Pacific Rim Review

Go Big or Go Extinct

Go see this film. Stop reading and go. Now.

Pacific Rim is fun. It is entertaining and an absolute blast to see in the cinema. I would seriously recommend you see it in the cinema too. Even if you only have a passing interest in it, do not wait for the DVD or for it to come on Netflix, experience it on a huge screen with thundering speakers surrounding you because that is half the reason why Pacific Rim is so fun.

When a group of giant monsters, known as the Kaiju, begin to attack earth through an inter-dimensional rift, the Earth's nations band together to create a group of giant defensive robots known as Jaegers. However as the Jaeger program seems to be faltering against the insurmountable odds posed by the Kaiju, the last few Jaegers remaining on Earth are brought together for one last assault.

Ok. Go back and read that last paragraph again. Giant monsters. Giant Robots. This film is everything you could expect from just those two phrases alone. The scale of the action sequences is mind blowing, the choreography of the fight sequences defy you not to smile as the stakes just get higher and higher with each ear rumbling punch thrown.

Surprisingly, it isn't all just dumb fighting on a gigantic scale. Guillermo del Toro manages to create quite a smart, all be it basic, futuristic world with well thought out incidental details (for example slums that spring up against the remains of the Kaiju bones). The neural bridge that is used to connect the two pilots simultaneously controlling a Jaeger proves to be a surprising touching element. The thought of sharing someone’s memories and being in their head is quite the romantic notion.

The most note worthy element to this film has got to be the art direction. A lot of work must have gone into creating the design of the Jaegers (each one looks different) and the look of each Kaiju (who look completely different from one and other). They look authentic (as authentic as something like that could look!) and seem to be based on years of evolution, as each one is adapted to its mission and surroundings.

Pacific Rim won't win any awards for Best Actor. It's screenplay won't be remembered as a great work of art, revered in Universities in the future. Pacific Rim sets out to entertain you and it thoroughly does so from start to finish. If you have a passing interest in Sci Fi, robots, monster movies, action, cinematic experiences or just plain having fun go see this film.

As I said before. Go see it!

T

The Last of Us

Please note, there are no spoilers in this review.

On Playstation 3

The Last of Us represents the end of an era in many ways. It is one of the last big titles on the Playstation 3, it represents the culmination to a body of work from developer Naughty Dog and it embodies a high point to a particular style of game we've seen many, many times this generation.

Throughout the last ten years we have seen more and more big budget titles, with blockbuster presentation values and grandiose stories. Call of Duty, Assassins Creed, Bioshock and Uncharted are just a few that come to mind. The Last of Us is the climax to that particular ideology and design philosophy. It is by far the best amongst them.

One of the main talking points about The Last of Us is it's story. Set in a post apocalyptic world destroyed by a cordyceps virus (a spore fungus that infects the brain and triggers mutation), The Last of Us follows the journey and relationship of Joel and Ellie. Without giving any details away, the narrative is gripping, it is tense, it is emotional and it asks many questions. Key among those: how far would you go for the last of yours? There are many variants of the “us” within the game. Separate factions and groups, all who answer that very question in different ways. Whether that answer may help our protagonists on their journey or not. More often than not that answer is also incredibly violent and morally grey.

Joel and Ellie are wonderfully realised in a manner that is not commonly found in video games. Both feel real, their relationship feels real and the ups and downs within that relationship feel real. The performance, through voice work and motion capture, made me care immensely. Both go on an emotional journey, both have flaws and are paradoxical, and together they make you emotionally invest in their story.

Their story is really the highlight here. Gameplay, while serviceable, is nothing to rant and rave about and this has become a common theme throughout this particular style of game. The Last of Us shares the same flaws as Bioshock Infinite, Max Payne 3 and many others. There is a disconnect between the gameplay and narrative – however unlike previous titles, The Last of Us takes significant steps to reduce the dissonance. Resources are scarce and scavenging becomes both a game play mechanic and narrative element. The gameplay doesn't award points for stealth or action, both are what they are and either choice isn't celebrated or punished. This is a fact of the world The Last of Us is set in.

It is a violent world and violence is just tolerated, it is a fact of life. The slow movement and “tanky” controls help to convey the underlying tension that runs throughout the narrative as every gun fight becomes a game of resource management and self preservation – exactly how it would in a barren wasteland world.

My biggest gripe with the gameplay is the fact that when you are in control, Ellie cannot be detected by enemies. It rarely plays a factor but when it does become obvious that she is essentially invisible to them, it does take you out of the moment a little. Here is a story based on survival, survival of this couple and yet her safety is not a factor when you are in control.

This is where improvement needs to be made. Talking about character and narrative is fine but form and craft has to be taken into account. A perfect delivery of dialogue is both performance from the actor and the crafting of a director. In this instance the craft needed to be of a higher standard to keep in line with the high quality narrative. Treating the narrative and gameplay as two separate entities is a flaw of the particular design philosophy and ideology The Last of Us exploits to it's advantage and, at times, disadvantage.

Regardless of the gameplay slip ups, The Last of Us is still a fantastic game. It is the best game on Playstation 3 because it tells a story with conviction, with passion and heart. The big moments are not huge explosions or fight scenes but quiet, tender moments in a car, with two characters conversing. The key moments are not the blaring gun fire but the eerie guitar strum and a lingering camera shot across the desolate landscape. It steps away from conventional “press X to be hero and O to be villain” and presents an unflinching and uncompromising ending that many may not see coming.

The Last of Us represents, to me, the very reason why I dream to get involved in such an industry. To be able to lose yourself in such a lovingly crafted world is the best form of escapism, it has been true for the longest time with novels and stories. It is the same with this.

T

Brave New Expansion

Civilization V – Brave New World

Available on PC. Requires Civilization V to play.

If you follow me on Twitter or know me personally you may have known that over the last few days I’ve been lost in the world of Civilization. I've managed to, wilfully, spend hours upon hours on this iconic franchise. You can't help but think... just... one... more... turn. You really can't!

Civilization V, when released a few years ago, was met with mixed reactions. Many called it's predecessor, Civilization IV, a better game and up until the recent expansion I would have agreed. Brave New World manages to elevate Civilization V to heights beyond the games that came before with the introduction of Tourism, World Congress, Archaeology, several new civilizations to choose from, enhanced trading, revamped social policy trees and the introduction of an ideology tree.

These new features, combined with features introduced in the first expansion Gods and Kings (FYI – the Faith and Espionage systems introduced in Gods and Kings come with Brave New World – the additional Civilizations from this expansion, however, do not), help shape every section of a typical play through into something engaging, dynamic and devilishly captivating.

Before this expansion, I often found late game to be about the acquisition of whichever currency lead to your desired victory. Science, Culture, Gold or Units for military dominance. Gods and Kings introduced Faith to make the early game a little more dynamic with the ability to slightly enhance and buff your civilization to tailor your needs. The espionage mechanic allowed for trickery and spying, stealing peoples technology or setting civilizations against each other which made the mid-game more intriguing. Brave New World seeks to make the end game a lot of interesting and one of the key mechanics to do so is the World Congress.

Once the Industrial Era has been reached by a majority of the Civs in the game, the first Civ to have encountered every other player in the game earlier becomes the host nation for World Congress. This congress can vote on various policies and rules that change the rule set of the game going forward. Congress can vote to embargo certain players or civilizations. They can outlaw certain luxury resources (say Ivory or Sugar) deeming them immoral and worthless. Congress can impose larger restrictions like a World Religion with the Civilization that founded said religion gaining huge benefits or eventually meeting to elect a World Leader. Being elected World Leader is a key stage in attaining a diplomatic victory and the pursuit of such a victory creates for fantastic political intrigue, backstabbing and drama.

In a recent game, as the USA, I put all my focus into controlling the political stage. I did this through my economy. With the wealth I was able to amass I was able to buy tiles with the resources I would later need for trade, I was able to buy the influence of the City States within the game granting me their votes at Congress and I was able to keep certain opposing players in check with bribes of gold. Everything was going swimmingly. I was able to wrest control of World Congress and name myself the Host Nation with a majority vote. I was on track to becoming World Leader and winning the game. Twenty Five turns to turns to victory. The United Nations was about to convene for the Fourth Congress of Washington and then war broke out. A massive global war, lead by the treacherous Spanish who had been my allies for the entire game. The rest of my opponents declared war against me and my City State allies. They even went as far as to invade and capture the City States I was using to vote for me. They invaded every city I owned and pillaged my network of trading posts and factories.

I came so close. As frustrating as it was, I would have done the same if another player was close to becoming World Leader. I should have dealt with some of them earlier and this really is the beautiful thing about Civilization V. The constant feeling of “I can do better!” and the ability to tell your own sweeping stories that span the entire globe and through era upon era of time. There are no story lines, there are no cut scenes. This is a game about exploration of mechanics which provides you with the beautiful ability to create a story around your play time – like I just did above.

This inherent history is taken advantage of through the games Archaeology system. At the very start of the game, as you set the founding blocks of your first city, barbarian camps and ancient ruins frequently spawn. As you clear these camps and ruins to protect your new nation or to make room the game keeps note of what battle took place where. When Archaeology is discovered thousands of years later, those same camps and ruins return as dig sites where you can discover great works of art and ancient artifacts to increase your Tourism rating.

Tourism is another new addition to the game and the best way I can describe its use is by referring to Tourism as an offensive statistic and Culture as a defensive statistic. Tourism is how appealing you are to other nations and Culture is a currency that you can spend to further augment your overall persona. Some are happy to follow your ways of life, others not so much. Manage to be the most influential Civilization and you'll win. The buildings that you produce in your cities also come with Great Work “slots”. These slots are filled by the artifacts and great works produced by your Civilization, or through trade, increasing your Tourism. Additionally, these buildings can be themed and if you manage to match the theme for a specific building (for example, great works of art from the same time period and civilization) it increases that bonus even further. This create quite an addictive little mini game as you barter with your enemies or allies for certain pieces of art from a certain age, or scour the world for dig sites before you opponents can snap them up.

Nothing is perfect though and sometimes the AI can really be rather dumb. A few times AI controlled players have been utterly unreasonable about trade. Demanding obscene amounts of resources or heavily stacking trades in their favour. Sometimes decades of peace can lead to political strife for no apparent reason. Their voting can sometimes be questionable at the World Congress table, with smaller Nations just “going with the flow” rather than banding together to make a more viable difference.

Still, these minor quirks a side, the additions brought on by Brave New World manage to create a game that will grab a hold of you and only let go when you are crawling away suffering from starvation and fatigue. All with a smile on your face about the deal you made for Sugar with Portugal that one time in the 1300's

Still not convinced I hear you say?!

It seems like a difficult game to get into?

Well how would you like to try out Civilization IV? Because I have not one but TWO free copies to give away on Steam!

All you need to do is share/retweet the relevant link that brought you here and leave me a comment telling me something funny! (This part is optional but it might increase your chances of winning! :P). I'll randomly pick two lucky winners on Friday 19^th July 2013. Obviously, you need some form of a Steam account and a PC to play the game.

T

Inner Fire

It may not be a huge thing to some people. I know a lot of people are able to say the same thing however this is huge to me. I'm graduating!

I'm not going to sit here and rave about the degree or my marks or anything like that. It's done and i'm very proud to have a degree in English Language and Literature with Creative Writing. What I do want to say is this:

Thank you to my family. Especially those who have stuck around for the last decade while things didn't always go the way I wanted them to do. I'm not going to go into minute detail here however over the last ten years my life was beset by set backs, family tragedies, health issues and a general sense of negativity. It's no secret that some of the members of my extended family don't keep in contact and I'm not angry at them, not any more. I'm thankful for the impact they've had on my life. They too have helped shaped me to become the person I am today.

Thanks to the friends that have been around, those of you that have come and gone over the years. Even though at times I never wanted to see that you guys were around, you were. In person, over the phone or over the interwebs you guys were around and you kept me going when I didn't want to go any more. Some of you i've only just met at University, students and staff alike, and you have become my closest friends. I hope to keep in touch and continue the wonderful relationships I have with you people.

Lastly, and this really is the main reason why i'm writing such a post, is to send a message to anyone out there who might be reading – whether I know you or not. There were times when I didn't want to wake up in the morning, when I hoped I wouldn't. There were times when things got so bad or I lost some really important people that I didn't know where I'd find the strength to make it another day. There were times when I was physically unable to do what I wanted or what I had looked forward to. These times got me down. These times informed most of my day to day life. These times cost me relationships and opportunities.

Not any more. It takes a moment and that moment may come in some way you may not expect. For me it was a realisation that I was not living up to the advice that one of my closest cousins gave to me – someone who I miss very, very much to this day. That realisation lit a fire under me that still burns to this day. Until then I had lost hope.

You might be down. You might almost be out. There may be people around you telling you pick yourself up, to do this or that. There may even be people around you that are keeping you down. Everything you knew about your life my change, fall apart and crumble. Don't lose hope. Change will come but you have to find it within yourself to grasp that momentum, to take that helping hand and to move yourself forward in a positive manner. Self conviction and belief are the two key things you need. I believe you can do it but it doesn't matter what I believe, it's up to you.

Normally I wouldn't really take it upon myself to write a post like this. I like to talk to people and help them out as best I can but doing it in this way just isn't me. However it wasn't until a friend of mine, who i've really only just got to know and I regret I never made the effort to do so earlier, told me that she smiled at my dumb tweets filled with bits of positivity. That really made me think. I didn't know I was having that affect on people. Maybe I can make someone else smile with this, maybe I can give them that little bit of hope.

Some of you may think this is directly aimed at you. I can honestly say that i've not had anyone particular in mind when I wrote this but if you feel that way then take it as such. I am talking to you. Yes, you. You can do it. I did.

SimCity... or should that be Sin City?

UPDATED SEE BOTTOM OF POST.

Several sections of text in the post open videos and news sites to support what i'm saying.

The short of this whole post is avoid SimCity. Seriously.

SimCity is a well regarded franchise with many PC owners having at least dabbled in the city building simulation at some point. There are a lot of people out there who fondly remember a disaster ravaging their perfectly laid out metropolis which made the anticipation for the newest instalment huge.

Anticipation which unfortunately has been met with a game that is crippled at it's earliest design choices and execution. To get the good out of the way first, SimCity is a good idea. In fact there are a few good ideas present in the latest version of SimCity. More so than previous games, the latest SimCity puts an emphasis on city specialisation and region interactivity. Two ideas which are fantastic. City specialisation lets you focus on a specific path.

Your city can focus on tourism and attract sims from across the region, driving up revenue for commercial businesses in your town and providing a pay check for the city when events are profitable (e.g a sports game at your stadium!). If you pick a plot of land with natural resources hidden underneath, your city can grow wealthy exploiting that resource. Set up a number of oil drilling or coal mining plants accompanied by a trade post and watch the money roll in. Alternatively, you can keep the raw resources and manufacturer finer goods, metals and petrol to sell at a higher price or use in your region. There is a distinct shift towards micromanagement. Before where you might plop a police station every three streets, now you might be best served upgrading the one police station you have. Most key buildings in SimCity allow you to upgrade, providing additional features or unlocking more specialisation options.

Region interactivity is another plus point. In previous SimCity games you could connect to faceless cities that bordered your town and exchange power, water or sewage for an arbitrary amount of cash. Now your cities (or those of your friends) can trade power, garbage disposal facilities, water etc. with each other too. It creates an asynchronous multiplayer which allows people to work together to provide the sims of the region with everything they need. One person could specialise in education and the sims will travel from the industrial city they live in to educate themselves. Or at least they should... in theory.

It's difficult to pin point why certain features of SimCity just don't work. On one hand it could be the overloaded servers which you are required to log into just to play, even if you want to play on your own (more on this later). Or it could be odd AI bugs that really hinder the experience.

There have been countless reports of the A.I and simulation in SimCity being somewhat broken. The Sims will take the shortest route to their destination, even if it isn't the quickest. They won't cross the road to use a bus stop, opting to drive instead. This could lead to everyone piling into small side avenues where main thoroughfares and avenues remain wide open. Your mass transit systems could just choose to ignore a turning or split in their route and ignore entire sections of the city that are “covered”, in theory, by bus routes. I had a group of low wealth sims complaining that they had no where to shop or work. But at the same time I had a group of low wealth shops complaining that they had no shoppers or workers. How???

The sims and advisors in the game will constantly seek expansion, which is understandable in the first few hours of city building but infuriating when you have completely filled the incredibly small map size provided. When you have no room to build anything (in the entire region), having the game harp on at you about “more workers” is really, really annoying.

The region interactivity just doesn't seem to work like it's supposed to either. There is a delay between interactions. For example I could volunteer up some of my police service to the next town but that won't kick in straight away, leaving my sims in the undefended town unhappy and unprotected until the game decided to catch up. I had built a huge university with lots of room and services to cover the entire region yet the sims on my adjacent towns complained of no education and flat out refused to go to the four schools, two high schools, college and university I had built just one town over. Now this could be because of the server issues EA and Maxis have been having with the launch of the game.

And thus we come to quite possibly the most prominent issue in the game. Online connectivity. You must log into their servers to be able to play the game at all. The launch of an online only game is always troublesome. SimCity had major issues, especially for North American users who had hours upon hours of down time. I, personally, have had a hand full of problems but nothing to the extent of what other players have been suffering. I've failed to connect on two occasions and I've had delayed response from the server when playing at times (region interactions, claiming city locations). In an effort to reduce the server load, Maxis temporarily removed features from the game. One of the key features being the ability to speed up time to Cheetah speed. The removal of this feature means … a lot of waiting around until you can get the money you need.

However, interestingly, a recent report on Rock, Paper, Shotgun shed light on the idea that this online DRM isn't required for the game. EA and Maxis have gone on the record stating that the online connection is a requirement for the game to run because some of the calculations are done server side. The RPS report states (from a source within Maxis) that this is not true. In fact players have reported being able to play for extended periods of time while connection to the server has been lost without being removed from the game. How is this possible if the online connection to the server is that critical? Could the online DRM just be a requirement to curb piracy and provide the platform to drip feed their players new content as microtransations (there are already items on the in game store ready to buy!)? This is a sign of a growing shift within the gaming industry from games as a product to games as a service.

It is unfortunate that such a beloved franchise has been hampered with design flaws and poor execution. Cities are small because they want to promote region play. However region play doesn't work all that great and the cities are so small that there's only so much you can do. Draconian online DRM limits when and how you can play the game, seemingly unnecessarily. Wonky A.I serve to frustrate and make the experience a chore sometimes.

There are some shining ideas underneath the rubble. Here's hoping things change and that E.A crawl off into a corner and die, i'd gladly pay extra for that to happened if it appeared in the in game store.

UPDATE: Following the news posted by Rock, Paper, Shotgun it seems that a modder has found a away to disable to artificial online requirement and play offline indefinitely. Online features such as region tools and save/load games obviously don't work correctly. Your cities are, however, saved onto their servers once you reconnect back to the online service. The UK Modder also stated that it is possible to edit the highways covering the region anywhere, even outside of the boundaries provided by Maxis and E.A. On top of this "bigmaps" were apparently referenced several times in the games code indicating that larger plots could be an additional microtransaction DLC in the future.

A Reddit post outlines all the recent discoveries made by the community. These include an inflation of the population, the ability for offline saves and the inclusion of terraforming tools (a feature removed from the newest edition of SimCity).

This is getting interesting.

T

Red

Apologies for the delay. I've been struggling with a mountain of University work that doesn't seem to be getting any smaller. I wrote this story a few years ago for a first year assignment. There is actually a script version that I adapted for a second assignment on the blog. I decided to go back and edit the short story version to include some elements that I thought up after and generally polish the dialogue and pacing.

I'm attempting to create a small collection of short stories that take place at the same time in Huddersfield. These will serve to introduce characters which I hope to use in a larger project that i'm working on. 

So here's the first one. Any comments or advice is always appreciated. Enjoy! 

T 

--------

Red

You find yourself alone with microwave meals that taste like warm shit in water. The only light in your life coming from the television that you leave on at night. BBC News channel presenters your only bedfellows. Life has a way of playing with you though. It has a way of shaking you awake just when you think it'll let you fall asleep and never wake up. It has a way of complicating things.

Red covered the ground, hair and blood flared out along the dark concrete like a sick piece of modern art. It was the last fare of the night. How did it come to this?

Dispatch mumbled something over the radio as the rear passenger door opened. The rush of cold air slapped me from my stupor. I yawned as I cleared the metre from the previous fare and started the taxi up.

‘Wher’ya going love?’ I asked looking back through the rear view mirror. My passenger stared out of the window for a moment before answering: ‘Westridge Drive. Beaumont Park’. It was going to take a while to get to Beaumont Park from this side of Kirkburton but luckily the roads were empty at this time of night. I don't often make it my business to think about the passengers other than if they're going to pay or cause trouble. She was young, she looked a mess and it was late. We've had our fair share of drug addicts causing trouble, especially recently, something about a new product being available. I don't really know. Her eyes were locked to the pavement as it rolled by and her hands were tucked underneath a brown leather bag. One of the buckles was dangling off. She better not try to bolt. I was on the home stretch for this shift, I didn't need trouble, and yet I couldn't help myself. I tempted fate.

‘Everything alright love?’

Nothing. Not a flinch. I don't even know if she heard me. She just stared out of the window, her eyes dead and bloodshot. I noticed some dried blood on her lip.

'Bang your lip on something or?'

‘Just drive the fucking taxi.’

‘I wa' just asking love, I didn’t mean to-’

‘Sure you didn’t...’

‘I was just concerned.’

‘Who the fuck are you? My dad? Just drive.' I would have left it there. I didn't need to know or get involved.

'You're about as useful as he was by the looks of things.'

She pushed it too far. I wasn't going to stand for this. What the hell was her problem? She could walk.

'Bollocks to this,' I mumbled to myself as I pulled over to the pavement. I killed the engine leaving a prickly silence momentarily. 'Get out, call another taxi.'

I looked back. She hadn’t moved an inch. ‘Did you hear me, Red? Get out.’ She shook her head and leant back, looking up to the roof of the car. I noticed marks around her neck.

‘I’m sorry… I just need to get to-’

‘There’s no charge, call someone else. Get out.’

‘Please don’t do this to me, not now.’

‘Don’t do what? Look, you wa' rude. I tried doing the decent thing and now I just want you out of my taxi.’

She pulled a gun out of the bag and shoved it into my face. My body froze immediately. I couldn’t seem to breathe.

‘Just take me to Beaumont Park. Now.’

I started the car back up. The metal pressing into the back of my head ran to my feet pushing the pedals down that little bit harder. I looked back at her. She was illuminated briefly as we passed the twenty four hour Co-op, and her eyes shone brightly before being plunged back into darkness.

‘I- I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have a choice,’ she stammered.

I tempted fate and fate spat in my face. She came in smelling of roses and looking like hell. I couldn't help myself. Idiot.

‘Stick up taxi drivers often?’

‘Please. Just drive the Taxi.’

‘Look you’ve got a gun pointed to the back of my head; I think we’re beyond being driver and passenger. So… why don’t you tell me why you’re threatening to kill me just to get to Beaumont Park?’

I changed gear and as I brought my hand back up to the steering wheel I knocked the receiver to dispatch onto my knee. I held down the button between my legs. The red light lit up on the transponder. It was brighter than I realised but maybe she wouldn't notice.

‘Well? I deserve to know… why you’ve got a g-’

‘Stop talking.’ I heard the gun click behind me, she slowly leaned forward and yanked the wire out of the receiver. The red light flickered off. ‘Nice try,’ she muttered as she leaned back into the seat behind me.

‘Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut and drive? You just had to talk and complicate things.’

'I have a habit of making things difficult.'

For a while we sat in a nervous silence. I slowed down to thirty miles per hour, I’m not even sure why I was prolonging the journey. We were just passing The Waterloo Pub when she began to violently cough.

‘Y’alright back there Red?’ I asked as I started to pull over again.

‘Keep… driving,' she choked. The gun lowered as she began to cough even harder, gasping for breath.

‘Just what the hell is going on here?’

The coughing slowed down. Her eyes watered as she desperately took huge gulps of air.

'It's got nothing to do with you!'

‘Really? You've taken me bloody hostage, it's got a lot to do with me now love.’

'I swear I’ll fucking shoot you if you don't shut your mouth!'

‘Bet you don't even know how to use the bloody thing.’

Shut up, idiot. Shut up! I never did know when to keep my mouth shut.

She leaned forward and pointed the gun towards the passenger side window and fired. The force of the gun shot felt like someone had punched me in the ear. The window shattered. Glass flew in every direction. I closed my eyes and hoped she wouldn't shoot me. The realisation that I was still driving felt like a jolt of electricity. My eyes flew open and I glimpsed a man staggering into the road. He didn't even seem to notice me as I swerved and kept the car under control.

‘What the fuck are you doing?!’

‘Drive! Or the next one goes through your big fucking mouth!’

I slammed my fist into the steering wheel. Partly out of frustration and partly because she was right.

Shards of glass continued to fall off the door frame as we made our way into town. Things had calmed down a little. We were passing Ravensknowle Park when I reached into the glove compartment. She leaned forward.

‘Stop.’

‘Relax Red,’ I pulled out a box of cigarettes and slid one into my mouth. ‘You smoke?’ I reached to the back with the box of twenty in my hand.

‘There's a no smoking sign on your dashboard.’

‘You remind me of my ex-wife.'

She smirked. I threw the box into the passenger seat. As it landed tiny shards of glass bounced up. If I didn't end up dead, Timmy was going to kill me for this. I glanced back through the rear view mirror. Red was still smirking. She shook her head in amazement.

‘What you don't think an old mug like me could be married?

‘No I’m just amazed you still want to talk.'

‘I got married. If that ain't a sign that I’m a glutton for punishment I dunno what is.'

‘Ex-wife?'

'Yep. As in no longer married.'

'I know what ex-wife implies, dip shit.'

'Easy.'

'So what happened?'

She looked intrigued. The gun had lowered a little. If she was to fire now, she'd probably miss the back of my head and hit the roof. Progress.

'Well... Carl happened.'

'Oh, and who might Carl be?'

'Some big bollock executive. He was in the office with the leather chair in a suit. I was in here in a leather jacket. Didn't really compare. Weak chin though. He hit like a girl. She always said I needed something to fix. I was quite the handy man, you see. Only thing I couldn't fix was me bloody marriage.'

'You fought him?' The grin got bigger, pearly whites peered through.

‘At their wedding, yeah. They were being married in front of this lake. Helped him cool off.’

She laughed and reached over to the front seat for a cigarette and the lighter. She looked so much nicer with a smile on her face. Why did I even think that?

‘Sorry love, no smoking.’

‘Whatever.’

'What's your name love?'

She hesitated for a moment. The end of her cigarette lit up as she took a drag and exhaled. 'I like Red,' she said smirking.

‘Got a son somewhere too. They moved away after the wedding. America. Not seen him since. Probably couldn't recognise him if he was sat where you are. That''s what anger does to ya. Makes things worse.'

‘Nothing can make things any worse than they already are.’

'Things always get worse. That gun you're holdin' in yer hand will see to that.'

'I don't have a choice.'

The progress I had made seemed to evaporate. The smile slid of her face and her steely eyes refocused. I felt the barrel of the gun poke me in the back of the head again. I shifted gear.

'You a film fan?'

'What?'

'Movies, films. You watch em? Well, my favourite is Leon.'

'Leon?'

'Yeah. It's got that English geezer in it. What's his face? Gary Oldman.'

'I've seen it. Is that what you think is going on here?'

'Well.... I don't think anything. I mean the US version they're just friends. But I watched them deleted scenes and commentaries and stuff, fucking brilliant. Anyway, in that they said they had to delete the scenes from the European version which had Mathilda fall in love with Leon. I mean, we can just be friends, like. I'm not-'

'Don't.'

'I'm just tryin' ta understand Red.'

'This isn't something you can fix.'

The cough returned. She doubled over clutching her stomach, her guts practically forcing their way out of her mouth. Her whole body shook as she wretched and spluttered. I pulled over to the pavement and she scrambled out of the car. This is your chance. Do it, push down on the sticky clutch, slip it in first and just drive away. You've tried to help, call the police. I reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out my phone. Outside I heard Red wretch and throw up, the smacking of hot liquid landing on the tarmac. I'd heard it a thousand times and never cared... why was this time any different? I cut the engine and got out of the car. More fool me.

Red was leaning against the back of the taxi. Vomit trickled down the hub cap and onto the tire. It was splattered on the black pavement. Streaks of dark red flared out like flames against the night sky.

'Do you want some water or something Red?'

She looked up, her eyes were watering and blood was trickling down her chin. The gun was shaking in her hand. She shook her head and averted her eyes, hugging her stomach as she leant against the boot and took a deep breath in.

'You're coughing up blood.'

'Why didn't you drive away?'

'Like I said, the whole passenger driver thing went out the window a long time a go.'

She looked away, a scowl on her face, her bottom lip quivering. She shook her head and rounded on me.

'Why do you care so much? What do you want?'

'I just...' Go on. Tell her. Tell her that she's been the only interesting thing to happen in your life for the last ten years. Tell her how much you want to save her.

'You really want to know why I need to get to Beaumont Park with this?' she shoved the gun back in my face. I nodded my head like an idiot, trying to cower away from the business end of the barrel. She pressed it hard against my forehead.

'I'm going to kill the man that took my son from me.'

I looked at the gun, down her arm which was covered in cuts and bruises to her neck which was covered in angry red strangle marks to, finally, her fierce eyes which were bloodshot from the tears and god knows what else. I began to count the freckles on her nose and cheeks as she continued.

'Yeah. I'm going to shoot that fucking pervert for what he's done to me.'

'There are other ways, Red. The authorities or a... lawyer or something right?'

'Oh yeah. Go in there all “woe is me, my step dad Wayne plied me with drugs and raped me. Woe is me, I was so addicted and alone, at the age of twenty fucking three, that I kept going back for more only to get beaten near half to death when he found out I was pregnant.”'

'I didn't-'

'This is the only way. Alright? This is all I’ve got left. This,' she pushed the gun into my forehead a little harder, 'is his. No one gave a shit about me. Not mum, or him or anyone.'

'I give a shit.'

'Well where the fuck were you when I needed you?'

I could have asked her the same thing. She recoiled. She'd let something slip. She grabbed her bag from the floor and stepped over the blood laden vomit.

'I'll walk from here, it's not far. I'm sorry about all this yeah?'

She turned away and began to shuffle down the street. Let her go.

'Wait!' I didn't even realise I’d called out to her. She turned back and looked at me, shaking her head. 'Get in, I’ll take ya.'

The passenger door behind me slammed shut and I started up the taxi again. I glanced into the rear view mirror, Red was looking down at her feet. The gun was at her side now rather than planted firmly against my head. I pulled away from the pavement and began rolling down into Lockwood as slow as I could.

'Murder isn't something you just get away with Red... and what about your kid? How are you going to explain all this when the time comes?'

'I'm not looking to get away with it.'

'So you'd rather go to jail is th-'

An empty plastic bottle bounced of the side of my head. It landed on the front seat covered with glass next to my cigarettes. It was some kind of medication but I couldn't see the label.

'What's that?' I asked dreading the answer.

'Ibuprofen,' she said in a small voice. I slammed on the brakes. The tires and Red shrieked in unison.

'We're going to the hospital.' I began to turn the car around, doing a u-turn at the cross junction at the foot of Beaumont Park road.

'No!' I heard the gun click as she brought it back to it's original position. The metal against my head had a rather different reaction though. I slammed the brakes once more, the gun pressed hard into my skull.

'Look. I'm tired, I’ve been in this fucking taxi for nine hours. Hell, I’ve been in this fucking taxi for seventeen years right and you... you come in and you don't even realise what you're doing to me.'

'Drive. Now! I swear I’ll-'

'I ain't going no where, alright? If you wanna shoot me then fucking shoot me but i'm not moving up that hill any more. We're going to the hospital or you're on your own.'

Without a word she scrambled out of the car and staggered towards her destination. A sense of relief washed over me but it didn't last long. Agitated, I grabbed my box and shoved another cigarette in my mouth. The lighter refused to work. I slammed it into the dash board – that always fixed things. It worked. Leave you old fool. I inhaled, feeling the burning sensation at the back of my throat. She doesn't feel the same way. She's half your age. I inhaled again, deeper. Smoke began to filter out from my nostrils. Half your age, half in love. I inhaled again – too much, the smoke filled my lungs and caused me to cough. I shook my head as I started the ignition again and turned around.

'Fuck sake.'

I bombed up the hill, looking for Westridge Drive, it was somewhere on the right. I glanced behind me and caught a glimpse of a street sign in the rear view mirror. I’d passed it. I slammed on my breaks and turned the car around. I frantically searched for Red. I got to the end of the cul de sac and looked around; to my left there were raised voices and shouting. I rushed out of the taxi and headed into the drive. Blood covered the gate. Up ahead I saw light streaming out of the front door. Red had Wayne held at gunpoint.

I called out to her, 'Don't!'

Red turned to see who shouted. Wayne made his move in that tiny opening and tackled her to the ground. I charged in a moment after and pulled him off her. Throwing us both into the opposite general direction. My head hit the stone wall. We tumbled to the floor. Wayne got to his feet first and kicked me in the head, the sole of his boot forced my skull to crack against the stone step. The world span violently. Wayne pulled me to my feet, his large, shaggy beard just millimetres from my face.

‘Who are you?’

I didn't answer. Wayne drew his large forehead back and struck me in the bridge of the nose. I staggered back, eyes teaming with tears. The gun shot exploded out of no where. Blood splattered forward and landed on my face, warm and surreal. Wayne fell to the floor, the bullet had struck the side of his head and torn a bit of his face off. Red collapsed against the wall retching once more. I tore my eyes away from Wayne and rushed over to her.

I knelt beside her. She fell into my arms, blood trickling from her mouth.

'Hold on, Red. Just hold on. I'll call an ambulance.'

I fought against my tight pocket and slid my phone out. She knocked it out of my hands and gingerly shook her head.

'You came back.'

'Aye. Look, I’ll call the ambulance. I can get your kid too and we can sort this out yeah? Just hold on.' I dialled.

'He would have been such a beautiful boy.' Her body shook as she held onto her stomach and then went still. I pulled her matted hair away from her face. Her lifeless eyes stared right through me to the stars.

The emergency operator squawked from the mobile. I didn't know what to say. They asked for a name. I didn't know it. I didn't know anything about her but it didn't matter to me. In my sorry existence called a life all that mattered to me was her. I was headed towards a hemp rope noose and she was the light. At least... that's what I tell myself at night.

Flash

Below is a story I wrote partially based on my personal experiences in an attempt to understand why I, like many others, have had to endure such a difficult family life. My reading of the way things had progressed with some of my family changed when I began to study Colonial and Post-Colonial Literature. It wasn't until now, armed with this new perspective that I had a sense of reason or an explanation as to why my grandfather was the way he was. It might not explain or justify everything but it's a start and it replaced years of misplaced anger that I had carried around. Please be aware that I've only taken inspiration from events in my life and a lot of the story is fiction, dramatised scenes based somewhat in reality.

I may never agree with his outlook on life but at least I understand him a little better. Unfortunately he passed away before I could tell him that, funnily enough, we shared similar interests after all.

Enjoy

T

---------

Flash

Who am I? It’s dark in here. I wish someone would come in and turn off these machines; their incessant beeping is keeping me awake and I am so tired. All I want to do is go to sleep; my eyelids are heavy with regret…

I can’t even turn to my side. The pipes connected to me get caught up and pull on my organs. My legs and stomach begin to shudder as a brown liquid begins to trickle down the plastic tube. The smell makes me wretch, I just want this to stop so I can go to sleep. I glance around the dark room. The chairs are stacked on top of each other in the corner… they should be around my bed… with people sitting on them. A tear begins to work its way over the bumpy wrinkles that cover my weathered face.

“Hurry up and get your things, we’re leaving now!”

The kids don’t understand that we can replace most of what they’re packing over in England. I’ve spent most of the morning going through their bags and taking out the things that we don’t need. I’m already exhausted and I’ve still got the monumental task of getting a wife and five children through a nine hour journey.

I rummage through my pocket where I’ve got all the important documents. Passports and tickets are all prepared, one way to Heathrow. Sweat trickles down my forehead, I glance up and the sun is almost above me, a blazing time bomb ticking closer and closer to our impending departure. Most of the village has turned up to see us off. A village elder hobbles into the courtyard; his white turban is stained yellow with sweat and his beard is a similar colour. He extends a bony hand and grasps mine tightly pulling me into an embrace. He whispers words of advice into my ear.

I pull away and smile.

“You don’t have to worry. Harjeet owns a bus company there. he’ll be able to help us out.”

Beep, beep. The ticket jolts out of the machine.

“Ninety five pence, please.” I extend my hand out from inside the booth. The young lad just looks at me, a petulant look on his blue eyes. He pulls the beanie from off his head. Matted and greasy blonde hair tumbles out from underneath and shudders as he shakes his head.

“I ain’t giving you nowt, fucking paki.”

He begins to walk towards the back of the bus. I shout him back but he continues down the aisle. The booth door creaks as I push it open and follow him. I glance to the left and the right at the other passengers who look on slightly annoyed. One of them has a newspaper, the bold black headline catches my eye briefly; “Paki’s go home.”

“Get off bus now.” He sits there, a smirk on his face. The other passengers begin to turn around and watch the commotion when one of them screams. I turn to see why when my head slams into the pole. Ding. I stumble off the stair and fall into the aisle, unsure of what is happening when a boot slams into my face and the smell of dog shit immediately fills my nostrils and lungs. My chest catches fire as he continues to pound me. I try to fend him off. My eyes frantically call for aid but there is none to be found. The young man steps over me. I feel a glob of sticky warm liquid splatter across my face.

“Fuck off t’where you come from, yeah?”

The walk back to booth seemed to take a year. I can feel everyone watching me. I gingerly slide back into the booth and close the door. People continue to push the bell to get off as I drive past their stops. I don’t care. The next stop is the bus depot.

A crackle distorts the presenter as he introduces his next guest, I wait for him to finish before, “Yes, hello.”

“Welcome to the show Mr. Singh. As I understand, you’re a retired bus driver and the author of ‘Zulm ka insaaf,’ in which you ask British Asian readers to justify the compromises they made to their culture, heritage or even language by living in England. So before I give you the floor, I’d just like to ask when did you come to England?”

“In 1964. Almost forty five years. Came here when I was twenty seven.”

“I see, so what would you like to add to this discussion then?”

“Well, I understand that Mr. Sahota is well educated but he is not very knowledgeable. And – no please let me finish – the problem with his programs to help our women get into more widespread professions is that he does not take into account our traditions, our history, our heritage or our culture, something which-“

“Alright, before you continue let me address that point. I’m not here to advocate losing our culture, rather simply to open up the playing field, as it were, for both the men and women of our heritage.”

“But what you are saying will lead to us losing our culture even more! It has already begun when we came here. They will begin to wear western clothes, go out drinking and such. It is important that we do not become more western in our ways. That is not who we are, do you understand?”

“Forgive me Mr. Singh but the issues I’m talking about are much larger than what clothes the women wear or how they socialise. I’m talking about getting equal footing in education and encouraging them to apply themselves. Be able to achieve whatever they apply themselves to. Isn’t that what you want for your sisters and daughters?”

“I do want them to work, but only where it is appropriate. We are Indian. We treat each other with respect, family is important. All the time I see white people getting divorced, why does this not happen with us? If the women are out working then who is going to look after the family? I ask you…”

“And yet some of these ‘white’ women, as you put it, have jobs and careers and are able to stand on their own two feet. To answer your second point, why can’t you look after the family? This isn’t the point I was trying to make but I’d like to ask you a question Mr. Singh…”

“Please do so.”

“Why are you here? I’m fascinated to learn why you came to this country at all.”        

If I close my eyes I can faintly hear the screams carried by the warm breeze. My fingers track the coarse stone and into the bullet holes still present in the brick. Behind me water trickles from a water fountain that has been placed on top of the well where so many perished. I glance around to the gardens and see my young grandchildren playing a game of catch on the grass; their laughter fills the otherwise serine atmosphere of Jallianwala Bagh. Behind me, across the courtyard stands a monument marking the exact site where General Dyer stood as he ordered his troops to open fire on a congregation of innocent Indians. That day the Baisakhi celebrations came to an abrupt end, it feels strangely surreal to be coming here, on Baisakhi years later as part of our celebrations.

    I make my way over the courtyard and as I do images of men screaming in terror enter my mind. Bullets zip past me and bury themselves into skulls, chests and appendages without discrimination. I look down and find myself trampling over the corpse of an elderly man, blood seeping from his wounds as my bodyweight presses down. A warm splatter of blood covers my face as another innocent is shot down in front of me but I don’t flinch. The rabid explosions of one hundred and fifty guns gets louder and louder as I approach the impenetrable wall of death made up of Dyer and his men. As I get closer I can make our Dyer’s facial expression. An evil glint is present in his eyes as he stares indifferently to the massacre happening just behind me. I try to call out, to make him stop but he doesn’t seem to hear me until finally everything fades away as my finger touches the small stone pillar where he stood. I’m taking a deep breath, when suddenly an odd thought strikes me, an unwelcome guest in this time of solitude. The dispatch manager at work is called Dyer, Richard Dyer. I shake my head with a grimace; I am beset by the ironies of my life.

The door opens. I try to raise my head to see who it is but it feels ridiculously heavy. Cold hands begin to fiddle with one of the pipes leading into my arm. I try and push her away but she is persistent. She takes some numbers from the machine and jots them down on my file before leaving. Why didn’t she help me? She could help me get back so I can rest…

“… which resulted in a hung parliament. As you can see now, David Cameron is going to see the Queen and propose-” I cut the news presenter off with a click of the remote and turn my attention to my daughter who is stood before me dishevelled and upset.

“What did you say?”

“I’m divorcing my husband, dad, try to understand…”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a drunk and I’m not happy with my life being married to him. I wanted more.”

Something bubbles up inside me. A volatile mixture of rage, shame and sadness threatens to react and force its way up my throat. I shake my head.

“You’ll go back home and make this work. Family is important. If that fails then God help us.”

“No, I can’t do that.”

“Since when did you start talking back to me?”

Another fragile voice pipes up. “Nana, I’m supporting mum in this, she’s not happy and-”

“Aasha, be quiet. When elders are speaking the youngsters don’t get involved. Go into the other room with the rest, me and your mother need to talk.”

I watch her leave. She doesn’t dare look at me.

“You will go back to him. Imagine what everyone will say if you get divorced. For decades we’ve managed to be a strong, Indian family in this country. It is important that we do not lose what makes us who we are.”

“You chose to come here, dad!”

“Pick up your bag and go home.”

“I can’t.”

There’s no going back. The eruption occurs. My hand jerks forward and grabs my own daughter by the hair. I drag her out of the living room and into the back room where the rest of the family are waiting. They look up in shock as I barge through the door and throw a sobbing heap to the floor.

“You do not speak back to me. From this moment onwards you are not a part of our, no, MY family. Do the rest of you hear me? You will not speak to them; they are no longer one of us.”

“Dad…please…”

“You lost the right to call me that. Get out!”

My chest tightens. It hurts to breath now. I try to scream out for help. I reach out for someone but I am alone in the darkness.

Bang! The fireworks explode overheard, a little earlier than expected but no matter. I look around at everyone staring up at the night sky and the cascade of dazzling lights that are flying above us. More fireworks explode into the air as I slowly head back into the house and head up the marble stairs. My hand brushes up the smooth hand rail. All my hard work accomplished this: a grand mansion back in India with enough room for all my children and grandchildren, who have all come to welcome the new millennium here in style. I head over to the master bed room and onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard - a veritable feast for the eyes. A wondrous array of colours swirl and bounce off each other from the suites the ladies are wearing and the turbans the men are sporting. The dhol drum beats a joyous and infection rhythm into the warm air. I can’t help but tap my feet. Another ten years and I will be retired. I can come back here a proud father, grandfather and live out my days in peace.

In the courtyard below my wife, my sons and daughters with their spouses and all my grandkids dance the night away in an ecstasy of joy, without a care in the world. We are together and that is all that matters. Someone shouts out the all-important “10!”

“9!”

I can see Aasha looking around for me. She glances up and spots me.

“8!”

I beckon her up and she bolts across the courtyard.

“7!”

Finally my eyes close and remain closed. A sense of peace seeps through my body, numbing my extremities and taking away the pain. The beeping fades. I extend my hand out to a memory long since passed and as the strength fades away it falls back onto the bed with a thud…

“4!”

People begin to hug each other. Cousins and friends all snatch up each other’s hands. The dhol drum beat begins to quicken.

“3!”

Aasha rushes onto the balcony. I turn and catch her in a deep embrace.

“2!”

“1!”