Six Banned Games That Make Grand Theft Auto Look Like Angry Birds

Following on from last week's hoo-ha surrounding the release of GTA 5 I thought I'd take a dip back into the archives to see what previous games have raised the blood pressure of the world's moral arbiters.

Manhunt 2

In 2004 another Rockstar title, Manhunt, a stealth horror game where players are awarded points depending to the brutality of their executions was linked to the murder of Leicester teenager Stefan Pakeerah by his friend Warren Leblanc.

Initial media reports claimed that police had found a copy of the game in Leblanc's bedroom. Giselle Pakeerah, the victim's mother, stated

"I think that I heard some of Warren's friends say that he was obsessed by this game. If he was obsessed by it, it could well be that the boundaries for him became quite hazy”

Police went on to discount the game as being the cause for the murder. Its sequel Manhunt 2 was banned in the UK by the BBFC for its

 "unrelenting focus on stalking and brutal slaying…and sustained and cumulative casual sadism"

but was eventually awarded a release and certification after a protracted court battle and removal of some of the more gratuitous scenes.

Strip out all the controversy and its a solid game (if offering little replay value) and far tamer in terms of gore than the material you will subjected to in films such as Hostel or Saw


Saints Row 4

Saints Row 4 is an open world sandbox game which could be considered a wackier version of GTA and was denied an age rating by the Australia Classification Board due to an "alien anal probe" featured in the game that was considered to encourage "sexual violence".

The weapon called a “Rectifier” can be shoved into enemy's backsides'. The lower half of the weapon resembles a sword hilt and the upper part contains prong-like appendages which circle around what appears to be a large dildo which runs down the centre of the weapon which once inserted into the victims anus would launch the victim into the air.

Really this is nothing more than childish bum humour made a pixelated reality. It was eventually allowed a release after modifications.

Wolfenstein 3D

This first person shooter banned in Germany due its Nazi symbolism. Despite the fact that Nazis are the enemy in the game censors took offence to the numerous swastikas, Horst-Wessel-Lied in game music (Nazi anthem) and Nazi iconography contained in the game which broke federal law.  

The SNES version of the game even had Hitler’s moustache airbrushed out whilst he was renamed “Straatmeiseter”.

I can’t imagine what made the Germans so touchy.

Carmegeddon

The BBFC took exception to this racing simulator where the object for players was to score points by running over people. To appease the BBFC programmers had to remove the humans and replace them with zombies or robots with green or black blood as this was deemed more acceptable by the censors.

This fuss really does look like small potatoes compared to the splatter fests depicted these days.

Postal 2

Tag line: "Remember, it's only as violent as you are!"

Another first person shooter where the character, Postal Dude has to perform mundane tasks whilst resisting the urge to “go postal” on the annoying citizens of Paradise as they mug, insult and attack him as he goes about his business.

Its black humour involving urination, gonorrhoea and misogyny was not appreciated by censors in various countries where it was banned because of its high level violent content, animal violence and a scene that was considered "gross and abhorrent" where the player urinates on dead bodies at a terrorist camp.

The animal violence relates to the use of a cat as a silencer when a firearm is equipped (you can work out where you have to stick the gun). Every time a shot is fired, the cat meows in apparent agony, and the gunshot is muffled.

This just sounds like bad 6th form humour and is hardly likely to create a generation of delinquents.

Rapelay

Altogether more disturbing is Rapelay a Japanese P.C. game where the male character stalks and rapes a mother and her two daughters. Three years after its initial release, the game garnered international attention and controversy for its content.

The game is banned in Argentina, Malaysia, and Thailand for "graphic depictions of glorification of sexual violence", and "sexual content".

A variety of different games modes allow the player to undertake a variety of mini games such as blowing up skirts on a subway platform, fondling, rape and bondage. The player can choose from a variety of sexual positions by making movements with the mouse or by scrolling the mouse wheel.

Completely fucking weird and only something the Japanese could come up with and legislate for.

LIve Music Review -Darwin Deez Brighton Concorde 11/02/13

It's a cold, wintry night outside the Concorde 2.  Only the hardiest of hipsters have been brave enough to schlep down here on a Monday to see if Darwin Deez have retained that off-beat charm that made the eponymous debut album a sleeper hit. It is testament to Darwin Smith's pulling power that the show is still a virtual sell-out.

I've saw Darwin back in 2010, just down the road at Digital, when his first album was making waves and was curious to see how much quirkiness and joie de vivre he had been retained after three years in the cynical spin cycle of the music industry.

Darwin bounds on stage in good spirits, resplendent in powder blue cashmere every inch the cross between a low budget Hassidic porn star and Wierd Al Yankovic's long lost son. Backed by a new three piece band (only the original bassist remains) they are keen to air their new material.

It's always a risk playing new songs to punters who haven't had the chance to absorb your new music. Darwin's new album Songs For Imaginative People was only released the day of the show and you could tell by the volume of crowd chatter that the new songs were struggling to make an impact. Sadly, the attention span for your average indie kid is only marginally higher than that of a goldfish on Rohypnol.

Nice to see the ironic synchronised dancing is still on the menu (think Spike Jonz video for Fatboy Slim's Praise You). Its a diverting but  inconsequential bonus to the music.  On reflection despite all the  signs indicating its business as usual Darwin may be suffering from "second album syndrome" as little of the new material has the immediacy of Bad Day or Radar Detector. These two along with DNA

"It's 3 years old but it's still got it."

get the biggest cheers of the evening.

Perhaps the new tracks will benefit from multiple listens.  Moonlit has more than a hint of Prince circa Controversy with its funky licks and 80's synth-soul flourishes.  Midway through the song Darwin blasts out an impressive guitar solo that would do the purple funker proud.  In fact Darwin's axe skills have come on leaps and bounds as a number of the new tracks feature clever guitar work complete with Santanaesque facial grimaces.

Alice shows promise with a big chorus that stays in the memory and first single Free (The Editorial Me) sounds like an Graham Coxon album track with its unconventional song structure and jagged guitar. Redshift is positively anthemic and in danger of straying into Bon Jovi territory.

However just as you expect certain songs to go a  certain direction they dive away from convention and leave you wrong footed. You have to applaud his musical ambition but it ensures his performance struggles to gain momentum.


Final track (800) HUMAN, a meandering ode to the work of Dinosaur Jr, is probably  misjudged as a curtain closer.  You can feel the crowd want to get involved but Darwin's left turns keep them at arms length. The general public can do kooky but weird is a more of an acquired taste.

Exploding Helicopter - Surrogates

Imagine a world where you could sit on your arse all day in the comfort of your own home and get others to do your work for you. Sounds great doesn’t it? In fact you could argue that those living on benefits in this country currently enjoy this luxury (ooh, little bit of politics there). But what about your self esteem, social skills and self-improvement? Surely everyone would just end up in their pants, eating crisps looking like Elvis circa 1977?

Johnathan Mostow envisions this dystopian future in the surprisingly cerebral sci-fi actioner Surrogates. Comfort and security come at a price and the price is having to shag your robot wife until, spiritually your soul becomes a circuit board.

In the future people don’t go out in the real world. They sit at home in special pods and remotely control high-tech cybernetic robots or “surrogates“ who live out their lives vicariously so they can concentrate on staying at home and watching porn. The slogan is:

“Life…but better”

The future isn’t particularly dangerous, in fact crime is virtually non-existent, but there is no underestimating mankind’s desire to do as little as possible. First came the remote control and now this.

Tom Greer (Bruce Willis) is one such sluggard. As an FBI agent he has to investigate the deaths of two people who die when their surrogates are destroyed (something that normally would be impossible). His investigation draws him into the anti-surrogate movement whose leader The Prophet (a virtually unrecognisable Ving Rhames in Bob Marley/Martin Luther King mode) wants to wipe out surrogacy and get the world back to the basics of growing your own carrots and washing once a month.

Willis is in a police chopper tracking a suspect, Miles Strickland (Jack Noseworthy), close to one of the Dredd Reservations (self-policed surrogate-free zones). The police on the ground corner the suspect down an alley not knowing he has on his possession an “O.D.” a developmental weapon with the ability to kill people through their surrogates. After wiping out the police Strickland unleashes the weapon on the chopper which overloads the pilot’s circuits blowing its eyes out.

The out of control chopper spins wildly for what seems like an eternity, clips the top of a building before crashing down and flipping over like a child’s toy.

Artistic merit

Whilst you have to appreciate Mostow’s dragging out the suspense for as long as possible there was only one way the helicopter was going with the pilot out for the count; and that was down.

The crash itself looks surprisingly cheap and CGI’d compared to some of his previous efforts and the washed out yellows look like something I would expect to see on the Amiga game Persian Gulf Inferno.

Exploding helicopter innovation

None

Do passengers survive?

Survive is perhaps not the most apt verb here as everyone is a robot. The chopper pilot does not resurface from the fireball but Willis calmly escapes with his arm torn off seeping some sort of green fluid which may or may not be absinthe.

Positives

I found this film to be an unexpected pleasure in a genre dominated by studios that dumb things down to the point of no intellectual returns. Reprising the team behind Terminator 3 writers Michael Ferris, John Brancato along with director Mostow create a fully realised, plausible universe with great touches such as robots “jacking” with electronic “drugs”, beauty salons that resemble garages and roadside surrogate battery chargers.

Willis is not his usual bullet proof self and shows pleasing levels of vulnerability when dealing with some of the movies more existential themes. His flawed relationship with his wife Maggie (Rosamund Pike) elevates the film above the standard sci-fi action fare that normally relies on fancy effects and a blue tint for its authenticity.

The fact that in this fantasy world everyone has flawlessly beautiful surrogates to hide the fact that in the real world they are so ugly they couldn’t get a date from a calendar is a concept anyone familiar with Second Life will well appreciate.

The same way you can never really be sure that 18yr old underwear model you are talking to in a chat room is not a 44yr old truck driver from Burnley no surrogate owner is quite what they seem in the real world. Mostow keeps the action moving ensuring the film never outstays its welcome.

Negatives

As with most sci-fi you can pick holes in the minutiae until the cows come home. Why have coffee shops for robots that don’t need to drink coffee? Don’t be a smart arse, its called artistic licence.

I won’t spoil it for you but the dénouement is a little far fetched to appear plausible for such a massive company with undoubtedly hundreds of fail safes to prevent their units from malfunctioning on a monumental scale.

Favourite Quote:

(Willis questioning an attractive female surrogate lawyer)

Female Lawyer: Agent Greer, we're not doctors.

Tom Greer: Honey, I don't know what you are. I mean, for all I know, you could be some big, fat dude sitting in his arm chair with his dick hanging out.

Interesting Fact:

Disney took the odd step of not holding any press screenings for Surrogates. This is normally the sign for a studio in “damage limitation mode” with an absolute turkey on their hands that they don’t want universally panned even before it’s had a chance to see the light of day.

Subsequent reviews have been “mixed” but Disney’s failure to back a sci-fi film with brains does the film and the movie industry in general a disservice.

Live Review - Richard Hawley - Brighton Dome - 19th September 2012

Some middle aged men assuage their impending mortality by buying a red convertible and driving to the south of France whilst others suck in their gut and misguidedly try chatting up the office temp. Richard Hawley deals with his existential mid-life crisis by (for the most part) ditching the glitter-ball torch songs that made him the critic’s darling and whacking up the dials to 11. Many of tonight's Brightonians expecting a cosy evening of balladry get an abrupt shock as Hawley showcases much of his new album Standing At The Sky's Edge in all its bombastic glory. Hawley's opening salvo is:

"Right! Lets have it."

I detect a strong Doors influence in the defiantly loud psychedelia of the album's title track. Its sets the tone for much of the new material which is strong on swampy bass, wailing guitars and walls of feedback. It's certainly not the sort of album you can play at bedtime.

I don't know what it is about the Sheffield water but it has strong "banter" properties. Jarvis Cocker, Alex Turner and Richard Hawley are all known as much for their bon mots as they are for their music.

"Did you know Kate Middleton is an anagram of Naked Tit Model?"

Hawley tells us apropos of nothing.

You don't get too many songs about flying kites but Don't Stare At The Sun blends Hawley's mellow baritone with a solo that echoes John Barry's Theme from the Ipcress File. It starts at a funeral pace before bursting into a crescendo of noise like a cosmic firework.

As if realising that he is danger of scaring off all the oldies Hawley dials it down a notch and plays a few of what I like to call "swayers". Hotel Room shows there is a marked difference between his old material and the new stuff. Without any sense of irony the couples in the audience start to lovingly embrace despite Hawley notifying them that the song is about the bleak subject of addiction.

Hawley explains that Tonight The Streets Are Ours Song was requested by reclusive artist Banksy for use on his film Exit Through The Gift Shop. Hawley thought it was Pulp drummer Nick Banks winding him up and told him to fuck off. It sounds a lot less lush than it does on record but that is to be expected.

Seek It bucks the trend for psychedelia on the new album and is resolutely old school Hawley with it rolling melody and tongue in cheek lyrics.

"I got a dream and you were in it
We got naked and can't remember what happened next
It was weird."

During Soldier On we are treated to a bit of lap steel courtesy of long time friend and collaborator Shez Sheridan. You can hear a pin drop in the church of Hawley until the atmosphere is suddenly shattered as his Gretsch obliterates the calm with a coruscating wall of noise. I have never seen a performer change guitars as often as Richard as he literally has the guitar tech running on between every song. Even Prince would think it extravagant.

Leave Your Body Behind You sounds like Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds with king sized riffs and a trippy baseline. It is the rockiest I have ever heard him sound and its life-affirming stuff

"Before you leave let me tell you guys are fucking better than Portsmouth."

The main set is finished off with a reverb packed Down In The Woods which sounds like it could have been written in 1969. Corrosive waves of feedback drown the audience and to be honest it drags on too long. There is only so much soloing a man can take.

After a brief encore Hawley digs out his familiar late father's orange Gretch Nashville 1963 also known as "his baby" for a run through of Lady Solitude which placates all the swayers with ear ache. Requests for the best pub in Brighton are met with chorus of choices which suggest there are many alcoholics in the audience.

Hawley aptly ends with a widescreen version of The Ocean. These slow burning ballads are his bread and butter and he does them with panache. The audience leave happy perhaps inspired to dig out those Pink Floyd albums they bought first time round.

Setlist

Standing At The Sky's Edge

Don't Stare At The Sun

Tonight The Streets Are Ours

Blinded By Love

Soldier On

Leave Your Body Behind You

Before

Open Up Your Door

Remorse Code

Down In The Woods

Encore

Lady Solitude

The Ocean

Film Review - Killer Joe

Too many exposed vaginas. 

It's not something I say everyday and not what I was expecting to see when I pootled off for a matinee screening of Killer Joe. In fact at times, as I sat in the darkened cinema, I felt a bit like one of the tragic rainmac brigade silently shuffling themselves into celluloid oblivion such was the sleaze on offer.

Adapted from a play by Tracy Letts much of the plot centers around the grubby interior of the Texan trailer where white trash scumbags Ansel, Sharla and Chris Smith (Thomas Haden Church, Gina Gershon and Emile Hirsch) concoct a scheme to bump off Ansel's ex in order to cash in on her life insurance policy.  They employ the services of demented detective Joe Cooper (Mathew McConaughey) to do the deed but get more than they bargain for when things go pear shaped. 

Killer Joe is stylishly shot and has its moments but its not smart enough to challenge the Coens and not funny enough to rival Tarantino, both of whom have made a career in this down-at-heel story telling territory. William Freidkin, never the most understated of directors, instead sticks to what he is good at; shocking extremes. Violence comes in it all its visceral glory and the sex is a sleazy as it gets. 

A gratuitous scene involving Gina Gershon fellating a chicken drumstick will have you laughing and cringing in the space of of a minute.  McConaughey relationship with Ansel's underage daughter Dottie (Juno Temple) is also particularly unsettling. You do question some of Freidkin's choices.  Does he push the limits in order to further the story or is he just trying to provoke a reaction? Whatever the reasons, as a whole, the film lacks that certain charm or intelligence to balance out the darkness.

Killer Joe's deficiencies are not down to a lack of acting talent.  In a stiff middle finger to his critics McConaughey's Johnny Cash crossed with Red Rock West-era Hopper shows that there is more to him than just a toned six-pack and mega-watt smile. Emile Hersch continues his fabulous run of acting performances (Into The Wild is a must see) and Thomas Haden Church wins the award for dumbest lunkhead since Mr Bean. 

It is a shame the good performances are let down by some unrealistic character behaviour (Gershon gets clocked and then calmly sits down to eat the rest of her chicken with a smile on her bloodied face) and a shock ending that tries a little too hard to stay in the memory.

Still, kudos to Freidkin for doing something different and for managing to get a film through the creatively bankrupt studio system that isn't a sequel, a comic book adaptation or a Disney animation.

7 out of 10