Let's do this now: I haven't finished the main story in The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. I'm confident, however, that I've played enough of it, visited all the main environments, and experienced enough of the major gameplay conceits in order to express my feels.

Frankly, the reason I've not finished the main story in Breath of the Wild is because I keep getting side-tracked. Not on missions or side-quests, but just striking out on my own. Exploring. Discovering the world. Traipsing through the dust. 

And that's because this is how I've chosen to play Breath of the Wild. It's that kind of game; so impossibly vast, so full of mystery, that everyone is going to have a slightly different experience. I've seen things that I've not read about elsewhere, and recounted my adventures with friends who've been on their own, entirely distinct, journeys. 

​We're all going to choose to play this game differently, and - given the size and scope - we're all going to play it in the way that suits us. Being able to walk, or run, swim, glide or climb (stamina permitting), to any point on the horizon means that everyone will be drawn to different destinations. 

It's pretty much the game I always wanted to play from the moment I first picked up a joystick. For me, it's the game which finally delivers on their promise.

I might feel ready to express my opinion, but I still feel like I've barely scratched its surface.

When any new games console is released, the third-party peripheral manufacturers swarm around it like a flock of seagulls fighting over a ruptured bin liner.

​From various sorts of novelty controllers that nobody wants or asked for, to more esoteric and unnecessary add-ons, gaming history is littered with failed devices which attempted to make a few quid out of somebody else's good idea.

​Here are but ten of the stupidest.

There's a funny little game I used to play with friends, whereby we'd try to distill a blockbuster movie into a tongue-in-cheek pitch. You know: "It's like Movie X meets Movie Y".

For instance, Star Wars might be "Flash Gordon meets The Hidden Fortress", Jurassic Park might be "Westworld meets Jaws", and Dunston Checks In might be "The Shining meets Planet of the Apes".

You can do much the same thing with most video games. Unfortunately, there's no quick and pithy response when it comes to Horizon Zero Dawn. It's not Game X meets Game Y... it's more "Far Cry meets Tomb Raider meets The Last of Us meets Uncharted meets The Witcher III meets Watch Dogs meets Arkham Asylum meets Shadow of the Colossus".

You see, there's scarcely an original idea in Horizon Zero Dawn. Okay, okay - robot wildlife and that... but comic creators Pat Mills and Kevin O'Neill did the exact same thing in 2000AD years ago.

Admittedly, video games have rarely been original - even Pong, the game which started it all, was a rip-off of somebody else's idea. Plagiarism is de riguer in gaming, and Horizon Zero Dawn celebrates it in considerable style.

And there is nothing funny nor little about it.

Super Bomberman was a staple of the Digitiser office, back in the day. Heck, it remains one of my all-time favourite multiplayer games, and still holds up in the way that all great ideas do.

In the unlikely event that you know nothing of Bomberman, it's basically Pac-Man with bombs. Sort of. In a maze viewed from above, you have to drop bombs to first destroy the blocks which stand in your path - as other players (or, in single player mode, monsters) do the same from the opposite corner.

​The ultimate aim is to trap your opponents with your bombs, or hope they stumble into the path of your blast. There are power-ups along the way, obviously, but this is the joyously simple conceit at the core of the Bomberman series. 

It's a pure, flawless, concept, but since the four-player Super Bomberman - released 23 years ago!  - refined the idea into something unequalled and immaculate, the franchise has flailed in its attempts to build upon the original premise.

It's a problem that Tetris has similarly struggled with; how do you make a franchise out of a game that was already perfect, because it was so simple? Would glueing a digital watch to a daffodil, or putting headlights on a narwhal, make them better? What about nailing a frond to a harp, or scrawling the word "Gladys" on a wasp? 

Exactly. Some things simply emerge already perfect.

Guest Review by Super Bad Advice

Forgive me, reader, but I will now ruin Snipperclips for you by saying this: I can’t stop referring to it as ‘Nippleclips’. And now, I bet you won’t be able to either.
 
Now that formality is out of the way, Nipplecl… – sorry, Snipperclips – is one of the handful of downloadable titles that accompanied the launch of Nintendo’s Switch.

But let’s face it: with the all-conquering Zelda out it’s not so much being overshadowed as shoved under an obese blue whale with the words ‘IGNORE EVERYTHING BENEATH ME’ painted on it.
 
This is a shame, because Snipperclips is about as Nintendo as they come: a quirky, clever, original idea that is simple to grasp but deviously tricky on later levels. Plus, it can be played equally well by one or several players, depending on how many JoyCons/friends you have (multiplayer is the most fun – and by "the most fun" I of course mean "inevitably leads to arguments").

There are one... two... two things about 1-2-Switch that somewhat "rasped my colon".

The first of these things is that it should've been bundled with the Switch, rather than released as a more-or-less full price game. Doing this would've achieved one... two... two things; firstly, it would've stopped us all complaining that 1-2-Switch hadn't been bundled with the Switch.

Secondly, given that everyone who bought a Switch was inevitably going to buy Zelda - which, classic as it is, doesn't really show off what is unique about the hardware - it would've demonstrated that there's slightly more to the machine than being just another console. 

The second annoying thing is that each of 1-2-Switch's 28 mini games is demonstrated via a video clip which is a) Somehow not very Nintendo-y, and b) Acted out by some of the world's most ghastly wankers.

Fortunately, 1-2-Switch quite literally implores you to ignore the screen and face your opponent. You see... 1-2-Switch is a multiplayer game of the classic ilk (typically two players, but can also be played in teams) which - perhaps for the first time in video game history - requires you to look directly at another human being. Instead of following the action on the screen, you must trust the rumbly cues you get from your JoyCon controller.

Suffice to say, I am duty bound to make the following joke: for some video game fans, this will be first time in their lives that they've ever made eye contact with anyone.

I've not yet finished Horizon Zero Dawn or Breath of the Wild, but I've been sitting on my tongue for the last few days. There's so much I want to say about them - both in their own right, and in comparison to one another. 

And now? And now I can "park" my "waggler" no longer.

You see, I started playing the new Zelda immediately after playing Horizon Zero Dawn. I was startled by the similarities between them - literally startled; I fell off the sofa, and had to hide beneath the dining table for ten minutes, chittering.

Both feature protagonists who wield a bow and melee weapons. Both are set in a vast open world. And both require the player to gather materials and craft things. 

And yet, while the basic ingredients are the same, and they are essentially the same recipe, they present them in vastly different ways. Where Breath of the Wild takes its ingredients and prepares a dish with great care, in which every ingredient has a place - and the space - to contribute, Zero Dawn just chucks them all in a mixer, pours the resultant slop into a bowl, and grates a whoopee cushion over the top.

As I insisted when I took to the stage on Saturday night, at the Centre for Computing History's Retro Comedy Night, I'm not a comedian.

​Neither am I an actor or any other sort of performer. Most of my life is spent in front of a computer screen, writing stuff. Or - more recently - editing video.

I don't mind trying to perform, but I'm not really a natural show-off either. I sometimes get uncomfortable if there's too much attention on me; why should I be in the spotlight, soaking up applause, when everyone is deserving of being treated equally? Yes, I know. I probably overthink it.

So, I don't get nervous in front of an audience or camera these days - I mean, I used to, back in my 20s - but age and maturity have lead me to care less what others think. I worry more about doing justice to an idea, or letting down other people. Especially if they've paid money for, say, a comedy show, or  Found Footage... and there's me twatting around in a pair of denim cut-offs, selling the material short.

It's actually slightly frustrating for me, given that I often have ideas for something that would be funny live, or on camera, but feel unable to offer up said idea exactly as I have it in my head.

Something I've learned from being a writer is that actors and comedians have a very unique set of skills that I simply don't possess. I've no idea if those skills can be learned, but I experience the same frustration when it comes to art. I was considered one of my school's better artists, but I also know that I have limitations; there's a point at which my skills stop, and my imagination continues on.

Nevertheless, over the weekend I found myself thrust into the role of performer once again, for not only my erotic role as MC Stringy Hobo in Mr Biffo's Found Footage, but as the host of the aforementioned Retro Comedy Night; the closest I'll ever get to trying my hand at stand-up comedy. 

What a time this is.

Back when I was growing up in the 70s, my parents always ensured there was a supply of candles in the cupboard under the sink. This was in the event of a power cut, an occurrence so frequent that - as I just mentioned (in the previous sentence) - we had a supply of candles in the cupboard under the sink. 

They were just regular candles of course. White ones, about the length and girth of a bratwurst. You know the ones: default candles. Yer basic ones, which didn't do anything other than illuminate. Although, at a stretch, I suppose I could've thrust one at my father's face, to burn off his eyelashes. That might have passed a minute or two while I waited for the telly to come back on. Oh well...

Back then, the only time candles ever came close to being whimsical was on birthdays. These "birthday candles" weren't kept in the cupboard under the sink, but were in the junk draw in the kitchen. Alas, they didn't smell of anything, apart from a faint whiff of burning, once you'd blown them out.

Now, candles come in all shapes, sizes, and scents; Raspberry Regret, Midsummer Toast, Herman's Private Request, Railway Baguette, Glazed Walnut, Duckhenry Responds... etc.

You even get shops which sell nothing but these stinking candles. Indeed, the top celebrity, Bob "Spit The Dog" Carolgees owns a candle shop. Which, sadly, he chose not to call 'Bob's Candle Wheeze'.

How do you review a games console in isolation, without mentioning the games? That'd be like reviewing a car that you haven't driven, or a sandwich for its aesthetic qualities alone. 

Consequently, I cannot do that. Not now. Not ever. Please... please stop asking me. You'll get your Switch game reviews soon... but I've played four of them, and all have had an impact on how I view the system as a whole.

I've written a lot about the Switch in recent months. I was so disappointed by the Wii U, and Nintendo's handling of it, that it had coloured my overall sense of the company - and that colour was a deep brown. Also, while the Wii U had a bunch of rather splendid games, something was still missing for me.

I was hanging onto a lot of goodwill from the past, but my grip on it was starting to loosen. Making matters worse, I wasn't certain that Nintendo was succeeding in its Switch messaging.

​In fact, I'm still not sure that it has. 

Found Footage awakens, as Mr Biffo brings you a very special selection from his video tape archives. Featuring Goujon John, Ghee-Lord, DJ Trendy Peanut - and more!

Please share and like if you enjoy Mr Biffo's Found Footage!

Guest Post by Dan Farrimond

I have never been such a happy geek as I was at Cambridge Block Party 2017.

​For once, I was actually in on the obscure jokes and nerdy jargon. For once, people were actually interested in hearing me babble on about teletext art.
 
For an esoteric microniche, teletext is surprisingly tolerated, maybe even mildly popular. Among those that admit they’re older than 30, the mere mention of the word elicits happy memories of beating Bamber ‘Boozy’ Boozler at his general knowledge pop quiz of a drizzly teatime.
 
At least, this particular event proved unexpectedly popular. To speak with everyone who attended on the Saturday truly was a task of bamboozling proportions, especially with so many shiny exhibits and amusing activities to occupy your time. 

If you, like me, are just sitting around waiting for your Nintendo Switch and copy of Zelda: Breath of the Wild to be pressured through your door-hole, why not try filling the hours by compiling a list of the most important, significant and impactful console launch games of all time?

That's what I've done, and if you don't believe me... well... just take a look below. Hello... no Super Mario Bros. for the NES? Urrrrnh! It wasn't a launch title, probably. Don't have a go, yeah?

If this idea doesn't "pat your whimsy" then you could select from this list of alternative activities:

• Take a bath with your eight sons.
• Use a hard rod to destroy all of your existing consoles and computers, in order to make space for the Switch.
• Recall your favourite cloud.
• Trap a cod in a harp.
• Colour in a rhombus.
• Rhombus rhombus rhombus brrrrhombrrrusss!
• Do some research, okay?
• 12345678910!
• And so on.

Come on now... let's take a look at that sweeeeeeet list...!