‘I was there,’ he would say afterwards, until afterwards became a time quite devoid of laughter. ‘I was there, the day Horus slew the Emperor.’

Many people familiar with science fiction will have heard of Warhammer 40,000, a tabletop wargame created by Games Workshop which features a universe so rich and deep, it’s expanded into its own series of novels, video games, and even an animated movie. Of all the factions and races in the 40K universe, the Astartes — more commonly known as Space Marines — are by far the most well-known and iconic; genetically-enhanced warriors clad in powered plate-armour, wielding weapons of mass destruction and subjugating anything and everything in their path in the name of mankind and their near-dead God-Emperor. Nearly unstoppable and quite literally fearless, the Space Marines are the only thing standing between humanity’s survival and a galaxy filled with a myriad of indescribable horrors.

In the universe of the 41st millennium, the Emperor was a figure of almost mythical power who rose up to unite the splintered factions of humanity across the galaxy under a single banner, with the aid of the Primarchs — genetically-engineered super-warriors created in his image — and the legions of Space Marines under their command. Something went horribly wrong, however, and the forces of Chaos — malevolent, demonic entities existing on a plane just outside of our normal universe — worked to twist the noble Space Marines to their foul and unholy ways, resulting in a series of events known as the Horus Heresy, where many of the Primarchs and their associated chapters of Marines betrayed the Emperor and became something entirely less than human.

The Horus Heresy series goes back to the beginning to tell this tale from its origins, during the early years of the Emperor’s so-caled Great Crusade. The first book in the series — Horus Rising – follows the exploits of the Luna Wolves, a chapter of Space Marines under the command of the Warmaster Horus, most trusted and beloved of all the Emperor’s children. Still very much alive yet occupied with other duties, the Emperor has tasked the Warmaster with the lofty mantle of commanding his crusade from the front lines, forcing each splintered group of humans on distant worlds to submit to the Emperor’s rule or be subjugated by force.

Far from the bloodthirsty warmonger one might suspect Horus to be (as did I before reading this book!), he is instead portrayed as a well-liked and charismatic leader, gifted equally in the arts of war and diplomacy, and every bit as much a brilliant tactician as one in his position should be. The majority of the book, however, is told from the viewpoint of Garviel Loken, Captain of the Luna Wolves 10th Company, a particularly dry and humourless Marine utterly loyal to his brothers-in-arms and his Emperor — a character who I found was initially quite difficult to like, but eventually grew on me. Other parts of the book allow a somewhat more human perspective when told through the eyes of the remembrancers — artists, poets, musicians, writers, painters and the like, who have been sent to document and draw inspiration from the Great Crusade as it happens.

The book spans several planets and the events between, and while all seems well on the surface, the seeds of corruption have already been sown and through seemingly minor events and actions (usually remarked upon by Loken or others for the benefit of the reader — pride, jealousy, hatred, secret meetings and fellowships) the very beginnings of the downfall can be observed, as well as a brief glimpse of Chaos’ dreadful power first-hand. It’s a slow and subtle approach, yet the book manages to be quite gripping nonetheless with its variety of settings and events, including some disastrous twists that none could foresee. While a little slow in parts, overall the story manages to hold together well and seems a good length, not too long nor too short.

Dan Abnett’s usual “everyone dies” approach is thankfully toned quite far down, though plenty of bloodshed and death lies within, so overall I’d heartily recommend this book to fans of the Warhammer 40,000 universe, as well as being a fairly decent introduction to the series for those who are unfamiliar with it.

The Belmonts are the only family able to make a whip-wielding bloke seem badass.

I’ve got a confession to make: While I’m an ardent fan of the Castlevania series, I never actually owned any of the NES games when I was younger, and didn’t really get into the series at all until being coerced into trying Symphony of the Night many years later. My dabblings in the realm of the original classic series — which is to say, the trio of offerings available on the NES — had been limited at best, and I’d taken special care to avoid Simon’s Quest, the much-hated second game in the series. This game was the worst by far, according to many, an atrocity that scarce deserved to bear the Castlevania name. If everyone hated it so much, it must be pretty terrible, so who was I to doubt the wisdom of the masses?

Cut forward to yesterday. With a few minutes to kill while waiting for a projector to be set up in the other room, I decided to fire up some old NES games on an emulator, knowing I’d have little patience to last long on them. Among others, I tried Simon’s Quest more for humour value than anything, though I’ve long been a fan of the game’s tinny soundtrack. Through part morbid curiosity and part determination to prove to myself that I still had the skills to play 8-bit classics, I forged ahead and in spite of myself ended up getting quite hooked on this odd little game. It helped immensely that I had knowledge of its more esoteric parts, largely from videos and other mentions of the game citing its obscure puzzles and confusing layout, but it mattered not — I was hooked, and while it took me until the last few hours of today (and a walkthrough to help with the more confusing parts) to muster the patience, I’ve managed to beat the game and lay Dracula to rest once again.

The crazy part is, I kinda liked it.

Okay, so some of the puzzles are frankly absurd — the Blue Crystal’s use to reveal hidden passages in the lakes is a stretch and the Red Crystal’s cyclone-summoning is nigh-incomprehensible — and the world layout can be confusing at the best of times with many areas looking extremely similar save for minor adjustments or palette swaps. Beyond that (and let’s face it, there are many NES games guilty of confusing layouts and esoteric puzzles) I’m really not sure why gamers seem to have such a deep-seated loathing of the game, as if it somehow exists on the same level as the Atari 2600′s infamous E.T.

The graphics are charming and as varied as one could expect from an 8-bit title, the soundtrack is one of the best of the series with some truly memorable tunes, the back-and-forth gameplay involving the acquisition of various optional and essential equipment closely mirrors more modern and far more highly-acclaimed games such as the above-mentioned Symphony of the Night and its descendants on the Gameboy Advance and Nintendo DS, and overall the game feels far more like a prototype — albeit one that showcases a number of poor design decisions — of the later brethren in the franchise. Okay, so the currency-farming was a little tedious at times, the boatman’s dual destinations confused the hell out of me, and I managed to skip Death’s mansion entirely by mistake until finally realizing that I was missing something — but was any of the above truly game-breaking? No, not really.

So tell me, gamers: why the hate? Is Simon’s Quest truly such a bad game, or is it simply vilified for trying something a little different?

While an overview of the Tau Commander’s gear (including achievement-locked gear) is known, I’m working on levelling him up in order to get the appropriate icons and full, detailed stats for each piece of equipment. In the meantime, placeholder graphics and descriptions taken from elsewhere should hopefully prove at least somewhat useful. :)

I like to think I was justified in my decision.

The first warning should have come when I opened not one, but two packets of the vile stuff — largely due to its seemingly small size, and my hunger which can only be described as “immense”. The whiff of the artificial cheese-like powder assaulted my nostrils like a legion of tiny trebuchets, the kind of vile stale-cheddar aroma that is reserved only for the most cheaply-made of cheesesque foodstuffs. Driven on by my terrible urge to feed, in went both packets to the requisite combination of milk, water and butter, in to the churning abyss which — while at once fairly tranquil — soon resembled a boiling pit of sulphur, threatening (and occasionally succeeding) to spill over and forever taint the surface of my oven. The aroma surrounding the pan was one I won’t soon forget, a sickening stench of stale cheddar, the vivid yellow colour — my phone camera hardly doing it justice — merely adding to the experience.

The real tragedy of the story is that a large portion of this disgusting maelstrom has ended up squarely in my stomach, through equal parts desperate hunger and a desire to avoid wasting money. The flavour is every bit as bad as I’d imagined, punctuated by the occasional, tiny nugget of dry cheese powder which managed to escape the moisture by hiding within one of the tiny pasta tubes, an experience not unlike realizing that raisin you just bit down on is actually a spider. While perhaps not my most harrowing mealtime experience, it ranks up in the top twenty or so.

And so, I must ask you all, for your own safety and mental wellbeing: don’t make the mistake I did. Don’t buy this terrible, terrible mixture. Please.

I’m going to call that mission a resounding success.

Obi-Wan Water Mix (By the Sea-Side)

I seem to recall masquerading the atrocity as some apparently bootleg Nine Inch Nails demo track, and uploaded it to a multitude of Usenet sites (this was the days before the prevalence of BitTorrent). Whether or not anyone was fooled into downloading it is anyone’s guess, but I like to think that at least one NIN fan out there was left disappointed by my shenanigans.

Apparently it’s largely composed of protein extracted from “sewage mud”, and any harmful bacteria present are destroyed by the heat used in the conversion process. While I can respect the impressive potential value in artificially-created meat — which tastes a lot like beef, apparently — I can’t honestly see this one taking off any time soon, given its… origins. The creators display a remarkable, blissful naiveté, however, with this amusing quote from the article:

“Professor Ikeda understands the psychological barriers that need to be surmounted knowing that your food is made from human feces. They hope that once the research is complete, people will be able to overlook that ugly detail in favor of perks like environmental responsibility, cost and the fact that the meat will have fewer calories.”

It’s made from shit, but hey, it’ll help you lose weight and you’ll be saving the planet.

If this is the future, I think I’ll become a vegetarian.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an excellent new idea which involves an energy drink shot, some toast, and a few other ingredients.

This is going to be great, I just know it. :3

What sounds simple is, in fact, possibly the single most absurdly complex game in existence today. The survival of your dwarven band must be managed at every level, from building a militia to defend from goblins and hostile beasts of the wild, to managing farms, kitchens and breweries to keep the workers fed and happy. Thankfully, the load is somewhat eased by the dwarves’ ability to think for themselves and take care of their needs provided adequate provisions are made — rather than telling Athel Rursibrek to dig a tunnel or craft a table, you simply assign the job to be done and the most appropriately-skilled member of your team will take up the task when not doing anything more important.

While this may not seem overly-complex, the sheer depth and intricacy of every aspect of the game is frankly staggering. Dwarves injured in combat can suffer internal bleeding from broken bones, furniture or trade goods can be crafted from literally dozens of different materials with engravings of things, people or places the craftsmen enjoy or have seen, fluid mechanics simulate the movement of water or lava through pits, lakes or channels, and the personalities of each dwarf are radically different — my expedition’s leader, Sodel Etostcerol (“Sodel Containedlens”), likes galena nickel, crystal opal, yak hoof, crosses, thrones, and mules for their stubbornness. She is impervious to the effects of stress, but rarely happy or enthusiastic and occasionally given to procrastination. That’s about a twentieth of the information provided on the page detailing her appearance, personality, thoughts and feelings.

Unfortunately, all this complexity comes at a cost — not only is the game’s learning curve so steep it practically bends backwards, but the actual configuration or inclusion of graphics packs — the game is ASCII text by default, much like the classic roguelike games of yore — is a serious headache. This kind of barrier to entry both discourages casual gamers, and fortifies the game’s often-elitist fanbase — I myself have been trying to play the game for some time now, but the lack of up-to-date tutorials and frustratingly archaic configuration were too discouraging, not to mention the sheer confusion of being given control of a colony and not being properly told where to begin. Fortunately, a solution has arisen to solve these problems.

The aptly-named Lazy Newb Pack is exactly what every uncertain newcomer to the game would desire; a simple front-end GUI provides configuration options and easy installation of graphics packs, as well as a number of add-on tools to make playing the game easier, and an associated series of video tutorials runs a beginner through the basics, from configuring and starting the game, to creating a new world and making a well-constructed fortress, explaining the process in great detail along the way to ease the passage through the initially daunting learning curve. The process has become easy enough that any gamers could likely get a grip on the basics and slowly expand into the more advanced aspects of the game, though it’s still an experience I’d recommend only to those willing to put serious concentration, focus, and dedication into what amounts to an incredibly deep gaming experience.

If you’ve been put off by the game’s difficulty, lack of decent up-to-date tutorials, outdated methods of configuration, or simply find the concept appealing and feel like giving it a go, I strongly recommend trying the Lazy Newb Pack and watching the video tutorial series. Just remember: losing is fun!

A few months ago, I reviewed a surprisingly good — albeit thoroughly gimmicky — energy shot called the Health Energy Potion, appropriately coloured and bottled in a cute, potion-esque container in order to appeal to the basement-dwelling nerds among us. While the price tag is higher than one might expect for a mere energy shot, the value is made up in the sheer gimmicky appeal, the oh-so-brief divergence from reality that lets us believe we’re battle-scarred adventurers in need of alchemical aid.

Thanks to the magic of eBay, it’s now time for me to review its sibling, the Mana Energy Potion — a murky turquoise-green fluid which little resembles the ocean-blue bottles displayed on websites. While similar in composition to its crimson brethren, the Mana variant has a remarkably unusual feature which I’ve not seen in other energy drinks: namely, aside from the usual cocktail of caffeine, taurine and B-vitamins, there is also a worryingly-titled “enzyme blend” of amylase, lactase, cellulase, lipase, and protease.

Throwing caution to the wind, however — and blindly assuming that the contents are most likely fit for human consumption, especially if the likes of Gandalf almost certainly chug through a dozen of these each day — it’s time to uncork the beast.

Firstly, the smell is at once appealing and troubling in equal measures; a largely citrus scent covers an odour not entirely dissimilar from the cleaning fluids one might find in a janitor’s closet. Briefly concerned that there could have been a horrible mix-up and I’m about to swallow a mouthful of antifreeze, it’s time for the taste-test.

An initial taste shows a sharp, almost acrid flavour barely masked by a heavy presence of sweeteners. Thankfully, the flavour — while somewhat jarring — dissipates almost instantly. Chugging the rest down, my suspicions are confirmed; a biting, almost apple-like flavour clings to the back of the throat for mere moments before subtly dissipating into little more than a sweet echo. More disturbingly, however, the overall flavour still carries lingering overtones of strong chemical cleaning fluids, not entirely unpleasant in itself but significantly jarring due to the mental connections.

If this is the taste of wizardry, then I’ll keep my sword for now: while both expensive and gimmicky, the Mana Energy Potion manages only to provide a mildly unpleasant experience, and one I’d sooner not repeat.

It’s been a long time since I’ve updated this blog, something I used to update on a disturbingly frequent basis; this is due to a number of reasons, not least due to a pervasive feeling of having little to say to the world. However, after an only slightly perplexing conversation with a cashier at a shop earlier, leading to a question regarding the contents of my website — which I described, I believe, as “um, just random shit I guess, nothin’ special” — it lead to the realization that I really should get back to posting and updating, if only for the sake of having some purpose to owning such a painfully narcissistic domain name. I’ll have a snappy response the next time a stranger asks me about my website, let me tell you.

By the way, if you’re that cashier I spoke to earlier: Yes, I was the shy nerd with the OCP t-shirt. Hi.

On to the topic at hand: No Fear Extreme Energy is a presumably new energy drink that I’ve recently seen showing up on the shelves of dishevelled newsagents and back-alley supermarkets for no more than a few weeks now, though this event is easily enough for an energy drink aficionado such as myself to show interest. Its brazen logo and presentation are clearly intended to appeal to a target audience far, far distant from myself; lacking in any particular knowledge of what is “hardcore” or “extreme” amongst the kids these days, I’m just going to continue with the vaguest of suggestions, not wanting to show my increasing age with a terrible, outdated connotation.

Firstly, an obvious caveat which I found significant enough to balk at: the implication of “extreme” is that merely opening the can would be enough to half-kill me from noxious gases within, and a mere swig of this potent brew should be enough to send me into a caffeine-induced coma. Unfortunately, the fact of the matter is thoroughly disappointing: the caffeine content is a mere 30mg/100ml (clocking in at 145.5mg of caffeine for the full can) — in comparison, my favoured brand Monster hits the highest I’ve seen so far outside the realm of energy shots, at 32mg/100ml. This may still be an impressive figure — the unopened can of Mountain Dew at my side is a pathetic 18mg/100ml — however if you’re looking for a new king of caffeine content, or anything particularly surprising and record-worthy, you’re looking in the wrong place.

Moving on, there are two other important features that should be noted about the can. Firstly, my particular sample has no less than four large dents in the can, something I like to imagine as being the direct result of all the extreme action that has taken place in between the factory at which it was produced, and my eagerly-awaiting hand. No doubt this bastard has been through a firefight or two, and it’s got the scars to prove it. Respect to you, No Fear.

Secondly, rather than the traditional method of opening cans — something not remotely extreme enough for a drink of this calibre — there is a resealable plastic widget which can only be described as simple in operation yet baffling in function; my sleep-addled brain has no problem operating the device, yet cannot for the world figure out how it functions. It involves rotation, a dark science I fear to approach. I find this concept baffling, as surely anyone extreme enough to purchase such a product would have immeasurable thirst and wish to consume the contents in a single, majestic gulp. Nonetheless, the widget works perfectly adequately to such a degree that I simply cannot think of a way to comment further; it does exactly what it’s designed to do, and seemed near-flawless in my limited opinion. Despite this, I can’t help but think that the technology is on a redundant parallel path of evolution with bottles, something which has managed the ability to be re-sealed for at least 100 years.

Finally — and perhaps the most importantly, though I’ve procrastinated so long for good reason — is the flavour. Sadly, this is where No Fear Extreme Energy manages to offer its final gift of disappointment, a product which not only thoroughly lacks an adequately extreme flavour, but worse, settles on the boat of mediocrity. Anyone remotely aware of energy drinks will know that there are fundamentally three types of drink on the market — firstly, Red Bull, possibly the first and certainly the most well-known. Secondly, the cheap knock-off (and frequently supermarket own-brand) obscurities such as Kx or Red Devil which display a remarkably mediocre ability to mimic the flavour of Red Bull while lowering the price tag. Thirdly lies the domain of the other brands such as Relentless and Monster which go their own routes and establish fairly unique flavours. No Fear is one of the second, albeit without the obvious bonuses involved with the purchase of dirt-cheap supermarket-brand drinks; the flavour is so utterly similar to the Red Bull wannabes — and, one might say, R.B. itself — that I’d be honestly unsurprised if it were an identical formula used by many different brands.

To conclude, for those with an attention span too short to read my ramblings:

• Not very extreme.
• Resealable can is actually kinda cool, and I like the skull logo, kinda. Shut up, 29 is not too old to like that kind of cheesy trash.
• Flavour identical to every cheap energy drink brand you’ve ever tasted, price tag disappointingly not as similar.
• Overall a bit crap, really.