Toomanywires

I have decided that there are too many games. Or at least there's not enough time to play them. BitSummit 2025 was, by design, full of games. Games you've heard of, and games you definitely haven't. Games that one day you'll play, and plenty you won't. Games supported by big publishers, small-team efforts, and game-jam experiments; games from here, there and everywhere. Wall to wall indie games. So many games that I didn't know where to start. Utter choice paralysis. For the third consecutive year, I jumped on the Shinkansen and spent a sweltering July-weekend in Kyoto so that I could attend BitSummit , Japan's premier indie game shindig. I played games, chatted until my voice was hoarse, had drinks down by the river, did a bit of tourism, and failed to eat a vegetable.  When I arrived at the show on Saturday, I was thoroughly overwhelmed. Part of the considerable charm of BitSummit is not knowing what to expect. It's not like Tokyo Game Show, where yo...

Just one more game of Rematch before bed.  Kick off! I pass the ball back to our keeper. I'm not sure if that pass is automatic or if my pressing X is having any effect. Sometimes I get the points for a completed pass, sometimes I don't. Regardless, it's the best thing I do all game. It is also the last. Having rid myself of the ball, I run into space. My generic-looking footballer - tanned, styled hair, moustache; thighs like hams - works little circles around the halfway line, occasionally making an exploratory sprint into the opposition's half, before retreating back because the ball isn't coming our way. It's entirely performative. I'm not sure if I actually want the ball, but I certainly want to appear like I want the ball, and might do something useful if I do get it. Our keeper is far from convinced. His legs are unnaturally long, or at least his shorts are pulled up too high. He has big hair and a tartan hat. He's not a newbie and he's clea...

I have a nasty habit of watching the clock when I play games. I'll check my playtime at the end of each session, either in game or on the console dashboard, and start to calculate how many more days, weeks or months it'll likely take for me to finish, with a bit of help from How Long to Beat. I'm hyper aware of how much time I put into games, but this awareness doesn't usually hamper my enjoyment of them. As I near what I believe to be the end, my mind starts to wander and I consider what I'll play next. I'll peruse my digital library and get something downloaded, or grab a physical copy off the shelf and prop it up somewhere near the TV, where I can see it. Now my mind and my eyes can wander. My attention is split between present and future. I start to wish the hours away, even as I enjoy the game at hand. Not with Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, though. I stopped checking the clock after just a few hours and didn't bother to line up my next game. I had no des...