Since arriving in Tokyo almost a week ago, I’ve been in a frenzy of activity. I’ve been to so many parks and reserves, so many city streets and have taken so many photos that I had to purchase a new camera just to keep up. Ok, that’s not strictly true, I bought the new camera because it was shiny and attracted my attention with its obvious bling.
For most of my travels in Tokyo, there is one bird call that far outweighs all the others, both in frequency and volume. This call seems strangely out of place in the bustling metropolis that is Tokyo, more at home in a graveyard or eerie forest path late at night. I’m of course talking about the famous Tokyo Crow.
There is a free park located near central station on Hong Kong island. This is a small botanical garden with some enclosures for a few animals and a pretty epic walk through aviary. At a glance the park is small, but it is set on the side of a mountain so the walk can be very tiring, especially considering the humidity.
I compared this park to the one in Sydney, and though smaller than our Botanical Gardens, this one looks much more immaculate and precise. I encountered turtles, fish and birds, all without the need for cages or boundaries. It seems the criminal element is much more respectful here. I feel somewhat miffed that our park has no turtles like this, only eels and ducks that hiss at you.
As with anywhere I go, I prefer to do as little prep as possible, beyond packing a carry on bag with as much essentials as I can, I try to not cloud an upcoming experience with information and expectation set by advertisers whose sole purpose is to get you there. This is why I’ll try to book every hotel I stay at on the fly rather than weeks in advance. I’ll give you the reason for this by relating my very first hotel experience.
I booked this 4 weeks in advance based on reviews and the star ratings. It was listed as a 3 star hotel, in the middle of Kowloon, near Hong Kong Island. It was very cheap, and out did all comparable 3 stars by a good $100AU. The photos weren’t too bad and the reviews weren’t too harsh. Some stating that there were shady people out the front trying to sell you things and others stating it was a little noisy. All the complaints were things I could easily deal with.
The other day I stumbled upon an old game that I missed when it first came out and consequently it got buried in the pile at ArmorGames. Part of the fun of the site is sifting through the piles of old material and occasionally finding something really noteworthy. And this game here is definitely noteworthy as it isn’t so much a concept of “game” as it is a “reader”.
Basically you are a cursor, one that doesn’t blink, sadly. You have to light up the words of sentences without being hit by power-words. Inadvertently you also get to read the sentences as you go through it. This opens up a whole new world when it comes to fiction. To read is to enjoy, but what if reading became competitive and a score could be gauged? Would books still be as entertaining or moreso?
Despite this game being a MASSIVE time waster, you’ll still probably spend more than you realise playing Arkandian Crusade. It’s basically a “quick” adventure game where your adventures into dungeons and battles rarely extends beyond a few minutes. Yet despite this, you’ll spend around 7-8 hours building a unstopable character in order to defeat the boss demon who initially kicks your ass at the beginning.
This game shows that simplistic graphics are all that’s needed in most cases and highlights the importance of gameplay over that of eye candy. The story also manages to inject a fair bit of humour into the mix with the enemy demon being called “Fak-ough” and him being “Fak-ough” tough!
This morning, I woke early after a whole day of sleep catch up. Recently, with my work and uni-study load I’ve been utterly bombarded by responsibility and schedule and my natural instinct is to withdraw into myself in order to escape.
During one of these sessions of introspection, I recalled one of my past relationships and the perception of who I was at the beginning to who I became at the end. This perception is not my own because even though I recognise that who I am is not a static entity, those around me aren’t aware of this internal discourse and can only judge me on how I act and behave.
I recall a long beach stroll once, early on in a new relationship where I was telling my girlfriend of how I got to where I am today and why I was me, why my outlook was unique. She listened to my story, perhaps somewhat embellished to make me look better, after all we are necessarily the heroic protagonists of our own story. But I recall her amazement of who I was and how despite the odds, I’d ended up with my particular outlook on life. Her words stuck with me because they seemed not disingenuous, but rather exaggerated.
She told me that I should become a motivational speaker.