"We can't stop here! This is bat country!"

No particular reason for the title other than it's one of my favourite movie quotes.

So how is everybody? Sitting Comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Online gaming. When did it become so addictive? Also, am I the only one who is influenced by those around them during online games?

Example:

Normally, I am one of the most placid, considerate online gamers around, apart from my tendency to furiously ignore anyone who types using leetspeak. I'll let people steal my kills, fling their pointless insults (loser, fag, and of course, noob) and generally give the community a bad name, without a care in the world. What goes around, you know? But yesterday while playing Unreal Tournament 3 I suddenly became very, very angry. Not to the point where I was forced to swear AT anyone, because let's face it, slagging off people who live thousand of miles away isn't going to be nearly as effective as as a good slap, and one can't deliver one of those unless actually seated beside the offender.

But this guy/girl, probably a guy, looking back at the name, was costing my team the game. In a horribly blatant manner, as well. In one particular Warfare level of UT3 (Tank Crossing, Unreal players!) the most effective method of assaulting the enemy objective (Power Core) is to do the following:

A) Capture the Bridge Node. This activates the bridge which spans the huge chasm in the middle of the map.

B) Drive the Goliath (each team receives one of these massive tanks) across the bridge.

C) Navigate your way to the enemy power core and park the Goliath on a pressure pad which opens up the blast doors protecting it.

D) Fire.

But this was beyond the offender in question. He would REPEATEDLY jump in the Goliath (which means no-one else can get into the driver's seat) and proceed to drive backwards and forwards over the equivalent distance of about four metres. He wouldn't cross the bridge, he wouldn't get out of the tank, he wouldn't even fire the bloody thing.

Now, if one gets into a fast-paced First Person Shooter online, the one thing, above all else (including skill, talent, graphics, aiming, driving ability, EVERYTHING) that should concern a player is this:

Lag.

If one begins to lag, one bloody well notices. You won't be able to move, your weapons won't fire, nothing else will be moving or else everything will be moving in incredibly jerky fashion, like one of the old webcams that updated every second or two instead of streaming constantly. So there's a reason to ditch the game. I've done this myself once or twice. If all you can do is hover in mid-air because your computer's lagging so much that you aren't going to land for the next thirty seconds, it's time to leave the game. Common sense lads, fucking common sense.

So if this fellow was lagging (and the constant movement of the vehicle imply that this was NOT the case) he should have damn well known that the only thing to do was quit and let the other players enjoy their game. So the only other options (to me at least, most of the other players just assumed he didn't know how to drive, which is ridiculous) are that he was away from his keyboard, had gotten his keys jammed, or was just messing around and ruining it for everyone else.

The first you just don't do. Not while you're driving, for the Emperor's sake! Ditch the vehicle, die and respawn! Just leave your character to hover: this is accepted practice!

The second, well, you could at least TELL us! Would it take so long to type out, give me a moment here, let me get this right, 'sry keybord stuk lol'?

And the third, well. I don't like to think about it. What sort of person would deliberately do that? How can that be as much fun as actively participating in the fight?

Okay, rant over. My lunch break's nearly up and I needs me some cool water.

Thanks for putting up with me!

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