ten steps into the crazy

Evil stv, known colloquially as stvil for purposes of economy, worked his wicked will on Friday night, assisted by jo, to induct self and Evil Landlord into the horrors of the Wii. I would not - and I betray my status as a semi-venerable semi-academic to say this - have believed that the darned thing would be (a) so much of a spectator sport, and (b) so much damned fun. We were playing WarioWare Smooth Moves, which is a completely insane, manic, frenetic, off-the-wall, frequently cute and occasionally scatalogical bundle of attention-deficit images loosely connected by an absolute lack of narrative logic and no shame whatsoever. Gin was drunk, pizza was consumed, the remote was circulated, fun was had. In spades.

I really enjoy the Wii interface - the endless possibilities of that damned controller are amazing. Smooth Moves plays right into this with a set of perfectly ridiculous stances to make you hold the remote in different holds ("The Waiter", "The Mohawk"), tutorials for which, in a soothing, unctuous tone of calm pseudo-sensei authority despite slightly insane statements, are interspersed with the games. Smooth Moves is basically a series of mini-games, each lasting about five seconds, in which you have to assess and interpret, with lightning speed, the necessary movement to perform the desired action, from the (more or less undignified) stance from which you start. It's actually bloody demanding, even when you've screwed up and repeated the level a couple of times, and thus have some vague idea of what to expect. And the actual actions are quite bizarre at times - stick a finger up a giant nose, for example, or pick up an apple with an elephant's trunk, or shake fruit flies off a banana. Or, in one memorable boss level, lie on the sofa helpless with giggling after watching the Evil Landlord do dance moves at the Wii's evil-minded behest.

In other news, strawberryfrog and short_mort are in town, and I caught up with them last night. I am unduly gratified that the wild gym routines of the intervening year since I last saw them have made enough difference to my physique that approving comments were made. *basks*. Except that now the mort is trying to get me to wear a push-up bra. *flees in terror*.

In other, other news, the current Bowie fixation has waned to the point where I actually listened to Pixies for most of this morning. Except now I've discovered Tin Machine. Oops.