See, the problem with writing a blog is that sooner or later you realise you aren't writing a blog at all, or at least, this is what I have just realised. This is not a blog, but more like a couple of rants over quibbles with games and stabs at profundity, no matter how meagre the source. So allow me to rectify this.

     Today I played GTA IV. It was good. I find it is best played in sustained periods, so as to immerse oneself in the world and become dedicated to its chaotic mentality. I completed a mission that took quite a few attempts, and then foolishly did not save afterwards but instead attempted to do an assassination mission, cock-sure I wouldn't balls it up. Which I did, and which meant I would have to load up from before the first mission if I wanted to continue to access the assassination ones. So I exited the game, and I write this late at night while I delay sleep in order to answer the question as to why I wasted more than an hour's gameplay.

     One possibility is that I have become bored with the game's standard means of motivation and reward. I take more risks nowadays. And risk is something that I generally find strangely lacking in the GTA games. Perhaps this is a reason why it appeals to so many players, and allows them to rush headlong into foolhardy but endorphine-baiting scrapes. You'll certainly never feel too bad about shooting a cop in the face if he's trying to pull you out of your car in this game, and if the bugger calls for back-up... well, make my day, punks. There is no fear of recrimination from anyone whatsoever. If the police do kill you, you pay some money for medical bills and maintain your due course. And because there is no loss of weaponry inside a hospital, you'll always die before you let a pig haul you down the slammer, because if that happens the resulting bribe and loss of weaponry makes it the more damaging outcome. A great incentive to try and live, survive and sweat the chases out, but the knowledge that you can always blow yourself up if it gets too bad means you're never put in a situation where it's make-or-break.

     But it's difficult to do that with any game, I suppose - there's always a re-load not far away, and where would we be without it? It's too dangerous to take away. I remember an old Amiga game called Ork Attack. Bravo if you remember it too, and bravissimo if you managed to complete it, because it was essentially a random, bastardised version of Space Invaders where you had one life throughout the entire game. I managed to get to section two maybe five times, and that's it. Nobody can be expected to play through the modern games without dying, but the point I'm trying to make is that in games like GTA IV, there are things that should be worse than death.

     Let me describe to you two scenarios in two similar games that I will never, ever forget. The first was Hidden & Dangerous II. On just the second mission, you are expected to sneak into a base and silently slaughter what seems to be an entire battalion of German soldiers, place some explosives, and make for the exit. I tried it a few times and then, once I'd played through the game on medium difficulty, did it on the hardest 'realistic' setting. I took it so seriously that I literally did what I would have done if I was in that situation: I snuck around at roughly two-feet-per-minute and cautiously slaughtered the scientists and patrolling soldiers with my knife, taking out anyone else with silenced weaponry that left you painfully vulnerable after the first shot. At the very end of this level, having placed four explosives, and with them ticking down, I made my way towards the exit, but I set off an alarm. The reinforcements came, and they were blocking my exit. Yet I was so incredibly wound-up by this point that, even though my heart was beating like a steam train, I simply would not be denied. I had to do all weird manner of manouevres, including plucking the MP40s off of dead soldiers with seconds to spare in order to clear the final doors and make a surge for the stairs and the exit. The rote soldier-running-from-a-fireball-and-leaping-away-in-the-nick-of-time cut-scene has never felt more apt.

     The other scenario was very similar to this, but instead it was a lone mission in Ghost Recon Advanced Warfighter, which is tremendously realistic and coronary-inducing at the best of times, and could wipe the smile from your face in an instant flash of red. It was a night mission where I had to use all of the skills I had used up until then to survive and complete the objectives. I was very prepared, and there were a few scrapes along the way, but I was nearly done when all-of-a-sudden the music started to pick up and forced me to take a look at my satellite map out of concern. Yup, two trucks with machine guns were heading my way. The guys over at Grin clearly weren't done with me just yet. Well, stuff that. I lined up my gun and instantly shot the gunner in the first jeep as it rounded the corner. I then had one chance, and one chance only, to dart behind distant cover and prepare for a small counter-attack or be shredded. The bullets were pinging all around me and I'll never forget the way I could practically visualise the screen turning red even before I got to safety, and the elation when I realised I'd made it.

     And yet how could I possibly repeat these performances? The very second I let my guard down in the next mission and had to load up, the achievement would forever be confined to those previous single missions. Sure-enough, this is what happened, and I spent the remainder of both games stumbling through the levels, numb from dying and sick of trying so hard. I guess these things only happen once in a while and you have to cherish them when they do.

     Ah well. I guess tomorrow (which is now, technically, today) I'll just take a few deep breaths, clear my head, and go straight for my safehouse. And then, then... I won't have to write anything at all.