Of course, it was Nippon Ichi that spoiled everything. Before Disgaea and La Pucelle Tactics and Phantom Brave and Makai Kingdom and the electric promise of all their sequels, the Strategy RPG was straightforward affair. You had old-fashioned basics like a start, a middle and an ending; quaint little boundaries to hold everything together like a chronological script and a game plan; charming little inclusions like some characters with names that you could take care of and some enemies that they could take care of. But then that little Japanese upstart company stole the rulebook, gulped down the pages, let them rearrange themselves through a winding, convoluted digestive tract before using the resultant faecal statement as nurturing manure on their brave new world.

All games function within a genre: it’s impossible to entirely break free of a frame of reference whether you’re a piece of music, literature, gameplay or cross-stitch pattern. But the best games ¬– the games that change things and widen the boundaries of gaming, influencing everyone else making and playing them – are those that screw with genre. They invert and subvert and spit out and suck up and rebuild tiny brick by tiny brick into a wholly different shape and structure: at once disorientatingly different and comfortingly recognisable.

That’s what Nippon Ichi has done, and that, in every meaningful sense, is what Konami has chosen to shy away from with Suikoden Tactics. There is space for the conservative Strategy RPG – that which mirrors and tributes and celebrates those definitive titles of the genre’s formative years: the Shining Forces, the Ogre Battles and the Final Fantasy Tactics. But, oh my gosh, if you choose to take that path, choose to ignore what the competition has done to broaden the form’s horizon and warmly welcome in rafts of players that would never before have darkened a crusty grid-framed door-stop, frankly you better do so pretty darn amazingly.

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Dominik Diamond, journalist and once co-presenter of Channel 4′s Gamesmaster, could be crucified on television this autumn in a bid to restore his faith in God. A documentary, made by Ginger TV for Five, called Crucify Me is to chart Diamond’s journey to find his “spiritual identity”.

Diamond had a Catholic upbringing and describes himself as having been “a committed Christian” but he gave up on all religion five years ago after “a combination of public and private events made me question my beliefs.” He aims to travel from his native Scotland via Italy to the Philippines, where a group of Christians (unsanctioned by the local church) celebrate Easter by re-enacting the crucifixion of Christ. Each year, three worshippers are chosen to be nailed to makeshift crosses in the town of San Fernando in front of watching crowds.

He said: “I’m hopeful that this journey will help resolve my crisis of faith. I’ve been making a living in the media now for 15 years, I’m in my mid-thirties and I’ve got three kids. It’s about time I did something that didn’t involve cheap gags.”

Right. No cheap gags in a synopsis that promises the possibility of his being “nailed to a cross in a painful and bloody Filipino ritual”.

Just in case you’re doubtful of the authenticity of the ritual:

The reenactment of Jesus’ crucifixion was started by a Filipino faith healer back in the 1950’s. The Catholic Church has always highly disapproved of the event, but to no avail. Since the early 1980’s, the town leaders have actively promoted the event as a major yearly tourist attraction. Indeed even at 8:30 in the morning, and three hours before the crucifixions were to begin, the main part of the village was quickly filling up with camera toting foreigners and Filipinos trooping under umbrellas. At the entrance to the village, a large banner hung over the cement road that read; “Tourists and Friends, Welcome to Barangay(village) San Pedro, Cutud.” Strung up behind the banner were plastic streamers advertising Tang orange juice. [Source]

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Focusing on just the responsibilities of Diamond now, my questions tumble like so: can you really genuinely search for and document personal faith’s evolution and refinement in front of the hot whir of focussing cameras? Can responding to the spiritual tug of humainty actually be profound when you’re being paid to do so and watched by an audience?

It certainly worked out that way for some of the contestants in the BBC’s recent and excellent docu-reality show, The Monastery, but the difference there was that the participants were just narrative furniture to the programme. Not being presenters they did not have to hold the experience together (the voice over/ edit team did that) nor be conscious of a documentary-style start, middle and ending to their on camera journey. Plus it was a shared experiential burden in a location (Worth Abbey) dedicated to quiet contemplation of the spiritual.

However, here, Diamond alone hold the keys to the show and, as he explores his own spirituality, will certainly have at least part of the mechanics of good programme making weighing in his mind. After all, if the resultant edited material isn’t cohesive or insightful, or entertaining or, indeed, profound enough then his future work prospects could suffer: that’s a lot of pressure you’re putting on yourself to undergo a religious experience on air. Plus of course, the finale is already planned – and it’s a setting, location and ritual about as far from the non-commercial wonder of Worth Abbey as one could conceive.

But what confuses me most about the gameplan here is the implied assumption that being crucified is the ultimate ritual to pass your mind and spirit into a full understanding of faith and the central tenets of Christianity. The Romans crucified thousands upon thousands of people and I very much doubt it was a profound religious experience for the vast majority of them.

The means and mode or Christ’s crucifixion isn’t nearly as important as the ensuing resurrection in the Easter narrative. So, the premise of Crucify Me has less to do with genuine faith finding and more to do with filming an obscure Christian sect undertaking a pretty crazy ritual into which they will hopefully include a speccy British geek who we can all enjoy seeing flagellated . A crucifixion scene is a great promise for the finale of a series that probably otherwise wouldn’t get much attention; especially as now it broadens the target demographic to include those who might take professional delight in seeing overweight videogame journalists nailed to pieces of wood.

But still, in the back of our minds when we read the press release and when, come the autumn, we watch the trailer adverts showing Diamond moments away from the nails tearing through his flesh, we know that this isn’t a true, without ulterior motive, experience of the searching soul. It’s predetermined, the element of will-he-won’t-he inserted to pique our interest in following what should be a deeply personal and, likely, quite unwatchable story otherwise.

But, as they say, God moves in mysterious ways and these conniving plans might just lead to some sort of a genuine spiritual revelation outplayed on television. That there is the essential grain of unpredictability for any successful documentary: that miniscule opening into which the genuine and passionate and authentic might burst humanely through the predetermined constructions of dispassionate TV programmers. Whether people tune in for that slight possibility or the far greater likelihood of seeing Dominik Diamond pierced for his transgressions is fairly easy to judge.

Music based videogames are usually the best kind of videogames and, exceptionally, there are two new releases on the horizon that you need to know about: one for Japan and, unusally, one for Europe.

Astute videogame watchers will already know about Guitar Hero, the latest title from videogame music makers Harmonix, developer of the excellent, BAFTA-winning music based PS2 games, Frequency and its sequel, Amplitude. The premise here is simple: Guitar karaoke. A classic rock hit from the last twenty odd years plays out on screen. The player follows the input directions given by the game by pressing the corresponding brightly coloured button on the plastic Gibson SG guitar controller simon-says style. The better in time with the pulse you are the higher you score. If that sounds too abstract then watch this American news team’s amusing demonstration.

Here’s what you must do if you own a UK PS2. The game is released on in Europe on April 7th 2006. It will sell out straight away as rhythm action games with fantastic build quality peripherals always do. Then you’ll have to pay double the RRP on ebay if you want to play it. So, go here (the first place I could find that lets you buy it now) and preorder it now. It’s the kind of game that’s accessible enough that boys and girls which don’t play videogames will want to play, but is still challenging, fun, quirky and brilliant enough that boys which do play videogames will want to play.

Astuter videogame watchers will know, of course, that Harmonix/Red Octane have in fact stolen/ adapted the idea straight from Konami, the Japanese developer that arguably invented the music-based videogame as we now understand it. Their ‘Bemani’ musical instrument games resulted in the moniker, Rhythm Action, a genre development that led to their ubiquitous and frankly genius line of dance mat videogames.

History lesson: In 1998 Konami released an idea into the arcades called Guitar Freaks: a kind of Dance Dance revolution title for guitarists. This got ported to the PlayStation 1 in 1999 (Japan only naturally) and a guitar controller (similar in style but without the build quality of the Guitar Hero one) was released to play it with. Come the Playstation 2, Konami released a port of their other Bemani plastic instrument tile, DrumMania complete with an actual Yamaha DTX V-Drum-style controller.

Their stroke of genius was that the subsequent two PS2 Guitar Freaks/ DrumMania games actually linked up, allowing one player to play drums, one to do lead guitar and, if you were well prepared enough to have a second guitar controller, another to play bass or rhythm guitar all in the same front room. Anyone fortunate to have actually played this set-up will tell you: it’s peculiarly like an actual band rehearsal, albeit plastic and binary but still, that unique sense of working together to create synchronised soundwaves is unmistakably present.

Nevertheless, the whole set-up was prohibitively expensive, both to the Japanese and moreso dedicated importers, so they didn’t sell too well. But Konami have announced GuitarFreaks/ DrumMania V is to be released on the 16th March 2006, perhaps in answer to Harmonix’s game but, more probably, to promote their new ‘V’ series of Bemani title in Japanese arcades.

If you have the money and the means this is a fantastic investment, not least because the DrumMania series of games is extremely fun and actually teaches you how to play drums for real (unlike all other Bemani games which simply show you how to tap buttons in time to music and improve rhythmic awareness).

The PS2 DrumMania series is compatible with Yamaha’s ‘real’ USB drum midi controllers such as the entry level DD50 and DD55 making it a pretty extraordinary training tool for would be drummers. You can watch a friend of Chewing Pixels demonstrate this set-up.

Windows users can try out a DrumMania simulator here although I’ve no idea if it’s any good.

There’s no ‘You’ or ‘I’ in ‘Unit’. No, hang on…that’s not right….er… Look, I’ve never been much cop at these prep talks; Or group sports; Or Big Team Battle; Or anything involving teamwork in general really. Set me up as a sniper covering your back in Ghost Recon on Xbox Live and you’ll be licking asphalt before I put down the beer, finish the Maltesers and catch LisaSimpson45 victoriously humping your limp wireframe model in my distracted scope. Remember last week when the US EA boss spouted all that nonsense about single player games being masturbatory? Well colour me blind and count me calloused: I like it that way. In real life, sure, come round my house, borrow my sugar, take my coffee; let me get that door for you. In game: piss off and leave me alone. I’m Rambo. I’m The Punisher. I’m the Lone-freakin’-Ranger.

Ahem. OK: technically I’m just a closet geek that should probably chase some more sunlight but still: I don’t work with nobody. So it’s a bit of a problem for me when a single player game like Sword of Etheria comes along that requires teaming up with its AI. I’ve been burned too many times by pigthick AI comrades shuffling in front of my rocket launcher just as the trigger goes click and my world goes boom. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

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A few years ago I was stopped in the street by one of those interminably pretty but menacingly indiscriminate charity collectors. You know the ones: wide innocent eyes hiding SAS precision training in the art of accosting, making guilty and relieving passer-by’s direct debit details with one deft flick of blonde hair and a practised flirtish smile. Except she wasn’t a charity collector; rather a market researcher offering me a ten pounds to come and answer questions about whether Japan was cool or not. Being a destitute videogame journalist I answered yes to the money and, being a destitute videogame geek, yes to all the others too.

Since then Japan’s torrent of kawaii chic has infiltrated western consciousness like a tsunami of cultural invasion; everything from 3G’s leftfield advertising to Powerpuff Girl’s ADHD kung-fuing has been given the Nipponese cute-but-slightly-scary treatment. Raze’s Hell turns the tables on this phenomenon by demonstrating that Japanese super cute is actually kind of super creepy and, in doing so, makes the saccharine the subject of your ugly protagonist’s subjugation.

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This week ethics, media and the rights and wrongs to ‘free speech’have been wrapped around the consonants of every columnist and blogger this side of Fallujah’s graffiti shot walls thanks to some rubbish European comic strips. So let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about Will and Grace, Britney Spears and Christian fundamentalists.

While the rest of the western world is playing media top trumps with Muslim extremists, America’s watchdogs seem far more concerned with the homosexual-themed US comedy Will and Grace and a certain leaked script synopsis. This is the circular e-mail doing the rounds stateside:

NBC has decided to hit back at the Christian community by presenting an episode of Will and Grace, which mocks the crucifixion of Christ. On the April 13 edition of NBC’s Will and Grace, Britney Spears will appear as a Christian conservative sidekick to Sean Hayes’ homosexual character, Jack, who hosts his own talk show. Jack’s fictional network, Out TV, is bought by a Christian TV network, leading to Spears contributing a cooking segment called “Cruci-fixin’s.” To further denigrate Christianity, NBC chose to air it the night before Good Friday.

NBC does not treat Jews, Muslims or other religions with such disrespect. Yet the network demonstrates a deep of hostility toward followers of Christ. These are things we can do by taking action: etc etc

Now, how anyone of deep, thinking faith can be hoodwinked by such ill-considered rally rousing is initially astonishing, but not incomprehensible when you look at the language used. The patois of the e-mail is laced with mob-uniting warcries easily swallowed by otherwise gently devoted Christians quietly concerned at the increasing push of secular media parodying and even making fun of their faith. In blind desperation many areas of the Christian community will likely latch on to the arguments outlined in such an e-mail (see the recent example of extremist minority group Christian Voice rallying against Jerry Springer the Opera).

The flow of the e-mail works simply and effectively in five stages:

1. Provoking Outrage: NBC, a mainstream television network is mocking Jesus’ cruxifiction…
2. Provoking Discredit: …in a programme which has homosexual characters no less!
3. Provoking Victimisation: They have even timed it to coincide with the Easter holy calendar
4. Provoking Injustice: No other religions would get treated like this
5. Provoking Action: We must do something about it!

When laid out like that you can see how Christians would swallow the lie and go out to crusade against NBC’s terrible abuse of right to free scriptwriting with incitement to religious hatred. But, what is quickly taken as read and glossed over is the origin of the point: The outrage born from the claim that this show seeks to mock the crucifixion of Christ.

Untangle the rhetoric and in fact, the synopsis shows that mocking/ parodying the crucifixion is the last thing being done here. Rather, as a friend put it, is it perhaps possible that the writers might be mocking the uncanny ability of Christians to kitsch-ify anything sacred having to do with their own faith? Wasn’t it Christian companies that produced Testamints sweets? Or the iBelieve iPod adapter. Is it incomprehensible that a Chritian television network somewhere would put out a biblically themed cookery show? If icons of faith are to be paraded as tasteless consumerist badges parodying mainstream culture inside the Church then shouldn’t Christians expect outside culture to parody back?

It seems to be that Christians, especially of the right-wing, fundagelical variety, take themselves far too seriously and, in their haste to close ranks and stand firm, forming a united bastion against the onslaught of secular society, they disengage their brains and fail to discern the heart of parody. This is a grave mistake as it exacerbates the problem, fuelling mainstream media fires that can rage and mock their knee-jerk reactions; reactions founded on misinformed mob mentality rather than that key ingredient to any ethical or moral stand: truth.

For this reason the UK government’s proposed Incitement to Religious Hatred bill, should continue to be opposed in the strongest possible terms by people of all faiths and none. While, ostensibly, it might have prevented the cartoons that have one way or another led to murders this week, if such a bill were passed it would become the battleground on which factions from all corners would crawl out and aim their ill-considered pot shots at one another wasting both police and court time. More than anything, it would give idiots the ammunition they need pull society into holy wars that have nothing to do with holiness.

Meanwhile NBC reported yesterday that all the information concerning the forthcoming episode of Will and Grace was inaccurate in the first place: Spears will be in a episode airing in April, but no other plans have been made and the episode hasn’t yet been written.

You know that moment in the action film: the hero is trapped in an ancient (yet curiously meticulously maintained) temple trap, the sweat base-jumping slow motion from his chiselled chin. The walls are closing in, scraping stone on stone as they move in hungry for the crush. Our view circles his face as his eyes dart dilated, desperately, mortally searching for a way out of this scriptwriter’s lazy conundrum.

Normally it’s at this point he bounces up the walls out of the trap, or perhaps the damsel flicks a life-saving shut-off switch. But there is no script, no film and he isn’t an actor. There is no way out. The room slowly, dreadfully leans in for the kiss. The south wall bumps our hero’s back at the same moment that his chest is flattened by the north. He turns his head, even as the air is squeezed irresistibly from his lungs; an effort to hold on to just two more seconds of precious life before his skull snaps and consciousness dribbles useless and crimson to the floor.

Pause.

This is the state of the UK arcade industry; just as it has been for five maybe ten years. Impending doom stubbornly caught in a moment it cannot break free from. Home consoles gingerly cradling the UK videogame industry, backs turned on their aging parent: the arcade scene…

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