No, I haven't forgotten about you guys. Just been alternating between really busy and really unmotivated. Back to normal soon, I hope.

And so I survived.

Rather than jump into the thread in the previous post I figured I'd just start a new one announcing that I have returned and that I did not get eaten by a bear. I consider that a win.

It was a good week, and entirely tech-free. Turned off the cellphone when I got there, and it stayed off until I got back home. No handhelds, no laptops, nothing. It's kind of funny, because every time I do this (and this is my first "real" trip since 2006) the first night is always a bit of a panic-filled affair as I sit by the quiet firelight thinking, "What the hell have I done?" But it's always passed by the next morning and life is good again.

I have three young nephews and they're rarely without their PSP, DS, etc., even when they're off on some kind of holiday. (They actually went camping for a few days the same week I was gone.) I'm obviously not one to wag my finger and tell people to put down the consoles, but I do sometimes think that maybe it's a bit much. It's too easy to get too hung up on the things, to the point where you're uncomfortable when it's not around - or worse, where you end up missing out on other things because you're too busy catching them all. Does that sound preachy or hypocritical? It's not meant to. I just think it's a shame that some kids don't get to experience some really cool stuff because their focus is too firmly fixed on gaming.

(Of course, if you're 27 and doing the same thing, that's too bad too, but hey, whatever. Nobody to blame but yourself.)

... for a week or so, anyway. On Friday I'm taking my tent, my canoe and my own sorry ass out to live like a primitive savage for awhile. No PC, no internet, no nothin'. Gonna be sweeeeeeeeeeet.

Anyone else enjoy distinctly lo-tech breaks from their hi-tech lifestyle?

I play hidden object games, by the way. Lots of 'em.

Just sayin'.

I don't think I can take it anymore. Take what, you wonder? Glad you asked. Grand Theft Auto 4. GTA4 on the PC is a mess. The system requirements are ridiculous (I'm running it at settings I thought I'd left behind around the middle of last decade) and worse, the game is buggy as fuck - which I have no doubt is largely responsible for the first complaint.

It's really too bad, because it's obviously an excellent work in most other ways. The characters and the script are absolutely brilliant. Much of the gameplay is hugely fun. But between the rampant glitches and the incredibly frustrating inability to save mid-mission - and on a PC, that should never be the case - is making it too much trouble.

I can't complain too much. I paid 20 bucks for the thing and already have more hours sunk into it than I'd get out of most modern FPSes. In terms of bang for my buck, I've come out alright. But I'm not happy, because I feel like I'm being forced to quit a game I want to keep playing. Nobody's got a gun to my head, sure, but how long do I want to keep struggling with this when there are so many other games out there waiting to be played?

The other thing that interested me about Braid relates to the whole deathly-tired "games as art" debate. Braid was obviously very artfully presented, with fantastic visuals and a very evocative soundtrack (albeit an entirely licensed one) but unlike most other games, the actual gameplay was a central component of the experience - by which I mean, different aspects of Jonathan Blow's vision in the context of the game were represented directly by the gameplay. You weren't just playing to experience the art, the playing was the art. Or was it?

Is it possible to make the act of playing a videogame a part of the art itself, rather than a part of the experience of the art? And if so, how does that affect the relationship between the game, the game maker and the player? Can a game transcend merely "art" and become a palette with which the gamer creates his own art - and in essence becomes a part of the artistic process? I say no, but I do think that as we examine our definition of art, we also have to examine what it means to appreciate art. To see and to hear and to touch isn't enough. To interact must also be a part of the process.

But then how does that affect the actual experience of the art? As I mentioned in the previous Braid-related post, I really enjoyed everything about the game - the visuals, the music, the story, the whole concept, really - except the gameplay itself, which I found frustrating and a bit shallow. Does that cheapen the experience? Does it mean the artist has failed on some level, even if only in failing to engage me? Is it necessarily relevant at all?

I'm not saying Braid was a rollicking success in that regard (or any other) but it does contribute a lot to the conversation about games and art. Regardless of what you think of the game, that's definitely worth something.

What an absolutely miserable week it's been. One I wish I could forget, and never will.

Anyway, I'm a bit behind the curve on this one but I just wrapped up Braid and I figured I'd blow a line or two on whatever the hell it was that just happened. Braid, as you all probably know, is an "art game," and I could tell because when it was all over I realized that it had a much deeper meaning that your typical Princess-rescuing platformer, and that I had no idea what it was. I have a few guesses, sure, but I've never really been a fan of interpretation. I like to know. But that's not going to happen because, like all good artists, creator Jonathan Blow isn't going to make it that easy. Rather than get caught up in that particular trap, however, I'll instead just tip my hat to his "more hit than miss" treatise on the nature of obsession and move on to an obsession of my own: Game boxes.

I waited for Braid to get a regular retail release because I like boxes. And to be honest, I don't like digital. Digital just doesn't convey that sense of ownership that comes from actually going to the store and laying down some bucks for something you can cart home in a bag. I've done it with similar titles in the past, like World of Goo and Plants vs. Zombies. And yes, I paid more for Braid in a box than I would've through Steam or somesuch, plus the time and expense of driving to the store to get it, but that's fine. Because I own it now. It's right over there, just above Cryostasis and Hawx.

It's mainly a psychological thing, I suppose, but that's obsession for you. And while I don't consider my thing for boxes an "obsession" by any stretch (more of a preference, really) it strikes me as a bit interesting how it's reflected in the theme of the game itself.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. And I cheated through probably half of the game with YouTube walkthroughs, which leads to some possibly interesting conversations about the nature and accessibility of art in games but is also a bit of an indictment of my mad gamer skillz and may further dilute my opinion. I dunno. Either way, that's something for next time.

There's been some question (okay, one) about whether I'm the same guy who writes for The Escapist. I am, and with that out in the open I'd like to point you toward a recent article that I think is very important to anyone who believes in reasonable, effective copyright in the digital age, and particularly Canadians.

The article, entitled Goodbye Mr. (Mod)Chips, is about Bill C-32, the planned reform of copyright law in Canada. In a nutshell, it's like this: The Conservative government has introduced a bill seeking to update copyright laws in Canada and codify what consumers specifically can and cannot do with their media. It's actually a pretty impressive document and very even-handed in most ways except for one: Virtually all of the many rights it grants consumers are rendered null and void if the publisher attaches some form of "technological protection measure," which is another word for DRM, to the content.

Example: The new law will legally entitle you to make backup copies of software - videogames, say - for personal use. Unless the publisher has "protected" the game with some kind of DRM. Doesn't matter what kind, as long as something is there. If that's the case, then from a legal basis you're screwed; your right to backup your game is trumped by the law against breaking technological protection measures.

The law hasn't passed yet so there's still a chance to force changes that would make it a more balanced approach to copyright, which would actually be a relatively simple thing to do. It's a big deal, and I think anyone who cares about copyright (which should be all of us, given what we do here) should at the very least be paying attention to what's being done.

I'm not big on shameless self-promotion but if this does strike a chord with you, reading the article would be a good place to start. Follow up from there as you see fit. And if you think this is an important issue, as I do, then step up and get involved.

I'm in the early stages of Grand Theft Auto 4. Glitchy mess. This is the PC version, by the way, which is plagued by no end of bugs and performance issues. But it's so damn good that I'm muscling through it anyway. The writing is just mind-bogglingly good; the characters, the dialog, everything really rings true despite the obvious caricature of the city and those who live in it. It really is a fantastic example of how "good," to use a vaguely-defined term, games can be.

It's also a blast to go crashing around the city in a stolen luxury sedan with Roman riding shotgun.

SO this guy says hey you wanna review some games and I'm like sure and he's like okay don't screw it up and I'm like okay but I have no idea what I'm doing here and I'm being totally honest about that up front so if you give me the green light on this then you're totally responsible for having to put up with the consequences. And then he was like, whatever, so I was like, okay.

And then I figured I might as well play around with this blog thingiedingie a bit. I still have no idea what the hell I'm doing. At this point I'm mostly just trying to avoid pulling a muscle.