Jord Tury

There's no denying the battle for the thorny crown forged from crude jokes and exploitable boundaries is still up for grabs. That's something we've been watching both South Park and Family Guy fight over for just shy of twenty years now. That's pretty impressive considering both iconic shows have, at times, pushed the boat out so far as to turn one too many heads and begin to question their careless propaganda. But, that being said, fans have enjoyed many years of watching the two factions hash it out over who gets the most despicable material past the boards.

I've sort of been tiptoeing around this for a fair while now. But, to be honest, I think my anger has subsided. I feel no further connection with the workplace and if anything, I feel as if I can write with ambivalence towards the matter these days. There's no major hard feelings to any people I worked with. There's no hit list on a scrunched up piece of paper in the back of my wallet. There's just an old lifeline, and a new one.

Back when I was about 15 I found myself in a pretty dark spot. It was a place I fondly remember, and a place I'd gladly step back to regardless of the lower points of the darker days. And, even now as I sit here in a warm home with a loving family in my mid-twenties, I still can't help but feel the urge to relive one of those days just for the sake of the nostalgia trip.

Ah, yes, the mosh pit; the symbolic representation of complete madness at any heavy gig. The one peculiar thing you might dismiss as being the thing of insanity, but the same thing you'd be surprised about if there wasn't one at all.

I don't think it's possible to build a universe within a game and not have a minor glitch or two. I mean, that's pretty much expected with most games these days. Nobodies perfect, and we're all aware of that. Sometimes those little glitches can quite easily be shrugged off and forgotten about, too. Even the biggest developers in the community make human errors here or there, but that's just pretty natural. We can't really complain about a petty thing like that unless we're really seeking an argument with a programmer.

Alright, so I know half the stock photos these days of supposed 'couch co-op gamers' are actually low-key hipsters in disguise who can't tell an L2 button from a N64 joystick apart (not to mention the fact that most of them can't even hold a controller the correct way), but nonetheless, I'm still pretty keen to remember the good old days of couch co-op gaming. You know, before these Fortnite-obsessed arseholes came tumbling along and spoilt it all.