GTA IV: A Moment Please

All good games contain Moments. Points where the game gives you an emotional clout round the head or makes you feel like all is well with the world. Essentially, something that makes you think: "Wow."

And it might not always be what you think. Although Call of Duty 4 had a Moment where the nuclear explosion obliterated you and your team mates, they don't always have to be action based. For example, I had a Moment in Loco Roco the first time my happy little blob started singing along with the sun. It was the most uplifting experience I've ever had in a game.

Today I encountered my first Moment in GTA IV, although I'm surprised that it didn't come sooner, and it certainly wasn't what I had expected. After the trumped up story, revamped gameplay and the whole of Liberty City to play in, I would never have guessed it would be such a simple thing.

I was driving down a motorway in a stolen sports car. The radio was on. And as I whipped along the tarmac, weaving through traffic, the sun suddenly began to rise, bathing the screen in scarlet light. In my ears was a catchy, Russian rock song. A feeling of contentment and excitement came over me, and I realised that this was a Moment. Hopefully the first of many.

Beautiful.

Clothed In Stupidity

Every holiday, I am filled with fear. A raw, primal terror that clenches its icy fist around my heart and consumes me utterly, making me shiver, shudder and scream like a small child confronted with a large, angry bear.

Clothes shopping.

The two words herald tedium, embarrassment and general rubbishness. The endless shops, changing rooms and mockery as you accidentally pick a t-shirt three sizes too small and end up looking like a less shiny Barbie doll that's been through the washing machine. I go clothes shopping before each holiday, gathering in clothes to last me until the next holiday. It's a horrific ritual on par with the sacrifices on the Aztec temples.

Today was that day, except it was not like before. Usually the entire family troopsaround town, with me and Max moaning incessantly, Dad making sarcastic remarks and Mum urging the weary soldiers on with encouraging declarations like: "After the next six shops, we can go and have a packet of crisps!"

This time it was different. I ventured forth alone (well, with Anna) and purchased three t-shirts. However, one problem solved did not prevent another arising. What the hell is up with this year's clothes? It's all bright colours like lime green and sunshine yellow! Cheerful perhaps, but with the unfortunate side effect of making you look like a parrot. There are little effeminate buttons on everything, or hoodies with random cartoon characters emblazoned across the chest with no apparent purpose other than to give a passer-by something to squint at.

It's ridiculous, and made picking the t-shirts unnecessarily difficult. I blame Andy.

The Good, the Quite Good, the Pretty Lame, the New and the Old But Hadn't Been Discovered Before.

Twas Matt who blazed the mighty trail across the vast wastelands of the internet, using nothing but his wits, dedication and ability to draw nutrients from his own urine.

I followed his path, with youthful vigour and optimism which swiftly degenerated as I came across the mythical place of Blogging, built my city there, and discovered that it had the power to consume one's life in an instant.

Francis marched next, but his Blog ground to a halt barely after construction. Three fine young men, who all achieved the Technological Dream with varying degrees of success.

And now I introduce you to two new characters in this epic tale of adventure and lack-of-life: Bigs, a.k.a. the Gekko, who has decided to follow me and start a blog of his own, and Bernie, who has had a blog for ages but I just didn't know about it.

You can absorb their wisdom via the links on the sidebar. Good luck; we're all counting on you.

Top Gear.

Ah, Top Gear is back! The three bumbling buffoons hath returned to our screens to entertain us with their crazy antics once again. But am I the only one who doesn't find the show as a whole that great?

I'm not interested in the cars they show. When Jeremy Clarkson roars round the track in the Jaguar XP7811JK Turbo Super Power Ultra Kickass Deluxe Model 2sS2!2!DD, I just switch over to the football. The bit I want to see is the feature. The big one. The piece de resistance.

Like yesterday, when they had to buy and test a cheap car to replace the Vauxhall Astra that police use while on duty. And the results are hysterical, because Top Gear is funniest when the three presenters are together, working off eachother and mocking the monkeys out of one another. The rest of the show is decent, but just not that good. It's when they do their big challenges that it becomes unmissable TV.

Surely I'm not the only one who feels this way?

GTA IV: The Beginning.

Picture the scene: a sunny Friday afternoon. The birds are singing, trees sway nonchalantly in the cooling breeze, and a group of rowdy teens cycle from school - their GCSEs are over, a relaxing summer awaits, and they've got the rest of the day to enjoy the dazzling sunshine. Do they go punting? How about the park? Or perhaps just a trip to town.

Not when GTA IV is waiting at my house.

We rush into my sitting room and rip off the cellophane wrap like a pack of hungry beavers. The curtains are closed - our pasty skin can't take the vitamin D, and the TV is clearer this way. The game boots up, and we roll our eyes at the drawn-out introductory montage. I declare that if I have to sit through this more than once, someone is going to suffer.

Niko, a friendly Russian with a daaaaaaark past, arrives at Liberty City. There's a lot of pointless plot stuff, and nobody is really interested in it except me. They just want to cause mayhem. However, it's my game, my 360 and my house so, cackling to myself, I force them to watch.

But finally, we're away. I scamper mischievously up to a car, smash the window and drive away, with the outraged squeals of its porky owner following me halfway down the road. The detail is astounding: bins left out to be picked up by the binmen, woman sipping coffee or chatting on their mobiles, an old lady causing discontent for everyone by taking five minutes to cross the road.

We leave a trail of destruction in our wake. Lampposts tumble, crackling and broken, to the ground as we plough our killmobile through them. Fences buckle, fire hydrants smash, and a poor man who chose the wrong moment to cross the road finds himself sprawled on our bonnet, as we laugh with sadistic delight at our sins.

But the cops are on our trail. We swerve in and out of traffic to a symphony of car horns and crunches as we misjudge turns. Unfortunately for everyone, not least ourselves, our driving is not yet refined enough to be...well...good, and we end up grinding through a pleasant park, our tyres churning up mud and splinters of broken bench. A innocuous gardener meets a sticky end.

We're eventually caught and locked away, and that's where the session is forced to end by the arrival of the girls and Bigs. We head off into town, determined to enjoy the weather and real life.

At the end of the day, though, sometimes virtual life is a hell of a lot more fun.