death, jungle Yi games… League of lagers was like an oasis for five parched, jaded and disillusioned men. An oasis admittedly consisting of bad ideas, terrible plays and even worse dubstep. All of that aside, lagers came at an important junction in all of our LoL playing hobbies, breathing interest, laughter and fun back into a game that we sorely wanted to love playing, but we just couldn’t for the life of us remember the fuck how to do that.
