Hunger Games is a piss poor Battle Royale rip-off. Says I.

So I finally gave into hype like a crumbling tissue drenched with snot, and read the first Hunger Games book. I'd been putting it off for ages as it sounded like a third-rate Battle Royale rip-off, and was endorsed by celebs who probably haven't read much except the back of a shampoo bottle. And I kind of wished I'd put it off a bit longer. Sixty or seventy years would've done it.

Battle Royale Rebooted

Let's start with the plot. Totalitarian government who forces kids to compete in a battle-to-the-death, only-one-can-survive gameshow, for no good reason other than it can. It's funny that everyone is up in arms about movie 'reboots', yet no one seems to bat an eyelid when one book blatantly rips off another. I'm surprised Ms Collins didn't just call it 'New Battle Royale' or 'Battle Royale Reloaded' and have done with it.

So, Hunger Games follows this girl called Katniss who lives in District 12, your usual run-down dystopian society where everything is terrible and people are starving to death, for no reason at all. The government, rather than actually helping its population out - which would be to its own benefit as the districts provide the capitol with essential resources such as fuel - decide just to let them all get on with it. Later they're surprised when the population (SPOILERZ LOLZ) rebels against them. Because, you know, governments are evil and also really dumb. How's that for political commentary?

Whine whine bitch moan

Anyway, Katniss is a whiny, pouty teenage girl, whose usual response to people trying to help her is to shout at them, attack them violently, or storm off in a huff. This is one of the major problems for me. None of the characters are really likeable, apart from Katniss' butter-sugar-and-other-nice-things-wouldn't-melt younger sister, Primrose, and one of the other 'tributes' (game contestants) called Rue, a girl of identical age who Katniss takes under her wing. The set-up is painfully obvious: we're supposed to like Katniss because she protects vulnerable people, and Rue is the game embodiment of her sister, all conveniently helpless and ready for Katniss to fawn over. Katniss even calls Rue Primrose at one point, in case we're so dumb we haven't made that connection yet. Maybe we were too busy sniffing glue to get through the awful dialogue.

A little respect

One thing every good author does is treat his or her audience with respect. You don't have to explain every tiny little detail, no matter who you're writing for - kids, adults, it doesn't matter. We all have these pink mushy things called brains, and we can fill in the gaps in story and characterisation when we have to.

If Katniss gazes a second too long at her fellow district tribute Peeta, we imagine it's because she has some deeper feelings for him, and is likely conflicted by those feelings. But Collins is clearly worried that we went to the toilet during that paragraph or something, because she then has Katniss mull over her feelings for another five pages, usually while a blood-crazed psychopath is hunting her down with a spear.

It makes no sense

One of the great elements of Battle Royale was the huge variety of characters, and the different romances, friendships, and secret longings that made them feel like real people. There were so many different plots and sub-plots going on, the story never once dragged.

Conversely, Hunger Games only follows Katniss, which means we learn next to nothing about most of the other contestants and their relationships. You've got the 'careers', the psychopathic kids who are bred purely to compete, with no explanation of why or what really motivates them. If they're really seriously competing, why do they all gang up on the weaker ones? Why do they seem happy to let others join their little gang, for no discernable reason? It makes my brain hurt, and I have to listen to soothing music just to keep from kicking squirrels.

So we're introduced to a handful of the tributes, such as the mysterious Thresher who spares Katniss' life because she helped that Rue girl for a bit. Despite the fact that Thresher immediately abandoned Rue, and clearly couldn't give two shiny shits what happened to her. And then just as quickly, it's announced that Thresher was killed by one of the careers. So that's that then. Clearly the whole point of his character was to save Katniss when she was about to be killed by a career, which again makes NO SENSE.

Find a plant, sleep a bit

Instead of seeing all the great fighting that's going on elsewhere in the Games, we get to see Katniss hunting birds, searching for plants, and occasionally sleeping up a tree. Oh, and wondering whether she actually likes Peeta, or if she's just pretending for the sake of...whatever the reason her and Peeta's fake romance was for. I kind of gave up caring because Peeta was a total personality void, who did random things like team up with the Careers because they have shiny jackets. Or maybe they offered him candy.

In fact, this was a massive missed opportunity. At the end, where Peeta and Katniss are watching the replay of the Games, why couldn't Peeta have actually wrung Foxface's neck, instead of accidentally feeding her poisonous berries? Then Katniss would react with horror, and we'd realise that Peeta was just pretending to be a boring, pessimistic, defeatist meathead with all the charm and personality of a sweet wrapper. Surprise!

Wait...the dogs are dead people?

The final leap into the chasm for me was the genetically engineered dogs at the end, or 'muttations' as they were called (see what they did there?). The government isn't just evil and stupid, you see - it's also batshit insane, and apparently likes to transplant dead tributes' eyes/brains into the bodies of dogs that can walk on their hind legs.

Again, the government has done this for no real reason other than the fact that they can, and are obviously a bit mentals. This makes them seem like some cartoony evil corporation, like M.A.D, coming up with ever-more ridiculous schemes for torturing its devout citizens. I almost expected a flying shark that shoots bees from its mouth to descend on them all.

The thing is, if these guys are rich enough to construct a giant fake landscape for the Games, genetically engineer dogs from dead kids, rain down flaming asteroids on people whenever they want...why don't they just take their billions and use it to feed the very people they're trying to keep from rebelling? Or simply build an army of killer robots to watch over every single person and make sure they don't do bad things? I feel like I've got a brain tumour just thinking about it.

I'm tired, leave me alone

Right, so that's enough complaining. I was going to bang on about the godawful dialogue too, but that would involve going back into the source material for quotes, and I really can't be arsed.

If you haven't read Battle Royale yet, do so - it's miles better than Hunger Games, innit.

Dead Dogs is out on Smashwords!

My third novel, Dead Dogs, is available for a huge range of ebook readers on Smashwords. Focusing on the Blood Feuds of Albania, Dead Dogs follows a Polish kid called Mikael who finds himself persecuted by his neighbours after his cousin kills their son. It was nominated for the Dylan Thomas/Sony Reader Prize 2010, and once made someone burn their dinner.

You can check out a sample of Dead Dogs now, but to thank you guys for following me, you can use the following code to grab a free copy. It expires in a week, so be sure to get your copy before Saturday April 7th.

Enter this coupon code when purchasing 'Dead Dogs' to get your copy free: RE85G

If you read it and enjoy it, I'd love you forever for leaving me a review on Smashwords. And please tell your friends, and feel free to share the coupon code - it's all extra downloads for me, which is much appreciated!

Cheers,
Chris

Why Skyrim can go f*ck itself

Skyrim is a great game, but bloody hell does it annoy the piss out of me. Cue rant.

So I'm creeping through a damp, dark cave (as you do) and I come across a 'falmer' - basically a short, hairless, hunch-backed gremlin wearing animal furs and naff all else. He's got his back to me, and seems to be concentrating very intently on a bit of wall.

'This guy's a corpse' I chuckle, as I whip out my Bow Of Hurting or whatever.

A second later, an arrow slams into the back of the falmer's head. Most creatures at this point would probably go limp, but not the falmer. Instead it whirls around and runs straight at me, as if I'd just called its gran a felching mudslurper.

You'd have thought an arrow through the brain might weaken it a bit though, right? Well, I can see from its bulging health bar that - despite a 3X sneak attack bonus - I might as well have pelted the f*cking thing with cotton wool swabs.

I'm not too worried though. Instead, I pull out a big bloody mace and ready my fire spell. This'll put the little shitcake down, har har!

So Mr Falmer gets a non-stop blast of fire right in its face. It keeps on coming, swinging a stick-with-a-bone-attached, but I merrily stroll backwards and keep on blasting. Then I realise that his health bar is still barely trembling.

Eventually my back hits a wall, and the falmer closes in. Now I'm a little concerned, but it's still a case of huge mace versus stick-with-a-bone attached. Common sense would dictate inevitable triumph, but this is Skyrim. Common sense is about as useful as a barbed wire vibrator.

I smack him with the mace, and he reacts as if I'd just flicked his nose. The stick-with-a-bone-attached comes down twice and somehow penetrates my thick iron armour and kills me dead.

The first time this happened, I grunted. The second time I swore. The third time I told Skyrim to engage orally with part of my anatomy.

Thankfully on my fourth attempt, the Falmer got stuck on a mushroom and I was able to burn him to death from a distance. It took about half a minute.

When he was good and dead, I checked out his stick-with-a-bone-attached to see if it had some mystical 'penetrates any armour and deals ridiculous damage' bonus. But it didn't. It was just a stick. A stick with a bone attached.

And that is why Skyrim can go f*ck itself.

The Complete Guide to iPhone 8

Since 'Complete Guides' to concept technology are all the rage these days, mostly because any idiot will read them, here's my Complete Guide to the iPhone 8, which is expected to hit stores in 2018.

Sexy new build

With components getting smaller and smaller, the iPhone 8 will likely be the same size as a slightly chubby garden pea. Thankfully eye augmentations will be a widespread fashion accessory by this point, so you'll have no trouble seeing the beautiful 0.005-inch display. Touchscreen control will be possible thanks to the included stylus, made from a gnat's chuff stuck on the end of a cotton swab.

Predictive text 2.0

One of the best new features is predictive text 2.0, which predicts what you're going to type before you even pull your phone out of your pocket. The iPhone 8 notices if you've been in the pub for more than your allotted time, and sends your wife a grovelling message, with one of fifty preset lies - from "my twatting PC crashed as I was finishing my article" to "the cock-sucking trains are done up the arse again."

Some Other Shit We've Made Up

A guy we spoke to in the pub last night reckons that Siri will be updated to recognise even the most tricky of accents, including Drunk Scouser and Camp Geordie. We also decided the camera would take shots up to 100MP, by flipping a fucking coin.

NaNoWriMo Fo Sho

More gruelling than a month-long marathon across a hundred deserts, with nought to drink but flat, hot Fanta. That's what National Novel Writing Month feels like at times. Once the first day's excitement is over, the reality of the challenge hits home. 2,000-plus words a day is a lot to get down, and come the end of the month you'll likely have wrists like soggy twiglets. However, if you've done your job you'll also have a rough first draft that's ready to be polished into the Next Big Novel.

But how to make sure you finish on time? Well, pretty much every blog out there will give you a 'top ten tips', but it's actually rather simple. Here's what you do.

PLAN Most blogs will tell you, don't make alternative plans to go out - give yourself maybe one evening a week to get bladdered with your mates, but stick to your program the rest of the time. Well, that's one school of thinking, but I find my best work flows when I'm pissed up. So I say go out and enjoy yourself, then down some coffee and get ready for five hours of action! When you wake up the next morning, drooling into your keyboard, you'll probably have 15,000 words of absolute genius that Tolstoy would be proud of.

NO DISTRACTIONS Switch off your modem and hide in a room with no other distractions - no phone, no TV, no wife/husband, certainly no bloody cats. Make a hot drink and grab a bottle of water, and plough your way through it. If your mind starts to wander, try stabbing yourself in the thigh with a biro. Your brain will associate daydreaming with pain and stay fully focused at all times.

REWARDS Have a YumYum or something when you're done each evening, but only if you reach your target word count. Otherwise, spank yourself with a piece of 2x4, while screaming "I'm a bad girl/boy!"

If you follow this advice, you might just make it. Congratulations! Time to settle in for some rewriting!