paul smith's Snaps & Bytes e-home
December 1999: Pre-lennium Madness.
I was talking with a customer when, suddenly and without provocation, she asked me if I had kids balls. Well, talk about blushing! I thought my secret shame was out and we spent several minutes talking at cross-purposes. Of course in the end I discovered she was after the giant Genius™ track ball for kids. Hence: KidsBall. I haven't felt so stupid since that time I spent six months collecting blind dogs for the Guides. I turned up with 18 of the bastards and Brown Owl told me to piss off… It transpired I should have been collecting for 'Guide dogs for the blind'! Oh, how we laughed.
But it's a new N64 game that's been making me chuckle this month. A similar title is available for £60 on the Dreamcast, showing that even new consoles can take a wrong turn in the software maze. I speak, of course, of Bass Hunter 64. If ever you needed proof of the social madness pervading this decadent world at the end of the second millennium, this would be that proof. I've always believed games should let you explore a fantasy world, free of the restraint of having to live with your decisions. You can shoot German soldiers in a labyrinthine castle and not find yourself arrested and executed by firing squad. Drive like a maniac through the streets of Miami and not die in a horrific multiple pile-up. Hunt Zombies without having to visit the Time computers department of Powerhouse. Invade distant planets, battle farting dinosaurs, fly Concorde and build futuristic cities. Play God, and win. But no, this title tells us the height of escapism is a simulation of a sport (discuss) which, next to cricket, is the dullest thing on the face of this Earth. I feel myself slipping into 'Watchdog' mode; (Dear BBC) Why oh why oh why…? Fishing is all about sitting on a rain and wind swept canal bank contemplating your navel and avoiding your wife, isn't it? None of which you're going to do in front of the telly in a warm lounge. Why the hell simulate a game any idiot with a length of stick, a bit of string, a maggot and a stretch of water can enjoy for real? Now, arm the Bass with head mounted lasers, make them 15 foot long mutant killing machines with a desire for human flesh and you've got a game worthy of the title Bass Hunter.
Does e-fishing represent a signpost to the future? Can we expect a cross-stitch simulation from Codemasters? Virtual Hoovering? Watching paint dry, a game of luck and judgement for the PS2? Experience the thrills and excitement of fifty years of inner-peace and not talking in Taoist Monk 2, only for the Dreamcast? If the console and electronic games industry is to survive it needs to find new avenues. I like Lara, but sequels are the product of a stagnating form, said Andy Worhol (maybe), and that's from a man who was very into repeating things. Where are the ground breaking genres? Wolfenstein 3D made the 1st person shooter an enduring style. Lemmings re-invented the 2D scrolling platformer. Why can't we have something that fresh again? Can I ask any more rhetorical questions? Do bears…? But I have a serious suggestion. Sheep Dog Trails. Combine voice (well, whistle) recognition software for the PC version and you have the ideal 'One Man And His Dog' tie-in. Come B(u)y!
Pre-lennium madness has swept into all our lives with swathes of junk mail promising that a drinks straw in the shape of a pair glasses which spell out '2000' will become an heirloom to pass on to future generations. In this KrAZy atmosphere anything is possible. On one hand the future's so bright, we've gotta wear shades and factor 300 sunscreen, once the Ozone layer finally packs its bags and moves on. I.T. is the new Rock & Roll, we are its chosen masters and stand on the brink of a golden age. Or, if you prescribe to the other camp of thought, we stand at the brink of a Millennium Bug induced global economic crash which in ten years time will see us back in the pre-industrial age scrabbling for scraps of the once glorious technological empire we enjoy today. This, the last of the twentieth century, could be the final Pauls Soap Box. The PC it's written on could be about to become an impracticably large doorstop. I'll have to learn to write with a pen again. Quick, someone invent a biro with a built-in spell checker. (It's going to happen one day).
All that's left is for me to wish you all a Merry Christmas and, predictably, a Happy New Year, Decade, Century and Millennium. Lets all hope the 'bug threat does just turn out to be a load of old (kids) balls.