Disgaea is one of my favourite videogames. When the first game came out Nippon Ichi was mostly unheard of in the West and 1998′s Final Fantasy Tactics had been the last Strategy RPG of any note. I had to spend twenty minutes convincing Edge’s reviews editor that yes, it really was worth a nine: Disgaea rewrote the rulebook with such flair and attitude that it was hard not to love, even if you disliked its vastly increased complexity. This sequel does more of the same better. Buy it when it comes out.

All games are essentially mathematics in fancy clothes.

Take Grand Theft Auto for a set question.

Scenario: You’re sizing up to a drug baron. He’s tall and broad chested which gives you a clue to his generous health allocation of 500 hit points. Each bullet you fire from your AK47 that successfully finds its target subtracts 10hp from him. Your gun fires bullets at a rate of three per second. You’re pretty good at geometry laws so you estimate an average hit success rate of three in five bullets. You’ve already depleted his health by half.

There’s a bomb in the house you’re fighting in that goes off in 45 seconds.

Question: Have you got time finish off the drug baron and exit the house before the bomb detonates or should you make a run for it now? Show your workings in the five seconds you have to complete the sum.

Speed mathematics. Rockstar drape over a gold chain and a hip-hop soundtrack so you don’t actually realise you’re in a mock GCSE exam and *kapow* you’re addicted to all the things that made you run from school into the warm cathode embrace of videogames in the first place.

Of course, while each face-off with a boss like the one above is even more intricate in reality (what about your own life-bar? what’s his rate of fire, firepower and accuracy?) ultimately, Grand Theft Auto, like most videogames, only requires the player to estimate. You estimate whether you’ll defeat the boss in time to get out the house in time, evaluating a complex matrix of factors you see around you to make a series of split second choices. Then, even if you make a crucial mistake, you’re free to tackle the mission again – now with the benefit of experiential data with which to refine those estimations.

Disgaea 2, sequel to the King of the Strategy RPG, is far more concerned with the method. Indeed, it’s entirely possible to get the result you’re aiming for – say completing a map or defeating a tricky boss – but to do it in a way that doesn’t reap the maximum benefits for your team in terms of experience or items gained which will leave you weaker in the overarching play arc of your experience.

And while you have all the time in the world to make your decisions, once taken there’s no going back and no second chances – you and your characters are the sum total of your choices, good and bad, and as a result Disgaea 2 is your game like no other – the thrill not so much in the reaching of the final credits as the elegance, effectiveness and skill with which you get there, and the person you have become at the end of it all.

You can read the rest here

So, this is the PSP RPG you’ve been waiting for.

It’s intelligent in design, rich in storytelling, expertly paced in action, deep and meaningful in dialogue, beautifully scored and stunningly hand-drawn and animated. It boasts near imperceptible loading, and urgently presses into your palms a battle mechanic that’s at once quickly accessible in the short term and genuinely compulsive in the long.

And yet, in so many other ways, it’s not the PSP RPG you’ve been waiting for at all.

It’s wholly quirky and counter-cultural, relentlessly melancholic, at times ugly and awkward in design and it’s uncomfortably drenched in an ambiance of tragic darkness that Hollywood-shlock Resident Evils or gory Quakes would have neither the subtlety nor the inclination to pull off.

Expectedly, this isn’t a PSP original but rather port of the rare and highly regarded Enix PSone game, Valkyrie Profile – a title that never saw a European release and only enjoyed a very limited American print run in 2000. It has since earned cult following for good reason, matching deep and complex gameplay with heavy narrative themes of life, death, tragedy, meaning, glory and heroism all viewed through the lens of Norse gods.

As such, the game’s backdrop and narrative concern is about as far from the spiky-haired orphan waiting to prove himself or disgraced knight on a journey to restore family honour as is imaginable. You play (principally) as Lenneth, a Valkyrie goddess of war and right-hand maiden to the Odin, leader of the heavenly Aesirs.

Lenneth’s special ability is: “to hear the sorrow, anger and hopes of humans near death”. In the uncultured and immature world of videogames we’re well used to such portentous abilities being gutturally announced against flashed up imagery of thick blood and orchestral stabs of terror. But snuff voyeurism is far from the heart of this more tender game.

You can read the rest here

The culture of mash-ups (the splicing of two or more songs and vocals together to create a new whole) has lost none of its devestating momentum recently thanks to Girl Talk’s recent Night Ripper album and a handful of exciting underground releases.

A soundtrack to so many Cult Clothing/ Urban Outfitter stores, most commonplace mash-ups (aka Bootlegs/ Bastard Pop) are done to create an initial kick of aural surprise and disorientation in the listener followed by that gentle amusement that comes from hearing two things played together that aren’t usually.

It’s not a new idea, examples dating back (at the very least) to the French Musique Concrète movement of the 1940s and 50, and then on through Zappa’s Xenochrony and the work of John Oswald.

Modern mash-ups rarely create anything coherently or uniquely new or particularly artistically beautiful in themselves but, of course, there are exceptions that add up to more than the sum of their parts. Those cleverer producers with time and a-cappellas on their hands have chance, through the mash-up medium, to piece together something coherent and illuminating by juxtaposing songs from distinct genres or by pairing artists that would never share stage with one another – pretty much the key to all great commentary art.

Particularly gifted mash-up producers have sometimes launched mainstream careers via the medium, most notably Richard X (working under the name Girls On Top), whose 2002 track “We Don’t Give a Damn About Our Friends” grafted an old Adina Howard acapella onto the music of Tubeway Army’s “Are ‘Friends’ Electric?”. The song became so popular that it was released with re-recorded vocals by Sugababes (under the title “Freak Like Me”), their version, by design, almost indistinguishable from the “original”. The single went straight to number one in the UK charts, making it the first bastard pop crossover hit.

For people that like the production of a neon cute pop record but can’t stomach the stigma of the Britney or Girls Aloud branding, a mash-up can lend underground chic and validation to their secret (and obviously valid) pleasure (Hollertronix’s excellent Tippin Toxic being a prime example).

Likewise, creatives that like to add their own touches into the mix can often create something delightfully fresh and new where the source material feels dated and boring such as in Loo & Placido’s amazing ‘Kids Rock’ – a version of Queen’s We Will Rock You.

But beyond that, mash-ups also give alert amateur producers the chance to show where the ‘professionals’ have been borrowing or even wholesale lifting their contemporaries’ ideas by cannily splicing together two supposedly original tracks to demonstrate the plagiariser – eloquently showing how Pop Has Eaten Itself with an ironic elegance that mere words could never manage.

Earlier this year there was no small amount of controversy regarding the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s last single ‘Dani California’ allegedly ripping off Tom Petty’s ‘Mary Jane’s Last Dance’.

Digital Spy reported the accusations from a US radio station, WGMD, based in Delaware. The show’s producer Jared Morris said “The chord progression, the melody, the tempo, the key, the lyrical theme…they’re identical.”

The debate swung from side to side until later that month a mash-up of the two tracks appeared on scene website www.mashuptown.com from artist Laptop Punk. He said: “The tempo is about 10bpm different between the two, the key is also *slightly* different but other than that it’s the same. This mix was made in about 3 hours and involved making an a capella of the Petty track and taking the bass/drums/guitar parts from the first verse of ‘Dani California’ and a snippet of the guitar which sounded very similar to the harmonica part on Petty’s original.”

The result pretty much proves the accusation but, as always, judge for yourself.

Even more recently a mash-up of Muse’s new single, ‘Supermassive Black Hole’, with Britney Spears’ ‘Do Somethin” appeared online briefly before being quickly removed.

The grey legality of mash-ups means that they often court controversy and cease and desist orders such as in the case of Dj Dangermouse’s (now of Gnarls Barkley fame) The Grey Album (a supremely intelligent mash up of The Beatle’s White Album and Jay-Z’s The Black album. Likewise, late last year the mash-up album American Edit, mash-ups all based on Green Day’s enormously successful American Idiot record, was banned.

Mash-up town explains: “Only 10 days after its release, American Edit, which pays tribute to the acclaimed Green Day album American Idiot through some of the best mash-up productions of 2005, was shut down reportedly after received a cease & desist order from Green Day’s label, Warner records, despite the fact that it was released as an internet only release with no commercial gain for the team of mash-up artists involved. In fact, the only possible profit to be made from the release was a plea from the creators of the album (known only by the shared alias Dean Gray) for fans who enjoyed the creation to donate to one of three possible charities that Green Day have been known to support. Furthermore, the mash-up versions were such fantastic productions that they were truly a departure from the standard Green Day performances and would not compete for consumptive dollars.”

Charles Arthur, editor of the Technology supplement of The Guardian argues along similar lines (in this case, specifically around the Muse/ Britney marriage) on his excellent blog “The “take that down!” attitude is antediluvian,” he rants. “Remember, it gave Suzanne Vega an entirely new lease of life (and cash) when Tom’s Diner got remixed”

“Plus, a mashup isn’t going to turn into a commercial song: who’s going to distribute it? (Oh, wait, those file-sharing networks. OK, then, who’s going to pay for it? Umm..) Double-plus, it can expose you to a whole new group. I treasure my mashup of Weezer’s “Hash Pipe” with Gwen Sefani’s “What You Waiting For”. Pure gold.”

But, as well as being fantastically presented and working perfectly as a possibly preferable track to the originals, Britney’s Massive Hole shows Muse’s chorus to be startlingly similar to that of the older track.

The mash-up’s creator Divide & Kreate said of the tracks: “To my astonishment the track “Supermassive Black Hole” has stolen the riff from Britney’s “Do somethin’”. Never thought Britney would influence someone… the two tracks are ironically in the same key and tempo as well.”

So perhaps the record company ordered the track’s removal not for potential financial loss of single sales, but because of possible plagiarism litigation from Britney’s writers. Aside: I seem remember from an interview I did with Fame Academy coach and 80′s British pop artist David Grant, that for one songwriter to take another to court from plagiarism at least seven consecutive notes have to be identical in each song before it’s even considered by a judge – something that prevented him from taking Erykah Badu to court as one of her tracks copied just six consecutive notes from one of his previous singles.

Anyway, Mash-up town have now re-presented the track for download here so you can enjoy it after all.

Not all mash-ups have been mercilessly banned by The Man. Go Home Productions release of “Ray of Gob” (a splice of Madonna’s “Ray of Light” and the Sex Pistols’ “Pretty Vacant” and “God Save The Queen” was cleared by the representatives of both parties and the track even earned the approbation of the Pistols’ guitarist Steve Jones. Likewise, also in 2003, Kylie Minogue showed the razor sharp awareness of her management by performing Erol Alkan’s mashup of New Order’s “Blue Monday” and her own hit “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” entitled “Can’t Get Blue Monday Out of My Head” at the Brit Awards.

Of course, the mash-up is just a slightly more complicated and less creative take on lifting a backing track or chorus from a song and adding your own vocals, melodies or, in most cases, rapping. One example of this you need to check out is (and I only crowbar it in here because it’s SO awesome) Rapper’s Delight Club, “a musical side project for a rotating group of elementary school children”. Start with Hum – the best thing you’ll hear this summer – then move to the delightful First Ladies’ Anthem which takes a group of 5-12 year old girls (plus one boy) and gets them to rap words of their own creation over Sufjan Stevens’ “They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back From the Dead!! Ahhhhh!”.

“I don’t need a man coz I make my own wealth”…

…says the six year old girl.

I’m not sure how I feel about what that says about Destiny’s Child culture but still…AWWW!

DJ Food’s incredible 40-min MP3 of the history of bastard pop, remix and mashup, Raiding the 20th Century, is available, one way or another, by following the white rabbit here.

Number 41, Great Russell Street, London – opposite the British Museum.

Arthur Probsthain Oriental & African Bookseller has tiny dark windows and, if you manage to catch a rare ray of sunlight while peering in, you’ll see little else but dust, dustcovers and history pinned to paper.

Even if the truth of the matter is more sober, you imagine it’s a shop full of books full of stories of how this explorer found that artefact before, against the greatest of odds, successfully retrieving it for the neighbouring museum. It’s the perfect place for an author to impregnate the opening chapter of his rollicking Boy’s Own adventure: serving potential and poise before the darting narrative births, colourfully fictionalising stories that, in reality, were more likely beige fact.

But that’s not what we’re here for. I just really love old bookshops.

Neither are we here for the currency exchange at number 40 Great Russell Street. That is, unless we’re one of the heaving mass of Italian exchange students and need our Lira made Sterling to buy a British Museum pencil and rubber.

Gosh! sits at number 39 Great Russell Street: a comic/ graphic novel shop part owned by impossibly highly-paid BBC TV/ radio presenter Jonathan Ross. It’s the best comic shop I’ve been in because it doesn’t sell that many comics. Well, obviously it does, what I mean is it sells lots of other stuff too: rows of exotic hand-drawn curios, imported 4 foot tall hardbound graphic novels you’d never get home on the tube or past the wife, quirky translated Japanese children’s books about breasts and Totoro that you long your children might fall in love with as well as piles of awkwardly stapled fanzines by barmy-in-the-head local artists.

Everything either looks beautiful or reads beautiful and the excitement is trying to find those few things in there that do both.

Anyway, on the way out, having already paid for my other purchase, I picked up the fanzine Mustard on the counter. This B&W photocopied comic fanzine is in its sixth issue, the latest boasting a loving and diverse 9-page interview with comic book writer and genius Alan Moore.

In it he says lots of things you expect him to (repeating many brilliant points he was making twenty odd years ago in the essential and cheap Alan Moore’s Writing for Comics – a must read for anybody working in any creative narrative-based industry). He’s delightfully and predictably scathing of things that need scathing – putting forward a strong argument for why film is the weakest creative medium and explaining why it would be idiotic for anybody to attempt a film version of his seminal Watchmen (one point being that he deliberately filled the novel with techniques and effects that would be impossible in film to demonstrate why comic books aren’t just a poor cousin to celluloid).

He also talks about lots of things you don’t expect him to – his personal drug use and why he thinks that we are the first culture to have had a drug misuse problem despite thousands of years of substance use. He speaks, uncomfortably for me, of his use of ritual and magic to facilitate and sharpen his creativity – but does so with such wit and honesty that it’s hard not to warm to him and try to understand his methods, even if you don’t accept them.

One thing he said stuck out at me in particular, probably because I’d spent the best part of the afternoon working my way around the British Museum feature planning.

Moore talks about how we (western society) seem to currently believe that the material world is the only one that’s important or that exists. “Despite the fact that believing this means that we are actually thinking and science can’t actually explain how we think,” he explains.

“It is the ghost in the machine, forever outside the province of science. You can’t produce a thought in an empirical laboratory experiment – so you cannot properly talk about thought. Thought is a supernatural event that happens everyday.

“And the world of ideas is much more important than the world of thought. I mean, what’s more important, the reality of a chair or the idea of a chair? I’d say it looks like the physical world is actually predicated upon the tangible world of ideas and the mind.”

Which, having spent so much time examining and walking through centuries of the material residue of supernatural thought that day, was an illuminating observation.

Museums, especially one as diverse and wide-ranging in its collections as the British Museum, present, largly randomly, thousands of years of culture and materialised thought process from myriad ages, continents, people-groups and religions. As a result, they have to be one of the most supernaturally confusing, or, to put it another way, idea diverse places to be in.

For example: When walking through Oxford Circus today there’s a coherency to the things you see around you: the geography’s clothing (i.e. shop fronts/ signs/ advertising hoardings) and material flotsam (the CDs, DVDs, stalls with ‘I’ve been to London’ tee-shirts and hats, the knock-off fake perfume and greasy hotdogs) is largely built on a coherent base of supernatural thought that currently underpins this cultural landscape: capitalism and consumerism. These overriding and inescapbale ideas in our society are here concentrated into one area and incarnated (or, more accurately, made architecturally manifest) in Oxford Street’s surroundings.

Whether you like them or not, you hopefully understand the fact that what you see around you is birthed from such ideas.

But walking through a museum, which incorporates the materials, artefacts, jewellery, masonry, statues and idols of countless cultures, all built on different sets of thought, referencing different ideas and legends, and building upon on different supernatural fundamentals is confusing. It can be, if you open your eyes and ears to it, a cacophony of noise walking through a museum as you catch the partial strains of ideas from whatever material residue has been recovered from cultures passed.

Anyhow, all this to say it’s a well-transcribed, excellently framed interview and, if you’re a fan of Moore, it’s essential reading.

This week I watched Lars von Trier’s extraordinary film Breaking the Waves. I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable for such a prolonged period of time. You know when the atmosphere in a room goes awkward and you look at your fingernails or play with some coins in your hand to avoid unecessary eye contact? – I had that through much of this film.

The payout at the end was beautiful – just enough sweetener to make the harrowing marathon before it seem exhilerating with hindsight.

I think it might be the best film I’ve seen and, as with all things I fall in love with, I’ve been religiously telling people about it since so they can experience and share in it too.

What follows is an MSN conversation with friend and radio’s leading videogames presenter, Robert Howells, after I mentioned the film to him. We quickly got on to the question of whether the dearth of comparably harrowing videogames is through choice or necessity; all via Darfur.

Robert Howells says: (10:25:42 am)

I woke Ruth up in the middle of the night last night to ask her why there’s yet to be a harrowing videogame and if she thinks the medium just isn’t capable of it

goz says: (10:25:42 am)

What do you mean by harrowing videogame exactly? When you think of that concept, what do you see in your mind?

Robert Howells says: (10:26:58 am)

hmm, that’s the thing

Robert Howells says: (10:27:05 am)

Like, say Dancer in the Dark as an extreme example [another of Von Trier's films in which musician Bjork plays a factory worker encountering set-back upon set-back before tragically being wrongfully executed by the state]

Robert Howells says: (10:27:25 am)

I can’t imagine a game that makes me feel awkward and it hard to continue playing in that way

goz says: (10:28:23 am)

Maybe people currently only make games for fun but never really to inspire change or anything beyond that

Robert Howells says: (10:28:32 am)

You see, it started because Ruth was talking about this game and I was trying to think how/ if the idea behind it could be done [for consoles]

Robert Howells says: (10:29:19 am)

Another thing that got me cross was how games creators aren’t allowed to make something purely as an act of self-expression, which is allowed in absolutely everything else

Robert Howells says: (10:29:40 am)

Why couldn’t you make a game about Darfur just to say how you feel about it?

goz says: (10:29:53 am)

Because it wouldn’t sell?

Robert Howells says: (10:30:01 am)

Hmm, I think publishers are part of it

goz says: (10:30:14 am)

I guess there aren’t the systems to allow for that kind of singularly independent or specific game creation right now, or at least ones that would facilitate distribution and sales in any meaningful numbers.

goz says: (10:31:06 am)

But, imagine a full 360 release where you play as a kid in Darfur…

Robert Howells says: (10:31:34 am)

I think the reward structure would be hard to work out, like, how do you make the player feel good: make them want to continue?

goz says: (10:31:58 am)

Does a player always have to feel good to want to continue playing something though?

Robert Howells says: (10:32:15 am)

I wish they didn’t

goz says: (10:32:28 am)

I only felt good watching Breaking the Waves for a tiny amount of the film – but it was still an amazing and intense and enriching experience so that I want to urge others to go through it too

Robert Howells says: (10:32:33 am)

It seems to be the only way of making games interesting though: Endorphins for small victories

Robert Howells says: (10:32:45 am)

There must be a different way

goz says: (10:32:56 am)

The difficulty is that videogames are all about role-play though

goz says: (10:33:04 am)

In a film you are simply a spectator – emotionally involved and interacting perhaps – but you don’t become the protagonist. There’s a distance between your experience and their experience that a videogame cannot provide.

goz says: (10:33:20 am)

In a harrowing film/ documentary wouldn’t want to actually go through those things but you don’t mind watching them as they might change you or enrich you or motivate you towards change or some other positive result.

goz says: (10:33:38 am)

But to choose to live out that life in a game…

goz says: (10:33:41 am)

I’m not so sure.

goz says: (10:34:08 am)

Being a starving kid in Darfur is something you’d never choose to inflict on yourself or others, let alone pay to do.

goz says: (10:35:33 am)

It’s interesting how in the Darfur flash game they make your motivation survival. It’s actually quite similar to Resident Evil/ Silent Hill in that way: Survival Horror…

Robert Howells says: (10:35:54 am)

hmm, yeah

Robert Howells says: (10:36:16 am)

The other argument is whether it’s right to make a game about people’s suffering so in the West we can enjoy it

Robert Howells says: (10:36:32 am)

But if that argument exists you have to also apply it to films

goz says: (10:36:35 am)

Hmm. I don’t buy that argument

goz says: (10:36:52 am)

This game in point, you enjoy because you’re entering into playing out the struggle to survive which is something we all have in common as humans

goz says: (10:37:40 am)

It’s just this game gives you chance to experience that struggle in a very particular scenario and so generates empathy and understanding which maybe wasn’t there before in the player. That’s not exploitation – it’s just trying to promote some kind of solidarity

Robert Howells says: (10:37:51 am)

I totally agree

goz says: (10:38:03 am)

Even if, in a flash game of this sort, it’s all in a very simplified form of dodge the gunmen in trucks/ find water etc. But then I guess – that is the reality of their simple but deadly struggle

goz says: (10:38:19 am)

So then it works

goz says: (10:38:58 am)

“We must not be afraid of putting people in the shoes of groups or people or individuals that are not comfortable”

goz says: (10:39:02 am)

That is a great quotation

Robert Howells says: (10:39:02 am)

Mmm. But then there’s this comment

goz says: (10:39:32 am)

…

Robert Howells says: (10:39:38 am)

Which is stupid and wrong

Robert Howells says: (10:39:55 am)

Let’s spend all the money it takes setting up Children in Need and give it directly as a donation!

Robert Howells says: (10:40:16 am)

No, wait, don’t – it’ll be far less money and solve nothing

Robert Howells says: (10:40:51 am)

She says: “People who play the game for entertainment are unlikely to read all of the information embedded in it, trivializing/ignoring the game’s call for action”.

Robert Howells says: (10:40:56 am)

I love that she knows that

goz says: (10:41:46 am)

You could apply the same logic to the Six ‘o Clock News

Robert Howells says: (10:41:54 am)

Absolutely

Robert Howells says: (10:42:07 am)

I guess it’s videogames’ stigma that causes her reaction.

Robert Howells says: (10:42:19 am)

Comics have got over it relatively quickly

Robert Howells says: (10:42:29 am)

It just takes a Maus or something to change everything

goz says: (10:44:19 am)

Yes

goz says: (10:44:25 am)

You are exactly right

You can play the game ‘Darfur is Dying’ here.

Following a statement from Sony yesterday regarding its Dutch White PSP advert, combined with the number of hits Chewing Pixels has had from individuals at the company in the last couple of days, here’s a brief update for balancing sake.

Firstly, and this is simply to reinforce that Chewing Pixels is neither completely ignorant nor so desperately hungry for hits as to say mindlessly controversial things for attention: we never said the advert was ‘racist’ and neither were we ‘campaigning for its removal’.

However, while the product being advertised behind the slick photography has nothing to do with race, the advert inherently and unavoidably does, thanks to the execution.

Had the advertisement featured two little PSPs, one black and one white, with little fists and sharp knees, at each other’s throats (besides being an incoherent branding and marketing disaster) it would not have touched on the thorny and emotive issue of race. However, by anthropomorphising the PSPs with aspirational and ethnically distinct female models, it is – regardless of whether that was the intention or not.

So, as we said on Tuesday, it’s mildly inappropriate in a historical context and the fact that the particular image under scrutiny is just one of many used in the campaign (the inference being that not all the photos show the white girl in a position of dominance/ threat over the black one) doesn’t vindicate it. Here the image in question is being shown in isolation rather than as one of a set and, after all, not everyone may have seen the other iterations.

So, with all that in mind, here is what Sony had to say to our friends and occasional employers at gameindustry.biz:

“The marketing campaign for the launch of the White PSP in the Benelux focuses on the contrast between the Black PSP model and the new Ceramic white PSP model.”

“A variety of different treatments have been created as a campaign to either highlight the whiteness of the new model or contrast the black and the white models. Central to this campaign has been the creation of some stunningly photographed imagery, that has been used on large billboards throughout Holland.”

According to the spokesperson, “All of the 100 or so images created for the campaign have been designed to show this contrast in colours of the PSPs, and have no other message or purpose.”

Besides the other issues in the statement that we’ve already tackled, in this last point Sony claims or feigns ignorance that this was controversial marketing for the sake of publicity (something not historically out of the question). Which, for once, we’re inclined to believe; or at least to believe that that’s what this particular Sony employee believes.

Still, in parting, Sony assures the UK: “We categorically are not running this advert creative in the UK.”

And then, as we type, Sony removes all the imagery under question from its Dutch PSP site too.

So make of that what you will.

It couldn’t be better timing really.

With the internet currently fuming one way or the other (actually, just one way really) over Alejandro Quan-Madrid’s idiotic, stupid, ineloquent, muck-stirring, trolling accusations that the black Moja enemies in Sony’s new and wonderful PSP game, LocoRoco, represent “unchecked institutionalised racism that needs calling out“, a new PSP advert appears on the internet.

The photograph was taken in Rotterdam and doubters crying photoshop fake need only drop by Sony’s official NL site here to be silenced.

The advertisement is for the new white edition plastic Sony PSP handheld console. This is a complimentary iteration of the product – not a rival to the original black cased PSP as the advert suggests. As you can see, the PSPs have been anthropomorphised and the struggle of colour inherently becomes one of race. Viewed generously, it’s a simply, not-particularly clever, ambiguously distasteful but suitably aspirational looking advertising hook. Viewed historically, it’s probably inappropriate.

Now internet minds join the dots and build a conspiratorial racism case of hot-air and ill-considered hyperbole against Sony that will never amount to anything really but will secure the column inches and bandwidth in its making that the company’s precision marketing teams were aiming for.

But still, they’ve gone too far in my opinion. Those calling for a balancing Black-beating-White PSP advert are missing the point terribly. Besides the fact racial oppression (or, at very least the indication of it) is still wrong even if it’s balanced (duh), we have this thing called history.

It’s inappropriate on Sony’s part even if it will be spectacularly successful in what it set out to achieve and for that they should be frowned upon, even if it’s execution is just far enough out of the reach of the ASA, or whatever the NL equivalent is, for reprimand.

The conspiracy theorist in me wonders if Alejandro Quan-Madrid recently cashed a cheque for his LocoRoco trolling but no advertising agency could ever be that co-ordinated, right?

I’ll level with you: there was some pleasure in writing this review. It’s hard not to feel a small amount of guilt when you rubbish a game – especially an RPG. To essentially judge that the astonishing number of man hours planning, designing, balancing, play-testing, marketing and doing PR on a title were basically a waste (at least in terms of merit if not financially) is a heavy burden. But when a game falls on shoddy localisation and translation it’s hard to forgive.

Also: how satisfying it was to write the final sentence below and to then see that EG’s editor left it in. He understands my pain.

“A simple and easy to understand scenario and system will get people of all ages and both sexes to enjoy playing casual RPG games.”

There’s so much between those lines it’s a marvel they managed to squeeze it into the PSP’s 480×272 start-up screen.

The key words in there, both literal and inferred, describing this game and to whom it should appeal are: “simple”, “easy”, “casual”, “the elderly” and “girls”. Not things one traditionally associates with any type of videogame, let alone orthodox 12-year-old Korean-pretending-to-be-Japanese RPGs.

Right. Before we cover our adjectives in Astonishia’s blood lets make a few things clear. Simplicity and ease of understanding are good and rare things in videogames. Titles that appeal to both ages and are inclusive of all sexes are similarly commendable; but the key to both these things isn’t in dumbing down – it’s in clear, concise form and function.

It’s in game mechanics that are understood in a moment but savoured and unravelled through a lifetime; it’s in making straight and fast and easy in-roads to fun and payoff for a player so that the eyes of those unwilling to contend with the ugly and lazy gaming conventions that hardened players happily excuse, sparkle with understanding and fresh delight.

It’s Tetris; it’s Super Monkey Ball, EyeToy, LocoRoco, Dance Dance Revolution. It’s Advance Wars; that Nintendo difference.

It’s also known as being good at your job.

And that is what’s so infuriating about Astonishia Story’s little preplay caveat: it’s pure spin. It’s parading stupidity for simplicity; claiming superficiality as elegance; passing off the base and obvious as premeditated inclusiveness and marketing what was bland, ineffective and derivative in 1994 as colourful, interesting and novel in 2006.

OK; that’s probably enough spittle-flecked preaching for one introduction. Some instruction manual points to put the youngsters in the cheap seats at ease:

You can read the rest here