The Tandy Man Can

I’d heard a lot of good things about Che, but had never been able to get around to picking up a copy. Thankfully the good folks at the Cardiff library had the first hardback collection available, so I was able to jump into this weird story and find out what all the fuss is about.

Philadelphia cop Tony Chu has a special talent; as one of only three cibopaths in the world Tony is able to obtain psychic information simply from taking a bite out something, be that an apple, a hamburger or a murder suspect. In a world where bird flu has led to a ban on chicken, and a black market for poultry attracts the deadliest kinds of criminal, this sort of talent can come in handy and Tony is headhunted by the Special Crimes Division of the FDA, where he soon discovers a world of international conspiracies, vampires and strange looking fruits with a very familiar taste. Volume one of Chew: The Omnivore Edition collects the first 10 issues of Chew and plenty of bonus artwork and interviews with writer John Layman.

A surreal crime procedural as told through the drug addled mind of a food fanatic, Chew is a series that is difficult to nail down into a particular genre. There are some dark themes on display (cannibalism, international conspiracy) but when the narrative is placed through such a bizarre filter it’s easy to forget the levity of some of the subject matter. Unfortunately, however, the humour on display is more titter than guffaw, with very few moments raising more than a wry smile, and given the exaggerated, hyperactive tone that Layman has aimed for with this book the absence of moments of true hilarity is keenly felt. This problem is especially noticeable when comparing the book to something like the underrated Skullkickers, a comic that does this combination of violence and comedy so well.

The overall story arc of this book moves at a rate of knots, with some storylines only lasting a single issue, and while this frantic progression does suit the tone of the book it means you very rarely have a chance to get to know the characters in any great depth. This isn’t helped by the fact that many of the more interesting characters disappear or are killed off within a couple of ‘issues’, leaving us seeing the world through the fairly dull eyes of detective Chu. Although Tony is clearly written as the straight man, a springboard for the more eccentric characters that inhabit this world, it’s worrying when a comic goes through its first two story arcs without the lead character ever becoming much more than a reactionary body.     

While there may be a few issues with Chew’s story, the same cannot be said for the artwork. Rob Guillory’s kinetic, exaggerated art style perfectly matches the tone of the story, and there are certain panels that are genuinely beautiful to look at. Every character feels unique to the world, and the action sequences are vibrant without ever being over the top. Some have stated that the art style is a little too mainstream to be considered truly unique, but in reality there are enough quality panels on display that this will only bother the art snobs.  

Credit should go to Layman for having created a world rich with story potential, and for having the conviction to try and bring something different to the somewhat stale world of crime and police procedural comics. But while it does a lot right, and is certainly worth a look, Chew ultimately feels like it’s trying just a little too hard to impress.   

I’ve been a fan of David Moody since his superb alien invasion story Trust, so it was a treat to be able to pick up another one of his books for this challenge. I was blown away by the story telling abilities, and I’ve already added his Autumn trilogy to my travel book list for the honeymoon in a few week’s time.

The sun appears to be dying, and with it the planet, but for Steven Johnston this is only a secondary concern. When tragedy strikes Steven and his wife Sam he begins to withdraw from the woman he loves, pushing her away until she eventually leaves him. But as the mercury begins to rise and society descends into panic and chaos Steve realises that he may only have hours left to see her for one final time, and so begins a dangerous cross country race against the clock where every second counts and tomorrow will be too late.

Having made his name with such great post apocalyptic stories as Trust and the Autumn series, David Moody has gone full circle with his latest book; originally published in 1996, Straight to You has been rewritten by Moody to bring it up to the standard of his other works. And while certain elements may have been changed, Moody’s trademark brutality and bleak realism are present and correct; beginning with an event guaranteed to pull at the heartstrings, STY is a love story with a black and burnt heart that cleverly combines a frighteningly realistic and believable end of days with a simple tale of love and hope. Although a simple and regrettably brief book, the pace and nature of the story will keep you turning the pages with regularity.

Oddly enough for a post apocalyptic horror, the characters of STY are all fully formed and believable, and even the minor characters come across as well rounded human beings. Stephen and Sam’s relationship, and its subsequent disintegration, feels natural, and every action and reaction matches what the majority of us would do in a similar situation. While the fact that the approaching apocalypse is basically background noise for the first two thirds of the book may not be to everyone’s taste this plotting decision works in the book’s favour, as by the time the true horror kicks in you are already invested in Steve and the other characters. Every moment of peril is magnified, every tiny achievement feels that much more satisfying; you aren’t just dealing with 2D stereotypes, these are real people and, in many ways, mirrors of ourselves.

Perhaps the thing that STY does best is present a true picture of a post apocalypse. Hollywood has filled us with ideas of happy endings and last minute solutions, but Moody strips away all the pretence and bullshit to give you the harsh reality of things. In this world, there are no chiselled heroes or genius scientists coming in to save the day; when it happens, the world will be filled with people just like you. Scared, alone and clueless, the problems they had before the sun fell out of the sky still as omnipresent and consuming as before, and it’s only when the end is very nigh that they let go of the petty issues that we allow to dominate our everyday lives. As things get worse, Steven sheds more and more of the items that he once considered important when he set out. His laptop, his car and his personal documents are all discarded as he realises that the most important thing, the only thing, he needs in his life is Sam. These little moments of characterisation add a searing level of familiarity to the whole story, and by the time you’ve turned the final page you won’t be planning your escape route from zombies or preparing an escape rucksack. You’ll simply be reaching out for your loved ones and holding them as tightly as you can.

Straight to You is, to paraphrase a cliché, a book of two halves. On the one hand it’s a tale of two people trying to find one another, proof that your world doesn’t stop turning just because it is ending. But on the other hand, you come away with the uncomfortable feeling that, when the end comes, there will be no last minute reprieve. Throwing these elements together, Moody has created a classic.

After a little blip I’m hoping to get the reviews back on track with this look at Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie. This is the first of my ‘recommended’ reads, courtesy of EXP Games News podcast co-host Dave Prowse, and while I can see why he enjoyed it so much I just couldn’t get along with it.

Many years in the future a race known as the Radch rules over the galaxy with an iron fist. Under the command of Lord Anaander Mianaai, the Radch’s military might is greatly enhanced by ancillaries, AI controlled corpses attached to a specific warship that seemingly follow orders without question. But when an act of high treason causes the destruction of flagship the Justice of Torren, the ship’s AI escapes within one solitary ancillary and flees into the black. Twenty years later the unit now known as Breq begins to execute the final phases of her plan for revenge, a plan started two decades prior when she was the unwilling pawn in a plot that could unravel the very fabric of her civilisation.

If this book were scored on the last 3rd alone it would easily warrant a 4 ½ or even a 5, but unfortunately it may be that many readers will have abandoned Ancillary Justice long before the story becomes entertaining. Opening with two co-existing storylines is always a bit of a gamble for a standalone book, and when combined with the multiple POVs of several versions of the lead character it can often feel like a slog to make it through a single chapter.  The story itself is incredibly simple, and requires some Herculean logic leaps in order to get it its conclusion, but what makes the story more engaging is the world in which it takes place. Leckie has created a rich universe where every aspect of civilised life has been accounted for, giving the reader the impression of a living and breathing environment. However there are sections when it feels as if scene setting has been shoehorned in merely for the sake of including it, which in turn slows the pace of the story way down.

There’s a similar sense of overkill with the main themes of the book; philosophy, specifically consciousness and the definition of self, class and feminism are all topics that feature heavily in the book, but while they are well handled and integrated into the story a more focus approached would have made the story much more readable. In particular, Lekie’s decision to create a world where gender definitions do not follow our conventional thinking, while being a brave move, can cause the reader to lose the thread of the slightly stilted dialogue exchanges on particularly conversation heavy pages. The characters themselves are, for the most part, a forgettable bunch with little depth given to them beyond their function to the narrative. Lead Breq is sympathetic (for reasons that will become apparent as the story progresses) but at the same time it’s difficult to feel empathy for the character, especially when some of her decisions are so puzzling for a supposedly genius artificial intelligence. Of the rest only Lieutenant  Awn, Breq’s favourite officer back when she was a ship, offers any substance or interest, with the remaining characters a collection of one notes and standard Sci-Fi fillers.  

Once you get into the final third of Ancillary Justice the story begins to pick up, but the preceding 250 pages will feel like an endurance test at times. Fans of this style of Sci-Fi will likely be in their element, but the more casual space fan should probably approach with caution. 

Someone mentioned to me earlier tonight that I had not put up my weekly book review as per my stated rule for the 52 week, 52 book challenge, so I thought I should pop a quick post up to explain why.

I've had to make a slight modification to the rules for two reasons:

1. I have been very busy with EXP stuff and wedding planning over the past couple of weeks, so I haven't been able to read as much as I would like.

2. The book I had picked to read is proving to be a real slog. It's taking a huge amonut of effort to force my way through it, but I've already lost so much time that I dare not drop it and start another one.

Welcome to episode 1 of the EXP Games News podcast! Our hosts, Ryan Tandy, Chris Jones and Dave Prowse talk videogame news, releases and mercilessly tease ea...

I loved The Long Halloween the first time I read it, especially Tim Sale’s artwork. Some would say that this follow up pales in comparison to that classic, but I enjoyed it immensely.

Following on from the events of The Long Halloween, where the Batman and Jim Gordon managed to catch to stop the murderous serial killer Holiday at the expense of their friend Harvey Dent, Dark Victory sees us in a Gotham City that has slowly escaped the thrall of organised crime only to be besieged by costumed super villains. The remaining mafia family battle these ‘freaks’ for control of the city while Batman and Commissioner Gordon do their best to stem the tide. But when another killer who calls himself the Hang Man begins taking out members of the Gotham police force, Batman must try and figure out the killer’s identity before more people die.

Before beginning, it should be noted that anyone wanting to read this book is advised to pick up The Long Halloween first; Jeph Loeb does a decent job of clarifying the events of the previous story, but for anyone who has not read the first of the Loeb/Sale collaborations will not enjoy Dark Victory as much as someone who has.

That being said, there is nothing to stop anyone from enjoying this great example of a Batman story. Loeb has once again taken the best elements from the Batman universe and crafted them into a classic detective story, dripping with intrigue and red herrings. Multiple suspects are hinted at, with method and motive all present and correct, and even if the final reveal is a little hackneyed and convenient the overall story sits comfortably alongside the other great Dark Knight tales. It could be argued that the basic story is very similar to Long Halloween, following the same progression and even featuring a similar villain, but that same statement could be made about countless other franchises, and it shouldn’t cloud the reader’s enjoyment here.

But the hunt for the Hang Man is only one part of the narrative here, with the other main focus given over to Batman and his insistence on working alone. This may have been a well tapped source of inspiration over the years, but Loeb does an excellent job of delving deeper into the causes of this isolation, much of which is self inflicted. Batman is portrayed as a man haunted by those he could not save, and his determination to not put anyone else in the firing line means his self inflicted loneliness bites extra hard. Not that Loeb allows Bruce Wayne to wallow, as the introduction of an orphaned Dick Grayson into his life shows that suffering a great personal tragedy does not necessarily turn an individual inward. While many consider this to be Robin’s origin story it is difficult to believe that when he features so little, although this version of his arrival and eventual transformation into Batman’s ward is an excellent take on the start of their relationship, with little time spent rehashing old ground already familiar to many.

But as good as Loeb’s script is it pales in comparison to Tim Sale’s superb artwork. Arguably the most underappreciated artist to ever illustrate a Batman story, Sale’s dark, shadowy version of Gotham City perfectly matches the noir style story. Sale’s take on many of the iconic villains have a rough, nightmarish quality to them, making the contrast between them and the old school mafia families even more pronounced. This style won’t be to everyone’s taste (with Sale’s version of The Joker particularly polarising), but Sale’s own take on this world should be applauded.

While the narrative may feel familiar to long time Batman fans, Loeb and Sale manage to keep Dark Victory feeling fresh. Combining a solid detective story with a look at the beginnings of one of the classic comic partnerships, this book should be recommended reading for any Dark Knight fan.

Having purchased this book about three years ago I’m amazed it’s taken me so long to get around to reading it. The Silence of the Lambs is in my top five books of all time, and Red Dragon isn’t far behind. Harris has such a gift for language that all his books are a delight to read, even if Hannibal did drag a little at times.

Before the dragons and the silence, Hannibal Lecter was a privileged young boy trying to evade the invading Nazis with the rest of his family in 1940s Lithuania. But when the unspeakable happens in the depths of winter he is left as the last of his line and sent to live with his mysterious aunt, Lady Murasaki. Traumatised by the death of his sister at the hands of a group of vicious deserters, Hannibal’s ascension into high society and learning is mirrored by the growing darkness inside. And when he begins to track down those responsible for his pain, we see the first shoots of the monster he will eventually become.

The fourth in the series of books featuring modern literature’s greatest villain, Hannibal Rising has many of the trademarks that made The Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon such hits. At his best Harris is a master of tone, his words lulling you into his trademark contrast of nightmarish brutality and beauty; he never wastes a sentence, and yet delights in using evocative language to draw the reader in. Unfortunately, while the prose is excellent, the story is often disjointed. The majority of the characters feel underdeveloped, mere pawns to drive Hannibal’s story forward, and there are several inconsistencies in Hannibal’s early years that will jar stalwart fans of this series. There are flashes of the genius that helped Harris make his name, but whole sections fall flat more often than not and after a promising and atmospheric opening the story becomes a generic revenge story. No the plus side, Harris manages to maintain an unsettling air for the majority of the book even if the more unsettling elements are not as directly referenced or discussed for the majority of the story (perhaps a conscious effort to represent Hannibal’s last elements of humanity) as in previous books.

Maybe the biggest problem of the book is the lead character; Hannibal is so fundamentally different to the charming sociopath we have grown to love in the previous three novels. Of course this is to be expected, given we are seeing him through his early years and adolescence, but it doesn’t change the fact that we are presented with a very different side to the character. Just as the Star Wars prequels destroyed much of the mystique around Darth Vader, this book does the same to Hannibal Lecter. Going back to The Silence of the Lambs, it’s very hard to feel the same shiver in your spine as Hannibal the Cannibal dispatches two guards before removing one’s face when you know this is the same person who once childishly and jealously bickered with a policeman over the affections of his aunt. The character also suffers from a lack of worthy adversary, with Inspector Popil portrayed as nothing more than a plodding flat foot, whose dark past is only hinted at, and Vladis Grutas little more than a thug with aspirations of high society. Lacking a Clarice Starling or Will Graham to verbally joust with, Hannibal ends up coming off as more of a petulant schoolboy than a demented but insightful genius.

Harris already subtly touched on Lecter’s past in Hannibal, revealing just enough about events that made him into the monster while keeping the character’s sense of mystique.  Hannibal Rising, while an admirable attempt to fully explain these dark origins, falters at some vital turns and leaves you, not with a sense of fulfilment, but a nagging feeling of loss; proof perhaps that this character is better as a demon in the shadows than the main focus of the story.  

First graphic novel of the challenge, and a book I’ve wanted to read for many years. After finishing it, the only question I could ask myself was ‘how the hell did it take you so long to pick this up?’ One of the best books I’ve read in the past couple of years and another example that, when they get it right, graphic novels can be held up against any great literary work; a superb book and the worthy winner of the first 5 out of 5 of the challenge.

Containing both Maus I: A Survivor's Tale andMaus II: And Here My Troubles Begin, The Complete Mausrecounts the tale of Vladek Spiegelman, a holocaust survivor relaying his experiences of surviving as a Jew under the regime of the Nazi party to his son, Art. Interspersed with Art’s recollections of his father’s final years and his struggles to deal with his own survivor’s guilt, Maus follows Vladek from a young man in Poland to a husband and father trying to keep his family hidden from the Germans, before concluding with his time in Auschwitz and subsequent release.

There are many books that deal with the subject of the holocaust, but few manage to break the reader’s heart with such frequent regularity as Maus. The harrowing story of brutalisation and suffering that Vladek and his people were forced to endure, and the deep scars that were left on those fortunate enough to survive, captivates and repulses in equal measure. The movement of story between Vladek’s recollections and the ‘present’ day progress the narrative well, allowing us to follow his journey from a strong, idealistic man to a mean spirited, miserly old racist. Without the context of his past experiences it would be easy to dismiss Vladek as an unsympathetic old goat, but when you know his history it simply adds another layer of tragedy to the story, and makes those few fleeting moments of humour or levity within the story even more welcome.

Similarly touching are Art’s own recollections and thoughts on his difficult relationship with his dad; while even he acknowledges his problems are a drop in the ocean next to his own father’s suffering, his own survivor’s guilt and feelings of inadequacy will be familiar to anyone who has ever felt like they’ve failed to live up to a parent’s expectations. This feeling is increased by the dialogue, often taken word for word from Vladek’s own account, which makes you feel as if you were there alongside Art, sat in rapt silence as you struggle to comprehend the events that are unfolding.

Spiegelman’s artwork, although simple, is surprisingly nuanced; he manages to convey a great deal of emotion through characters that lack much in the way of facial expression. The black and white etchings perfectly match both the era and tone of the story and the choice of character models are inspired. Not only were mice used as a metaphor for vermin by the Nazis to describe the Jewish people, but the cat and mouse relationship of hunter and prey is symbolic of the way millions were treated during those dark years. Some might say that the simplification of entire races into simple caricatures is disrespectful, but they could not be further from the truth. These drawings are simply used to tell a horrific and deeply personal story with as much respect as possible.

Reading Maus forces you to acknowledge a difficult truth; that the trivial inconveniences that we consider, within our privileged spheres of existence, to be important are nothing compared to the suffering that millions were, are and will be forced to endure before our species runs its course. Much like Art’s own feelings of guilt over his comparatively cosy existence, you finish the book feeling not only awed and disgusted but also humbled. This book is the perfect answer to anyone who claims graphic novels are not a mature story telling medium, and represents a text that should be compulsory reading not just for every school child studying the Second World War.

Evening, guys. Just wanted to drop you a quick post to announce that EXP Games News, my video games news website, has offically relaunched today after a serious overhaul by our new webmaster Dave Prowse. We've added a ton of new features to compliment our top notch content and have a ton of even cooler stuff planned for the next few weeks. So, if you have even the slightest interest in video games, head on over and check us out. And don't forget to follow us via Twitter and Facebook, and be sure to spread the EXP love around!

Here we are at week 2, and it’s a week of firsts; this is both the first nonfiction review of the challenge and the first book to give a view into one of my slightly more obscure interests. I have had a deep interest in cryptozoology, and in particular Bigfoot, for many years, so when I heard about this book I made a point of picking it up as soon as I was able. It’s immediately become one of my favourites on the subject of Sasquatch and I’m delighted to be able to share my thoughts on it with you all.

 In Fouke, Arkansas, there is a local legend about a large, hairy creature that allegedly stalks the forests and bayous of this small town and the surrounding area. Stories of sightings and close encounters with the being dubbed the ‘Fouke monster’ stretch back over 100 years, and such is the infamy of the creature that it has been the subject of several films and TV specials. Writer and musician Lyle Blackburn has attempted to trace this legend to its origins and recap a history of this elusive creature, separating fact from fiction and trying to get to the bottom of what is making those horrific howls in the dead of night.

Spanning from the earliest reports of the creature in 1908 right up to the present day, The Beast of Boggy Creek is arguably the definitive guide for anyone with more than a passing interest in this creature. Covering everything from the formation of the town of Fouke and its geographic position as pertaining to potential habitats to the story of how the cult classic film The Legend of Boggy Creek was made, every aspect of this creature’s existence is covered in these pages. Blackburn comes across as a passionate and invested story teller, keeping a nice balance between eyewitness accounts of the beast and the less fantastical (but never the less interesting) aspects of the story, and his love for the legend comes across in every sentence.

One of the most refreshing things about the book is that, unlike many other cryptozoology texts written by non academics, Blackburn never tries to present the content as anything other than entertainment. He does put forward some theories (backed by some decent if scientifically unsubstantiated research), but these are never intended as a method to sway you or convince you that one way or the other as to the existence of the monster or any other Bigfoot/Sasquatch type creature. This is simply an oral history put to paper, told by someone with a deep interest in the subject matter.

As with any book of this kind, most people are going to be primarily interested in the stories of sightings of the creature, and there are some absolute crackers to be found here - the story about the bow hunter in a tree stand who watched as a giant hand reached up from out of sight and grabbed the end of his arrowhead will chill even the stoniest of spines. But more interesting is the story of the production of The Legend of Boggy Creek and director Charles Pierce’s guerrilla film making methods. Given that Blackburn’s love of this legend came as a result of seeing this film it is fitting that the tale of its making be retold as part of the book, and one of the appendixes even contains a breakdown of each of the film’s on screen beast encounters that links back to the corresponding real life sightings.

Perhaps the only negative of the book can also be considered positive. Given the seemingly encyclopaedic number of sightings, and the suitability of the area for a large, intelligent creature to potentially thrive, it’s a shame that a more scientific investigation has not been carried out. Luckily for us, however, Blackburn recognises that he is not the man for this job, and instead focuses on telling an engaging story about how a small town legend became, for a little while at least, a cultural phenomenon. Backed up by a selection of photos and some wonderful illustrations Blackburn presents us with the history of the Fouke monster in a way that is both informative and entertaining. Of course, your enjoyment of this book will be influenced by beliefs as to the existence of such creatures, but for anyone with even the slightest passing interest in real life monsters this is an essential purchase.

Kicking off the challenge is the latest book from the master of humorous fantasy himself, Terry Pratchett. Raising Steam is book number 40 in what is arguably my favourite literary series, and I'm chuffed I was able to open the challenge by returning to the Discworld. Many thanks for all the great suggestions for books on the back of yesterday’s post, keep them coming in and please share the news about this challenge!

The steam train has arrived in Ankh Morpork, and reformed scoundrel Moist Von Lipwig has been tasked by Patrician Vetinari with harnessing this technological marvel for the good of the city. Teamed up with shrewd business man Harry King and Mister Simnel, engineering genius and the herald for the steam age, Moist charged with steering the railroad’s unstoppable progress as the great steel snake begins to march into every corner of the Discworld. But when treason and terrorism breaks out amongst the dwarves Moist finds himself in the middle of a war; lucky for him, he has Commander Sam Vimes, the Low King and a gang of psychopathic goblins on his side.

After a distinct wobble with his past two books, Terry Pratchett has managed to redeem himself somewhat with Raising Steam. While the pacing is a little erratic the main story is enjoyable enough once things get going, moving the Discworld through its own industrial age while navigating the fallout from the social and species uprising that has been developing through the previous few books. It also offers more contemporary nods to terrorism and twisted political ideologies, as well as the entering into society of new religions that aren’t necessarily about bearded men in the sky. While this is familiar ground for this series the themes work well when set against one another, and the only negative may be that, for newcomers who are using this book as an entry point into the series, the references back to previous stories could cause confusion. On a sadder note, these nods back to better times, as well as the vast number of familiar faces featured within, suggest that Pratchett is looking to wrap up the series, and the carefully laid story threads from previous books, before his health issues prevent him from doing so.

More worrying than the story pacing is the characterisation and tone of the book; it feels as if Pratchett’s trademark humour, particularly in the dialogue, is lost in his desire to move the story along and tell this grand tale. Interactions between characters feel forced, and lack the punch and distinct voices that have defined many of them for the last thirty years. There is also an insistence on explaining every action, with some passages feeling more like monologues than conversations, and a distinct lack of the kind of ‘shades of grey’ morality that Terry’s greatest characters have been built on.

This out-of-character behaviour is particularly apparent in Moist Von Lipwig, the lead protagonist of the story. Such a loveable rogue in Making Money and Going Postal, here Moist is less of the confidence man we have grown to love and more a muted arm of Vetinari, a watered down version of Sam Vimes. Of course this could simply be the development of the character as he matures and settles into a life of domestic bliss, but the way it has happened feels clunky and hurried. This feeling isn’t helped by the fact that, unlike in his previous adventure, there is little in the way of real challenge or insurmountable obstacles for him to overcome. It could be argued that the challenges he faces are much, much larger than any that have come before (given the scope of the story), but the huge amount of support that he has throughout the story means there’s never a moment where it’s Moist against the world with just his wits to keep him alive. This change is present in the other main characters, especially Vimes, Drumknott and Vetinari, whose behaviour seems very odd based on their actions throughout the previous 39 books. Vetinari in particular comes off badly here, with the ‘twist’ at the end both ridiculous and unnecessary.

While managing to somewhat redeem himself after the twin fiascos of Unseen Academicals and Snuff, Raising Steam is still a pale imitator when held up against Moist’s previous outings, not to mention the likes of Monstrous Regiment, Hogfather or any of the Watch books. Although an enjoyable enough story it feels like the Discworld fan fiction of a talented amateur as opposed to the work of the master himself; all the notes are in the right place but something is just off with the pitch and the timing.

And here we are. Nearly a year after my last post, I’ve reached up into the attic of the internet and brought down the old blog with the intention of finally using it. After spending the last few months stuck in the virtual loft with Dancing Baby and all those ‘Ate my balls’ memes the old girl was looking a bit dusty, so I’ve tidied her up and given her a catchy new title. Please feel free to update your links accordingly and by all means let me know if you don’t like the redesign; I won’t change it but it does my heart good to know I’m annoying you.

So now she’s back in the world and looking pretty I’m going to have to write about something. I could have gone down the usual series of life updates and shameless self promotion, but I felt that this alone wouldn’t bring in the punters in the numbers I’d like. Then I realised that, as 2014 is all shiny and still has that ‘New Year’ smell about it, this would be the perfect opportunity to set myself a couple of challenges for the next 12 months. Nothing to do with writing, as I already have a list of goals a mile long for that, but never the less something to improve myself in some small way. After a little research I came across two challenges I liked the look of; this money saving chart, which should yield around £1,400 if I stick to it for a year, and one that involves reading 52 books in 52 weeks. As you can imagine, it’s the book challenge I will be using the blog to talk about.

While I won’t be using the exact rules featured in that site this challenge appealed to me for a number of reasons. I love to read (I can’t imagine there is an aspiring writer who doesn’t) but find that I don’t make enough time to kick back with a good book or comic. The excuses are solid enough (work, writing, ensuring my fiancée doesn’t forget what I look like) but whatever the reasons I don’t feel like I’ve picked up enough novels over the past couple of years. And when I do find time I usually end up re reading books I already own, meaning I’m missing out on a whole load of new experiences and (literary) worlds. I’m also hoping the challenge will help keep my gaming addiction in check; as a video game journalist I have a legitimate reason to devote my free hours to this world, but at the same time I feel like it’s become my main pastime to the exclusion of all others.

As part of the challenge I’m going to review each and every book I read, posting them here and on Goodreads. This part of the challenge is especially important, as since Zombiehamster wound down and I stopped writing for Snakebite Horror my critical reviewing skills are only seeing action on video games and in discussion with friends. Hopefully this will keep them sharp and inform a few people along the way. Finally, I just like the idea of challenging myself to stick to this for the full year; I considered doing the challenge with films or games, but I watch enough movies as it is and games are too expensive.

So there are the reasons, now let’s get to the rules:

- One book a week for 52 weeks; any genre, fiction or nonfiction, but must include one graphic novel and one ‘classic’ each month.

- Must not have read any of the books before.

- Reviews to be posted on Wednesday of each week

- Only allowed to purchase one new book per month; all others must come from second hand shops or the library

The first book of the challenge will be Raising Steam by Terry Pratchett, and the review will go live here and at Goodreads tomorrow. Please feel free to chip in with comments and share this around, as I’d love to inspire others to pick up this challenge and spread the booky love around. I’d also welcome suggestions; I’ve got a small stack of books from Christmas to work through and have a few ideas but I’d love to hear some ideas from you guys.

Cheers.

So I wanted to write something about computer games since the start of the year, but couldn’t figure out what to put down. I’m pretty up on current affairs when it comes to gaming so I thought I’d find some inspiration during my daily news reading. But it turns out the only thing it’s done is make me even more cynical about the general shittiness of the majority of humanity.

It all started with this article over at IGN, which talked about how gamers are becoming more fickle with regards to consumption of new titles and reluctance to play something once the bigger/better upgrade comes out. Then I read this interview with Greg Zescuk, one of the founders of Bioware who retired from the industry back in September. When discussing his reasons for quitting he touched upon the fact that he felt the fans were angry at him for leaving because ‘they think we owe them more games’. This statement is pretty sad in itself, but when you consider the whole Mass Effect 3 ending fiasco (which I will come back to later) on top of this it starts to feel like a guy who love making video games was forced out of the industry because he could no longer deal with the insane demands of the people he’d spent so long pleasing. And when I read some of the reaction to Rockstar’s announcement regarding the delay of GTA V I realised something that I’d be fighting for a long time; not only are gamers fickle, but a lot of them are also entitled, childish assholes.

Now this obviously does not apply to every gaming fan, but the facts are pretty hard to ignore. If you don’t believe me, try this; head over to one of the bigger game news websites and click on an article at random. Now scroll down and read the comment section. The majority of these will be whining diatribes about how X studio or Z franchise is doing it wrong, and how the previous instalment or offering was so much better and how they better not change the game or they aren’t going to buy it, etc, etc. Even removing those comments that are obviously trolling for a reaction, you’re unlikely to find more hate and stupidity in any one place outside of the BNP’s yearly conference. Personally it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even glance at these responses for fear of grinding my teeth into a fine powder.

Part of the problem (although in no way an excuse) is that the games industry has always been a bit more of a two way street than other entertainment areas. Going back ten or fifteen years gaming was very much a niche hobby, meaning developers would be more likely to interact with the fans regarding how the games are made. In fact, there are a lot of people involved in the industry who likely got their first break through modding or expanding games that had already been made. And we have to acknowledge that a medium like computer games lives and dies by the feedback it receives from its users – if film goers hates a particular character and wants them killed off in a sequel the director is unlikely to change it just to please them, as there are likely to be many more who love the character. But if a cover system doesn’t work in a computer game and the people who brought it complain the developers HAVE to fix it for the sequel or it won’t sell. There’s an inherent difference between the mechanics of something working or not working and an opinion over a character or story line element. So while I completely agree that people should be able to say if something’s broken and expect it to be fixed, they have no right to demand someone change their artistic vision just because they didn’t like it. This brings us onto the Mass Effect 3 debacle.

When ME 3 was released, fans were eager to play the end game of what is arguably the franchise of this console generation. But soon after release the complaints started flooding in about the game’s ending, with fans slamming it for its relatively short length and lack of pay off that left them feeling they deserved more. Under a deluge of bad press, Bioware and publishers EA relented and released a new, downloadable ending which added new cut-scenes to the end of game in an attempt to expand on the fate of the characters involved. Now while this might seem like the best solution for everyone concerned I personally feel annoyed that these companies, both of who would be rated pretty high on the top ten lists in their respective industries roles, bowed down to the completely crazy demands of a bunch of over privileged little bitches who felt like they were owed a better ending by Bioware. Let me just clarify something for you now, fucknuts – they don’t owe you a thing. You chose to buy the games; no one’s putting a gun to your head. The Mass Effect series probably clocks in at 75 hours of total play time if you complete the various side quests, and the character creation system and conversation options means you could play through the whole thing at least twice and have an entirely different experience. So to reiterate the point – THEY OWE YOU NOTHING! And if they chose to end their story, an overarching space opera set in one of the richest science fiction worlds you’ll ever encounter in any medium, with a little ambiguity then good luck to them. It’s their choice, not yours. Can you imagine Christopher Nolan responding to the criticism of Dark Knight Rises by going back and shooting a new ending? Of course not, and if someone at Warner Bros was to suggest this they would rightly have been forced to watch Green Lantern on a loop until their eyes melted. But that’s Hollywood, the cool kid on the block. The kids from the Science club, on the other hand, have to pander.

Maybe it’s just the fact that we as gamers are living in a relative golden age for our pastime. The most vocal majority of gamers tend to be between the ages of 16 and 22, and have never known anything other than triple A titles with hyper realistic graphics and online multiplayer. They have no concept of mind numbing loading times and difficulty spikes that make you want to chew the controller in sheer, tear inducing rage. In short they’re spoilt, and think the world at large owes them something. Had GTA V been released with some game breaking bug, the same people who lit up the Rockstar forums with rage about the delay would have been the first in the queue to moan about it, highlighting the ‘Damned if you do and damned if you don’t’ attitude that’s stifling creativity and risk taking, and forcing publishers to play it safe year after year.

A few weeks ago the latest red band trailer for the Evil Dead remake appeared online, popping up on a couple of horror websites with some fairly positive comments attached. It took me about a week to work up the courage to actually watch the trailer (the very definition of a first world problem), but I eventually got around to it a few days ago. And to be fair, it looks fucking awesome and has shot straight to the top of my Must Watch list for this year.

Now obviously I’m kicking myself at having waited so long to watch it, and for being so down on the project before. But given the overall quality of horror remakes in the last twenty years I think the scepticism was justified. But what if I had allowed myself to be so blinded by my objection to yet another remake that I missed out on the film all together? I’d have been denying myself the chance to see a potentially great movie because I was worried that it MAY turn out to be crap.

So I decided to sit down and thrash out five general rules, based on my vast (ish) experience of films, to be considered when approaching a remake. Please note that this does not apply to the reboot or the reimagining. A reboot is fine as long as they don’t give the Batsuit nipples to try and go ‘Nolan-dark’, and reimaginings are acceptable as long as they don’t just change a couple of small details and recast everyone. That would be a remake. And there are rules about remakes.

1. Original team increases chances of success

The fact that both Sam Raimi (original director/writer) and Bruce Campbell (ASH!!) are both involved in the Evil Dead remake was a massive shot in the arm for my confidence about this film. Both of these guys may not have even been in show business without this film, so would hope they are going to treat it with the appropriate love and respect, instead of just whoring it out to the highest bidder.

The presence of the original director or writer is very rarely a bad thing. Not many people know that Michael Mann’s Heat was essentially a remake of an earlier TV project he did called LA Takedown, just with a bigger budget, and David Cronenberg has recently stated he’d love to remake his version of The Fly (which is a remake, but stay with me here). And anyone who has seen Evil Dead 2 knows it should have really been titled ‘The Evil Dead movie Sam Raimi would have made if he’d had an original budget of more than thirty dollars and a coupon for washing powder’. Although to be fair it probably wouldn’t have fitted on the poster.

2. Never watch the Americanized version of a foreign film

My absolute biggest irritation with cinema today and horror in particular is the insistence of taking a great film and remaking it with an English speaking cast, purely because lazy assholes can’t be bothered to engage their brains long enough to read subtitles. Not only does it make us look like morons (which, granted, a lot of people are), but these remakes always manage to strip away the love and detail of the original piece and leave us with a sterile film that lacks the touch of someone who really cared about the story they were trying to tell. Do yourself a favour and dig out the original, I offer you the Ryan Tandy personal guarantee that it will be twice as good as the remake.

3. Don’t watch a remake of a film that’s less than five years old

This one sort of ties in with the point above, but I still feel it’s relevant. The simple truth is that Hollywood seems to be so scared of risks and new ideas that the safest projects will always be the ones that get back. So remaking a smaller picture that did relatively well with a couple of A listers and slightly better production values is an idea that seems to be met with enthusiasm amongst the power brokers of cinema. Trust me, it’s not.

4. Adhering too closely to the original is a bad thing too (ie accept modernization)

While I agree that any film that goes too far from the original should always be treated with suspicion, it’s also worth noting that sticking too rigidly to the old interpretation can also be a recipe for a stinker. Remakes such as The Italian Job and Ocean’s Eleven (say what you want, I like it) did a great job of keeping the same big beats as the original while making the story relevant to today. And on the horror side of things Rob Zombie’s remake of Halloween gave us some valuable back story for Michael Myers, allowing us a glimpse into what made the man a monster.

5. Give it a chance!