Ideally, a good life goal is finding someone who you love, with whom you don't have to compromise, because you agree on more or less everything. And anything you don't agree about you don't really care about anyway.
Unfortunately, too many of us end up settling, and having to compromise and squash down who we are, just for the sake of a quiet life.
Case in point: when I first got my own place I didn't know how to decorate it. I didn't know what my style was. I bought a melting Salvador Dali clock, and stuck it on a shelf. I bought a Buddha head statue. A Moroccan-style lamp. Some Lego. Nothing was gelling.
A divorcee mate of mine has framed prints of various album covers on the walls of his house. I decided that, well, maybe that was the sort of thing I wanted up in my home too; I love music. Time to express that visually.
To this end, I bought a print of the gatefold artwork from the first Marillion album, Script For a Jester's Tear. It's a painting of a grimy bedsit, with the titular harlequin peering out of a window, as he attempts to write a love song. It's achingly pretentious.
In the two years that print sat on the mantlepiece in my dining room I never got around to framing it.
Eventually, I admitted to myself the reason why: while technically excellent, and had meant a lot to me growing up, it's a horrible, horrible, painting, and not the sort of thing anyone in their right mind would want on their wall.
Indeed, the same could be said for much prog rock album artwork.
Along with Marillion's Mark Wilkinson, and Pink Floyd's Storm Thorgenson, the other icon of the genre is Roger Dean - who created most of the artwork for many terrible albums by the band Yes.
To gamers of a certain vintage, Dean is better known as the bloke who did the covers for the Shadow of the Beast series.
Arguably, the main draw of the original Shadow of the Best was its art design. Inspired by Roger Dean's distinct, surrealistic, style (which also heavily influenced the movie Avatar), they were - for the time - unfeasibly gorgeous games, and the only reason normal people had to envy Amiga owners.
Remember: those were the days when games would proudly declare how many colours were on screen at once, and Shadow of the Beast looked like it had all of them.
The game itself was fine - a side-scrolling beat 'em up/shoot 'em up. Though I'd reason that it's probably not quite as good as people gave it credit for at the time; such is the power of a nice face (and you can check for yourself: the original is hidden away in this new version).
Nevertheless, a remake isn't the worst idea in the world. There's a certain brand awareness in the franchise, something iconic in the hunched walk of Aarbron - the horned beast of the title - and a drop-dead gorgeous platformer-cum-beat 'em up inspired by prog rock album artwork is probably something every gamer can get behind.
Unfortunately, rather than throw its not inconsiderable resources at a proper reboot, Sony has given us this budget, straight-to-PlayStation Store effort.
It plays, for the most part, like a tepid God of War. Repetitive and sluggish, there's a weird momentum to Aggrobum's movement. His default moves are gouging, throwing, and, y'know, jumping. And pressing buttons, and draining enemies of blood.
Still, you can unlock plenty more moves using in-game credits. Absurdly, you also have to unlock the story in this fashion. I couldn't be bothered to do that, so Aggadoo's story - and why he's looking for babies, or not, or whatever's actually going on - remains a mystery to me.
Shadow of the Beast's heart is in the right place, but hampered by what is clearly a limited budget - and adhering slavishly to the side-scrolling gameplay of the original - means there's none of the inspiration displayed by the original games
Instead it becomes - barring the odd puzzle element - a succession of repetitive,walled-off melee fights, with boss battles, and hidden areas to stumble across.
Not exactly groundbreaking.
Given that this is a reboot for a series that was known for its powerful, imaginative, visuals, that feels like a missed opportunity. The way to do a reboot is either to evoke nostalgia, or update for a modern generation. Shadow of the Beast succeeds at neither, ending up as a sort of derisory rummage through Sony's attic to see if there were any old brands that could be dusted off.
Incidentally, in case you were wondering, I did discover my interior decorating style in the end; I'm pretty big on the old wattle and daub. Also, I live in an upturned coracle, called Hazelnut Cottage.
SUMMARY: Script for an Amiga fan's tear.
SCORE: A1000 out of A4000