Why was Visceral games closed down, and the Star Wars game it had been working on cancelled? Because apparently nobody wants to play no linear single-player games no more, brah! Except... the story is more complicated than that. Except... maybe it isn't. Maybe the story is very, very simple - but the reality of it is buried beneath half-truths and outright lies. Such is the world in 2017.

Quick recap on some things: a few years back, Disney bought LucasFilm. Almost immediately, Disney closed down LucasFilm's games division, LucasArts, cancelling the hotly-anticipated Star Wars game 1313.

Then EA announced it was taking over the Star Wars gaming brand, later announcing that Amy Hennig - the architect of Naughty Dog's Uncharted series - would be coming aboard to develop a brand new, story-based, Star Wars experience with EA's Visceral Games (the team behind the well-regarded Dead Space series).

In the meantime, EA had a big hit with Star Wars Battlefront.

Fast forward to earlier this year. EA cancels Hennig's Star Wars game, shuts down Visceral, and says that it's going to instead focus on "a broader experience that allows for more variety and player agency, leaning into the capabilities of our Frostbite engine and reimagining central elements of the game to give players a Star Wars adventure of greater depth and breadth to explore."

The Frostbite engine, in case you're unaware, is mostly used for EA's online multiplayer games, such as the Battlefield titles. "Agency" in case you're unaware, is a word that most of us never heard or used until about three years ago, when it became popular with games journo types, and it makes my skin crawl every time I hear it. Like when somebody shortens the word "radiators" to "rads". You know: in the way that somebody awful would do.

Anyway, cue outrage over what appears to be EA wanting to make multiplayer Star Wars games, purely so that it can rinse players dry with microtransactions.

However, according to Kotaku, there was more to the story. Except... then Star Wars Battlefront 2 arrived, loaded with microtransactions which made popular characters difficult to access without spending money. Cue outrage. Cue politicians getting involved. Cue EA removing microtransactions from Battlefront 2, after failing to convince players - via a widely reviled statement on Reddit - that the game was structured in this way to improve their experience. 

The publicity over all of this has been a PR disaster for EA. Battlefront 2 - which should've been a guaranteed smash - has done worse than expected. Therefore, you'd expect EA to have learned its lesson and change course.

Apparently not now that we live in an era where nobody takes any degree of responsibility for their actions.

It was 25 years ago today (well, technically last week) that Sonic The Hedgehog 2 was released, on the questionably-named "Sonic 2sday".

I was, by this point, a fan of Sonic - those being the days when Sonic was new and fresh, and not an endless parade of lewds, pockets stuffed with diminishing returns. I remember a mate telling me that he'd picked up the original on import from Wembley Market, and that it was everything the hype had promised. To wit: a gorgeous, super-fast, take on the Mario formula, with bags of carefully curated "attitude". I waited a month for the official release, and was gleeful to note that he wasn't wrong.

I was already looking forward to Sonic 2 when I accidentally landed the job writing for Digitiser. That's a story I've recounted before, but Sonic 2 was a significant part of my Digi misadventure. I was young, naive, and excited that I'd somehow stumbled into the games industry. I didn't expect it to last, but I would at least take my best shot at becoming the next "Jaz" Rignall.

Without really knowing what we were doing, we'd registered with a number of video game PR companies, informing them that Digitiser was taking over the teletext gaming service from Oracle. Sega was the first to give us any sort of acknowledgement - by sending us tickets to the launch of Sonic 2. Admittedly, we never got a free review copy - and wouldn't start getting those from Sega until we began being horrible to them on our pages - but it was, at least, a significant step forwards... even if it would falter.

I'd never experienced anything like it before. I'd been employed by Teletext as a graphics artist, and had no experience of being a journalist. I never intended to write about video games for a living; it's something that happened to me more or less by fluke. Furthermore, launch parties were just something that I saw pictures of in newspapers and magazines; not something a regular pleb like me got to go to.

Best of all, Digi was over a month from launch, so we could enjoy the event (get drunk) without needing to remember enough to write about it. This began a Digitiser games launch party tradition of stroking the backs of celebrities and wandering away without being challenged.

This is Wimpy Jeff.

Wimpy Jeff is the proprietor of the Addlestone branch of Wimpy. Since 2014, Wimpy Jeff has been running a Twitter account, which gives a profound insight into the complex mind of this man, while capturing a slice of everyday life through candid images of his customers.

Here are some highlights from his photographic odyssey...

Bif-baff-boff. I went to the BAFTA Children's Awards last night. In case you've forgotten, when he isn't making stupid online series about bums, or writing about video games on here, Mr Biffo's alter-ego is an experienced writer of children's telly. And yes: I am talking about myself in the third-person there, like some godawful pseud. 

I was nominated as best writer for my CBBC series 4 O'Clock Club - along with Mikis Michaelides and Luc Skyz, who write the songs for the show. We didn't win, of course. We weren't expecting to though; this was, I think, my third or fourth BAFTA nomination, and I've yet to win any of them.

It's a weird thing, being nominated for an award. Well, it's weird for me, presumably because I'm a bit weird, but the only thing I feel when I get nominated is a slight sense of dread. I always fear that, win or lose, it's going to be awkward.

If I win - worse this time because I was up against a good friend in the same category (he didn't win either) - then I would've had to act not-too-pleased, because that would look like gloating. If I don't win - and I didn't - I'd have to adopt the "right sort of face", because when the awards category comes around you have a camera pointing at you, and your reaction is shown on huge screens either side of the stage.

But what is the right sort of face?

I think that's it; I don't know how I'm meant to be at these things, in a way that feels natural, and maybe I end up overthinking it. Also, I've discovered that stating openly that I don't really care gets me one of two reactions: I always think people either don't believe me and reckon I'm just saying it to protect myself in the event of not winning... or they just look at me horrified, like they've suddenly realised I was The Hooded Claw all along.

And what makes this worse is that being nominated for a BAFTA, winning a BAFTA, really, really means a lot to some people, and it makes me feel ungrateful.

That was clear from the acceptance speeches last night; there was raw emotion on display; excitement, tears, disbelief. I've seen it among those who've not taken home an award too - I know of more people than I care to mention who'd stormed out upon hearing that they're not successful. 

And so... I think I have all this swirling around my head before I go to these things, and end up questioning myself far too much. I was genuinely anxious yesterday before leaving for the ceremony, and - as my other half remarked - I never get anxious about anything. 

It's unlikely to have escaped your attention that I spent much of the last year and a half making a series of silly videos, which grew into something a little more complex. To say I'm proud of Mr Biffo's Found Footage would be an understatement.

I'm proud that it isn't easy. I'm proud that it's a very honest expression of something I'd want to watch. I'm proud that it sort of needs work and time and effort to really get what's going on. 

I love writing kids TV - I feel lucky that I get to do it as my main source of income - but there are certain things that my "day job" doesn't afford me, and Found Footage was meant to be a massive splurge of everything I'd had bottled up inside my weird brain.

I've mentioned a few times on Twitter that I see Mr Biffo's Found Footage as the comedy equivalent of prog rock. It's the complex concept album to, say, Michael McIntyre's new Taylor Swift record. That's not meant as a criticism of McIntyre or Swift, but their work is designed to grab you immediately. I mean, I love a good pop song. I'm no music snob.

But the fact is... most of my favourite albums of all time are at the proggier end of the Spectrum. I love Marillion, Talk Talk, Kate Bush, Genesis before they turned into an unlikely pop group, Steven Wilson, Pink Floyd...

I love music that takes you on a journey, that tells a story, and is as much about atmosphere as it is about melody. I love music that mixes genres, and can change in a heartbeat. I get that it's not for everyone; I mean, you probably have to be a little bit mad to want to "work" at "getting" a record, but I find that a lot of music of this type stays with me longer, whereas a pop song won't speak to me on as profound a level.

That feeling is part of what I wanted to capture with Found Footage, even though it has proven a barrier for many people who just wanted some quick and easy funnies.

I've not really mentioned it until now because, well, I didn't want people calling me pretentious. The thing is... most of the great prog bands have also produced great pop songs. Of the artists mentioned above, Marillion have their Kayleigh, Talk Talk had Life's What You make it, Kate Bush had more hit singles than you can mention, and Pink Floyd got to number one with Another Brick In The Wall.

I was pretty sure that within Found Footage there were "pop singles". Several of the comedy sketches at least have the rhythm of something more mainstream, even if they do end up subverting that, because I can't help myself. However, the point of all this is to say that the series has finally had a "hit", and I never saw it coming...

What is the thing that sailors are most known for? That's right: it's laughing hysterically when you give them money. Nowadays, if you want to see a sailor laughing hysterically all you have to do is head to YouTube, but once upon a time the only way to hear the manic cackling of a seaman would be to sign up for the Navy yourself, unless you fancied hanging around by the docks.

In the 1950s this all changed. New technology brought the spectacle of the amused mariner to seaside arcades; for a penny or two, you would be treated to a several moments of mirth-filled howling from a mechanical seafarer. 

This might all seem rather quaint, but I'm old enough to recall seeing these coin-operated marvels, and their rasping, foam-flecked, guffaws, remain etched into my memory. Today, for one day only, Digitiser2000 pays tribute to this terrifying staple of summer holidays...

A few years ago, I spent a long weekend in Morocco.

Among the highlights of the trip were getting lost in the Souk late at night and having to pay a drugboi to take us back to our riad; being given directions by a local who led us to a foul-smelling leather tannery and then wanting to kill me because I refused to give him money; and going on a camel ride into the Sahara - eating dates out of a filthy bucket on the way, so as not to offend a local date farmer - with the promise of sleeping out beneath the stars.

Instead of the romantic experience I'd hoped for, we got caught in what our guide assured us was an "historic" thunder storm, which saw us having to be rescued by some men in a jeep. Soaked - and having not brought a change of clothes, because this was the desert rather than, y'know, the UK - we later shivered and dripped through a meal while a feller banged a drum, and some other blokes wailed and danced around.

Being on the back of a terrified camel, miles from civilisation, while lightning burst over our heads and a sandstorm fired needles into our eyes, was all very exciting - and, importantly, I've got some great video of the chaos to prove I'm not a liar - but the main thing I took away from it is that they were able to get full mobile phone signal in the middle of the Sahara Desert, whereas I struggle to get it in my living room.

Anyway. Of course, Assassin's Creed is set in Ancient Egypt, not modern Morocco, but - y'know - roughly the same part of the world. Point is, such is the depth of authenticity of Origins, for much of the time I played it, I couldn't get the smell of boiled cattle out of my nostrils.

Do you know what I like? First-person shoot 'em ups. Or, at least, I did. There was a time when I'd get every FPS that was released, because I loved that sense of being-there.

​These days, I can't escape a feeling of having seen it all before when I play a first-person shooter - I mean, in Call of Duty: WW2 I have literally been there before, having now stormed the beaches of Normandy in no fewer than four hundred different games.

If you ask me, the golden era of the the FPS was its first decade - wherein we got Wolfenstein 3D, Doom, Duke Nukem 3D and Dark Forces.

However, that wasn't the end of the 1990s FPS story. Here's a list of ten further decent, but cruelly forgotten, shooters from that decade.

You don't see a lot of airbrushing anymore. These days everything is Photoshopped to perfection; tools automatically adjusting the placing of images to ensure a graphic that is pleasing to the eye.

30 years ago, man discovered the airbrush, and for a while there was scarcely a book, album, video game or magazine cover which didn't feature the stumbling first efforts of graphic designers to get to grips with this new technology. You know: like a caveman accidentally inventing the wheel, and initially using it as a serving tray at dinner parties.

Some of the worst airbrush art of the era could be found on the covers of Practical Computing - a dull periodical. Here's a gallery.

Do you know what I miss? I miss the days when Nazis were funny.

When I was a kid, all my favourite shows poked fun at Nazis; The Young Ones did a gag where Lenny Henry dressed up as a Hitler postman. The Pythons had a sketch where "Mr Hitler" ran in the North Minehead by-election. Heck, Spike Milligan was rarely out of a Hitler costume.

Even 'Allo 'Allo portrayed Nazis as bumbling idiots, backstabbing one another over a painting of The Fallen Madonna With The Big Boobies, which gets hidden inside a knackwurst sausage.

In a way, a lot of that felt like a post-WW2 exhalation of breath. By poking fun at Hitler, by turning him into a figure of mockery, it stripped him - and, by association, the Nazis - of power. Somewhere along the way, to a certain disenfranchised generation, Hitler's ideology became cool again.

Between the release of 2014's Wolfenstein: The New Order and the release of The New Colossus, Nazis stopped being comedy bad guys, and were exposed as a legitimate threat in the real world.

Um... So... you know those side-by-side comparison videos showing the difference between the Xbox One/PlayStation 4 and the Xbox One X/PlayStation 4 Pro...? Am I, y'know, the only person who can't really tell much of a difference between the old and new hardware?

Maybe you need to see them running side-by-side on a big 4K, HDR, telly, rather than a little YouTube window embedded on a web browser. But... if there's no stark difference, no massive leap up, what's the point of upgrading? 

Certainly, what's the point of upgrading when in order to do so you have to pay hundreds of pounds for the privilege of some imperceptibly nicer visuals? What are you actually paying for?

It's like iPhones. There's this big hoo-hah every year when the new model is announced, but then you get the new phone, and you realise that it's basically exactly the same as the old phone, and even runs the same iOS, except it doesn't have the scratches and greasy fingerprints on the screen.  

I'm asking this because I kind of want to upgrade my consoles... but I also don't know why I want to upgrade my console, and that conflict is troubling me.