Wii (No Puns Please)

I'm getting me a Wii. You know, the world's most embarassingly named console. Ah Nintendo. The Gamecube was a cube that played games. Logical. Simple. Accurate. Although to the best of my recollection, this logic did not apply to the Gameboy. The N64 was a shorthand for its real name, the 'Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn', named after the emotion you feel when wandering around the boring landscapes of Mario 64. And the NES did provide systematic entertainment (superbly, in the case of the SNES).

Nomenclature aside, its control system - a wireless motion-sensitive controller that is wafted about to control the games - will probably look acceptable in multiplayer, but I've a feeling I'm going to be self-conscious waving the wii-mote around the flat on my own. There have been cartoons about it. As ever, Wondermark (you know, the one about the smoothies, yeah?) does it best.

I'm excited in a way that can only lead to bitter disappointment. (Update: a woman from Game, the single-worded shop that sells, er, yes, I'll remember it in a minute, have just called me up to tell me that I am guaran-buggering-teed to get the console that I've pre-ordered, and then was slightly mocking when I said that I didn't want to order any games with it. Hmpff. I think a pre-requisite of working in a video games shop is a sneering disregard for your customers, most of whom are grubby-palmed twelve-year-olds. I guess I got off lightly. They're opening at 7am. 7am! I think you're duty bound to go dressed up as Mario if you turn up at 7. I'm going later than that, probably about 10. And dressed as Princess Daisy.)

I'll see you all next Spring, I reckon.