GAME's administration: A gamer's view

I'd be lying if I said I was an expert in economics, but there are one or two things about the coverage of GAME's potential collapse which I - as a gamer and consumer - find it hard to accept. There's lots of talk about credit terms and competition with supermarkets - which is the downfall of so many high street retailers - but for me this doesn't cover GAME's failings.

Years ago there were two specialist high street retail chains: GAME and Electronics Boutique (since I'm digging out brain cells that have been dormant for a while, I think EB was Futurezone before that - that's going back a bit). GAME successfully bought out all of EB's stores, but never consolidated them, resulting in the current situation in which most major retail-oriented city centres have two branches of GAME. This must have meant a lot of staff and property overhead for little extra profit. Buying games isn't like wanting an overpriced coffee, you don't need to just turn your head and see a branch.

Some time later, a new chain emerged which specialised in the then-fledgling trade-in market, Gamestation. GAME decided to buy out the competition again, acquiring all of Gamestation's branches, many of which were - again - in cities which already had two branches of GAME. Additionally, by this time GAME had also adopted a major pre-owned strategy of their own and for most gamers, to be honest, GAME and Gamestation had become interchangeable.

It never made sense to me why GAME continued to maintain so much duplication on the high street. In many cities they effectively had three stores, often within a couple of streets of each other. I always though it was the perfect opportunity to compare which branch enjoyed the most footfall and conversion and to close the lesser locations.

The talk of supermarket's undercutting GAME is also confusing. As a gamer, I have to say that I find neither supermarkets or GAME to be a particularly competitive option. Play.com and Amazon pretty much set the standard best price for new game releases. GAME's best feature, for me, was the regular weekly deals and occasional discounts they would offer. There was always a good reason to visit GAME regularly and for me it simply wasn't the new releases.

Obviously the high street struggles to compete with online. What is particularly irritating about GAME's practices over the last few years is that they don't even compete with their own website. The same titles would regularly be £5-£10 cheaper on their website than in-store and local staff were powerless to price match. Perhaps the branches were having to pay for their multiple presence in the high street?

I think it would be a sad day for gamers in the UK if GAME and Gamestation disappear, leaving HMV left as the only struggling retail chain to specialise in entertainment products. For those towns with a decent independent game shop it will be a good season, but I fear many gamers will be left with only online options and for the casual gamer it will be a very confusing time.

Wii Fit Versus EA Sports Active 2

Recently I hit something of a milestone. Wii Fit informed me that I was on my 1000th day with the exercise game. Not that that is 1000 actual times used, but rather 1000 days since I started using Wii Fit.

It seemed like a pretty good time to take stock of the benefits I have gained from using Wii Fit, especially since I also purchased EA Sports Active 2 in the new year in an attempt to gain some strength for a skiing trip - always a physical challenge. Why did I choose another exercise game over Wii Fit? What did I feel I needed which Wii Fit didn't deliver?

Over the years I've used it, Wii Fit has given me a great boost to my fitness. It has served different purposes at different times. When I used to attend a gym regularly I used Wii Fit on my "rest days" between gym sessions; using the Yoga exercises to stay flexible, achieve some toning and improve balance. After giving up the gym, I moved over to a combination of Yoga, Muscle workouts and Step as my main exercise - using Wii Fit three times a week to stay in shape.

Wii Fit has consistently delivered on these things. I can honestly say that with proper use, Wii Fit has helped me to stay in shape over the years, lose weight and tone muscle.

However, once I was relying on Wii Fit for my main exercise, I found that my cardio capacity declined. Maybe it was down to my choice of exercises, or maybe it was just that the pace of Wii Fit is a little laid back, but I felt it wasn't really pushing me.

I knew I needed two things for Skiing: good leg muscle and good cardio fitness. At the GameCity festival in Nottingham in October 2010, I had the chance to try a demo of EA Sports Active 2. My memory of that demo was burning thighs and puffing for breath. I thought that if I wanted to be pushed, EA Sports Active 2 might be the way forward.

In my mind, what EA Sports Active 2 delivers over Wii Fit is twofold: Firstly, the game features workout programmes that feel like they have been designed by a fitness instructor. Rather than having to pick your own exercises, in EA Sports Active 2 the workouts present you with a balance of exercise which take you through a steady warmup, provide hard exercise for the middle of the workout and then slow things down again. The Heart Rate stats collected by the monitor worn throughout the workout attest to this. When conducting a workout programme, the sessions are also focused differently on different days; one day will be leg building, others core muscles, etc. Secondly, EA Sports Active 2 pushes the pace. The exercises are delivered in a rapid fashion (sometimes too quickly!) and the feeling of being in a gym class is upheld.

With EA Sports Active 2, I felt the improvement in my strength and cardio ability building steadily.

It's not without its flaws, as a piece of software: EA Sports Active 2 relies on being able to see the screen. For the exercises which prevent you from seeing it (such as pressups or plank exercises) Wii Fit is generally much better at talking to you and updating you on progress verbally.

I also found EA Sports Active 2's graphs to be an annoyance. The game collects all kinds of data about workouts and from surveys completed, but then insists on displaying the information from rest days on the graph. It's impossible to build up any coherent meaning from the data if the line chart drops to 0 every other day.

Some of the exercises, too, seem incompatible with an indoor workout. There are a few (a very small minority) which would probably work great in trainers on astroturf but when attempting them at home on a carpet, hard floor, or exercise mat (I've tried them all!) they are very difficult to complete comfortably.

Occasionally, too, the sensors are not as accurate as they could be. I'm not sure if it is down to the accuracy of the sensors or the way the game is programmed. Sometimes EA Sports Active 2 is in such a hurry to start the next exercise it registers your "resting" position in the wrong place and then can't measure your exercises. In the same way, there are some exercises which will happily register exercise on the "wrong" leg, but when you switch to the other leg it refuses to continue.

But, if I remember the early days I had with Wii Fit, I recall similar problems. The truth is, the software didn't get better; I simply learned how to use it and avoid the pitfalls.

EA Sports Active 2, as well as delivering a more challenging and rounded exercise experience than Wii Fit, also takes up less time. Wii Fit, including the time I spent picking exercises, navigating menus (and taking my own sweet time) was taking me over an hour to get a workout I felt was productive. As a result of EA Sports Active 2 pushing you harder and delivering exercises at it's own quick pace, this title delivers a challenging workout in about 30 minutes. It's a far better option for me to fit into my day and seems to deliver better exercise benefits.

In summary, lets not forget how pioneering Wii Fit was - the current market for exercise games can be attributed largely to Wii Fit's widespread success. But, EA Sports Active 2 delivers a more refined exercise: it helps you to push yourself harder, delivers seemingly expert guidance and offers greater variety than a pre-defined fitness DVD. If you are looking to get in shape at home then I can highly recommend EA Sports Active 2.

Novel Gamer Episode Three - Epic Mickey, or "Dead Men Beg No Scraps"

What follows is my third Novel Gamer column for Game People. This is also available as a podcast, and there are iTunes and RSS subscriptions available.

To summarise, Novel Gamer is a feature in which I tell a short story, based on my experiences of playing a game. It's a 50/50 hybrid of fiction and critical analysis. Hopefully you'll come away entertained and informed about a game.

It was raining in the city. Raining hard, like the skies were trying to wash the memories from the buildings, the walls, the train yards and the sidewalks.

Five-foot nothing and with a figure that looked like he'd been carved just to make passers-by laugh, Mickey leaned against the window frame of his twelfth-story apartment and looked out to the horizon. Water spattered against the pane, like a warning keeping him inside. Keeping him locked in this house of memories.

There was a rap of knuckles against the peeling wooden door. Mickey looked around. Why couldn't they fix the security intercom? If he was going to face visitors these days he wanted at least five damn minutes to throw water on his face and put the whiskey back in the dresser.

He lurched across the boards to the door and pulled it open before turning away and heading back into the room. He didn't even look to see who was behind the door.

"Is that any way to greet an old flame?" came a dove-song laced voice from the door.

Mickey looked around. He watched as Alexandria swept into the room, the hem of her dress gliding across the boards, like she floated and had no connection with the mundanity of the floor. Her hourglass figure kept the same time as Mickey remembered and the bee-stung lips showed no sign of getting any less swollen, red or losing any sparkle.

He fought down the joy in his chest. They call it the past because it's gone and no broad in a cheap cocktail dress could change that, even if she could make an end of line outfit look like a million dollars.

"You're a real piece of art, Alex," Mickey told her and gave her a roguish grin, "why are you hanging in a place like this?"

She came up to him and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look up and meet her eyes. "Mickey, baby, I came with good news. Abe sent me."

Abe Ewart, though Mickey, my old agent. There was an old saying: when the world ends the only creatures left alive will be the 'roaches. And, Abe Ewart will be queuing up behind them with a fork.

"Well, well," Mickey said, "what does that old second-hand trader want with me? He ain't had reason to call in years."

Alexandria let go of his face and took up his hands, leading him over to the worn couch by the TV. Mickey tried not to think about the last time she'd done that in this apartment. The couch groaned under their weight, as if to say "get off! I'm too old to carry two of you!"

"They're making a movie, Mickey honey! They want you! It's your movie -- your name is all over it!"

Mickey simply stared at her. He hadn't been a star since ... he couldn't even remember when. Plenty of trains had rolled out of this city since those days.

"Are they crazy?" Mickey said, "nobody makes pictures about me anymore. What happen to that Italian kid with the moustache or that limey broad? You know her, the acrobatic girl with the guns?"

The angel shook her head, making her elegantly curled locks dance around her face with joy, "Abe says there a real old-school revival. People are getting interested in the old stories again. Says he wants to make a picture just like the old days. With you. About you. Hell honey you could be a star again!"

Mickey turned his nose up. "I may be a mouse in this town now, but I know a rat when I smell it. If this picture was above board Abe would have come himself. He only needs to send out the pretty if he thinks I'm gonna say no." He turned away from her, trying not to hope.

She simply moved closer to him, "I wanted to come and tell you myself, honey. What? You think I could hear about the best thing to happen to you in years and I didn't want to run straight over and bring you the news?"

He looked around at her, her lip was quivering with emotion -- or with the strain of still trying to play the ingenue after all these years, he thought, a little maliciously.

"Come on, Mickey," she pleaded, her voice running like icy water over a crystal waterfall, "it'll be just like old times. Whaddaya say?"

He felt like the mouse who'd just seen the kitchen door left open, with a pile of cheese waiting -- and even if there were a hundred traps he couldn't see them from here. He couldn't exactly say "no."

"Sure Alex," Mickey said at last, "let's me and you revisit some old times."

*************

It was clear to Mickey as soon as he walked onto the lot how much things had changed since he went away. It was colder, he thought, run by the bean-counters and the lawyers and no place for the little man with a great idea.

Alexandria was hanging on his arm the whole way to Abe Ewart's tiny office. He was sitting behind the desk filling his face with a greasy meat sandwich, dropping bits of lettuce all over the papers on the desk. A stack of dishevelled documents piled high in his in-tray, like a Bonzai Tower of Pisa which he tended daily for the perfect lean.

Abe looked up and greeted Mickey with a broad grin and a wave of platitudes. Mickey felt like he was being verbally dressed up for a party. The question was, was he the long lost son or the fatted calf?

"This is gonna be a great picture," Abe told him, drawing in the air with his hands like a showman, "we've got one of the best creative teams around working on it and they know how to pitch it for the current market."

"The current market?" Mickey parroted, "where do I fit into this?"

Abe slapped him on the shoulder, "it's a reinvention, Mickey-boy! That's what it's all about these days -- looking back to see what was great about the old times and making it fresh, modern! And it's dark..."

Mickey raised his eyes to the ceiling, "dark? Why the hell do we want to make a dark picture? Life is dark enough at times," he looked at Alexandria, and she shifted uncomfortably, "We used to make pictures for laughs, for adventure, for fun to take people away from reality for a few sweet hours."

Abe stood up, shaking his head, "dark is where it's at, these days. Audiences are more sophisticated. They've seen and heard too much of the world to accept a clean-cut hero. These days you can choose to be a hero or a villain in your story -- but whatever you choose you're still the star!"

Those words rang in Mickey's ears. He'd seen the stuff that had come out of this place -- and others like it -- for years since he went away and he'd always wanted a chance to show what a bit of old-school magic could do. He looked straight into Abe's eyes.

"When do we start?"

******************

It was only when Mickey got his hands on the script that he knew something was amiss. It was a great approach -- he had to give that to them at least. But something deep in the core of the story didn't make sense. The spider tracks of words coalesced on the page into meaning, plain enough, but it was the heart that was missing.

His character didn't make sense: he could be both creator and destroyer. He could restore the world around and him and create beauty or he could destroy his surroundings and take the spoils unto himself. But, beyond that it said nothing. It didn't seem to matter whether the things he created were good or evil and his journey seemed to require a balance of both. This wouldn't have mattered, Mickey thought, if balance was the message of the story, but the character seemed to be judged based on his adherence to either side. There seemed to be no reason for the decisions he had to make.

Mickey was also worried about the filming. He'd watched recent releases. It almost frightened him how much of an exact science the shooting seemed to be: perfectly crafted scenes captured by an almost prescient hand, like God himself moulding the Garden of Eden.

Even in the old days, when he was shooting his scene he could feel at least one camera following his every move, every jump, every fall. These cameras seemed to be pointed in all kinds of different directions, like prairie dogs sniffing the air for a scent. Not one of the camera operators seemed to have a clue where the action was and were shooting whatever allowed them the most comfortable position to slouch.

The scenes themselves were challenging enough. Abe used to say in the old days, "you've got to make it look like you're busting your chops when you're doing the action stuff, but that doesn't mean it should be hard to do. No one wants to break a neck making this picture." On this shoot, Mickey had had to make several re-takes of the same scenes over and over. They simply seemed physically beyond his ability to move: as if some malevolent deity had taken a measure of his longest jump and made all the platforms too far by a single inch -- to taunt him; to test his patience for the project.

He tried raising his concerns with Abe. The money-loving agent didn't seem to care. As shooting went on, Abe disappeared on more and more junkets and only reappeared with a pair of bimbos on each arm and a fistful of rings on each hand. At least the pre-release hype seemed to be winning hearts.

Even if mine is empty, thought Mickey.

The last straw came when Mickey finally saw the rough cut of the movie. He was appalled. The lolling cameras showed little of the action and his own futile attempts to clamber over the scenery look liked the helpless falling of a stiff doll down all fifteen stories of his apartment building. The very worst thing, Mickey thought, was how it looked.

The old stuff looked ropey, sure; if you wanted to compare it side-by-side with modern pictures it couldn't compete. But it was of it's time -- and in it's own time it was a thing of beauty and set the standard for everything that came after.

What Mickey saw on the screens was a travesty: the colours were blotchy, his own animated performance rendered sub-par by the careless direction and unmotivated script.

Without a word, Mickey threw his coffee cup to the floor and walked off the set.

Abe came running after him, with a bewildered Alexandria tailing him like a concerned nurse trying to get a wilful patient back into bed.

"What the hell are ya doing, Mickey-boy?" Abe demanded.

Mickey spun round and pointed at the ground, as if marking the line Abe dare not cross, "I'm through with this picture. I'm through with you."

The agents face filled with rage and turned a colour of red that almost made Mickey nostalgic for the old days. "It'll be more than that, Mickey-boy! If you're through with this picture you're through for good! This was your chance to make a big comeback -- not just for you, for everyone that was part of the old days. There's too many new guys making good in this city: Paxar and Drainworks are taking all of our glory. We need to hit them hard and show them what we can do! If you walk away from this you're a dead man!"

Silence hung in the air like a baseball smacked high over third base and everyone was holding their breath, waiting to cheer -- waiting to know who to cheer for.

Mickey shook his head, sadly and spoke. He was fighting to keep his voice from cracking as he looked between Abe and Alexandria. "I'm already a dead man, Abe. Can't you see? Don't you understand?

"What we had was great. It was a beautiful thing -- it really was. We showed the world what we could do and how it should be done." Mickey gulped. "And then I died. I died and the world moved on without me. But they had their memories. They remembered me and the good times I gave them. But this?" he removed a copy of the script from his pocket and slapped it hard with the back of his hand. "This travesty is not how I want to be remembered -- making below average cash-cows for an audience that is used to better. That deserves better."

Mickey turned to walk away, the low falling sun stretching his shadow across the drive and over the buildings of the lot -- his shadow making its mark on the buildings he had helped to make great.

"I'd rather be dead and remembered as a legend than live and be associated with this failure. You want to make something that speaks to modern audiences? Then call it by a name they understand. Call it a Fail. Call it an Epic Fail! Can you do that, Abe? Can you be honest, or are you just taking the Mickey?"

Abe and Alexandria looked at the floor sadly.

Mickey walked away towards the city. The sun was baking the side of his building and he knew where he could find a killer view to watch the world go by. The world he'd helped to shape.

Novel Gamer Episode Two - Monster Hunter Tri

What follows is my second Novel Gamer column for Game People. This is also available as a podcast, and there are iTunes and RSS subscriptions available.

To summarise, Novel Gamer is a feature in which I tell a short story, based on my experiences of playing a game. It's a 50/50 hybrid of fiction and critical analysis. Hopefully you'll come away entertained and informed about a game.

Rupert's Safari: An encounter with Monster Hunter Tri (Wii)

"Mr Fisher, I understand you wish to make a complaint?" even over the telephone, the Travel Rep couldn't hide the exasperation in her voice.

"Yes," Rupert Fisher explained, "I have to say that the whole experience has not lived up to my expectations."

The Rep frowned, "but, from what you are telling me -- and forgive me if I've missed something -- you don't actually want to leave the village?"

"That is correct," Rupert informed her.

"So, you want to complain; the experience is not what you expected; and you want to carry on in the village and keep hunting?"

"Yes."

The Rep covered the handset and allowed herself a long sigh. She returned the mouthpiece to her face.

"Perhaps you could start at the beginning, sir, and explain exactly what is at fault with this experience..."

* * *

Many days before...

Rupert Fisher leaned back and enjoyed the sea breeze as the boat carried him over the waters to the hunting and safari village, in which he would be spending the next leg of his year-out.

The Travel Rep shifted uncomfortably on her seat and tried to complete the rest of the paperwork. Rupert had ignored her vocal concerns. Many times he had been warned by others that this safari was a very basic experience. There was much less hand-holding than on other safari tours that had been sold to his friends. That was what had convinced him that this was a unique opportunity; he also knew that those who loved it came back time and again.

This was a chance to see some wild country, some rare and exotic creatures and to spend some time living out a hunter-gatherer fantasy.

Perfect!

As Rupert stepped onto the jetty of the village of Moga he turned to watch the boat with the Travel Rep jet away at some speed. Whatever this experience was going to be, he was definitely on his own for now.
His greeting was not as he expected. Without even really knowing what future adventures lay in store he had to provide a name and basic details about how he wished to dress and appear for his time in the village.

"Would sir be interested in some facial markings?" came the inquiry from a faceless village administrator, "these arrow shapes across the forehead are very popular."

"Humm, I'm not sure," Rupert wavered, his middle-class sensibilities signalling an instant retreat, "those face paints look like they may have some significant cultural meaning to a particular group of... ahh... maybe ethnic cultures. I don't want to offend anybody... umm."

"Please yourself," the administrator told him, "they're just face paint." The administrator shuffled away. "It doesn't matter anyway. You'll choose all these outfits and markings and then your first set of armour will completely obscure your face and clothing anyhow. Can't see why we bother..." he grumbled as he walked away.

"Armour?" Rupert called after him, "what do we need armour for?" He could hear the sound of chuckling from off down the path.

A little perplexed by this, Rupert entered the village proper and soon became acquainted with the many, many local people it seemed necessary to talk to before he was finally allowed to set out on his first safari; there seemed to be a lot of these people there and their jobs clearly suffered from large areas of overlap. As a management consultant, Rupert could tell at a glance that there were huge parts of the village structure that would benefit from a shake-up and rationalisation.

He stopped himself: he was here to enjoy the quaint backward charms, not to civilise the locals or try and make the experience more logical or efficient.

He set out on his first venture into the nearby woods.

* * *

The landscape was beautiful, as expected. Grand mountains, winding paths and graceful rivers... and he caught his first sight of a creature.

Monsters they called them in the brochure. Not a bit of it! This was a graceful herbivore. I looked like a dinosaur of some kind. There was a big one and two small ones grazing and moving down the valley.

"That is incredible," Rupert whispered to himself. He reached about his person and realised what he'd forgotten. "Damn!" he addressed to the air, "umm I appear to have forgotten my camera. I don't suppose you have one I could use?"

There was a voice that travelled with him as he ventured on the lonely safari although Rupert never saw his guide. "Attack the creature and kill it for points and resources" came the deadpan reply.
"What?" Rupert was surprised, assuming he'd misheard. "No no no you misunderstand. I'm on safari -- I'm here to enjoy the wildlife and scenery."

"Use your knife and kill the creature. This will give you points and items to spend on upgrading your armour and weapons and also resources to help redevelop our village."

"Now see here," the young traveller told the guide, "I know you people are a bit separated from modern culture and are pretty far out of the way; but, I can tell you that the rest of the modern, thinking world has moved away from the petty savagery of safaris for the purposes of hunting for pleasure. We leave only pictures and take only footprints, I think someone said. No that's wrong, sorry! We leave only footprints and take only pictures. Or memories they said, maybe? I forget who. In any case I have to say I feel very uncomfortable about the idea of attacking this family unit of beautiful creatures!"

"The village needs resources. We must rebuild after the earthquake."

Rupert nodded, sympathetically. "I am very concerned about your situation, believe me. My tourist dollars will go along way toward the regeneration of this region!" He changed tack, "look, aren't there any other tasks I can undertake for the village while out here?"

The advice came back, without irony. "You can forage for mushrooms, bugs, stone, iron ore, honey from nests, cut grass and herbs to make potions and gather resources for the village. You will need to make medicines to look after yourself and materials to make clothes and armour. The village will also require some resources."

"Right..." Rupert responded, "I seem to be doing a lot for the village and I seem to be spending a lot of my leisure time grubbing around for random herbs and foliage when I should be on safari for animals and enjoying myself. I assume this is all really necessary?"

The only reply was a thick silence.

Rupert acquiesced. Eventually he did attack some local creatures, once he realised that it was not a joke and that he was really expected to spend his time running around and killing everything in sight. If my girlfriend saw this she'd be horrified, he thought to himself.

* * *

One of the rumours Rupert had heard about this experience was the opportunity to hunt with other visitors. He thought it was about time he tried it for himself.

"It's totally the way to do it," Tilly -- a girl he had met in Sydney airport -- had told him, "it allows you all to take on challenges far too extreme for you to handle alone. Ya, you get a real sense of achieving something big."

Her words rang in his ears as he explored the huge deserted "city" for companions. He hoped it was different. Much of the hunting he had experienced largely involved hitting things indiscriminately until they fell over.

The city was meant to be a hub for meeting other hunters but any attempts at communicating with other people had proved dismal. None of the other people spoke his language. Why haven't they booked me on an English-only resort? he thought to himself, I didn't have this problem in Sharm El-Sheikh. He had even attempted to write notes to attract the other visitors but the system provided for writing to other people was laughably basic and really only suitable for four or five letter communications. Not what he needed.
A thought occurred to him in a flash. He remembered that a friend of his from home was supposed to be out here at the same time!

He gave her a call and, sure enough, she was in the area and up for trying out some of this multi-hunter game she'd heard about.

Zara turned up in good time and they were both keen to work out the best way to communicate with each other while out in the field.

"Oh, are you two friends?" came the voice of one of the game reserve's administrators.
"Yes" Rupert replied. "We've been friends ages."

"But," the administrator pressed, " are you friends in here? You can't talk unless you make friends with each other within this city as well!"

Rupert sighed, "oh all right, then. If we must... hang on what's this?"

The administrator had handed them both a giant fishbowl helmet with a microphone -- for some reason -- right at the top. "This," the administrator explained, "is the Wii Speak. It's what you must use to talk to each other."

"Oh! Really?" Zara sounded disappointed. "But it echoes really badly and I can't hear a word he's saying. Can't I use my Bluetooth headset? I have one, you know?"

"Sorry, miss," the administrator told him, "Wii Speak only. That's the rules."

Rupert and Zara decided to concede the point and headed out into the wilderness for their first joint hunt. Rupert was, understandably, excited about the new strategies this co-op approach would surely offer.
They came out into a clearing and stood before a giant T-Rex-like creature.

"Steven H Spielberg, that's a big monster!" Rupert exclaimed, turning to Zara. "What do we do?" he looked around but she had already gone, charging in to attack.

Rupert followed her into the fray, slashing wildly with his monstrously-oversized sword. The carnage was intense, both assailants regularly hitting each other as well as the beast.

"But, surely," Rupert yelled above the noise of carnage, "this is exactly the same as what I was doing on my own?!"

Zara didn't reply. He looked but she had totally disappeared.

After receiving a sound trashing from the creature he recovered in the main city. He gave Zara a call.
"What happened to you, then?"

"I don't know," she replied, "one moment I was there with you, the next minute I found myself standing back in the city, totally disconnected from you. Couldn't get back in no matter how hard I tried. I say, that's a poor show!"

"That's it!" Rupert exclaimed, "I'm getting on the phone to my Travel Rep right now! This experience has been bad enough without adding service faults to the equation. I shall make a complaint..."

* * *

The Travel Rep was trying to write this all down.

"So Mr Fisher, you are dissatisfied with the experience?"

"Well," Rupert said, "I wouldn't say disappointed. Bewildered and confused, perhaps. The hunting just feels like a continuous grind, the communication is shocking and I seem to spend a lot of my free time running around after the demands of the villagers. And don't even get me started on the locals. I swear I saw the farmer's pig wearing a pink dress..."

"But, do you want to leave and get a refund, Mr Fisher?"

"Well, err," Rupert thought about this carefully. What was he thinking? Was he actually considering persevering with this? "The thing is, you see, it really is a very pretty and large place."

"Yes," agreed the rep.

"And there are always new challenges opening up..."

"Yes."

"And I always get this feeling that, no matter how flawed the experience is, it's about to get better just around the next corner..."

"So?"

Rupert thought carefully about this for a moment.

"I think I'll stay."