"Nobody puts Baby in a corner."

Only time for a quick one today, my arms are knackered from playing WiiSports.

Bloody thing! Weanie and I went out Sunday morning to buy a Wii for his new pad, ended up getting served by some monkey-retard trainee at Argooz, didn't he? Poor blighter. And then he made the mistake of showing me (once it was all set up - much fun, I love mucking about with tech) Wii Boxing. I proceeded to play it for about an hour.

NOW MY ARMS ARE BLEEDING INTERNALLY

That is all.

Love, Odsox.

P.S. Just checked my NationState, look at what we do to immigrants in our country, the Dictatorship of Od Sox:

"Hold on there, hold on people!" says Stephanie McAlpin of the Od Sox Broadcasting company, "We don't have to take either extreme, all we have to do is make a TV game show out of it! We put deadly obstacles on the border and monitor it with television cameras! Those that make it across win freedom and citizenship, and those who don't, well, lets just say that our buzzards won't starve. We could call it 'Who Wants to be an Immigrant?'!"

Yeeeeeaaaahhh! Now I for one would watch that show religiously.

"Mazel tov, it's a boy!"

Anyone else looking forward to SPORE as much as I am? I certainly think so.

Probably not for the same reasons, mind.

A main point for me, no matter which game I play, be it real-time-strategy, first-person-shooter, beat-'em-up or action game, is customisation.

You have to realise that when you pick up a game, pop it in and play it, most people are happy with what they get. They get a character or two, a story, personalities and amazing situations (well, unless you play the Sims, but that hardly counts as a game, does it), all created by someone with a world of their own in mind.

I'm never happy with this. I play games and look through what we get, and the first thing I always want to know is: All well and good, but how about what I want? I don't want to play as an army of pointy-eared nazi elf bastards, I want to play as an army of giant floating eyeballs with bat wings and a fondness for books. Heck, I don't want an army, I want a horde, a rabble, a mob!

As a result I often come across as a bitching, miserable bastard who's never satisfied and won't be unless he has something to complain about. Which isn't entirely true.

I lust after customisation and definition; when I play a game with someone else, they can pick one of the out-of-the-box factions or characters or cars, whatever. I want to be able to say, 'You know what? I'm going to use my own creations.' Be it a car made out of cheese and dreams or a fighter whose special move is called The Nostril Raper (left-left-right-medium punch and medium kick together!), I don't want to use what I'm told to use, I want something I've made for myself!

Which is why SPORE is going to become (possibly; Dawn of War 2 has yet to be finished) my favourite videogame. The level of control and customisation is extraordinary, and the possibilities near-endless. Over a million creatures have been donated to the SPORE galaxy already, and I haven't added any thanks to my lack of a 'net connection (though I have 18 and counting ready to go).

To summarise, go and look at the site, download the trial, get the creature editor and for the sake of the God-Emperor, get SPORE the moment it comes out.

DO IT.

Love, Odsox

P.S. Just for the record, my creatures are all middling to high levels of effort; I average two hours per creature. The only ones that I feel really belong to me are the Odling, the Lankiflora, the Rumblebum and the Vicious Bastard. Copyright (as much as that's possible :S), motherfuckers!

"It's time to light the lights!"

Good morning.


So were you one of those kids who knew what they wanted to be when they were little? Like fireman, policeman officer, vet, showjumper, model, actor, singer, blah de blah yakkety shmakkety?


What did you want to be?


Because I didn't know. I remember once when a friend of mine was over, we were only little, five or six or seven. I think it was his mum that asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up, and I'm pretty sure my buddy responded with one of those usual answers. I, however, replied simply, 'Nothing.' Looking back on it, that seems like a perfectly legitimate answer. Shit, up until a few months ago I still didn't know what I want to do with my life.


I've been through phases, same as you guys. I wanted to be an actor, I wanted to be a musician, I wanted to be an artist, a writer (admittedly I still want to be a writer - keep an eye out for dodgy fan fiction and short stories!), for about a week I wanted to be a fashion designer. Seriously! I was fifteen at the time, I think. Obsessed with cool outfits and the like. I wanted to be something that involved doing what I wanted, using my imagination, and the last thing I wanted to do was be stuck in a boring job where all I do is take orders from higher-ups.


Hence my never having a paper round or getting a Mac job. But you know, I was working in retail at the age of fifteen, and I stuck with that job for three years. What a mistake. I've been known to flit between temp jobs - I've been a temp for about five years now. I had one permanent job at a restaurant which worked out really well once I started my chef training, but due to constant misunderstandings between myself and the boss, who I admittedly never liked anyway, I quit.


Now, at the age of twenty-three (feels more like forty-seven), I've finally whittled my ideal job list down to one thing, one almost unattainable thing.

I'd like to work for the Jim Henson Creature Workshop. Obviously I have no training, no experience, no skills, no nothing, but I think if I ever got the chance, I would take that job like a fucking shot. Have you ever seen The Muppets or Farscape or The Storyteller? Not to mention Labyrinth, Dark Crystal.. Their creatures are just so brilliantly varied! I'd LOVE to make monsters for a living!

Anyway, I've gone on for a bit, so I'll let you lot get back to whatever it is you were doing before I interrupted you.

Hope I didn't take up too much of you your time!

Love, Odsox

"There's no god-damn Mr. Pib!"

Well, I for one had rather a good weekend. Rain cancelled play (read: anything involving leaving the house) on Saturday, so I spent a good five hours messing about with the SPORE Creature Creator. I had to suffer the trial version mind you, seeing as I still don't have a 'net connection at home. Christ, it's got to be coming up for a year now. Anyway, I highly recommend SPORE for everyone. Seriously. I sent messages to friends, relatives and strangers about this game. If you have even the tiniest spark of creativity in your veins then this game is for you.

Other than that, not an awful lot this weekend. Lack of funding meant I had to miss out on a mate's birthday party Saturday night, and spent Sunday morning and afternoon going over the Creature Creator a bit more, throwing in a couple of hours on The Witcher as well. It's a bit buggy, but rather good fun, and once you start unlocking more powerful spells and fancy swordplay the combat becomes something of a rush. Motion-capture footage of a professional swordsman was used in the creation of the combat moves, and it really becomes apparent when Geralt (that's The Witcher's name) starts flinging his sword around like a lethal majorette.

And I managed to catch Top Gear on Sunday night! First in a new series, and it was a blinder. I highly recommend catching up with it on the BBC iPlayer (what a fantastic way to spend your lunch hour!) if you missed it or just don't know what I'm talking about.

Meanwhile, I'm back off to work, wondering how to get a 'net connection on the cheap and how I'm going to afford all the important events coming up this year. Have a nice day, kids.

Hope I didn't take up too much of your time,

Love, Odsox

"Slap my face, why don't you?"

As I was walking over a grassy stretch in the sun on my way to work this morning I found myself wondering:



How difficult would it be to pack up a bunch of my gear and just fuck off to the countryside?



Because, if you didn't know already, this country (that's England, by the way) and the world (that's the rest of you) are going down the shitter. I sat at home sketching with the news on last night, and all I heard was stories about the death tolls of natural disasters, the rising prices on everything, and more depressing news about climate change. And to top all that off, both our country and the bloody yanks are still dossing about in the Middle East! Then there was some bollocks about breeds of 'celebrity' dogs, which isn't essential news at all, is it? Who gives a toss about yapping rats that poo in their owners' handbags.



Now don't get me wrong - I'm all for apathy and I'm an incredibly selfish person, so matters concerning anyone other than myself don't usually get me interested, but it's getting beyond a joke now, isn't it, really? When you can't watch anything on telly without someone prattling about endangered species and increased flooding and climate change, and you can't go to the shops without paying through the bloody nose for food that's SHIPPED IN FROM OVERSEAS when we have perfectly good supplies on our own shores (think about THAT for a moment), and you can't go ANYWHERE without noticing the slowly deteriorating standard of society - underage mothers, rapists and murderers who do a cushy few years in high-class hotel-standard prisons and then walk away free, unrelenting knife and gun crime, floods of immigrants - be honest, it bothers you as well, disillusioned children whose parents don't understand them BECAUSE THEY'RE STILL CHILDREN THEMSELVES, and then, as a final twist of the knife, some cunt went and came up with Big Brother.



Perhaps the best way to get this across is to use my selfish nature to relate my own situation to you.



At the moment, I pay £59.63 per week to rent my Council flat, and £37.00 Council Tax. That's NOTHING! you might say, but consider this: for that £96.63 a week I can get my security doors smashed on a weekly basis, share a building with a mentally unstable thirty-something with previous convictions for attacking police officers with a concealed weapon, put up with crowds of threatening, layabout youths who barge into the building irregularly to loiter and take drugs in my security hallway, get my front door broken up and all my valuables stolen while I'm out at work and then wait a month for a new front door, get rat infestations, and generally live in fear of the countless thugs and bastards that make up my neighbourhood.



WHAT A FUCKING BARGAIN.



It's a pokey, one-bedroom first-floor affair which doesn't suit me at all, but it suffices as a roof over my head. It's got nothing going for it in terms of location, layout or economic advantages, other than the fact that there's a bus stop outside. And.. and..



Do you know, now that I've written all that down, I feel a lot better? That's weird. On the bus this morning I had to work really hard to stop myself from snapping and taking a bite out of someone's throat, but now.. I feel almost cheery. Moving to the countryside hasn't lost its appeal, mind you. I'd still prefer to live out in solitude, with just the radio and my gaming PC for company. Of course, at some point I'll need to find a female willing to put up with my constant bitching and complaining, and that'll be fun.



On the subject of ladies, I decided a while ago that I'd love a girl who could kick my arse. Verbally, physically, mentally, whatever. I need someone to balance out my caustic nature with a healthy dose of threatening behaviour. A STFU to my GTFO, if you will.



Anyway, now I'm somewhat lighter of heart, I think I'll get back to work.



Hope I didn't take up too much of your time!



Love, Odsox