FTL describes itself as a ‘a spaceship simulation real-time roguelike-like’. That’s kind of true, but not quite. It’s neither deep nor broad enough to be a spaceship simulator.Instead, it simulates a particular feeling, a particular moment – one you might be familiar with from sci-fi films and TV. Specifically, Star Trek. More specifically, the bit where Captain Kirk/Picard/Janeway is sat on the bridge, in their big comfy captain’s chair, as the crew buzzes around them desperately. More specifically, the bit where they shout “power down the shields, and put it all into the weapons” and the immortal response comes back: “Aye aye, captain”. Its closest kin in that respect is Football Manager or Champ Man or whatever it is the kids are playing these days. Both games let you live out a fantasy – you’re the manager of a football team, you’re the captain of a spaceship – and then picks and chooses the necessary elements to help your imagination get there. Just like all the best spaceships, FTL is cobbled together from disparate pieces. Its combat is a real-time strategy game with a very small canvas. Whenever it wants to give you something more complex, a moral decision or familiar sci-fi scenario, it becomes a simplified text adventure. Travelling between each point uses an interface taken straight from boardgames. From RPGs, it takes loot and an upgradeable, customisable ship. From roguelikes it nicks the randomised levels and heartbreaking perma-death. Despite all those moving parts, though, the result is something neatly simple. It doesn’t take long to learn how to control your three crew – just left-click to select, right-click to send them somewhere – or what the HUD means – typically eight or so different systems, from weapons to shields to oxygen, which you can put differing levels of power into, draining your reactor in the process. It’s all controlled from a top-down view of the ship, with each system getting its own room. Putting crew into rooms , and helps fix them if – when – they break down. Frankly, FTL isn’t very sexy – like Football Manager, the graphics are barely there, and the pausable action always stays a step removed – but that’s not important. Like all the best games, it’s a token, a tool, a lightning rod. Something your imagination can grab onto and start telling stories with. My favourite sci-fi TV series, predictably, is Firefly. More specifically, my favourite episode is Out of Gas – an episode split between flashbacks and a disastrous breakdown of the spaceship all the characters live on. More specifically, my favourite bit, my favourite moment, is the opening of that episode. The ship, floating adrift in space. Each of its room, stripped of their familiarity by the simple fact of being empty. Captain Malcolm Reynolds face down on the floor as the oxygen seeps out of the ship… Doomed. I said FTL is a simulator of the Star Trek bridge moment, but it’s a simulation of that moment too. Of making a bad decision, and condemning your whole crew to a drawn-out death – or an extremely quick one, depending on the size of guns your baddies are packing. Of being the last one alive, whispering apologies, as the fires spread and you can’t fix everything at once, and holding on futilely until the crack in your hull sucks out that last 1% of oxygen. FTL is mean, and that’s great. One of the tips, which are meted out sparsely, one per playthrough, just tells you ‘Dying is part of the fun’. And it is. As in fellow roguelike-like Spelunky, death is where most of the stories come from. And just like Spelunky, there’s the sense of a Rube Goldberg device that leads, inevitably, to your death. This then this – why didn’t I buy those missiles at the last store? – plus this – where’d the lights go? who’s behind that door? – leads to this – why did I ever to help these poor, defenseless idiots? – and then you’re dead, a splat on the universe’s windscreen. And you take a moment to mourn the good ship Crushinator – and AJ Hager, your Engi who saved everyone’s asses that time – then flip on the wipers, clean off the mess, and start again. Or maybe you pull it back, praying you’ll make it to the next store and its valuable repair equipment, before you undergo another one of those misadventures. And you do, and suddenly your ship is all-powerful and it’s glorious, each new location handing you generous piles of scrap, the game’s currency, new weapons to bolt onto your hull, a new crew member of a species you’d never even encountered before… But more likely, you land in an electrical storm, next to the baddest pirate ship in the known universe, and it puts in those final hits to your hull. And, after you spent so long repairing everything, and healing your crew, and Captain Elnubnub just levelled up his repair ability, your ship falls back into those pieces its cobbled together from. That’s the nature of being randomised. Like the universe itself, it can be completely unfair. It took a dozen or so playthroughs (read: deaths) before I started to get the hang of the game. And then, just as I did, I got hit, again and again, with the same scenario – battling a rebel ship too close to a small sun, with solar flares . I must have died close to a dozen times, more or less consecutively playing that same scenario. A different ship maybe, but always getting torn apart by solar flares. And so I thought, well this is it, this is how it beats you. But I haven’t seen that scenario since. It’s just the way the deck gets shuffled, I suppose. Besides, if it all gets too much, you can switch over to Easy mode, which is more generous with scrap and combat’s a little more forgiving. It’s a good palette […]
TV is a bugger. People are always talking up the hot new thing, and when they turn to me, I am left slack of jaw and glassy of eye, nothing to contribute. ‘Um, have you ever heard of this programme called Buffy?’ That’s why myself and Imogen ‘Couch Innovator’ Dale decided to invent Pilot Season Sunday: watch the first episode of a load of TV shows our friends, colleagues and assorted internet tastemakers have been pushing for the last eternity, assign each a star rating, and then decide which are worth watching more of. These are the shows we watched: Parks & Recreation Parks & Rec has been on the to-watch list for a while now. You like Community, people will say – try this, it’s even better. This normally comes with the caveat that you have to give it time, that it doesn’t hit its stride in the first few episodes, maybe even the first season. Both sides of this now make sense to me. I liked its moxie – it seems like a cheery and optimistic version of The Office, in both of its transatlantic incarnations – but there wasn’t much meat on its bones. No hooks to bring me back, no big laughs. Maybe I’ll try the second season next time. Pushing Daisies It’s going to be a hard climb for any TV show which starts with a dog dying. But it turns out Pushing Daisies – which I knew basically nothing about, except that I want to watch all the programmes with allusions to death in their titles – is a Venn diagram of my favourite stuff from elsewhere in TV-land: Gilmore Girls‘ too-fast, too-snappy dialogue, served with a Whedon-style genre twist and the visual style of a brilliantly quirky cartoon, the bright primary-colour palette neatly offsetting the morbid concept. Combined, á la Veronica Mars, with a neat central mystery, it couldn’t be more My Bag if it tried. Plus, there were two (non-dead) dogs in this episode, one of which was a chow and one of which may be immortal. All is forgiven. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic The internet – by which I mostly mean Tim ‘Brony’ Maytom – has been going on about this for ages. I had to know why. The numerous pony puns (‘Canterlot’) are perfectly pitched, the soft-outlined art style is pretty, and it’s a rather charming package, but I’m still not sure I understand the fanaticism. Sorry, Tim. Wonderfalls A TV curse which I recommend never catching: watching the credits. It can ruin surprise guest appearances, and figuring out which are your favourite and least favourite writers and directors on staff can colour the way you watch an episode. In this case, it was spotting the name Bryan Fuller and thinking, isn’t that the guy off’f the Pushing Daisies credits? And then it was obvious. The dialogue’s a bit less quickfire, though no less sharp, and it’s less obviously quirky and twee – no mean feat for an episode boasting a menagerie of talking animal souvenirs – but in the long term, that could mean it doesn’t grate. That is, if it had a long term – apparently it was cancelled at episode 13. Oops. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia Which was a sitcom which gave me upwards of three belly laughs and a handful more chuckles. With eight seasons to consume, I can see this going into hard rotation as background watching in the flat. I think it’ll do just fine. Arrow Green Arrow has a great origin story, actually. Spoilt rich kid gets stranded on island for five years, becomes a mysterious hardened bad-ass, and returns to society to right his father’s wrongs. Its combination of Lost and Batman fits TV perfectly, and looks like it’ll lend Arrow a neat structural hook going forward. It’s a bit of a blunt instrument for something which takes an arrowhead as its symbol, but I’ll never get tired of watching a man weaponising his own life. Making connections to Batman, especially Nolan’s recent films, would be fish in a barrel, but it works. It’s a bit dumb (I’ll cheer if his British-accented vaguely-ethnic stepfather miraculously doesn’t turn out to be a villain) and the pilot was a bit reliant on nods and winks to the source material (Speedy, Diggle, Dinah, lol) but… hey, that’s superheroes, right? And that was Pilot Season Sunday. As a way of making snuggling into the sofa and watching a frankly unhealthy amount of TV seem like an Event, it’s highly recommended. Feel free to steal the format. Shows we didn’t get round to, which will no doubt make up the roster of future Pilot Season Sundays, include Girls, Misfits, Breaking Bad, Veep, and Six Feet Under. Any further suggestions are warmly welcomed.NB: These star ratings are the ones I originally gave each episode. Could’ve changed them if I was so inclined – as has been pointed out by Tom ‘Daylight‘ Huxley, Wonderfalls definitely deserved more stars than Arrow. But I opted for authenticity instead. 4 REAL, etc, etc.