Outland

You can't possibly have any idea how many times I attempted to write this post. You can't. It equals the numbers that follow 3.14 when you try to calculate pi. Infinity. Now then, the reason that I've never written this post before is, because the process wasn't completed. I wasn't convinced enough to write everything down here. But now I am, now I had that final conversation that put the pieces into place. And life's looking gorgeous as ever, smiling right in front of me.

It's over. The feeling that crept up my back, swum through my brains at night and refused to leave my body when I went out to take a piss first thing in the morning. No need to tell you that it was a bad feeling. I have never seen a good feeling creeping up somebody's back. The medium is the message. It's not only what we say that's important, it's how we say it. Intonation, connotation, media. They all fit together, never want to leave each other and they sure know how to ruin somebody's environment.

I felt really sad when PlayStage had disbanded. Deep down, I knew that particular day wouldn't be the end. BM and I were thinking a long time about what went wrong. We were convinced nothing went terribly wrong. We just didn't reach out to the folks enough. We never thought about being actually not good enough to merit a huge audience. We were the bomb, we were the best and above all, we were going to crush all competition. Shatter's more the word actually, we were to shatter the competition. So we decided we would put something new on the rails, something big, something grand, something überduperfantastimastic it would blow everyones socks off! And really, it would have blown everyone in a radius of 150 square kilometres away.

We were so enthusiastic. Our new ideas would sweep everyone away and we were sure by this and a year, we'd be walking over every single Belgian site that played only the tiniest role in this industry. It didn't happen. Luckily, we realised the project wasn't real. It was created in a swift euphoric and utopiatic (if that's a word, if it's not you know what I mean) moment. We put some
efforts in the project and we realised it couldn't work. First of all, we'd have to take another plunge, not knowing where we would end up. Maybe this was going to be just another PlayStage-story, or worse, maybe it would turn out even worse than PlayStage. Second of all, like some people had already pointed out, the maintenance of the new project would take a much greater effort than PlayStage had ever demanded. Voluntary crew is rather scarce (read: shattered over a bazillion sites) so the mission we were up against was impossible. Mission Impossible, but without Tom Cruise. Like the fourth one. Haha.

So we decided to do away with it all. Like somebody pointed out just before swallowing a shotgunbullet: It's better to burnout than to fade away. Since we're Belgian and we all know Belgium is the best soccerteam in the world, I have my personal take on that quote. It's better to go home losing one-nill than to try and score while the audience points you out and you are just making a fool of yourself because you know you are not able to score. You are to weak. That may sound harsh, but in the end, it's reality. The team was too weak to make a big break and nothing, not even a tremendous new coach, would ever change that.

Not that I'm saying it's all their faults. Nobody has ever made mistakes. Except for dt-mistakes, I have to kill that gamebelgium one day for that. Everyone did just as they thought was appropriate and sometimes it worked out and sometimes it didn't. Before, thinking about never reuniting the PlayStage-band where I had had so much fun during the past three years, would make me very sad. Now, everyone has chosen his own way and I'm pretty sure we will never be working on the same project again. Still, I don't feel sad. I have made some good and some very good friends in my PlayStage-era, friends who share the same passion with whom I can talk about that passion as much as I want.

I really think everyone has got quite a bright future in front of them, even though not everyone will end up on the same track. Niels is doing great with his studies and I really hope he can keep it up the way he does now. Simon has found a new site to write for. X-Power will be good to him, I guess and the boy can keep on writing, that's all I care for really. Wouter kicks ass with the camera in one hand and, luckily, the pen in the other. Tom and Stijn are probably the two persons struggling most with the path they want to choose in life. But then again, maybe they don't want to choose a very defined path. Perhaps they simply don't want to choose. It suits them, and I really hope they end up alright. As for me, after writing all of this, I feel a whole lot better and I can move on. I can definitely say I have left a period in my life and moved on to another. I'm going to abandon internetjournalism (and that includes blogging) for the time being and focus on what I like to call my 'PCGP-career', not to forget my studies. So long, may life treat you well.

Indy

PS: I never really found out whether blogging is a hype or not. It doesn't matter to me anymore anyway. I found out blogging can be dangerous as well as have a healing effect. It can provoke anger, hate, joy, happiness, sadness, and all the other emotions a human being can have. It must be one of the greatest inventions ever. A personal diary where you reach out to no-one, yet you feel comforted somebody is reading what you write. The medium really is the message.

Starless

Sundown dazzling day
Gold through my eyes
But my eyes turned within
Only see
Starless and bible black

Old friend charity
Cruel twisted smile
And the smile signals emptiness
For me
Starless and bible black

Ice blue silver sky
Fades into grey
To a grey hope that OMENS to be
Starless and bible black

Role-Play Blues

I got laughed at today. Not that it's a very striking fact: I get laughed at more. Usually, I sweep away the comments of other people because I know they are friends or because they look dull. Today I got laughed at by a girl. Now that's something new, girls that are laughing with me. Guys that grow red lawncarpets on their cheeks, I can live with that. But girls with the same red lawncarpets on their heads? I felt seriously insulted because I got laughed at by a girl.

She made a remark about my t-shirt. I was wearing my Pantera t-shirt. Trivia-time! Why do people wear t-shirts? First of all because they would look completely ridiculous walking around naked in the centre of the city. Question number two. Why do people wear t-shirts of their favourite band? Because they like the band, I guess. Question number three. Why do people get laughed at when they wear a t-shirt of their favourite band? Now, THAT'S a good question...

It was an insult that made me think about the question. Why do I get laughed at when I wear a Pantera t-shirt. I don't look metal, I can go with that. But do you have to fucking LOOK metal to like metal bands? Do you have to BE metal to wear t-shirts? According to the goth freak with the ghostshoes, I guess the answer's yes. It's so stupid. Why do people have to play roles all the time? Why can't they just be themselves? And why do people who try to be themselves get laughed at.

Ooh watch out, he's wearing a Pantera t-shirt! Oh but wait, he doesn't have long hair, doesn't drink tons and tons of beer and he doesn't bite heads of little animals, he's probably a faker. I thought liking a band was about the music, not the lifestyle. But anyway, anger was cooking in me so hard I would've decapitated her with a Flying V, spit on her headless body and hey, why not for the fuck of it, sing Cemetary Gates like only a Cowboy from Hell could do. If that isn't metal, doubt she'd like it though...

The last time I was at the grocery store somebody asked me what my allegiance was. 'Chaotic Neutral' I answered. The man grinned from beneath his white beard. I didn't pay attention to it until we were standing together again. This was the only shop you could get great onions. Unfortunately, everybody knew that this was the place for the layerveggie. So we were standing there, gazing at the one onion left. I was thinking about all the beautiful things I could cook with that delicious onion. Obviously, the man in white was thinking the same lucious things. 'Make that Chaotic Evil' I snarled when I stabbed the man in the back with my dagger. 'This onion is mine.'

Games are a great way to role-play as much as you want. Neverwinter Nights 2 is nearly upon us (I pre-ordered this lucious collector's edition) and I still have to finish the original plus, if I find the time, the two Baldur's Gate games and their expansions. According to the creature I was talking about before, I will be a nerd now, I guess. Well, I don't care. I wrote what I wanted to write. I'm fed up with real-life role-playing. And maybe it's time to say my opinion more often, not only through this piece of blog but out loud as well.

Paint.

It's 3.40 AM and the bloody cell phone rings. I want to answer the phone but there seems to be nobody on the other side of the line. My girlfriend kisses me and whispers that it's time to go to work. A horrifying tune sounds when she pronounces the word work. I drop face down in my pillow and realise I signed up for that job the other day.

How time-out, what happened? Well, I kind of ran short on money lately and since my girlfriend is already working in the weekend for about a year I thought: why not earn me some money by working in the weekends as well? A brilliant plan when you consider that it's going to be one hell of an expensive fall this year. PS3 and Wii making their way to the mass and all the other great games that still have to come out on pc and PS2. So, I was pretty sure I would need the money pretty soon. A lot of it.

Jobs at an office are nice but they have two major disadvantages. First of all, they are very scarce and second of all they don't pay half as good as you want them to do. So a job at an office or in a grocery store (I think you say convenience store *shivers*, butcher, baker,... it was all out of the question. If I was going to work, I was going to work like a man! Yeah, I signed up with Randstad Industry and about two hours after I signed up, they got me a job. Yey! Industrial cleaning for the win.

Okay, it was going to get painful, I knew that from the start. I had to start at 5 AM and by 1 PM I would be home free. Painful indeed for a man that hardly can get out of bed before 8 AM. I went to sleep quite early for my standards and then the cell phone rang. I got up and I felt like whoow, zombie. The fun thing at 4 AM is that there's really nobody on the road. I had to drive half an hour before I arrived at the harbor area in Ghent and I think I must've passed only two or three cars. I found the place rather easily and then it was time to get things going. I went in and was accompanied by some fellow workers that guided me to the dressing rooms where I had to put on my worksuit. Obstacle nr. 1.

After putting the thing on (it was way too small by the way) the chief (the guy's name was Omer and he wasn't the only foreign guy around, if you know what I mean)brought us to some kind of room that had a sticky floor. It turned out to be paint. All of it. We were in some sort of area where car parts where sprayed. Looking at the 'walls'I was wondering if they actually weren't painting those instead of the car parts. Not a lot of time to think though, somebody threw me a bucket and a sponge and off we went. After some hours of cleaning, turned out that the 'walls' once had been windows. Go figure how dirty the place was.

Time crawled by and I was starving when the breaksign sounded. It must've been the first time I was getting payed to sit around and eat, which was quite comfortably. Alas, they must've sensed I was getting too comfortable because the second part of the day, we had to clean under the sprayroom. Yes, that's UNDER the sprayroom. There are some kind of grates that can be lifted and then you have to drop down and clean all the paint and dirt and I don't know what else was lying there! Seeing the havoc that the machines (the machines are digging!) had caused here, I wondered again how much paint was wasted here. If paint would be water, I'm sure they could reincarnate the Sahara into a tropical rain forest.

After the job was done, we got home (like duh) and I was rather satisfied with the work I had done. The sprayroom was completely fixed and when I thought that it would be used again on Monday(that's today), I didn't feel so good. It wasn't all that bad actually, I survived quite well, wasn't too tired. And my bank account would get some food again. And that, my friends, was really a long time ago. So I will go there again next week, if they are interested. The only thing that should be replaced is the slogan of the company, really. It says: Plastal - Colours your car (it's a lame imitation of VTM - Colours your day in my opinion). It should be: Plastal - Paint.

Cherry Pie

It's twenty past twelve and I'm all alone. This could be the perfect beginning of some lame-ass teen horror movie. The phone rings, I pick up and some scary dude with a cold on the other side of the line asks me a question. I can't tell him the answer and the only thing I'm still able to hear is the last breath of my rubber ducky! He'll bloody pay for that, that lame-ass teen bastard. Come to think of it, I hate teen horror movies, so let's stop talking about it.

Let's talk coffee! Twentyfour hours ago, I was shaking in my couch. No, I didn't have a fever or something ugly that's caused by a parasite or something other gruesome, wormlike thing. Sorry I have to terrorise your night with those hideous tales but I have a serious addiction for parasites and the like of those. Enough crap, there will be plenty of time to contract malaria and guineaworms afterwards. I was shivering in front of the telly (god, what a wonderful word, it's almost as beautiful as shatter) because the season final of Twin Peaks, that's T-W-I-N P-E-A-K-S, according to one Albert Rosenfield, was drawing nigh.

Twin Peaks must have been one of the best things I've seen in my entire life. Om het met de woorden van Bart Brusseleers te zeggen: dat moet ongeveer het beste zijn dat ik al in Vilvoorde heb gezien. It has this mysterious atmosphere surrounding it, and it has the music, oh god the music. The music is composed by one Angelo Badalamenti and oh my god, it must have been one of the most simple yet gorgeous compositions I have ever heard. Each time Laura Palmer's (the gal that has been found dead, wrapped in plastic) theme is played, goosebumps arise everywhere on my body. Well, almost everywhere, pervs!

What's quite striking about the actors of the series, is they never managed to obtain a very glorious career in Hollywood. Maybe they didn't pursue that of course, Mr. Lynch isn't the most mainstream director around anyway. But the fact is even more striking because all of the actors are so damn good. Audrey for example is this bloody gorgeous sweet eighteen year old girl that balances on the edges of insanity. Yet, the actress (I don't know the name and I'm too lazy to look it up) manages to give the character some great background. Audrey is fairly important to the main storyline and sometimes, she obtains her goals through genious and clever moves. Sometimes, she is this dreamy kid that wants to stay at home and do nothing but enjoy her music (Audrey's Dance is a very moody piece of music that has this really mysterious swing to it), then again she's the überdetective who tries to win the hand of Federal Bureau of Investigation special agent Dale Cooper. And that guy, well, he's genious. No really. Ge-ni-ous.

Cooper is played by Kyle MacLachlan. He'd better change his name to Kyle Cooper because MacLachlan isn't that easy to pronounce. Anyway, he's this FBI-agent that comes to investigate the murder of Laura Palmer. He is tired of the big cities and is trying to find some peace in his life. Cooper is quite impressed by the way of life in the quiet village of Twin Peaks and soon falls in love with the place. What he doesn't know is that the village has some nasty surprises for him. But let's not spoil anything here! Everybody that considers himself a lover of cinema should at least have seen this series once. And with that, I don't mean I consider myself a cinematic lover, I just like the series a lot, that's all. Even Cooper, that has to keep his head cool at all times, seems to be insane at times. He has a pretty weird way of communicating with the other villagers, especially with sheriff Truman, who's Dr. Watson next to Sherlock Cooper. And last but not least, he's got the metabolism of a bumblebee!!

Season 2 should be out in October, alongside a total collection box which includes Season 1 and 2. I'll probably pick up that one, since I don't own the series myself. Special thanks to somebody who lended me these great series and enrichened my life with some of the best tellyvision ever made. Thank you very much and may the birds sing a pretty song for you as well... when the gum you like is going to come back in style, that is.

The End of the Counter

I made a very tough (not) decision today. Since the only review that ever appeared on The Review Counter dates more than two months back, I think it's better to pull the plog. I figured it makes no sense writing these things since there is almost nobody who's reading it. En plus (just wanted to add a little French here) it takes a lot of time creating those little pieces of text and the next few weeks and months, I will need more time than the time that's given to regular people. No more Review Counter was the inevitable outcome.

Now cry!

The Black Button

How about that for a nap? I know, it's been a long time. Hell, it even has been a very long time in which a lot has happened. For one, I failed my exams but I didn't fail them big time. So, if all goes well (mind the importance of the word 'if'), I'll make it safely to the next year. You can all send me a postcard when that happens, but for now, put your inspiration somewhere cold, as it might evaporate elsewhere.

It's HOT! And with that sentence I don't mean to tell you that you have to pay six pounds for smokes and then get your ass smacked by a policemen who's running around a couple of hundred blocks away from the crime scene *catches breath*, no I mean to tell you it's HOT. It's even that hot that civil servants (or whatever you call the people that fake work behind a desk of bulletproof glass) can go home at three in the afternoon instead of five. And they get paid for it, as well. Now spank my ass and call me Riki, but I think civil servants are made to make fun off. I know they don't like it, but with an attitude like that, you are just asking to become the subject of any lazyjoke that has ever been invented.

I myself had a rather unsatisfying encounter with a civil servant a couple of weeks ago. I rang up the lady to confirm that my registration file had reached the office without any troubles. Guess what the fucking eggbags answer was. 'Oh, I'm sorry dear ass who just rang me out of my sleep but the bloody files aren't yet put in an alfabetical order so I can't help you. I'm sure your fucking file will be in the pile, but for now, I'm too lazy and busy eating a doughnut I won't look it up for you'. Before I could reply, 'and what if the file isn't in the pile (considering it was the last day registrations could reach the office), the bloody bitch had already smacked the phone back on the horn. How about that for some professional guidance by experts in the field...



What else has happened during my absence? Apart from the fact I'm building quite a relation with the word tentaclesoup (I have no idea why though), games of course! Loads of them. Good ones too. Bad ones as well but the most things I've played since the beginning of the holiday turned out te be quite good. There is, however, one striking fact that certainly has to be mentioned. I was at a friends place and that same friend had bought Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory for Xbox. It's simply a great game. Graphically, it can match with some of the earliest next-gen games (that aren't running on an HD-TV of course) and it has this superwicked co-op mode that can be either played via Xbox Live! or in split-screen mode on the same television. Since we were both in the same room with the same 360, there would've been no point at all to try the co-op mode via Live! Accidentally I happened to have my 360-controller with me so we got all excited (We aren't geeks, we are level 12 paladins!!) about kicking some terrorist ass together.

UbiSoft however wouldn't co-operate. We started the training mission and after exactly 15.8 seconds (I read it of the back of my teammate, that shiny thing is actually a cell phone with a chrono on it, yes), we realised how fucked we were. The first, so-called, team manoeuvre that had to be executed was fairly simple. Jump on the shoulders of your mate to reach higher platforms. In order to so do, you have to press THE BLACK BUTTON *insert evil laugh and horrifying tune here*. We turned the controller upside-down, inside-out, threw it out of a window, smashed it with a hammer, analysed it with a microscope, ran over it with a forklift (no idea where it came from but we DID) and even tried to cook bloody tentaclesoup with it but the damn thing was nowhere to be found! It hadn't evaporated either, it just wasn't there.

Realising we would never make it out of the room, I gave my friend a headshot. And it felt good.


Come out come out wherever you are!

People who would be wondering (who am I kidding, all the people that would be wondering about it are probably ordering spam and eggs right now) why it has been two months since I updated that other blog, I have no idea. I simply can't find the time writing interesting reviews about the games but I'll try to catch up a little in August. Stay tuned!