The first time we saw the infamously cantankerous, bearded scrotum assaulting our TVs, was at the outset of The Apprentice – a unique concept in the emerging banality of unoriginal reality shows. It featured a set of ambitious, pretentious egomaniacs bumbling around oafishly, struggling to complete even the simplest business task, all in an effort to be the first allowed to ingest Alan Sugar’s bodily fluids.
It was no wonder then that The Apprentice was an instant hit.
What was unique about it though?
It was the fact that the contestants weren’t simply competing for money – but for an actual job with Alan Sugar.
Yes it had a six figure salary. But because the prize was so intrinsically linked with the format of the competition, it meant that each of the tasks aimed at identifying specific business skills made sense.
This natural progression of prize to concept also made it easy for the viewer to participate. As each task claimed its victim, it became increasingly obvious who the strongest candidates were and who would have struggled to make it through the day without urinating on themselves.
It was a great format. And successful too. Complete with its sister show The Apprentice: You’re Fired, the series regularly hits over 5 million viewers.
So what’s changed?
As though finally realising that sourcing six figure employees from a nationwide television show, designed specifically to make each candidate look more moronic that an inebriated walrus, was a terrible idea, the concept suddenly changed.
This change, introduced in the last series, sees candidates instead competing to have their business concept funded.
But wait…isn’t there already a show on the BBC which requires participants to pitch for a cash investment?
Oh yeah – Dragon’s Den.
The Apprentice has transformed, not into the toughest interview process ever, but the toughest selection process for a Dragon’s Den appearance ever. This in turn has destroyed the connection between the tasks and the prize. Indeed, the final show of the last series, which saw eccentrically unhinged inventor Tom Pellereau snatch victory with his orthopaedic chair, was worlds apart from the main selection process.
The ratings haven’t changed and I remain an avid fan. But still – it just doesn’t make any sense. You could have the business acumen of a toddler and still beat stronger candidates if their business ideas are terrible. And this is exactly what happened. The criteria used to judge contestants all the way through becomes utterly redundant in the final where it’s the business proposals that decide the winner.
And because of this, the entire premise of the show is flawed.
What would seem infinitely more suitable now would be to combine the two, and follow a set of ambitious, pretentious egomaniacs bumbling around oafishly, who struggle to complete even the simplest business task, in the creation of a business proposal all in an effort to be the sole participant in an Alan Sugar and Dragon’s Den gang bang.
Ever since Walt Disney released Steamboat Willie the world has been enamoured with animated film. Whether it’s classic tales such as Aladdin, Snow White or Cinderella, skilfully brought to life with painstaking drawings, or the visual spectacles of modern cinema such as Monsters Inc., Toy Story and Shrek, these films constantly push the boundaries of both technology and the human imagination. Possibly more impressive is their unique ability to provide a universal appeal. Children are utterly astounded by the bright colours, laugh wildly at the larger than life characters and sing along with the perfectly crafted score, while at the same time remain largely unaware of the purveying undercurrent of innuendos and adult humour, cleverly incorporated to tickle an older generation often forced to watch them over and over again. It’s a formula that has succeeded for decades and will no doubt continue to do so for years to come. Why then does this article seek to defame a genre, an institution that has been a staple for many a human being since 1928? The answer is simple – the majority of animated film creators across the world are lazier than Rick Waller’s metabolism.
Whatever animated film you watch, whether English, American or European, they all dogmatically follow the same pattern. The characters are initially introduced, as is the fundamental problem of the film. Opening scenes are devoted to establishing the personalities of these characters and the purveying, errant humour typical of the genre. Protagonists then set out on the ensuing journey, encountering a myriad of archetypal characters – usually including a mentor and one placed purely for comedic effect – before everything goes wrong, cuing a fall out between the main cast and sombre violin music. The final crescendos of all these films rely on this element of woe so the inevitable redemption and ultimate happy ending is all that more powerful.
Despite this, you may argue that it is the creation of an entire cast of new characters where the originality of each animated film comes alive. However, on closer inspection, the themes of each film appear to boil down to nothing more than a poorly hashed game of charades at a weekend away with your extended family. Whether it’s dragons (How to Train your Dragon), space (Wall-E), underwater (Finding Nemo) or the jungle (Jungle Book, Tarzan), the creation process appears to be nothing more than applying a general process of elimination to archetypal themes they have yet to cover. When this is taken into account, it then becomes more apparent that the characters created are simply stereotypes associated with their rudimentally chosen theme.
It should be noted that this tendency to rely on frequently used stereotypes only applies to the supporting cast. The protagonist exists as its own entity of laziness. Whatever the film, whatever the setting the hero of the tale is exactly the same, differing only in their aesthetic appearance. Each displays some degree of personality defect, whether it’s grumpiness or clumsiness, while at the same time always, unequivocally possessing a good heart. This is an integral part of the main character; too good and they become repugnant, too much of a miscreant and they become immoral. It is a delicate balance and one that has been perfected over the decades of animated film.
These golden rules of creating a successful animated film are apparent throughout the history of the genre. From the regurgitated plot to the painfully familiar characters, animated film has moved away from the loveable creations of Walt Disney to the production of cheaply made, sub par abominations that offer as much originality as an Eastenders screenplay. If we are going to avoid our cinemas saturated with banal drivel that’s remembered only as long as it takes us to stop vomiting, producers need to stop taking the easy way out and actually produce something worthy of our decades of affection.
It would not be utterly absurd to declare that all humans exist on a spectrum of eccentricity. Indeed, every individual possesses their own personal quirks, their own set of habits and their own preferences for entertainment. Some people gush at the seams, to the point of manic reverence, for the incomprehensibly annoying Justin Bieber, while others much prefer the dulcet monotones of Mumford & Sons or even the ear melting, nonsensical rage of Slayer. Some people are irritated so much by the stacking of a dishwasher that GBH is a result not unheard of, others so laid back a rat could defecate on their face without so much as a twitch. Similarly, the Guiness Book of World Records is littered with bizarre accomplishments, such as the longest fingers nails (33inch), the most t-shirts worn at one time (121) or typing every number up to 1 million, a feat which took a staggering 16 years and 7 months and over 19,000 sheets of paper. Without these people our world would be a dull, miserable place residing permanently in a low greyscale. As such, these eccentricities should be unquestionably embraced if we are to avoid the otherwise inevitability of a world possessing all the excitement of a rainy Milton Keynes.
There is certainly no place on Earth that demonstrates the eccentricity spectrum better than the internet. A hive of procrastination where even the most mundane situations can acquire the attention of millions, it is a forum for endless creativity, bizarre depravity and relentless masturbation. The most common platform is of course YouTube, a phenomenon that sees countless parties, gatherings and other social occasions inexorably interrupted by one inebriated individual screaming “Have you seen the one where the chimp rapes the frog?” And so the evening spirals further and further down into the gutter, making the seemingly innocent stops at the ‘Numa Numa guy’, the sleepwalking dog and ‘Snatchwars’ before the inescapable descent into ‘2 girls 1 cup’ and ‘1 man 1 glass’. Whether you’re the thirteen year old promptly vomiting into his shandy or the middle aged loner secretly aroused, it is a pattern everyone can relate to and one certain to continue over the years to come.
While some people may sneer at the vast amount of time spent on video sharing sites such as YouTube, boldly declaring that watching hours of inane attempts at comedy is as intellectually nourishing as reading an orange, appealing only to a nation’s youth pandemic with undiagnosed ADHD, others may argue that they provide an unparalleled networking opportunity, a way to get your voice heard when no one around you will listen. Just look at the success of artists such as Lilly Allen, who first shared her music on MySpace, or the millions of views on charity virals trying to spread their message, and even the unrestricted access to world culture such as anime and foreign film. Not only is it a place for human eccentricity to take the spotlight, shining in all it’s stop motion, animal infested glory, but it’s a place where people can exist and succeed where attempts in reality failed.
A relatively unappreciated example of this is online flash videos. Adobe Flash is a programme used internet-wide every millisecond of every day. Every time a video is watched on YouTube, a web-based game is played or even if graphics flash across the screen, chances are it was made in flash. Yet, not many people know that there is an entire community of amateur artists who use this programme to create beautiful, hilarious and absurd animations. Stories such as the six-part Korean made ‘There she is’ series, a tale of the forbidden love between a cat and a rabbit, or the brilliantly made adventure of a hybrid zombie named Dirge battling the ravenous forces of the mindless, or even memorable characters such as Salad Fingers, weebl and the Clock Crew are prime examples of how much can be achieved with a simple animation programme and the human capacity for innovation. Sure much of the site is inundated with game and film parodies, but hidden amongst the relative unoriginality are priceless gems of incredible creativity and story telling, as well as a talent any Pixar employee would envy.
It’s easy to dismiss the internet as a breeding ground for procrastination and irrelevance, with those against it furiously arguing that the hour spent watching a squirrel jump into a brick wall could have been better spent reading George Orwell or crafting a sonnet. Yet, these ignorant individuals have missed the opportunities such an unrestricted forum presents. If the spectrum of human eccentricity is something to be celebrated, and it is, then the internet should be commended for being the ultimate representative of its cause, a permanent and devastating weapon in the war against mundanity. The endless possibilities for humour and awe that YouTube provides, with numerous honorariums to human greatness and absurdity, are both immensely enjoyable and illuminating. Similarly, the rich and inspiring catalogue of amateur made flash movies show just how much can be achieved if human inspiration is allowed to roam free. So, next time you’re at home during the day watching the ludicrously dull Heir Hunters, turn it off, log on to www.newgrounds.com/portal and prepare to be amazed.
The artists that have lived throughout human history are instantly recognisable across the world. Leonardo da Vinci, Vincent van Gough, Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso are names that would promptly raise images in anyone’s mind’s eye; whether it’s the abstract portraits of Picasso, the melting clocks of Dali or da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Even modern artists, those that elect for mediums other than paintbrushes, are revered and recognised for their work. Artists such as Quentin Tarantino, Martin Scorsese, George Lucas, and Steven Spielberg are known for their innovation and intricate balance of plot, character development and music. You would have to travel across the globe to the far reaches of an Amazonian rainforest to find someone who didn’t know who E.T. was, or what a lightsaber is. Yet, if I was to drop such names as Hideo Kojima, Hironobu Sakaguchi, David Cage or Shigeru Miyamoto, the telltale signs of nonplussed mirth would be impossible to hide.
Indeed, these brilliantly creative minds of the 21st century are appreciated only by a select community, despite their achievements encompassing more elements than any medium before them. Their creations are not only enjoyed to the point of reverence among their fans, but are also points of discussion for philosophy lectures, literature courses and creative writing seminars. They are works of staggering beauty and genuinely moving narratives, with characters that remain with you years into the future and stories that can span up to 40 hours. If these feats were explained under normal circumstances you would no doubt be excited to the point of teetering orgasm. Yet, when it is ultimately revealed that these artists are figureheads of the video game industry, it is more than likely your interest in this topic will dwindle faster than a life guarding seminar hosted by Michael Barrymoore.
The burning question of this article is why? Why are video games treated, by many, with the equivalent distaste of sexually abusing a walrus? Over the last decade the video game industry has increased exponentially, so much so that it is now worth more than the combined income of every other artistic medium; including books, movies, board games and music. The recent November release of Call of Duty: Black Ops prompted sales figures of more than $360 million in both the US and the UK in its first 24 hours, blowing the first-day DVD sales of Avatar out of the water. Previously the realm of corduroy wearing, female-phobic pixelated masturbators, computer games used to be avoided simply for their nerdish affiliations. Yet, with the recent drives in casual gaming and movement based fitness software, the appeal to wider audiences has finally been realised.
Even with this influx of casual gamers, however, the real stars of this industry remain relatively underappreciated. Creators of legendary characters such as Mario and Zelda (Miyamoto), Final Fantasy (Sakaguchi) and Metal Gear Solid (Kojima) exist in the background as they face mounting pressure to continually create intricate masterpieces, while being asked to aim at increasingly wider audiences. Maybe the reason for this cult-like following is the vast controversy surrounding gaming. A number of school shootouts, car jackings and muggings by youths in the US have placed blame on games such as Grand Theft Auto, while countless reports in the UK and across Europe profess how damaging frequent gaming can be for your mental health. Indeed, many of the recent psychological reports into gaming look at the issues of technology addiction, citing instances in South Korea where students have died from starvation after too many hours on World of Warcraft.
Maybe the errant label attached to this medium is simply a bi-product of how adult humans greet the originalities of youth, a fact that can be seen every decade in music, as those in generations past furiously try to hang on to their adolescence by damning anything that threatens to successfully illuminate their age. Or maybe the long held stigma, that anyone who spends more than an acceptable amount of time with a computer game is likely to regress instantaneously into a perpetual virginity, is holding the masses back from exploring games other than hugely popular titles like Assassin’s Creed, Call of Duty and Fifa, while any new releases are viewed with nervous anticipation as they wait to see which friends will endorse it as an acceptably cool game first.
Yet, maybe the sands are shifting. We are now in a generation that has grown up on gaming. Whether it was the moody corridors of Goldeneye on the N64, the light-hearted world of Pokemon on the Gameboy or the uproariously fun Mario Kart on the Gamecube, the majority of people have enjoyed computer games on some level. The next step is to fully acknowledge the brilliance and creativity of the people behind the scenes, to open our arms and bestow the gifts of respect and admiration so readily bequeathed to those in television, literature and film. And with the recent introduction of the GAME BAFTA video game awards, with such nominations as the brilliant Heavy Rain (David Cage), maybe, just maybe, we’re on the right track.
Syfy brings a 21st century twist to Lewis Carroll’s classic Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland in the new two part mini-series ALICE. Written and directed by Nick Willing (Tin Man) and with an all-star cast including Kathy Bates (Revolutionary Road), Tim Curry (Burke and Hare), Andrew Lee Potts (Primeval), Matt Frewer (A Town Called Eureka) and Caterina Scorsone (Crash), this groundbreaking modern re-imagining is a must-watch when it premieres in the UK on Thursday 27 January at 8pm, with the second part on Thursday 3 February.
The story follows Alice Hamilton (Scorsone) whose world is suddenly turned upside down when she finds herself on the other side of a looking glass in Wonderland, an outlandish city ruled by the devilish Queen of Hearts (Bates).
To maintain control of the land the queen uses the emotions of kidnapped humans to feed her citizens. Her strong army of evil Suits – led by the White Rabbit (Alan Gray) – has been kidnapping humans for years and holds them captive in a casino where their memories are erased and their extreme emotions are drained, bottled and consumed by the people of Wonderland.
When Alice’s love Jack Chase (Philip Winchester) is kidnapped and brought to Wonderland she embarks on a thrilling journey through the bizarre world to find him and unravel the strange going’s on. Along the way she enlists the help of some familiar characters – including Hatter (Lee Potts), White Knight (Frewer), Dodo (Curry), Doctors Dee and Dum (Eugene Lipinski) and Caterpillar (Harry Dean Stanton).
This dark and mysterious twist on Alice in Wonderland shall captivate its audience on Syfy this January.
As well as film and television journalism, I’m also a keen writer working on my first novel – Jack Parker and The Silver Teeth.
Based on the classic 1920s hard-boiled detective, retired ex-cop Jack Parker is happy in his life as a Private Investigator. But, when an old face returns from his past to request his help investigating a string of strange murders in the dangerous wastes of The Sprawl, he is thrust into a world of mystery, intrigue and goat sandwiches.
With imaginative and hilarious characters, such as Crumbs the four foot transvestite sociopath and Bernie and Sheila the split personality/split gender hotel owner, Jack Parker and The Silver Teeth is a book like no other. Filled with more twists than a 24 boxset, it will have you guessing right to the very end, and laughing along the way.
I’m currently posting it as a serial novel chapter by chapter on HubPages.com and you can find the first one here – http://hubpages.com/hub/Jack-Parker-Chapter-1
I welcome any comments, feedback and praise! Hope you enjoy it,
Dave
Over the years it has become painfully apparent that modern filmgoers are more than ready to apathetically gargle on the formidable shaft of Hollywood, furiously gulping down the hot jets of poorly nourished filth, all the while utterly oblivious to the fact they have paid £7.50 for the privilege. In a decade filled with more remakes than an autistic child’s Lego set it seems that, barring a few Nolan exceptions, the originality has very much dried up. Indeed, only this last few years the list of remakes has included such titles as The Karate Kid, Clash of the Titans 3D, The Taking of Pelham 123, Fame and even King Kong.
While most of these have been unmitigated flops, it is Hollywood’s foray into remaking successful European films that has arguably caused the most controversy. Films such as The Assassin, the American remake of French film La Femme Nikita, failed spectacularly in capturing the same popularity (not to mention artistic heights) as the original. Despite this, the drive to incessantly and shamelessly pounce on the faintest sound of crisp notes rustling in the wind has seen countless international films remade under the guise of providing availability to a ‘wider’ audience. Recently, however, the director of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo Neils Arden Oplev has hit out at Hollywood for their remake of the Swedish hit film, only months after it was released.
Much of his anger is directed at the omittance of Noomi Rapace as the lead role of Lisbeth Salander, replacing her instead with star of The Social Network Rooney Mara. He is quoted in the Guardian as saying “Noomi has captured this part and it should always be all her,” he said. “That’s her legacy in a way I can’t see anyone competing with. I hope she gets nominated for an Oscar.” It is a pattern that bares extreme resemblance to the recent rehash of Let the Right One In, another Swedish classic, called Let Me In which features replacement American actors and an English script. Interestingly neither of these recent remakes have performed particularly well in the box-office, a fact that could be connected to widespread critical backlash at the idea of remaking these perfectly good films.
The argument from Hollywood’s point of view is that the foreign language restricts the accessibility for wider audiences, while fans and creators of these films argue that this is, in fact, the beauty of it, as you experience the unique nature of different countries. So who is right and why is it causing such angered debate?
The answer is, as always, both sides have merit. The type of audience who revel in films created in European countries and displayed in their chosen language, especially those in England and the US, are restricted to a highly unique group of people, namely those who enjoy quilted slippers and dogging. Their rejection of anything not explained by English subtitles is as indicative of literature snobbery as calling your firstborn Mercutio. Yet, they do have a point. If something has been created for that outlet and is enjoyed by a particular group of people then what right do Hollywood types, with their attaché cases filled with the tears of innocents and cavalier disregard for human morality, have to butcher the product purely for profit purposes? The answer is, of course, none. It’s testament to the American’s disregard for any culture not identified by overconsumption of copious amounts of processed food, that their movie production ethic resembles their decimation of American Indian culture.
Conversely, the reverse can also be argued. Why should such classic tales as La Femme Nikita and Let the Right One In be relegated to formats only the select few, who inject Worther’s Originals into their eyeballs, can enjoy? If the idea of being forced to read dialogue, while at the same time attempting to follow any on screen antics, is as appealing as a romantic weekend with John McCririck, then the idea of an English remake might strike the right chord. Indeed, if it wasn’t the throat graspingly desperate policy of Hollywood to remake every successful book, movie and video game in modern history, then we might look favourably on the odd, well made redesign for a wider audience.
So is there a resolution to this dispute? At the moment, it would appear not. Hollywood it seems is increasingly replacing any creative features of filmmaking with hard driven, merciless remakes purely for profits sake, while those who create films for the passion and enjoyment are resigned to throwing up their hoods, stuffing their hands in their pockets and trying to keep out of the way in the vain hope it isn’t their time for Uncle Hollywood to sneak into their room at night and steal their innocence about the world.
The technological advances we have seen over the last decade have been astounding. From the Nokia 3210 and 56k modems to iPhones and 50mb broadband, it is clear we are moving at an incredible speed. Yet, this dramatic gadgetry evolution is nowhere more apparent than modern visual entertainment. In the last few years alone we have seen the introduction of high definition and 3D both in the film industry and in our homes. These feats of hi-tech wizardry have transformed the way we look at films and enjoy television, but what’s next? Where can we go from here? This article aims to explain exactly what to expect.
It’s hard to imagine what science boffins will dream of to replace 3D cinema. It’s reasonable to assume that we will plateau out now for a few years while the true potential of this format is realised. Yet, we had precious few months with HD before it’s younger and more attractive friend muscled in on the action, leaving HD to grumble miserably that, just because its pixels don’t hit you in the face, doesn’t mean it’s any less enjoyable – it’s what’s on the inside that counts. There is one crucial reason the step beyond 3D is so difficult to comprehend, and that is it has already been done – theatre. The only way things could become any more immersive than 3D is watching people act it out in front of you.
Is this what we can expect then? That, instead of paying extortionate prices to sit in front of a huge screen while eating overpriced, mass produced confectionary, we will be offered the chance to watch Trowbridge’s amateur dramatic society muddle through Avatar 2 instead? Maybe the appeal of cinema will increase exponentially if there is a real opportunity to be noshed off by Neytiri. Hollywood, determined not to lose their piece of the pie, may even create their own touring theatre company, specialising in high definition, 4D displays of action, explosions and public indecency. Thus, making it an ideal opportunity for writers to get real feedback on their creation as their lead actor is hit across the face with a bottle of Lambrini.
Yet, if you scratch the surface, this seems a ridiculous notion. The high society types who frequent the theatre are unlikely to welcome in the ravenous horde of the masses, preferring to gut themselves on their falchion rather than sit next to anyone from the slums of Twerton, with their odd facial features and penchant for eating human flesh. Discarding this then, the only real option for Hollywood is to take immersion to a level above theatre. Perhaps the live action mazes seen at theme parks across the world are not simply an attraction reserved for people who like being grabbed by seedy men in the dark, but a real chance for big bucks. Being able to wander through the swamps of Dagobah, searching for Yoda, with R2D2 bleeping away at your side seems like a fantastic prospect – even keeping equal opportunities in mind, as vertically challenged people all over the world would be drafted in by the thousands.
Even this, however, has a ring of implausibility. The ticket prices for a live action re-enactment of Star Wars, with its two hour long playtime and plethora of scene and costume changes, would prove too expensive, and surely anything less than £50 a ticket would not cover the extraordinary amount of money and planning required to pull the whole film off four times a day. This means it has to be technology that must advance, rather than concept. The only avenue on the horizon available for this progression then has to be virtual reality. Currently restricted to bizarrely constructed psychological experiments, where participants are forced to interact with ghostly figures in a vain attempt to see how they would replicate this behaviour in real life, it seems that this technology may be a long way off being used for entertainment purposes.
Imagine, however, the idea of being inside your television, being able to look around and see every detail of the land being presented, and to interact with all of the characters in the way you would every day life. Not only would you be fully immersed in the environment, able to see and explore every corner of the world you’re put in, you may even have the chance to be a part of the movie.
If this doesn’t cause a stir of excitement deep in your loins then you’re almost certainly better off with your M.A.S.H box set and box of Kleenex tissues. This is the next step for cinema, surely. There would be nothing more intriguing, thrilling and mystifying than being inside a film, more so if the thin line between movies and gaming finally crumbles and we can be part of the action. Forget sitting in barely comfortable seats wearing blind glasses and chomping on over salted popcorn. Forget even waving your Wii remote round like you’re trying to pleasure an elephant. This form of entertainment will be available from your sofa, fully enjoyable as you sit bollock naked with a coke in one hand, an ice cream in the other and a McDonalds balanced on your balls. Forget everything you already know – this is the future.
It may seem an obvious thing to highlight, but for applications relying on social-networking activity to succeed, they inevitably need people. Otherwise it becomes a barren wasteland of inactivity, in which the depressed developers constantly check their ever decreasing user base composed wholly of staff members, while listening to The Fray and comfort eating Mr Kipling’s entire range of baked treats. The Extreme Sports App is one of these sorry souls. Like an abandoned car on the motorway, or a closed theme park it is a desert of missed opportunities. Having said this, it is still only in its infancy and based, at the moment, in the US so if their marketing campaign succeeds, they will undoubtedly be adorned with loyal fans ready to enjoy the plethora of innovative features the application has to offer.
Accompanied with all the bells, whistles and achievements modern niche networking apps feel they have to provide, such as trophies for completing certain goals and location based ‘check ins’, The Extreme Sports App has clearly done its homework. The basic function of the app is the ability to place your extreme sports activity in which you are taking part somewhere in the world, presumably so that others using the same application would be able to locate you, or you can find a place nearby that hosts your particular event. Accompanying this is the obligatory leader board so you can compare your performance with friends and strangers, the publishing links to facebook and twitter, as well as a host of neat little gadgets such as an altimeter (which doesn’t work), a speedometer (which doesn’t work), a g-force monitor and a rotation monitor.
Yet, despite these gimmicks, the overwhelming question that presents itself as you delve into the programme is – why? Why make an app that brings together the networking abilities of extreme sports when, frankly, the larger individual companies can do it better. For example, The Extreme Sports App can only show you which places are close to you. So as a reviewer looking at it in England, I can see none of the 688 centres the app promises me host skiing. Why then would you pay £1.19 for information you could find infinitely cheaper, easier and with more extensive results on Google? Similarly, if you are an extreme sports fan and competitor you are likely to know many other people in the same field. As such, it seems obvious to assume they would organise their meets on more popular and established formats such as Facebook or Twitter.
Even more problematic is the omittance of a friends section where you can add people you meet at the events it is pointing you to so you can see them again, instead forcing you to do so on Facebook or Twitter. So, instead of a vibrant community of people who enjoy the same activity, it becomes a self indulgent display to strangers of your skill and attendance at a certain extreme sport and where in the world you did so. If you ignore the silly, useless gadgets and fancy jargon this is the shell you’re left with, and it even performs these services badly. Even if the application suddenly gained an influx of followers and places in the UK were added to the map, it still wouldn’t provide enough of a unique selling point to make it the point of reference you check when locating an extreme sports activity, especially with iPhones possessing a perfectly adequate internet browser to search on Google or any other search engine.
Overall The Extreme Sports App is obviously someone’s light bulb brain child, aimed to capitalise at the dramatic increase in social networking popularity. What may have begun as a smart, innovative idea, however, has been poorly executed to the point its main features are utterly redundant in a world where similar information can be gathered more rapidly, more effectively and with richer results elsewhere. The only way this application can be of any use to anyone is if they simply detest using any sort of internet browser or social networking site and have been crying out for a platform in which all of these facets can be rolled into one single app to become the hub for their love of extreme sports. Because this is the case, I think the number of people this may appeal to can be safely relegated to the developer and his team.
Few games live up to the hype they supply themselves on the App Store’s synopsis. Media quotes like ‘the most addictive game you’ll play all year’ and ‘will revolutionise the way you play iPhone games’ are generally indicative of hyperbolised unoriginality, in which the designers have attempted and failed to mask their plagiarism of more successful predecessors with obvious and banal marketing strategies, all for your coveted 59p.
Thankfully, Shoot to Kill: Addictive as Hell is one game that fulfils every word. As a concept, it is no different to many other similar internet flash games. The protagonist stands in the middle of the screen and has to stop the bad guys before they get close enough to deplete their life. As the levels progress the enemies get stronger, faster and more frequent as does your military arsenal. Where the game truly shines, however, is in its highly responsive control system, vibrant display and incredible performance.
Each time the screen is touched, whether it’s to pick off individual enemies, or simply mash the screen, something happens. It is so clean and crisp that the resulting satisfaction when you deftly disembowel multiple minions in quick succession is similar to the feelings of your first 180 at darts, your first goal at football or your first successful attempt at a dog in a bath. This, coupled with the sharp increase in difficulty and thumping music, makes for some genuinely heart stopping battles in which bullets and blood alike flurry across the screen without a single drop in frame rate.
The only time this welcome control system falls down is frustratingly in the midst of one of the best facets of this game – reloading. Timing your reload is essential in Shoot to Kill: Addictive as Hell. If you leave it till your clip is empty you are forced to pause for a crucial second to refill your magazine. Reload by tapping the clip in the bottom left hand corner beforehand, however, and you have an instant reload. When there are ten enemies on screen rapidly hunting for your testicles, this second is one you cannot afford to lose.
The fantastic thing about this system is the necessity for constant awareness as moronically thumping the screen, or dragging your finger in a circle will get you nowhere. If you don’t reload in time you’ll be overwhelmed before your phone hits the opposite wall. Yet, when you try and shoot the enemies approaching from this ammo corner, instead of putting a bullet straight between the eyes of your foe, you reload. During the early levels this is a slight annoyance but forgivable. In the later levels, it can be the difference between winning a level and game over. For the developers to miss such a glaring gameplay flaw is as incomprehensible as Dannii Minogue’s attempts to show emotion through facial expression.
Other gameplay nuances such as minions randomly turning round and walking back out of the arena, the lack of any character skill and weapon development whatsoever, usually a focal point of this type of game, and the anti climactic ending are sure to stand out as bewildering negatives against the sea of spine tingling positives. Similarly bothersome is the realisation the game, despite forcing many deaths, isn’t that difficult. If you lose a life in Shoot to Kill: Addictive as Hell, all the enemies on screen are mutilated and you carry on regardless and if you lose all your lives you can start the level again with no penalty. This effectively means you have three lives to complete each level. As such, it should take no more than three hours to complete the whole thing from start to finish, which in action game terms is about as long and as satisfying as your first sexual experience. Yet, although this underwhelming feature is invariably aggravating, the multiplayer and survival game modes certainly add a more lasting playability than the campaign.
Overall Shoot to Kill: Addictive as Hell belies the majority of its flaws to produce a game of pulse pounding intensity, requiring every ounce of dexterity and concentration you have to stave off death in the face of overwhelming adversity. It is a game that has been created with time, dedication and player-focused gameplay and for only 59p is an absolute steal. I rarely recommend anything I review, but this game is certainly one I would advise you buying right now.
