Richard Cobbett

Modern Warfare: No Russian

2009-11-12T20:57:45Z

Achievement Unlocked: Best Terrorist Ever

So, I finally played it. I’d have played it earlier, but my copy was on Steam, so it only unlocked at midnight this morning and I decided to go to bed instead of participating in a terrorist massacre. I know, lousy priorities, but I was sleepy.

I have no idea how I’d have reacted to it had I come in cold, since over the last week or so, it seems like my Twitter feed has consisted of nothing but people arguing the pros and cons of the whole thing, the leaked video, arguments about whether games should be touching this kind of stuff at all… I realised long ago that, like the (genuinely good) nuke section in the original Modern Warfare, all I was actually going to feel when I actually got it up on my screen was “Oh, it’s this bit.”

How did I feel? “Oh, it’s this bit.”

See? I know me too well.

Interestingly, you’re not allowed to be offended at this mission. When the option comes up to skip it - labelled Disturbing Content Notice, although I found the Notice at best slightly startling - it clearly makes you click an option labelled “No, I will not be offended.” Never mind that it doesn’t tell you what you’re agreeing not to be offended by. You made your choice, soldier! Hooah! And other gutteral sounds.

Unfortunately, I was offended. By the design. Ignoring the moral implications entirely, No Russian really is a load of crap. The basic setup is that you’re an undercover CIA agent, assigned to infiltrate a terrorist group run by a guy called Makarov. Makarov’s plan is to shoot up an airport to prove his Big Bad status in the hope of meeting Jack Bauer, and unlike most games of this ilk, by shooting up the airport, he’s talking about gunning down civilians instead of causing some property damage or killing off-screen innocents. The four of you very slowly walk around with guns, massacring everyone with a pulse as they run around screaming. You don’t have to take part, but you can’t play the hero. Turn your gun on Makarov and you blow your implausible cover and the mission ends instantly. What japes. What fun! What a load of crap.

Interesting that Infinity Ward didn’t set this mission in an American airport, huh? Wouldn’t want any media backlash or anything…

Why is this dumb? Let me count the ways. First, your character is hardly a deep cover specialist - he’s an American Army Ranger just drafted into the Company, who as far as I can tell, we’re expected to believe has infiltrated this group and learned to pass as a native Russian (or thereabouts) in the course of one single day. In writing terms, this is roughly five steps up from the classic deus ex machina, what Aristotle’s Diuretics famously described as ‘Are you f&^king kidding?’

The mission briefing consists of… nothing. There are words, but they’re like snot balls flicked at the wall. You have no idea what Makarov wants. You have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish. Is there a nuke? Am I meant to be earning his trust to meet his boss? Why are we not just shooting this guy, or pulling him out of the airport in the diplomatic bag, especially since he’s only guarded by two guys? Are we talking political immunity? Does my boss just want him to return his Red Dwarf DVDs?

Seriously: What’s going on? What are the stakes here? It’s one thing to play with the idea of the ends justifying the means, but dammit, tell us the ends! Our character is a willing participant in this (or at least, obeying orders to stay close to Makarov), even if we’re only forced into it by the linear game structure and desire to get back to harmlessly shooting foreigners in the balls, making it more than a little relevant to know what we’re doing before the plot gets round to explaining the purpose behind our counter-terrorist chicanery. A lie is fine. But we need something.

Next, the basic concept. It’s a frame-job, intended to turn Russia against America (and spark an invasion) when they find the corpse of a CIA agent in the middle of the civilian massacre. Fine, in theory, even if it begs the question of how anyone knows what you look like after a whole day in the CIA, especially after having your face blasted open by Makarov at the end of the level (again: smooth move, idiot).

Except you know what’s quite popular in airports? Security cameras. The kind that would show the known terrorist, who hasn’t even bothered with a face-mask, leading the assault, along with a couple of his equally identifiable pals. At the very least, this would give America a bit of wiggle-room, politically speaking. At worst… well, it’s a really silly idea for a setup. Not speaking Russian during the massacre offers Makarov about as much protection as Clark Kent’s glasses. He’s a dribbling imbecile, and far from considering him a Chessmaster, I moved onto the next mission just shaking my head in amazement that he can eat with a fork without spearing his brains out.

Maybe he can’t.

There are so many better ways this mission could have been set up, both as an action sequence and as a thought-provoker. For instance, have the main character unaware of the whole civilian massacre thing until a gun gets slapped into his hand. Or have your actions during the siege come back to haunt you later on, like the river sequence in Metal Gear Solid 3, the courtroom bit in Chrono Trigger, or the trial to see how honourable you were in Conquests of the Longbow. At the absolute least, it needed to establish the stakes up front, make the mission feel like part of the plot before you know what the big plot is, and ideally, make it look like the CIA isn’t charging headlong at a banana peel and looking surprised to find itself on its arse.

Sadly, the crappiness of the writing isn’t even part of the controversy here. Sigh. Where’s Liara’s naked blue bottom when you need it?

How crushing. Sorry! Shocking! I meant shocking! I’m a rubbish spy.

Semi-randomly, one thing this level reminded me of was the old interactive movie Spycraft. Like Modern Warfare, it featured a scene deemed so horrifying that players should be able to skip it - specifically, an interactive torture sequence, with the player at the controls. You need to get some information out of an enemy agent, Ying, and have two possible routes. The proper route is to painstakingly fake a photograph so that it looks like her partner has been captured. The controversial route is to strap her into an electric chair and zap her until she squeals. Your choice, Agent Thorne.

Unlike Modern Warfare’s theme-park sadism, this was a pretty well done scene, and deeply unpleasant - even if it was just flickering lights and shouts of pain. Your colleagues are divided on whether it’s acceptable to take this path, but it’s made perfectly clear that nobody’s going to protect you if you screw up and kill the subject. For a bit of added spice, there was even the possibility of getting shouted at for it by an actual former head of the CIA, who Activision hired to play himself in a few of the cut-scenes. As I remember, he didn’t - but that’s not the point, he could have! And surely even the most hardened gamer would feel shame at that.

Oh, incidentally, just after the massacre in Modern Warfare 2? A light-hearted interlude where your boss casually tortures someone with a car battery. Classy! But it’s okay, because that happens behind a closed door. If Fox News has taught us anything, it’s that this makes it okay. Also that there is no food in the universe that the faces of Sean Hannity and Glenn Beck couldn’t put any sane person off eating.

As for No Russian, it’s just no good. No fooling. I’d comment on the rest of the game, and how it feels like watching a really exciting movie with a friend who insists on rewinding every few seconds, but right now, I’d rather be playing Dragon Age. So I will. Mages are awesome. I wish Modern Warfare had mages in it.

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Windows 7

2009-10-22T10:38:19Z

It’s Windows 7 Launch Day, and obviously, it’s the most exciting thing ever to happen.

If you’ve already used previous versions of Windows, you’ll know the rough score already - initial optimism inevitably drained away by rubbish drivers, software manufacturers who’ve been slow to update their software despite 7 being basically the same as Vista and having over a year in which to do their goddamn jobs instead of sitting back and eating cake. There are however important undocumented changes to be aware of before you get started, especially in the light of the many bugs being automatically patched on this, the first day of what will one day become known as the Year of Windows 7 / Era of the Snake People From The Moon. Probably.

Changelog, 22/10/09

The traditional installation minigame has been removed. If you want the fun of formatting your whole drive only to find out half-way through installation that there’s a scratch on the disc, you must now scratch it yourself with a blunt compass point. Microsoft has however upgraded your inability to type a perfectly simple 94 character serial number, ensuring that you have to enter it three times before it works, despite it clearly being right, look, I totally checked it twice, oh wait that’s a G.

Windows no longer laughs maniacally during installation.

Ultimate Extras: While there is no Porn and Bikini wallpaper set supplied with Windows 7, Microsoft Customer Services has been instructed to assure the spouses of users with the Ultimate edition that in fact there is. Home Premium users must face the music for not covering up their screens fast enough. Please note: if you consider this insulting and patronising, remember the Ultimate Extras you got last time.

Disk Defragmenter and Chkdisk now run 40% slower in an attempt to convince you that they’re actually doing some good for your system despite things being bad enough that you’re running them. Registry cleaning software in the form of a pair of slowly rolling eyes of endless contempt has been added to Accessories.

The much-requested “TRY IT ANYWAY” button has been added to all file operations. Corrupted ZIP? Lack of hard drive space? Think you know better than Windows? Hit this button to ditch the error window and force it to at least give it a &^%$ing try. It won’t work, but at least you’ll know for sure and maybe feel better.

To cut down on the number of idiots online, tools like e-mail and Windows Messenger are no longer provided as standard. If you can get the necessary neurons together to download them, maybe you deserve your access.

The EULA has been rewritten in Wingdings to see if anyone notices.

“My Computer” has been renamed “Computer”. Thanks to DRM, “Your Computer” has been deemed too inaccurate by the European Court of Endless Pedantry.

Clicking the icon “Internet Explorer” no longer punches you in the face for your stupidity. Using Internet Explorer instead of absolutely anything else, up to and including a tin-can on a string, has been decreed both crime and punishment.

The dread portal of Ana’xhoom has been moved to the Documents folder for easier access. Please remember to sacrifice one file per day to the glory of Ana’xhoom.

The Purble Place competition has concluded after several long years. The first person to actually bother running it for more than five seconds, Mrs. Dawn Edmonton of Maine, has received her cheque for $4,000,000. Congratulations, Dawn!

Bigfoot has been returned to his home in the wallpaper.

The Solitaire cheat code now automatically texts your friends to stage an intervention. If you have no friends, the cards will fly around the screen as usual. Loser.

All PowerPoint presentations longer than five slides or containing the words “Mission Statement” will now be automatically deleted five minutes after being closed. No, really, you’re welcome. It’s the least we can do to apologise.

Gnaw: This Death Knight ghoul ability now has a 1-minute cooldown.

All online help replaced with the message “Just get a Mac, idiot...”

It is possible to upgrade from Windows 98. Oh, not as a cheap deal or anything, just reminding you. Seriously, it’s 2009. What the hell’s taking so long?

Assorted security hotfixes.

It works now, unlike Vista.

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In My Eyes

2009-10-05T18:18:37Z

Richard’s Guide To Touching The Eye

1. DO NOT TOUCH THE F&*%ING EYE!

2. That is all.

Seriously, in order of importance, the eyes are used for the following things: squicking out sci-fi viewers, making A Clockwork Orange unwatchable, infecting idiots with the zombie lurgy, providing sight, and actively not being touched. It doesn’t matter that a modern lens is only a little sliver of jelly, there are places where things aren’t meant to get shoved, and at least half of those places are the surface of the f&*%ing eye! This is just plain common sense! It goes without saying! I mean, really! Keep your hands off them!

On the other hand, wearing glasses sucks. Everything about wearing glasses sucks. They’re impossible to wear in the rain, they make you look through the world through a very annoying frame, they need constant cleaning, look terrible on anyone other than sexy geeks, and there’s still no official word that they don’t cause cancer.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I’m currently trying out contact lenses, as in “I wouldn’t be able to use because I’m horribly squeamish about my eyes”. I don’t know if it’ll work out yet, but it’s a two week free trial. That’s good in the sense that most things with the word ‘free’ are good news, although I’m still waiting for that Tibet I signed up for to show up. On the other hand, the fact that there is a trial involved made me instantly suspicious. Would ramming terrifyingly complicated lumps of jelly into both eyes not, in fact, be as much fun as the adverts made it look?

Oddly, no. I’ve spent years actively not ripping open my eyelids with my fingers and jamming things in the middle, and as a result, have a highly toned blink reflex capable of breaking iron bars. The optician almost lost a finger trying to get the first lens in a couple of weeks ago, and I thought I was doing very well to keep my eyes open up-to-but-not-including the bit where the finger gets close. Apparently not. Turns out it helps to keep them open. It’s almost mandatory in fact.

After lots of effort, lots of prying and lots of fingers getting entirely too close to squishy jelly bits, we decided I should probably get out of her sight and come back in a couple of weeks when I might not be so rubbish. She didn’t phrase it like that, of course, but she may as well. A couple of hours with not even one lens (of two, for anyone keeping count) even close to sitting comfortably wasn’t exactly a great start.

Anyway, this morning it was time to try again. This time, the optician managed to get both of them in. Can’t say it was much fun - if your own finger in your eye isn’t a good time, a stranger’s is no real improvement, especially with both lids fighting your orders to stay the hell open. But it worked! After only three attempts and one chopped-off finger, we managed to get them both in, and I might add, with a distinct lack of kicking and screaming on my part. I wanted a lollipop, but there weren’t any. Sometimes, being a grown-up really sucks. So I bought one on my way home.

Those few minutes of having them in made it worth continuing though. The effect was fantastic. I’m short-sighted with astigmatism, which means I can’t see very far (no kidding) and everything’s a bit blurry at any distance. I’m certainly not blind without my glasses, it’s just deeply uncomfortable, so I wear them most of the time.

Turns out normal vision is great. A contact lens feels like part of the eye. It itches for a bit when you first put it on, much like an eyelash, but that sensation quickly goes away. No problem at all. Really. You think I wouldn’t whine if it was?

There’s only one problem. Having got them both in, it was up to me to take them out again. I’m not sure what happens if you can’t - maybe they hold you down and use some form of tongs. I didn’t dare ask. I knew this was part of the process, yes, but if touching the eye is enough to bring on the squick, the idea of gripping onto it, pinching and pulling was… let’s just say, I saw Kill Bill: Part 2 and it didn’t seem to go well for Daryl Hannah. Nor did the movie Splash, but that’s not really relevant, I guess.

Bad movie though. Very bad. Where was I?

Oh, yes. Drifting.

The trouble with poking and prodding at the eye is that the eye doesn’t like being poked and prodded much, its bloodshot surface quickly reinforcing Rule 1 of my personal guide. Getting even one of them out took the best part of half an hour. It seemed like longer, but then I realised I’d actually knocked it out about ten minutes earlier and it had been sitting on my shirt. Good start there. The other one was slightly easier. Both just about came out without dragging the cornea or anything with them, which definitely counted as a Win. Maybe even a Bonus.

Then came the really fun bit: not just getting them back in, but getting them in on pissed-off bloodshot eyes that burned at the touch of saline. I didn’t want to have to make another appointment, making this the first two-week trial to take a whole season, so I kept on at it. At some point, the sight of my eyeball glaring back almost stopped turning my stomach. Almost. Tapping and moving the lens around with my finger, that was another story. Specifically, a horror one. Eyes. Eew. Gross.

Once out… back in they went. In. Out. Saline all about. At one point, I managed to lose a lens four times in a row. One time it landed on my shirt. Another it went into the mirror. It started to feel like the best way of getting it back in would be to just keep dropping the damn thing until it magically flicked back up until my eye.

Tell you the truth, I’m still wondering.

That’s because I’m now sitting here at home with a couple of lenses, a bottle of peroxide, and a truly terrifying list of things not to do. Do not sleep with lenses in. Do not wash lenses in Coca-Cola. Do not pass go, do not collect a refill of solution. I don’t need to try them again until tomorrow, but that’s a process I can’t say I’m particularly looking forward to. I’ve already spent the afternoon with my eyes shut, and that was with a professional watching over. If a somewhat frustrated one. Justifiably so, of course. I can’t remember the last time I made such a mess of something that technically speaking should have been as easy as… shoving a concave disk of jelly into the middle of the eye. Now I think about it, ignore that. I want a goddamn medal.

Still, it’s something I genuinely hope works out. As the guy said, millions of people use these things, and I’m millions of people. Or not, counting’s not my thing. A person, anyway, and a person sick of wearing glasses at that. There’s nothing I’d like more than to be able to consign my regular glasses to just airplane flights, evening use, and staring over when I want to patronise someone. Stuff glasses were invented for. Having finally done it a couple of times, I’m even slightly more optimistic that, just maybe, at some point I’ll be able to do the lens thing, and all this will work out in a nice, easy, don’t-even-have-to-think-about-it-any-more way.

Too bad it’ll still mean touching the F&*%ING EYE.

Yes. Definitely the downside, right there.

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What Is Google Wave?

2009-10-01T18:49:12Z

With invites flying around the web, everyone's asking: what is Google Wave? The real question is: what isn't it? Because Google Wave is more than just a website. It's a platform. It's a revolution. It's a magic machine capable of bringing life to desolate planets through terraforming. It raises the dead. It divides by zero. You cannot be told what Google Wave is, you must experience it for yourself!

But that's not all!

If you dip Google Wave in water, it produces copies of itself. Do not feed Google Wave after midnight! Google Wave is not a toy. Google Wave answers the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. Google Wave even produces the question. With Google Wave, all your problems will be over, especially if those problems involve the absence of Google Wave in your life. Google Wave tastes of cherries, unless you don't like cherries, in which case strawberries. Or cherry and strawberries, for the user who wants it all. Google Wave is the sensation multiple orgasms aspire to. Google Wave is not merely the Alpha and the Omega, but the Google Wave and the Google Wave, for all else has been rendered meaningless before its literally indescribable brilliance!

And it's still in beta!

Google Wave is the only thing in the world capable of beating up both Chuck Norris and Jack Bauer without breaking a sweat. It is no relation to the Mexican Wave. If you wave at Google Wave, the universe itself crashes. Nodding is acceptable. Shaking your fist is right out. Stop being mean to Google Wave! It died for your sins!

With Google Wave, your work will be done for you, but your boss will never know. It will find you a date for the weekend and hide the body afterwards. Google Wave can time-travel. Google Wave will usher in first contact with the Vulcans. The history of all things was merely a prelude to Google Wave. A footnote at that.

...or maybe it's just a mix of wiki, e-mail and Google Docs. But from all the fuss about it online at the moment, that can't be it, right?

Not that I'd know. No bugger's sent me an invite yet.

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Gameswipe

2009-09-29T23:20:53Z

“Hello, I’m Charlie Brooker, and you’re watching Wipewipe, a show all about the shows of Charlie Brooker. And macramé for some reason.”

I’ll be honest, I’m a bit confused. I enjoyed the show, I like Charlie Brooker as much as the next cynic, but I’m not entirely sure who this special was aimed at. If you’re a gamer, you knew most of it already. If you’re not, Brooker’s mocking style (which is absolutely perfect if you’re a fan of the kind of thing being mocked, as with Screenwipe, Yahtzee, Noah Antwiler’s fantastic videos, and even stuff I don’t like much, like The Angry Video Game Nerd) isn’t exactly going to bring you round or teach you anything other than that you’re probably right about games being silly.

Why Games World instead of Time Commanders? Why GTA instead of Monkey Island? I’m not saying it shouldn’t have been cutting, that’s Brooker’s thing, but why wasn’t it cutting the idiots it kept showing clips of instead of reinforcing their prejudice through game choices? Why actively try to turn off the audience you presumably want to stick around for the full show by confirming their prejudices?

(In particular, I’m still trying to work out the logic behind spending much of the show complaining about TV only ever focusing on the negative, more violent games, then faking up a joke Wii title as a counterpoint instead of just… I don’t know… bringing out a copy of Animal Crossing. As it is, the message just became “We got nothing, sorry. Here’s some more boobs and explosions. Bullet to the cock!")

The gags and guests were fun, but I’d rather have heard Graham Linehan rave about Left 4 Dead some more from a writer’s perspective than complain about Grand Theft Auto (even though I agree completely), or have had Dara O’Briain do a self-deprecating comedy bit instead of a rant. Again, it’d have been fine if it was actively for gamers, but it seemed seriously misplaced next to ‘let’s explain what Wolfenstein is’ level stuff.

If Gameswipe goes to a full series - and I’d really like to see Brooker do one, especially given the amazingly good stuff he did for PC Zone back in the day - I really hope it bites the bullet and just aims itself at gamers who want to watch a show about games. Bringing out Rab and Ryan from Consolevania, then stepping back to explain what generic genres are about? That’s like mixing matter and antimatter, only without exploding and blowing up the universe, for which I for one am frankly grateful.

Randomly, that CyberZone thing? It was even worse than the short clip on the show made it look. Unfortunately, it was so bad, even the interweb doesn’t have much of a record of it, but that’s okay. Just the intro bit says it all…

Terrifyingly (and yes, I know I’ve linked this before), this isn’t just not the worst game related TV show ever made, it’s not even the worst one fronted by Craig Charles. But the other is so bad, I can’t even bring myself to embed it. Click if you dare...

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Credit Where It’s Due Department

2009-09-26T19:41:27Z

Just an update. Due to some hysterically funny hate mail sent my way after last week’s Merlin thing, I watched tonight’s specifically with a mind to rip the piss out of it.

But you know what? It wasn’t bad. Not high-art, and predictable enough, but a decent piece of Saturday evening entertainment, especially considering the areas the show usually falls down on. Decent enough writing, characters behaving sensibly, reasonable interpersonal moments, solidly shot action sequences, and a distinct lack of deus ex machina getting in the way of characters solving their own problems.

True, there’s still stuff that could be mocked, notably Gwen’s comical definition of poverty and the deeply unconvincing romantic elements that only vaguely work because everyone knows she and Arthur get together in the end, but for what it was, it was fine. So there. Let the fangirls continue their scary slash-fics.

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Merlin: Series 2 Transcript

2009-09-19T21:12:19Z

The new series of Merlin started tonight, but don't worry if you missed it. Here's a full transcript of the first episode: "The Curse of Cornelius Sigan".

In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young boy. Actually, more a young man. By the standards of the time, practically middle-aged. Whatever.

INT: ARTHUR'S CHAMBERS

ARTHUR: Merlin! Get in here! Oh, what are you wearing?

MERLIN: Richard Armitage’s hair, sire. I heard it brings good luck.

ARTHUR: Not really, Merlin, Robin Hood got cancelled.

MERLIN: You mean we didn't?

ARTHUR: Incredibly enough, no. Remind me, where were we last time we met? Did I find out you’re a powerful sorcerer yet?

MERLIN: Uh, no. I almost told you about seventeen times, but never had the balls.

ARTHUR: Great. Am I any better as a human being or still just an arrogant bully who occasionally acts nice, like an abusive husband? Is my father any closer to not being a paranoid psycho? Did we accomplish one genuine thing during last year’s adventures?

MERLIN: Not really. We almost did, but then I reversed it.

ARTHUR: Splendid. To business! Go and see what all the noise is downstairs. My father’s digging for buried treasure and I don’t see why keeping our kingdom financially solvent should intrude on my nap time. I’m going to be the best king ever.

INT: THE SECRET TOMB IN THE BASEMENT

WORKER: Cor blimey, strike a light. Looks like a big old tomb full of gold. I knew King Uther had a reason for making us dig up large bits of the palace for no apparent reason. Hey, what’s that? A big glowing heart that catches my eye like it’s the Arkenstone or something. I’ve always wanted one of those. It’ll look great on the fireplace in my hovel.

WORKER 2: Watch it, anything that obvious is always booby trapped. Big rolling rock balls. Snakes. Poison darts shooting out of the walls and stuff.

WORKER: Bah, only in incredibly clichéd fanta-

WORKER 2: Well, at least it wasn’t snakes…

INT: THE SECRET TOMB IN THE BASEMENT, NEXT DAY

GAIUS: Our dead friend here was shot by a ridiculously impractical poison dart, probably triggered by pushing this pressure pad here. Like this…

MERLIN: Wait! Even I know that’s- oh, hell. EYE MAGIC TO THE RESCUE!

GAIUS: Merlin, you just saved my life. I’m so happy, I’m not even going to berate you for it for once- Oh, Sire! Hello! No magic going on down here, not at all.

UTHER: My goodness, what a lot of treasure. I especially like this mysterious glowing blue heart, which draws my eye like the Arkenstone in Smaug’s lair and is definitely not a lure to any greedy bastards in the area.

MERLIN: Psst. Shouldn’t we stop our king and his only heir running round the booby trapped tomb that’s already killed one interloper?

ARTHUR: Moron.

MERLIN: What did I do now?

ARTHUR: Nothing. Check your watch, it’s Insult Merlin O’Clock.

MERLIN: No! No it’s not! There’s still a minute to go, look!

ARTHUR: Really? Oh. I do apologise.

UTHER: If I might interject. Gaius! Begin your preparations. Start researching this… tomb. Find out everything you can about it, then burn your notes because I won’t listen anyway. Arthur! You will be in charge of guarding the-

ARTHUR: Wanker.

UTHER: What?!

MERLIN: That was to me, sire.

UTHER: Quite. Quite… Continue as you were, unless you’re magic, in which case die.

INT: THE RISING SUN PUB

MACKENSIE CROOK: ...and so I said, look, you cast me in that bloody Demons rubbish, you owe me a cameo. I’ve been in proper films, you know.

STOOGE: Uh-huh. Yeah. Anyway, about the tomb. See, it’s full of gold, only it’s locked down. Arthur’s giving it his full attention by going hunting tomorrow and not thinking about it and stuff. When Fort Knox exists, this tomb is what they’ll compare it to. It’s got a gate and everything. A metal one. That’s top-level security, I’m telling you.

MACKENSIE CROOK: How fascinating. So, if I wanted to get in…

STOOGE: You’ll need a key. Thing is, only the Prince has access to it.

MACKENSIE CROOK: Only the Prince?

STOOGE: Yeah. Only the Prince.

INT: THE TOMB

GAIUS: Dum de dum, here I am, a frail old man with the key, totally unattended for some reason. Good job nobody’s around to seize this opportunity. Dum de dee…

EXT: CAMELOT

MACKENSIE CROOK: Prince Arthur? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mackensie Crook. I play slimy characters for a living.

ARTHUR: Perfect! I shall make you my most trusted servant.

MERLIN: What about me, sire?

ARTHUR: Oh, of course. Where are my manners. Merlin?

MERLIN: Sire?

ARTHUR: You smell. Go muck out my horses.

INT: THRONEROOM

GAIUS: Sire, I have investigated the tomb. It is the burial place of Cornelius Sigan, the most powerful mage who ever lived. We must seal it up and not risk letting the inevitable curse kill us like the last seventeen curses that almost killed us due to your pig-headed refusal to accept fundamental truths of our reality.

UTHER: Gaius, you more than anyone have been my ally in the war against sorcery. You more than anyone should know better than to suggest the magic I seek to exterminate actually exists and might affect our lives on a regular basis.

GAIUS: Yes, sire.

UTHER: You agree with me?

GAIUS: Assuredly not sire. But I see you are no better written this series, so arguing with you is merely a waste of valuable screen time. If you will excuse me, I have a wall to bash my head into until one of the two breaks into its component atoms. My money is on the wall, but I am old. I live to be surprised.

INT: MORGANNA’S CHAMBERS

MORGANNA: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

GWEN: What is it, my lady?

MORGANNA: I had a nightmare! I was still in Merlin! And you were there, and… oh.

GWEN: Ssssh, it’s alright, my lady, it was just more unnecessary foreshadowing. Go back to sleep. Maybe you’ll have that dream where you end up an evil sorceress, crushing the world in your new steel and leather bustier.

MORGANNA: I do like that dream. Gwen… if it ever happens…

GWEN: There will be talcum powder waiting, mi’lady. Trust me.

MORGANNA: I don’t know what I’d do without you, Gwen. You will be last to die.

INT: STABLES

MERLIN: Stupid Arthur, making me clean the stables like the servant I am. Stupid feudal system. Stupid everyone treating me like an idiot just because I spend my days actively acting like an idiot so they don’t suspect I’m the most powerful wizard ever and everything. Sigh. Good thing there’s only hay on the ground or this would be really messy. In this whole place, there’s only one pile of poo, and- Oooh. Whoa… So… so sleepy… Zzzzz. Zzzz. Morganna in leather. Zzz…

ARTHUR: Merlin! MERLIN! Wake up!

MERLIN: Whu… what happened?

ARTHUR: You fell in the poo, Merlin. The poo! One pile of squishy brown horse poo in a whole pristine stable, and you fall right over and go to sleep on it? This is a new low, even for this show. I mean you. You.

MERLIN: It was Mackensie Crook! He must have invented knock-out gas while I was mucking out the stables so he could steal my job! Do you really think I’d fall asleep on a lump of poo? Please! You must believe my insane sounding story!

ARTHUR: I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

MERLIN: Arthur! Please! This poo joke is tearing us apart!

MACKENSIE CROOK: Doesn’t he look tired?

ARTHUR: Yes. You shall take the night off. Mackensie Crook shall look after me.

MERLIN: What? His surname is Crook! He plays bad people! Are you a divvy or something?

ARTHUR: A… what did you call me?

MACKENSIE CROOK: He called you a divvy, sire. And in real life, I’m probably a very nice guy, you know.

MERLIN: Oh. Great. Play to the lawyers. Sire!

ARTHUR: Nobody calls me a divvy, Merlin. Go home, clean yourself up, and for God’s sake, learn some proper insults. Has my constant abuse of you taught you nothing?

INT: MERLIN’S BEDROOM

GAIUS: You’re covered in… oh. Merlin, what happened? This time, I mean.

MERLIN: I just realised, the longer I keep playing the fool, the more likely it is Arthur will decide he can’t trust me when I finally reveal myself, instead wondering what else I hid from him. He’ll look back at all the little details and his suspicious mind will crack. When I advise him, if he still lets me hang around, he’ll think of me not as his friend, but of days like this, as I languished as his idiot servant. Covered in poo. I can’t help wonder, Gaius, is it not time we ended this embarrassing excuse for a storyline and developed our plot before we get canned?

GAIUS: Sorry, I was laughing at the word ‘poo’. Did you say something?

MERLIN: Never mind. How goes the evil tomb subplot?

GAIUS: I translated an inscription. It read “He who breaks my heart completes my work.”

MERLIN: Wait. He translated a modern idiom into a dead language?

GAIUS: It happens more often than you’d think.

MERLIN: So… presumably that means that whoever picks up the giant blue heart that draws the eye like the Arkenstone despite the fantastic riches elsewhere in the tomb will free the ancient sorcerer. Makes you wonder why he rigged it with traps to shoot anyone who got close with deadly poison darts.

GAIUS: My script says that it doesn’t.

MERLIN: But you’d think he’d want someone to get to it, to release his spirit and let him wreak his unholy vengeance on the world and everything. For that matter, why tell people? Why not just let it be a surprise for the first one to touch it?

GAIUS: That does it, go to your room! Honestly, kids today…

INT: ARTHUR’S ROOM

ARTHUR: That will be all, Mackensie Crook. Have the decency to wait until I’m asleep or nude before raiding my belongings for the key you’re after.

MACKENSIE CROOK: Too late, sire. Sleep well.

ARTHUR: Zzzzzzzzzzz

INT: THE TOMB

MACKENSIE CROOK: Oh, damn it. I just realised, as a thief, I’d probably know how to pick locks and the real threat would be the guard on the gate. The guard that’s not actually posted here because Arthur is a moron. We’re twenty minutes into the episode and damn near every scene of it just got rendered entirely pointless. On the plus side: gold! Yippee! I’m rich! Rich! Rich! Nothing can go wrong now!

GHOSTLY VOICES: Pssst. Should have brought a bigger bag.

MACKENSIE CROOK: What? Quiet! I’m going to make the usual mistake and ignore the endless riches all around me that I could actually go out and fence in some other kingdom in favour of the obviously booby-trapped, utterly unsellable magic jewel embedded in the- oh, crap, it’s taking over my body! I’m- I’m-

SPIRIT OF CORNELIUS SIGAN: Really, really stupid. Verily.

INT: MERLIN’S BEDROOM

MERLIN: Gasp! My plot sense is tingling!

INT: THE TOMB

ARTHUR: I knew I should have put a guard on that gate. Merlin! Find a reason why this is all your fault, march yourself to the stocks and have yourself flogged.

MERLIN: Um-

ARTHUR: Oh, forget it. Ring the bell we sound to close the stable doors after the horses have bolted. I’ll be in my room, blaming everyone but me.

GAIUS: Merlin, whoever did this got more than they bargained for.

MERLIN: I don’t know how they could have gotten in. The gate’s not damaged. The only way to get in would be with the key, and not for instance, a lockpick. Or magic, like every other person we meet has access to.

GAIUS: Curious. I wonder if Mackensie Crook has any ideas…

MERLIN: That’s it! The one person who could have done this must have done it! Arthur!

ARTHUR: Oh, don’t be such a cynic. Mackensie Crook, throw this servant out on his arse. Both buttocks, please.

SPIRIT OF CORNELIUS SIGAN: Gladly, nay, ironically, my lord.

MERLIN: That does it. Merlin punch!

ARTHUR: Oh, and now they’re fighting. Merlin, you fight like a girl. And not a girl who knows how to fight, like most of the girls I know actually do. The other kind of girl. The non-fighting kind. Probably has pigtails and plays hopscotch. That’s you. In your pink dress. Having tea parties with your imaginary friends…

MERLIN: Sire! How stupid are you?

ARTHUR: ...in the cells. Guards!

EXT: CAMELOT

SPIRIT OF CORNELIUS SIGAN: I am… returned. I AM...RETURNED! I AM MAKING A COMPLETE MOCKERY OUT OF GETTING MERLIN ARRESTED IN THE LAST SCENE! ATTACK, MY UNIMPRESSIVE SPECIAL EFFECTS! FLAP ABOUT A LITTLE, MY EVIL GARGOYLES! ATTACK! ATTACK! LATER I WILL UNLEASH SOME OF THE MAGIC I’M FAMOUS FOR HAVING, MAYBE! FOR NOW, LET MINOR PROPERTY DAMAGE BE THE HARBINGER OF THEIR DOOOOOM!

ARTHUR: Yay! Monsters!

UTHER: What is happening?

GAIUS: It’s the scene where I say ‘I told you so, sire’. And I did! With gusto!

UTHER: This cannot be Sigan! It must be some other stupid thing I’ve done! I do twelve of them a week! Ask the druids! See if they know I took a piss on Stonehenge last week!

GAIUS: Sire, they do, but I fear this is not about your herpes!

UTHER: My what?

GAIUS: First things first, sire! This is Sigan’s revenge! You cannot kill a dead man! You can only damage his career by casting him in Demons. Believe me, sire, I know!

UTHER: You make a good point. Let’s go kill some monsters.

INT: MERLIN’S CELL

MERLIN: Today, I’m going to cast spells with a vocal component. TOSS BREACH! Ooh, explosive. Note to self, never use that spell again, it looks like it could be useful. Gaius! Thank goodness I found you in time! What can we do!?

GAIUS: You cannot fight Sigan, Merlin. He is much too powerful. You will be destroyed.

MERLIN: Just once, can’t you build me up? Fine. I’m utterly defenseless except for the five million spells I can only ever use when it doesn’t matter! What do I do?

GAIUS: There is only one old enough with the power to-

MERLIN: No… Oh no…

GAIUS: What?

MERLIN: No, please! It was the one actual bit of plot development we did last season!

GAIUS: I know, Merlin, I know. It looked like things were going to change, even give this series a darker edge, but desperate times call for desperate plot twists and believe me, it is the only way. You must press the reset button on your relationship with the dragon under the castle. Make the kissy face if you must.

MERLIN: But I had this whole speech! I swore he’d never see daylight, that I’d never speak to him again! He even did a next-season hook by calling out to Morganna, as if ushering her down the path of darkness and actually having a character instead of just a bizarre accent. You can’t make me undo all that! Please! Gaius! We’re not Voyager!

GAIUS: Merlin…

MERLIN: I know. Sigh. I have no choice. Or free will. Or backbone.

INT: THE DRAGON’S CAVE

MERLIN: Hello? Hello! I need your help!

DRAGON: You told me I would not see you again.

MERLIN: Yeah. I had faith in my writers.

DRAGON: You did? You have more to learn than I thought, young warlock.

MERLIN: I’m not here for myself, I’m here for Arthur!

DRAGON: Yes, yes. This is my ‘smug’ face, incidentally. Go ahead.

MERLIN: You have to help! You’re not evil! Forget what I said last time we met when I said I’d leave you locked up in a cave for the rest of eternity because you were evil and/or saved my life in a way I didn’t like very much! Give me what I need to know to defeat Mackensie Crook without drawing on my own resources of competence or developing in any way as a character who will one day be able to stand alone!

DRAGON: Ah, you wish a deus ex machina? Indeed. So does the road of life loop round into the cul de sac of Saturday evening television. Very well! To defeat Sigan, you must drop your pants in the town square at-

MERLIN: I’m not falling for that again!

DRAGON: Oh, you’re no fun any more. You will need a spell more powerful than any you have used before. But you must give me something in return. A promise. That I may continue being a supporting character in your show, no matter what plot developments you may imagine we have later in this series.

MERLIN: What about promising to free you?

DRAGON: Oh, yes. That too, please.

MERLIN: Grr. You strike a perfectly reasonable bargain. Go on then.

DRAGON: Very well. I grant you this spell. It is the most mighty magic in all the kingdom. Don’t waste it trying to get chicks or I’ll flame your balls off.

EXT: CAMELOT

MERLIN: There’s five minutes of the show to go. Time to-

ARTHUR’S KNIGHT: Arthur!

ARTHUR: Having a line won’t save you, Sir Expendable! Retreat!

MERLIN: Oh no! Arthur’s locked in combat with an indestructable gargoyle. And now one’s attacking- MIND BLAST! Oh. These things go down in one hit? Wish I’d known that a few scenes ago. That was embarassingly easy.

SPIRIT OF CORNELIUS SIGAN: What? You’re a sorcerer? Why are you protecting this arrogant little shit of a prince? He treats you like a common slave!

MERLIN: That’s not true! He’s nice to some of his slaves!

SPIRIT OF CORNELIUS SIGAN: Oh, good grief. I was going to do a tired old ‘join me and we’ll rule the universe’, but now I’m just too depressed. Let’s just cut to the fight.

MERLIN: You do realise I have deus ex machina on my side?

SPIRIT OF CORNELIUS SIGAN: You have- No! Not deus ex machina!

INT: CAMELOT

UTHER: Did anyone just hear a script banging against a wall? Fifty pages, I’ll wager.

GAIUS: Probably just thunder, sire. ‘Tis a common sound around here.

EXT: CAMELOT

MERLIN: Well, that was easy. I’m so glad I have a dragon that solves all my problems for me. I should buy him a cake when I get over myself and STOP HATING HIM.

INT: THRONE ROOM

UTHER: These terrible events. We must learn our lesson from this, Gaius.

GAIUS: Oh, yes? That we must be vigilant against these evil sorcerers, for otherwise magic will destroy us all, especially if we actively go out and kick it in the metaphorical nut-sack for no good reason? That lesson, sire? Again?

UTHER: No, that I must start trusting your wisdom on the grounds that you are never wrong, and realise that every time I ignore you, my whole kingdom ends up on the brink of apocalypse. We must stop trying to fight magic head on and learn to harness it, to live peacefully, and understand that while we may have had problems in the past, good sense must ultimately prevail.

GAIUS: R… really, sire? This is the happiest day of-

UTHER: No, not really. Magic. Grr. Find five women with hook noses and have them burned at the stake. If they’re witches, all the better.

GAIUS: Yes. Yes, sire.

INT: MERLIN’S QUARTERS

GAIUS: ...so basically, we’re back to where we were at the start of last series. Have some diced carrots. It is what all true heroes strive for.

MERLIN: Thanks. You know, at this point, killing Uther would be a pretty good idea-

GAIUS: Impossible, my boy. The writers have spoken. Equilibrium must be maintained. You must continue living like a dog, always on the cusp of revelation. Uther must remain in charge, no matter how much he dribbles. As for me, I must take our king his scrofula medicine and retire to my bed of bitter, impotent tears.

MERLIN: I thought he had herpes?

GAIUS: Our king has a very large bladder and no shortage of enemies.

ARTHUR: Merlin! There you are. I haven’t forgotten how you called me a divvy. But I do have to admit, you were right about Mackensie Crook. I formally re-hire you back to the medieval world’s very own Spacely Sprockets - my royal quarters.

MERLIN: Oh. Glee.

ARTHUR: Don’t give me that! You’ve got armour to polish, toilets to scrub and food to prepare… not in that order please. Then you’ll be castrating my horse, washing my ermine, and later, acting as official Royal Footstool at the ball my father is holding to cover up the fact that we have no idea what happened to the evil sorcerer who almost destroyed us today. Oh, and Merlin? See that clock on the wall?

MERLIN: Sigh. “Merlin, you’re a cretin.”

ARTHUR: Ah, the sweet, sweet smell of status quo.