First we has the NES Classic Mini, or didn’t, because Nintendo only made 8 of them.
Then we had the SNES Classic Mini, the first Mini version with games that weren’t just fondly remembered trash.
The wisdom of the idiotic crowds at Neogaf suggest that next up is N64 Classic Mini, but this ignores the fact that Nintendo is going to balk at the minor cost of adding a couple of those N64 pads and a more powerful ARM chip and exploit something else first.
So next will be the Gameboy Classic Mini, which will finally mean we have a GB with a decent screen and a huge battery life. If this was Sony, they’d throw in an OLED screen, but Nintendo’s solipsism will take over and they’ll cheap out and it’ll be LCD with dead pixels instead. Hell, they’ll probably even take the opportunity to reduce the flash storage to save .5p per unit. You might get a bluetooth audio connection.
After that we’ll get the Gameboy Advance Mini, then the N64, followed by the Gamecube, because technology advancement is the one of many things in life that gets better with every passing year.
Sony meanwhile is readying there own version of PS1 Classic Mini, but is having a hard time mimicking the texture warping in software, for all the multitudinous millions who are too lazy to set up Retropie.
So for posterity, here is the timeline:
2016 – NES Classic Mini
2017 – SNES Classic Mini
2018? – Game Boy Classic Mini
2019?- Game Boy Advance Classic Mini/ Playstation 1 Classic Mini
2020? – N64 Classic Mini
2021? – Gamecube Classic Mini/ Playstation 2 Classic Mini
Lawrence of Arabia is widely regarded as one of the greatest films ever made and has no women speaking in it. Coincidence? I don’t think so.
So it was brave of the new Star Trek Discovery to have the 2nd scene be the preposterous idea of two women*, talking to each other, about something other than a man. I realise its set in a make believe science fiction far future, but something a little less far fetched wouldn’t have gone amiss. I can only suspend disbelief so far.
On the plus side, the fashion for draining all the colour from the picture has been cast aside, and a gorgeous riot of colour assaulted my eyes. It might be the best looking TV show ever, even more so than The Forms of Things Unknown.
I was hugely entertained by the entire show. It had lots of explosions, no one did anything idiotic and my attention was rapt. Unlike the other recent superb Trek series The Orville, thanks to it being on Netflix, I can legitimately review this one without it being obvious I pirated it.
*although one of them is called Michael, which I can only assume got mixed up with
Believing in a god is a stretch at best for any critical thinker or person indoctrinated by Monty Python films.
You are told the god is perfect, you are told you are made in gods image, but the way your back has been playing up and your increasing need for opiates makes you wonder if this is entirely true.
A slightly better approach to entice the brain dead to hand over cash to these immoral, free loading, tax dodging churches would be to take a more believable approach.
Say your god is a bit touched, downsy perhaps, a god starved of oxygen at birth. Admit he couldn’t get a consistent version of the gospels written down, and that the problem of knees was a bit too much to sort, that he accidentally picked a paedo and a hippy magician as two of his prophets. He has alot going on, but overall, he is doing a pretty good job right? He has been busy ensuring no killer asteroids hit us after he accidentally shattered a few planets on the celestial floor when he was drunkenly making this solar system.
A less outlandish claim is a more realistic claim, and it might stop a few crises of faith caused by watching all those people die from malaria when you remember your priest saying He misjudged by thinking the immense amount of satisfaction gained from people slapping a mosquito on their arm was probably going to outweigh the sweaty headache deaths of millions.
My brain is tired, don’t abuse my attention with this nonsense.
Whilst taking these photos I was approached by a member of staff asking if they could help me with anything. I asked if they had a soup section. This being Greece, they barely understand the concept of tins. She wandered off to ask a chum, the answer came back no. So if ever you are asked WTF you are doing taking photos somewhere, pretend to be looking for tinned soups, because apparently that allays all suspicion.
Also, this doesn’t seem like a great idea either:
I consider myself reasonably handy with computers, but I refuse to waste another 10 mins of my life trying to convince WordPress to obey the exif rotation data.
Bastion – 7/10
Good game, pretentious story.
Papo and Yo – 6/10
Technically both impressive and a chugging, tearing mess (PS3).
Bordering on pretentious, but never oversteps the line.
Short and sweet.
From the credits it looks like it was funded by taxpayer money in part. Never a good idea, so a point off for that.
Dear Esther – 5/10
Pretentious. Caves were pretty. Music was nice.
Thomas was alone – 5/10
Half the puzzles are decent.
Everyone’s Gone to the Rapture – 2/10
And they probably went so they didn’t have to play this game.
There has been been some debate as to whether this is actually a “game”, it is, it’s just a shitty one.
Aesthetically, apart from a choppy framerate when the pretentious lights engine kicks in, this game has clearly had huge amounts of effort expended on it. It looks incredible.
According to my spies inside the Bohemian labour camp where this was made, the devs conversation went like this:
“OK, so we spent millions creating this great looking game, but our playtesters just aren’t giving us enough credit that our huge egos crave”
“True. Let’s force them to truly appreciate it by making objectives unclear, giving them directions similar to those of a Chinese local unwilling to lose face, and making the players movement speed that of a pavement hugging old man when you are trying to catch a train. This will force them to wander around slowly taking in the financial beauty of our creation”
“Brilliant. Anything else we need to do?”
“Might as well make the credits unskippable whilst we are at it”
And thus what may have been an enjoyable experience is turned into a trudge through molasses and 1970’s quicksand.