Overload, much?

So, on Tuesday I got a ticket to go to an advance press screening of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, so I could review it for Den of Geek.

The film's a bit special, but you'll have to go and read my review to find out.

In the meantime, I seem to have totally overloaded myself with games that I'm just aching to play.

As well as rushing around London on release day to get hold of a copy of Grand Theft Auto 4, which I've already written about and is brilliant, I ended up buying several old PS2 classics that week as well, just because I saw them in shops - both in London and Leicester - and didn't know when I'd see them again, as they're quite rare.

After playing the brilliant God of War: Chains of Olympus on PSP - which acts as a prequel to the series - I found out God of War 1 and 2, both on PS2. I've only managed to play God of War for a little bit, but first impressions are good: huge amounts of OTT action with Kratos and his Blades of Chaos.

Another game I've always fancied is Ico. It got great reviews when it was released a few years back - it's a quirky, odd adventure/platform game - and then proceeded to sell about fourteen copies. Simply because it's a little arty and high-brow compared to your average Spiderman game. So I'm excited about playing that.

Okami is another arty game that got absolutely blistering reviews, and Dave at work assures me that it's brilliant. As is the follow-up to Okami, Shadow of the Collosus. Just Cause is another odd one: not a brilliant set of review scores when it was released, but I followed its development with interest - it's free-roaming in jungles, like Crysis but not as good or advanced - and couldn't find it anywhere when it was released.

Add that in to the fact that a new version of TrackMania Nations has been released, entitled Forever, and you can see that I'm a little preoccupied. And the group test for Computer Buyer, and three w games that are on the way from GamersInfo.net.

Hmm. The quest for a work-less day goes on!

To The Championship

Amidst the heat and sultry humidity of the weekend, there was a serious undertone: the last round of matches in the Premier League season.

Crucial for two reasons: the potential crowning of Manchester United as champions, and the potential relegation of Reading - my main team - to the Championship. Sadly, they both came true. It's not as if I can celebrate United winning the league when I know that Reading won't be taking part next season.

They needed to go to Derby, who were already relegated, and win on the last day to have a chance of survival. They did, 4-0, but it wasn't enough. Fulham won too, and they did. So down we go.

It didn't really sink in until this morning. In the car on the way to the train station, the normally idiotic BBC Radio Berkshire presenter, Andrew Peach, couldn't even be that upbeat about it - and he's normally upbeat about an outbreak of MRSA at the Royal Berkshire Hospital. He was talking about how he'd been chatting to some of the Reading players the night before - and was struck, especially, when goalkeeper Marcus Hahnemann said he was distraught that he couldn't call himself a 'Premier League player any more'. It's so true, sad, and struck me as well.

There's also a groundswell of support for manager Steve Coppell. John Madejski, the Chairman, has assured him that his job is safe - and so it should be, as he's the best manager we've had for decades. It's up to Coppell now, though, if he stays or walks. Dozens of people were phoning the radio station to implore him to stay, and they delivered him a CD of messages from the fans this morning.

Also impressive was the captain, Graeme Murty. He comes onto Radio Berkshire every Monday morning to talk about the previous weekend's match and general issues at the club, and no-one would have been surprised if he'd taken some time off the day after being relegated. And yet, fantastically, him and his wife, Karen, arrived. They talked about the club, the players, the future, and were incredibly candid. It's a very brave thing to do when you've just taken a huge demotion at work in the most public of arenas.

It's true that we've been lacking in some areas this year. The relentless energy, urgency and committment that defined Reading in their first Premier League season hasn't always been present this time around, and it's cost us dearly. Other teams knew about us this year, and not enough changed tactically - or with the personnel - to make a difference. Sidwell left, and Emerse Fae was bought to replace him. He's not been good enough, and was constantly rotated throughout the year with Brynjar Gunnarsson, a decent midfielder - although no Sidwell - and Khalifa Cisse, who's really a centre-back. Jimmy Kebe looks a good signing, too.

Marek Matejovsky has looked superb. He's a winger who can also play in the centre of the pitch but his future, like others, is now uncertain. He's a Czech international and may not be happy with plying his trade in the Championship in case it jeapordises his place in the national team, and could well look to leave. Defensive rock Ibrahima Sonko, possibly the most popular player at Reading, will probably leave after a much-publicised row with Coppell a couple of weeks ago. Nicky Shorey, Stephen Hunt and Leroy Lita could all be poached by Premiership clubs, the lure of the big time too big to resist after they've had a relatively brief taste of top-flight football.

There's bound to be changes in the summer, then. Our squad is much the same as the one that got us promoted, and plenty will change in the coming months. It'll certainly be interesting but, unless some money is spent and quality players attracted to the traditionally un-glamourous surroundings of Reading, I can't see us bouncing straight back - which is the question asked of every team, bar Derby, that are relegated. Time will tell.

Little Squares of History

I've been reading a book by Jane's Addiction and ex-RHCP guitarist, Dave Navarro and, well, it's a little odd.

Titled 'Don't Try This At Home: A Year in the Life of Dave Navarro', the book follows him, month by month, as he allows unmetered access to his life at a time when he was conducting a unique, artistic experiment. In some down-time between bands, he'd bought an antique phone-booth and made everyone - yes, everyone, including various prostitutes, drug dealers and west-coast layabouts - who entered his house to submit a strip of photos.

The pictures are interspersed in pages of the book, woven around odd little stories and everyday explaination of Navarro's chaotic life: he yo-yo's between rampant and dangerous drug use - at one point, while high, he shoots a hole in the floor with his shotgun - and concerted attempts to get clean without using the traditional routes of rehab or a talented PR person.

Some of this takes place in straight narrative, with the action being fed to us by Neil, the book's co-author. Some more is presented in scripts, written by Navarro, detailing conversations he's had. Others are abstract little pages, snippets from his life.

Even though it gets incredibly far-fetched - on a normal day, Chad Smith comes over and bums around the house in a drugged-up stupor for an entire night before leaving at daybreak - you never doubt that this happened. As well as using the photo booth to document little squares of history, Navarro taped recorders to the undersides of tables and chairs, and secreted cameras in fake clocks and ornaments. None of the visual material that emerged from those recordings is present in the book - he often alludes to an accompanying website which is always being updated. I can only assume that it's now offline. Some of the aural material would have formed the basis of the conversations in the book, certainly. Some of the stuff that isn't in the tome must be dynamite.

I'm nearing the end now, and it's been an odd journey: on one hand, Navarro is constantly unsure of himself and his future: one minute he's optomistic about getting clean and settling down with on/off girlfriend Adria, and the next he's sure that a drugged-up death is but around the corner. Then again, I couldn't help but notice that I had a fair few pages to go, and Navarro seemed to have attacked the documentation project with such a tenacity that you don't believe that something as insignificant as an overdose will stop him completing his annual of oddities.

And he's still alive today, which is something of a clue.

But, rather than giving away the (somewhat inevitable) ending, it fascinates and throws up more questions in equal measure: how on earth did someone survive this and, more importantly, how did Navarro get through it, with the state of mind he had at the time? Or, perhaps, his neurotic behaviour helped. Answers to these questions are, like the man himself for much of the book, something of a mystery.

But it's good to know that it's been unravelled slightly, at least. Maybe I'll stick a webcam on my desk and record everything as a modest tribute. But I daresay that talking about printer reviews, benchmark tests and football gossip won't be nearly as exciting as a constant parade of musicians, movie stars, freaks and dealers.

Niko Bellic: Legend.

Never have I found making conversation, in certain circumstances, so easy as I have the last week. On Tuesday, the ice-breakers were the same all day: 'do you have any PS3 copies?' or 'Do you know where has any PS3 copies?' were frequently used. Zavvi did, thankfully - 4 left when I paid my money.

Come the end of the week, though, and the statements and questions have changed. This morning, as well as hearing people talking about Grand Theft Auto 4 in the street, in a cinema foyer and on the tube, I ended up striking random conversations as I hunted for a few PS2 games. Discussions broke out about the nature of SIXAXIS control in the tutorial. Conclusion: bikes and boats are easy, but helicopters are near-on impossible.

I also talked with another happy gamer about the other residents of Liberty City, as we swapped stories of car-jacking. I told him that someone had tried to steal their car back and ended up being dragged along by the handle, ending up underneath my wheels. His brilliantly entertaining tale involved an NPC literally getting a cab to chase - and successfully reclaim - his sports car. Now that's AI.

A couple of people on the Digital Spy Forums also caught my attention, claiming that they were glad to not be Rockstar's 'sheep' and that they wouldn't just buy any old game because it had the company's famous logo on it. I guess they're just missing out on one of the most important cultural events of the year - and one of the games of the decade. Once the hype has calmed down then some more reasoned evaluations will no doubt appear but, at the moment, it seems that GTA4 is a landmark title in several areas.

Graphically, there's been a mere handful of better looking next-gen games but none have done so when they're recreating the entirety of New York City. The storytelling is, again, astounding. Couple this with the brilliant cut-scene direction and it's one of the most cinematic games there is - right up there with the epic Final Fantasy titles and recent PS3 exclusive Uncharted: Drake's Fortune in terms of plot and stylish execution. Pun intended.

The characters are also fantastic. Niko is a complicated individual who has a hidden past, and his cousin Roman is a relentlessly enthusiastic - and neurotic - comic foil, and they're both voice acted to perfection. The supporting cast is just as absorbing and intriguing.

Gameplay is, as you'd expect, spot on: the Eurogamer review mentioned that each of the disciplines - the driving, missions, gunplay, minigames, and more - are so good that they could hold their own in individual games. And they're right. The driving would be a stand-out game on any platform, and the action is as good as the aforementioned Uncharted, and stands up against Call of Duty 4. Fantastic.

What keeps hitting me, though, are the numerous little details scattered throughout that really bring flesh to the bones of Liberty City. Your mobile phone ringing in the car makes your radio beep with interference. Dust-carts have a couple of workers hanging on the back of them, like they do in the movies. People will fight for their cars. You can arrange social activities with plenty of the characters, and playing pool and darts is brilliant fun. Car handling drastically changes with the weather conditions. The water is gorgeous, real. Zoom right to the bumper of your car and you can read the stickers. There's the 'Tw@' chain of Internet cafes. And a whole Internet, with hundreds of pages. Your virtual inbox gets virtual spam for virtual penis pills. Digs at the war on terror. REM, The Smashing Pumpkins and Queen on the radio, with Iggy Pop as the DJ. Juliette Lewis hosting another station. America's Next Top Hooker being advertised. Water shooting up out of a destroyed hydrant like a Yellowstone geyser.

Having a particularly nasty crash and watching, in awe, as Niko is flung through the windscreen, before landing in a pile of shattered glass and a pool of his own blood.

Then he gets back in his car, and drives on. And I'm sitting on the sofa, laughing at the lunacy - and amazing, stunning, generation-defining quality of it all.

GTA4 is a bit special. I went out and bought Just Cause and the first two God of War games, all on PS2, today - saw them in a shop and have wanted them for ages - as well as still having plenty of exploring left to do in Oblivion. I don't think they'll get much of a look-in, though. Not while there's windscreens to smash, hookers to run over and caps to pop in asses, anyway.