Ian

Wii'll Be Together Again

I've recently become aware of a huge sadness inside me that stems from my childhood, a great yawning chasm of unhappy memories has opened up in front of me. Not a day goes by when I don't look back on those early years with a tinge of regret and often, a solitary tear falling from my eye.

I want to be a member of the Wii family.

Y'know, those guys in the Nintendo Wii adverts who play games with each other on the Nintendo Wii (and sometimes, the Nintendo DS). They seem so happy, so carefree and so damn wholesome. I just can't help but wish they would adopt me and take me into their spotless white home and treat me as one of their own. I can picture it now, me smiling contently with my new orthodontically correct smile as Mum (still pretty hot for her age, firm breasts, healthy middleclass charm personified) steps up to the console for a quick game of Wii Sports with my new sister Sarah (off to Oxford in the autumn, spectacular arse, just back from a period of charity work in Africa). We laugh at their inept attempts to play the game. Not in a nasty way of course, but just chuckling to ourselves at how much fun this videogaming lark can be. Innocent fun, I might add - we don't settle down to watch horrormovies together or laugh at unfortunate news items on the six o'clock bulletin. We play together, the whole family enjoying this precious time in each other's company. Sometimes I play Mario Strikers on the Wii with my new brother, Shaun Wright-Phillips whilst my Dad, Ian Wright looks on proudly. It's a good life here, and I feel safe.

My new house is beautiful, everything is so white and clean and pure. Like the Nintendo Wii sitting underneath our telly, the house is sleek and modern. I have a room to myself and a brand new Nintendo DS to play on. All of a sudden pretty girls (often friends of my sister) are desperate to get into my room and play with me. Not with me, exactly, but with my Nintendo DS. We invite the rest of family to play with us but they're busy doing other things (Mum is keeping toned by working out with Wii Fit, whilst Dad and Shaun mess around on our second Wii in the other room). Sarah comes into the room with her new boyfriend and we settle down to play Brain Training (Sarah needs to keep her mind sharp if she's going to Oxford). Her new boyfriend is handsome, I have to admit, but their relationship seems strangely sexless, like mine with her friend Emma who only seems interested in my Nintendo DS and holding hands as we run through cornfields.

The food is nice too. We eat health food mostly and avoid caffeine drinks. Thanks to my new healthy eating habits I found I've become more attractive still. My palid games player's skin has changed to a healthy light brown glow as the summer has worn on. We've sat outside on the patio playing our DS'es together alot this summer, so I suppose it's only natural. Thanks to his continued use of Brain Training even Shaun, previously a dim-witted footballer more concerned with chatting up page three girls and getting into the VIP area at nightclubs than doing long division has boosted his IQ to the point where he's considering dropping out of football and joining Sarah at Oxford next term. All in all things are going well, my former life just a distant memory.

I wish you could all be here, and we could all live like this. It's almost like heaven in a way, only we get to play games instead of the harp.

Chris W

Only the crumbliest, flakiest Rock Band...

The relationship between TV and games bothers me. It’s not been exploited anywhere near as effectively as it could be. Whereas film at least produces the potential for decent games - not to mention a convenient sales spike upon release - television, with its emphasis on human interaction and continuing story elements, conveys less well to digital media. Off the top of my head, the only really successful (and not-so-successful) efforts I can think of are based on cartoons, which aren’t generally too bothered with cutting edge drama.

So where else should be we be looking? There’s one part of TV infiltrates popular culture on a daily basis: the adverts. Consider it: puzzle games based on those Honda adverts, stunt racers based on many car ads, and many adverts for the latest LCD TVs look like something from Fantavision. Who wouldn’t want to take a lightgun to kneecap those dancing cunts that work for the Halifax? But there’s one gametype where we can achieve true synergy.

How many adverts are remembered purely for their music? How many musicians have shot or returned to fame because of a commercial? Apple’s iPod nano campaign recently did wonders for Canadian folk-pop elf Feist, and Levi’s and Guinness, amongst others, have been at it for decades.

The solution is simple: downloads of collections of songs taken from adverts, for your favourite rythym/karaoke/instrument-based game. The old songs thrive on nostalgia, the new ones add exposure for the artists of the day. We don’t even need proper songs; many ads have short, catchy tunes we sing along to, even if afterwards we can’t remember what they were flogging. They’d make ideal bonus rounds, collections of Wario Ware-style minigames, one ditty after another, as fast as you can go. As source material for the new wave of group games that rely on bundled peripherals, it’s something everyone is familiar with. Picture it: you banging away on the drums, sis strumming on the guitar, and gran busy covering your best microphone in spittle, arms flapping.

I feel like Chicken Tonight,
Like Chicken Tonight.
Chicken Tonight!

There’s even the potential for the companies using these songs to sponsor or subsidise the downloads, getting them into our living rooms on the cheap. You can take a cynical view of the intrusion of advertising space into your home if you like, but I’d be happy with a few cheap games showing something I’d likely be watching on the telly anyway.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check where I can hire four gorilla suits while I wait for Phil Collin’s In the Air Tonight to hit Rock Band.