IHUIA is an acronym for I Hate Using Internet Acronyms put there purely for the sake of saving an unloved joke from the gas chamber. That's where bad jokes go, like all the unloved puppies of the world.
At any rate, I've bought and played through No More Heroes and Zack and Wiki, planning on getting Mario Kart Wii and Wii fit as soon as I get paid. Mulling over a PS3 GTAIV pack but damn they are still pretty fucking pricey.
I stopped thinking about games and the other things that entertain me to focus on uni, but then I got some more hours at work and subsequently now work five nights a week. I was thinking that the only hassle on the horizon was the the omnipresent threat of looming assessment, which I hate, after all, why can't I just learn without being rated? But that's neither here nor there. The point is I dropped that shit and have gone to work full time.
I'm also training to be a pro-wrestler, finally, at the PWA.
The look on my parents faces when the phrase "I've dropped out of Uni to become a pro-wrestler", was uttered were truly priceless.
That aside, though I am likely to bring it up at every opportunity (hey, I've wanted to do this my whole life), I am looking forward to throwing myself at the things I love, like gaming and the possibility of more gaming and whining about crap on Destructoid.
Goddamn it feels good to not have anything to care about but which order I'm buying my next wave of games in.
Wiifit? Mario Kart? The World Ends With You?
Huzzah, nothing but potential fun!
I used to post here quite regularly. Be it insightful observations
of the gaming world
and the people
who populate it, theory based analysis
as a media or pointless drunken rants
, it was all done (DAN HIBIKI
) with a love of (Q!!!
) gaming and my enjoyment of this site
Much was the time spent talking on a range of topics with other bloggers or editors and I enjoyed it all, I also enjoyed playing games, but this is something I just don't seem to have time for anymore. Well, for at least the next twelve weeks.
Uni has begun once more and I have taken extra hours at work to help pay for books and (soon) a laptop to further enhance my learnin'. But I have begun to realize something. With Monday to Friday taken up with Uni and the weekend (as well as Tuesday and Wednesday) taken up with work, I haven't got a spare goddamn minute to really immerse myself in another game. About all I can do is square away a moment or two for some TF2 or SF3, but I can't bring myself to begin a game that requires more dedication.
I've been wanting to buy Zack and Wiki for a while now, not to mention No More Heroes, but I just can't spend the hours they deserve to be played. It's not that I don't have spare time, just that the time that I do have is usually taken up with naps to counter the exhaustion. Add to this the fact I have about 12 eps of Sam and Max to play as well as KOTOR 1&2 a friend loaned me and you can see that I've more games than there is time.
Same as my posting here. I used to visit daily, even hourly, and be moved to write and contribute to the discussions as this was something I genuinely enjoyed. Due obviously to the fact that I have no real GAMER friends. But I log on knackered with little motivation to read anything let alone write. I've been reading "Pedagogy of the Oppressed" by Paulo Friere and that book has a talent for taking it out of you mentally (on a side note it is a brilliant read), so I just don't have the brains left to pop in and read a whole piece let alone add a meaningful contribution.
It bugs me that my life has undergone such a huge damn shift in focus that I am being forced to leave behind once all-consuming and deeply fulfilling hobbies.
Though, I suppose that "leave behind" is not the right way to put it, more of a "put on hold" situation. I'll be on hiatus for about 3 months, but come break, I'm gonna drill through every goddamn game in my back catalogue and come to my PC with my eyes bleeding in joy to write about it.
God I'm fucking tired.
I'll start this off by saying that I know little of the nuts and bolts of screens and definitions etc. When my more tech savvy friends start with their hd-1080p-whatever-the-fuck talk I tend to space out and think about butterflies and how they should be called flutterby's and how they will bring doom to us all.
The little I do know stretches about as far as knowing that PAL sucks filthy pleb dick for booze money. I may be mistaken, and if I am please feel free to correct me (I can't be arsed researching it), but NTSC display is meant to be better in the first place. But fine, Europe (and that still, mystifyingly, includes Australia) had a different system from the get go, sure, great, whatever.
That was fine a whiles back when all we got here were PAL tv's, but these days every goddamn one has NTSC support, even the shitty cheap one I recently bought.
Which brings me to my question of WHY IN THE MOTHERFUCKING HELL are games still zoned to PAL when they could all be bloody NTSC and I wouldn't have to wait for goddamn Smash Brothers. PAL is gone it lost the...whatever-the-fuck war and NTSC is king and we can all play games for it.
But no, now I gotta wait longer while the NTSC region gets it and starts playing which'll suck cause then they'll have a load of practise in and by the time I take my Wii out for some well supervised online fun I'll be getting bitchslapped back and forth by some bastard 13 year old American kid. And he'll probably have a bunch of stupid net acronyms as his little comment things and he'll tease me so at my lack of skills and I'll say I've only just got it and he will simply mock me further. God I hate him. Goddamn PAL bullshit. Fucking flutterby's.
I am a man of many minds. Not to the level of Fight Club, or even any diagnosable multiple personality disorder, more like a captain (me) in charge of a bunch of other people (ensigns mostly). They do what I tells them to do, most of the time, but they all function as independent units.
Case and point: my sense of humour. My mind will run off on it's own tangents, often against my will, and come up with nonsense all for its own amusement.
This is manifest in something that happened while playing Team Fortress 2 a little while back.
I had been killed by the unusually named sniper "Spiderman Delight", which then started a corner of my brain on creating lyrics to "Afternoon Delight", but with a Spiderman theme. Why? Beats the fuck outta me, but here is what I came up with before I had to leave the PC and chant "Om mane padme om" to still my torn psyche.
Gonna sling my webbing,
Gonna grab it tight,
Gonna get me some Spiderman Delight
Green Goblins always saying that he wants to fight
and the thought of hitting him is getting so exciting
He may be my best friends dad but that's okay
I'm not gonna let him go and blow me away
Pumpkin Bombs in flight. Spiderman Delight.
I hate that I got that far, that should never have been thought, let alone written. I do it now only to purge it.
Then there was what happened while I was playing Third Strike earlier today. I was Urien and my opponent was Oro, a typically easy match that I ended with Urien's sit-down powerbomb throw. As an aside, if there's a problem that can't be solved with a sit-down powerbomb, I don't wanna hear about it.
Then I paused it and got up to get a drink. When I came back I saw this.
What ran through my head, completely against my will, was a trashy romance novel based around Urien and Oro.
"Urien crouched, his enourmous manhood scarcely concealed behind a thin layer of cloth. Oro dared not stir, he had wanted this for so long but the cruel glare of a disapproving society had kept his desire at bay. But now, as he lay prone, Urien had finally given into his lust and dared what they had both so desired, and yet, both so feared.
Urien slid his hands up Oro's age withered but powerful thigh, shifting aside the paupers rags that had, for so long, concealed the object of Uriens lust."
It was, naturally, at this point that I had to go vomit a little and return to my PC and watch a bunch of those videos what where the girlies touch each other and stuff.
I can't switch this crap off. I'm considering medication as an option...
Having just read Jims post, and visiting Jack's sparse profile page (c'mon Jack, spice it up with some headers or avatars, a snappy Anne Coulter one perhaps) my mind leaped for joy at the idea that he was actually here reading this site.
Mainly because of this.
But as I began to think on it, I saw the duel edged blade I was wielding in all of it's traitorous splendour.
It will put Thomspon into direct communication with some of the best gaming lifestyle philosphers around, simple as that. Destructoid is the only site I have bothered to join, let alone contribute to, as it appears to be the only place on the net where gaming discussion crawls out of the "lol gay faggzzz" ooze and actually articulates itself with intelligence and consideration.
There is the possibility Thompson believes what he is doing and isn't engaged in a purely cynical book selling tour on the backs of the dead, therefore this contact is necessary. It will allow Thompson to see gamers that are not the crude construct of decade old stereotypes he seems to be operating on which is great as something that doesn't fit the pre-existing stereotype will force the brain into re-evaluation of his opinion. Hopefully, this re-evaluation might lead to a somewhat moderated view of gaming as opposed to the totally negative view he has now.
Secondly, and I might add selfishly, it will put us into contact with him. You know all those good discussions we've had over the months about this? The ones where we came up with many a point about the absurdity and outright idiocy of his campaign against games? How we all had great ideas we wished we could tell him in person, to finally give him a well prepared slice of our collective minds?
Well good news! He's here, has a profile and is, I presume, reading this stuff. So time to break out all the old genius cause now it's target has arrived.
On a personal note (and I am breaking many of my own rules here, but...fuck it), Jack you are a cretin who mistakes correlation for cause and invents connections where there aren't even any. You are a shameless whore peddling your book on the backs of people who have died in horrible circumstances by giving the grieving and the confused a simple target to hate, an incorrect target I might add. You have wandered into a group of people who know what they are talking about and will spank you back to your lair of ignorance with actual checked facts and a basic understanding of confounding variables, you are a laughing stock, you will be thoroughly schooled here and I look forward to your first blog post.
This is still the internets. Destructoid is good, but the filter isn't immediate or perfect, idiots will still get in and will (probably are as I type) inundate him with messages of crude profanity with no thought behind it. Jack will latch onto these as being indicative of the gaming culture and ignore everything else to suit his stereotype as admitting he has been wrong on anything is impossible for him now.
This could easily become another way for him to use his terribly skewed perception of reality to cast gaming in a negative light because, let's face it, the man is not acquainted with logic, honest debate or any real idea at all. Our points will fall on deaf ears and all of our shining brilliance will not penetrate the void that is that mans mind. It will be as standing and butting our collective head against a stone, fucking futile and leaving us with a terrible headache.
He will ONLY use any presence on this site to whip people into a rage which he can then point to as proof of his lunacy. The trouble is we can all fall for it, letting our emotions slip just a little, and while it will be due to the frustration of dealing with a fool, he will say it's all the Street Fighter I've been playing.
In closing, I just wish we could ignore him, but that simply isn't possible. He has the ear of the ill-informed, fitting as he is their Emperor, and so when he peddles his nonsense in his fancy new clothes, the fools listen. Then we are forced to defend our art against a pile of people who don't understand what they are angry at. So even though ignoring it is the only solution, it is nigh impossible.
I suppose this is just the paradox we face and it is ours to bear and that is all there is to it. We need a sword to fight and a double edged one is the only one available. We have to swing it but we must take care to cut ourselves as little as possible in the process, a duel of attrition, one that we don't want and, as usual, one we can't avoid.
If my hero Jack Thompson has taught me anything, and repeated readings of his masterpiece garbed only in sanctified gamer blood has taught me all kinds of things, it's that it's okay to engage in certain acts as a means to an end.
See, when you need to get something done, something noble, something heroic, it is okay to make some sacrifices. Sort of like Jesus, but instead of sacrificing himself and denying the world a vital leader in the fight against these "video-games", Jack sacrifices other things. Like his dignity and reputation after mailing a sitting Judge some homosexual porn. Did any of you thank Jack for that sacrifice, hmm? Let he who is without a public record of unsolicited homo-erotic mail outs to high ranked legal officials cast the first stone on that one. Oh, there will be no stones thrown today as we can all see the male on male mail within our own hearts. This is what Jack has taught us
I was reading his prophecy, aloud, just last night, upside down in an EB I'd broken into, in the hopes that his incantations would summon a great magnetic field, or Thompson Shroud, to delete the evil when I realized what must be done.
I must single handedly save the world from the evil of video games, but it will take sacrifice.
The first enemy I must defeat are these things called "facts". I have never heard of them before but my only encounter with them has assured me that they are demonic spawns from the inky depths that had previously known no description. These horrors allow games to be made and sold on the basis that there is no "factual" (there's the devil! Right there! See it?!) causal relationship between exposure to interactive violent media and increased violence.
But the killers OWNED GAMES. There! Ha ha! Your own devil facts turned on you as the great deciever is want to do, some might say that this is an unrelated correlation that gives no-one a possible reason to draw a causal conclusion, like my assertion that me putting my pants on in the morning makes the sun rise. Well, it has every day so far and I shudder to think of the nightmare world we would be plunged into were I to forego pants and halt the very sun itself. If I do something and something else happens, no matter how many confounding variables, it is a direct link. TAKE THAT FACTS!
But that is not enough. The septic ooze has already polluted the humours of the younglings, now not even a level 15 Thompson Shroud is enough. They are dead already, living only to spread the disease. Thompson has spoken to me, through the medium of TV static, and I know what I must do.
The little children must die, all for their own good. And when I am done, all will know it was as a DIRECT RESULT of the writings and oratory of Jack Thompson and not anything to do with any other "problems" my case worker says I have. Her kids are first.
For God and Thompson.
Games are art. I have said and argued this a million and one times here and elsewhere. The line between good and bad art, though, is purely personal. It's just what you like, what strikes you, what appeals to you. I hate clowns crying and eagles emblazoned with national flags but many love them. Fine. I'll let them enjoy what they enjoy free of harrassment.
Unless it involves street performance art. Then I perform my own performance art, severly beating the artist.
The thing about games is in that there are some basic mechanical functions that can be either good or bad in the purest snes (I meant to write sense but wrote snes, I'll leave that in). A bad game is something like having an art show in a pitch black room, which is a beautiful conceptual art idea in and of itself but not relevant to my argument, my point is, you can't see the motherfucking paintings.
So the art is lost to a failure of mechanics.
I've been thinking about this and about shit games in general. Not mediocre or niche games, but games that are shit fucking terrible and everyone knows it.
An artist can create knowing that there will be people who don't like their work but that this won't matter as it is just a differing opinion. But a game that is terrible is just terrible, there is no, "Well, that critic didn't appreciate my expression", it's like building a house that falls down cause you haven't put in any supports. You have failed.
I'm obsessed with other people. Their minds, how they work, etcetera and as a result I constantly try to imagine how I would do what they did. What circumstances would make me them. So I found myself trapped in trying to understand how a tester can let some of these games through.
I can't figure it out. Money is the obvious answer, but still, I couldn't do it. I couldn't play a game that was terrible and say that it is ready for release, like the saying about it only needing good people to do nothing for evil to win, I couldn't let Superman 64 get released.
My family could be fucking starving, I'd rob a 7-11 before I said the words, "Superman 64 is up to my standards".
Games have existed for long enough for us all to know what works and what doesn't. The basics are done there is no need to be screwing up the gameplay. Bad or derivative plot or characters or shitty voice acting or just blandness, fine. But I just can't wrap my head around how developers are still getting some of the basics wrong.
There is no excuse for bad games.
There is no excuse for Cliffhanger for the SNES.
There is no excuse for Superman 64.
There is no excuse for Survival Arts.
There is no excuse for Aliens vs Predator for the SNES.
There is no excuse for SvR 2008 for Wii.
There is no excuse.
Firstly, sorry Chad, but immitation IS the sincerist form of flattery. Sure, I could have suggested that you do a Memory Card on this topic but, A: you may have not had this memory and, B: suggesting you do this as a request on my behalf would be like me asking you to do my lady friend. Just a litttle too personal, you know?
This story starts a while back, if memory serves it was around '97 or '98, and I'd rented a PSOne from a video store to play Resident Evil. I'd been a gorewhore my whole life, and a zombie nut to boot, so the idea of something that fed both those desires was too much for me to resist. The thing is, I was poor, so the extra ten dollars for a memory card seemed a bit much, hence my decision to skip renting one.
I played Resident Evil for the next 8 hours without dying or switching the machine off, every time I hit too hard a puzzle, I would go away, maybe have a cup of tea, and return afresh, only to conquer the problem. Then I got killed by that motherfucking plant-boss.
The point is not the plant or the loss (heartbreaking as it was), but that, within that time, I had grown deeply involved in the Resident Evil universe and there was no going back. I had always had a deep interest in the concept of Zombies, from my knowledge of the Haitian roots of the idea, to my own theories on the modern day cannon of films and it was in the Files of Resident Evil that I found my sustinance.
I wanted explaination. I wanted theory. I wanted closure.
Then I got to the Keepers Diary, and one of the best pieces of gaming literature ever. Now, by literature, I mean actual written-to-be-read word, not delivered dialogue, as transcribed (copied and pasted from DEngel) here...
May 9, 1998
Played poker tonight with Scott and Alias from Security, and Steve from
Research. Steve was the big winner, but I think he was cheating. Scumbag.
May 10, 1998
One of the higher-ups assigned me to take care of a new creature. It looks
like a skinned gorilla. Feeding instructions were to give it live animals.
When I threw in a pig, the creature seemed to play with it...tearing off the
pig's legs and pulling out the guts before it actually started eating.
May 11, 1998
At around 5 A.M., Scott woke me up. Scared the shit out me, too. He was
wearing a protective suit. He handed me another one and told me to put it on.
Said there'd been an accident in the basement lab.
I just knew something like this would happen. Those bastards in Research never
sleep, even on holiday.
May 12, 1998
I've been wearing the damn space suit since yesterday. My skin's getting grimy
and feels itchy all over. The goddamn dogs have been looking at me funny, so I
decided not to feed them today. Screw 'em.
May 13, 1998
Went to the Infirmary because my back is all swollen and feels itchy. They put
a big bandage on it and told me I didn't need to wear the suit anymore. All I
wanna do is sleep.
May 14, 1998
Found another big blister on my foot this morning. I ended up dragging my foot
all the way to the dog's pen. They were quiet all day, which is weird.
Then I realized some of them had escaped. Maybe this is their way of getting
back at me for not feeding them the last three days. If anybody finds out,
I'll have my head handed to me.
May 16, 1998
Rumours going around that a researcher who tried to escape the estate last
night was shot. My entire body feels hot and itchy and I'm sweating all the
I scratched the swelling on my arm and a piece of rotten flesh just dropped
off. What the hell's happening to me?
May 19, 1998
Fever gone but itchy. Today hungry and eat doggie food.
May 21, 1998
Itchy itchy Scott came ugly face so killed him. Tasty.
This is brilliant. Beautiful even.
Firstly, it creates a dynamic universe by throwing the reader into an existing point with characters and events that are important to the protagonist but remain undescribed. This removes the sense of fiction from it. The poker game and it's characters stands as an easy way of making a real space.
Then the brilliance starts.
How many people, with words or film, have ever really captured the change from human to zombie with such pathos. This is a person, who hates cheats and uses the word "scumbag" changing into a cannibalstic corpse. It's the thought process of Zombification.
Writing this without it being a descent into pathetic cliche ("BRAINS!") is tricky but the author behind this succeeded admirably. The itching and necrotic flesh are nice but obvious, so the key to the success of this lays in the final lines.
"Scott came face ugly so killed him", this is good writing. This is motivation, for a goddamned ZOMBIE, motivation for a shuffling cannibal. Nobody has ever put such nuanced feelings into a ravenous creature of the dark before (the "Living Dead" movies are retarded and don't count, the zombie gas station attendant in Land of the Dead is after this and doesn't count either), so this stands as a real achievement. The zombie, the shambling humanoid death pile, found the human ugly.
Did anyone ever think about that before? Think about that now and you will find it opens a real possiblility for the psycho-evaluation of the living impared. IT finds US ugly, this adds intent beyond hunger, it even adds the idea that it may be more afraid of us than we are of it.
And the final line, the last consciously recorded thought, "itchy tasty". This has become a catchphrase of mine, one that often requires explaination, but one I love nonetheless. Whenever I find myself without a thing to say, dumbstruck to the point of zombie, I tend toward this phrase. It succinctly describes a mind that is going to the point of being halfway out the door but it does it with sympathy.
The writer cared about this character, this zombied man, his last thoughts weren't malignant or cruel, just different. He was hungry and itchy and Scott was ugly. I know what I'd do in that situation.
I have friends, real no foolin', friends.
Trouble is in that fuck all of them game. I have one who is obsessed with Pirates of the Burning Sea, and by obsessed I mean crazy fuck bent on playing it. That's it though, no more gaming beyond that. Well, cept one of Australias best TF2 players, Rhyno, but he's strictly a PC man.
So I am stuck by myself in the world of console gaming. Now in order to get my "casual" friends more interested in gaming, I do something that is really not cool amongst gamers. But we've all done it. I let them win. I throw so many fights in any 2d fighter with my friends it's absurd. This makes them want to play more as they feel they can win.
Everyone needs this. Who likes playing a competitive game where they get their arse handed to them time and again? No-one but masochists and people who know to learn from defeat.
The thing is, letting them win gives them the drive to get better. I have a friend who is seriously killing me in SC2, all cause he got damn good a Kilik. Now he has confidence and will branch out to more characters and, hopefully, more games.
I tell this little tale as an example of what the big N should do with their third parties. Everyone knows you by a Nintendo system for Nintendo games, but the Wii is getting some third party games that would have been unheard of in the PS2/GC race. But nobodies buying the damn things.
Nintendo, you need to highlight your third party support, no, it mightn't always be SMG quality, but dammit, fuck all will be, so you may as well peddle what's there. Also, alot of it is quite good, the conversions of Godfather and Scarface are great, I can left-nut shot anyone in Scarface all because of the Wiimote, and headbutting a shopowner in Godfather is as fun.
The Wii has decent 3rd party support at the moment, a mind-boggling achievement for a Nintendo console this gen, but it's getting pissed away. An exclusive like No More Heroes deserves to be sold, sell it off, sell it dammit. Let your goddamn friends win a sometimes, it will encourage them to keep on playing.
Nobody wants to play by themselves Nintendo, and at the moment, you're looking like that prick kid in 1991 who would kick anyone out of their house if they beat their high score. Plan ahead, don't release good third party stuff against your A-grade, advertise it in differing timeslots to your "everyone" stuff. Let the third parties win sometimes and they might actually come back over to your house, hell, they might get better.
What is hardcore? That is a question that has been bugging me for ages now. So I began to deconstruct it, let's take hardcore apart...
The literal beginning of it is in the name, (doi) and is part of the expansion of masculine dominant cultural thinking, to be "hard" made you a solid representation of masculinity and as gaming began as a masculine space, positve masculine myths became the dominant schema of it. As a simple example, how many male gamers would choose "soft" over "hard" as a title? Sweet fuck all, that's how much.
So we have a gender based image myth as the descrption of gaming, so we have built on that as a method of understanding gamers. "Hardcore" has almost become a synonym for "true" in terms of gaming, as though anything else is a lie.
But really, what the fuck is "hardcore"?
What is the test? What is the way of knowing?
I know a 56 year old woman who is HUGEST Zelda fan. That's all she plays is Zelda games, and she plays them well. She is billiant at Zelda. That's it. She would own you at Zelda because she owned me at Zelda, ME. So what is the defenition of Hardcore when the parameters can be so diverse. I'd have thought that being a genius at Zelda would have put you into the Hardcore category, but the hardcore category is not usually occupied by late fifties women.
My point is, and this extends to the title of "Hardcore Gaming Blog" at the top of my browser, is that the whole concept is bullshit.
It is a way of ostricising people. Humans are terrified of ostricism so we always make sure to ostricise others, that way we are part of the group. So the downtrodden geeks find titles to separate ourselves from the "not-us", and, as always, it is to the detrement of our art.
You are not hardcore. Put your genitals and respective hormones away. You are a twit trying to feel good by creating a space where you can make others feel bad. This hurts the legitimacy of gaming, it makes it a non-art dominated by a selfish clique,
I'm reminded of a line from the epic "Monkey" by Wu Cheng En, in which was said "An adept never says they are an adept".
The title of "harcore" needs to die. If you are at any level of competancy, one that might have previously earned the title, you should know, you don't need to be told.
You were a self-applied title used by a self-hating group who needed to feel better by creating a special award for themselves, now you are a useless lingual archetype peddled by morons who can't back it up with substance.
I bought a Dreamcast at midnight.
Yup, stood there outside my EB, eagerly awaiting my CD goodness after the N64. I bought is for the great games, particularly, the twodee fighters.
So I bought an arcade stick to better nail the combo between the ducking HP to Shoryuken to SHIN SHORYUKEN! Or the HP to Poison Gnawfest combo. The stick was great, it worked perfectly.
Now it's worth more than I paid for it!
Much like Antiques Roadshow I will not sell my DC stick, it is more valuable as a memento and as a method of playing SFIII, but damn, it's nice to know that I have made an investment.
Trade it for a 360...
As a youngling there was an arcade nearabouts that had these things called "lock-ins", which were wonderous times where an arcade would make you pay 20 Earth money to get in and then switch everything to free play.
It was fucking sweet, I beat Metal Slug that way, I also made myself quite familiar with lightgun games.
Normally, these games were too difficult and short to warrant the price, but, make 'em free and they are fantastic. From Lethal Enforcer to a live action video one that I can't remember the name of, I played them all.
So I was tickled pink to know that a big pile of them were being ported to Wii.
I don't give a shit that they are more than a decade old, House of the Dead 3 is brilliant, so is Jurassic Park, Ghost Recon etcetera. And now I can play them at home, bent drunk (as Monday is my Saturday) and as much as I want.
The only trouble is that the Wiimote is more of a mouse-esque controll than a lightgun.
So I thought of a solution.
A calibration method that makes you draw (using the Wiimote) the outline of the TV you are using. Then you have three points of reference, the sensor bar, the Wiimote and the established TV point. Then there is no more cursour movement but a triangulated space that you can aim at, from anywhere, and shoot with accuracy. This can be saved to the system memory, so your TV is 1, your parents is 2 and so on.
Who doesn't want some Time Crisis 5, some Virtua Cop 3 et al on Wii. What? It can't do good graphics? Fuck it. It can lightgun better than anything else and that is special. Like that one guy at Subway who clearly has down syndrome but is the best worker there and never fucks up your order, Colin, you make the best Pizza subs ever.
Lucky and Wild on Wii please...