After posting Noise annoys, I started reading through the rest of my Practical Web Design columns, most of which rant about some area of web design that was irritating me at the time. I today unearthed a piece from way back in 2004, which—perhaps rather depressingly—remains totally relevant today: the way many web designers throw together sites in the likes of Dreamweaver, think it looks good enough, and then leave it at that.

As someone who’s hand-coded websites since 1996, it always amazes me how few web designers bother to learn the basics of their trade. But as my books on web design show, I feel that a strong foundation is essential in web design, and those designers who ignore this fact do so at their peril. (Note that Mark Boulton also regularly offers an interesting take on this subject, and his articles on grids and typography are essential reading for any serious web designer.)

Enjoy the article.

Craig Grannell explains that in the world of web design, ‘it looks good enough’ is simply ‘not good enough’.

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We’re functioning automatic. And are fully psychotic

Paradroid. If ever there’s a word to make a C64 fan feel all funny in their happy place, that’s the one. Andrew Braybrook’s game typically heads many best-of lists, and it’s just reared its head on Virtual Console. But can a pseudo-3D blaster from the mid-1980s still hold gamers in thrall in an age of 3D shooters with more polygons per character than hairs on Braybrook’s head? (And this bearing in mind Braybrook’s fairly bushy moustache at the time Paradroid was released.)

In a word: yes. I don’t use the word ‘classic’ lightly, but Paradroid is, undisputedly, a classic game, and one of the very few titles from the C64 years that truly holds up today.

Part shoot ’em up, part exploration game, and with a sprinkling of reaction-based puzzling, Paradroid tasks you with boarding a fleet of ships and blowing its cargo of amok droids to pieces. The snag: your ‘influence device’ is rubbish—sluggish, and with about as much firepower as a hedgehog. The plus side: for a limited time, said device can attach itself to any other droid, limpet-style, taking over its capabilities, enabling you to dish out robot justice with vigour.

In the hands of a lesser programmer, Paradroid would have been long-forgotten. But Braybrook’s innovative thinking and attention to detail ensured his creation a place in gaming history. The graphics were limited by the C64’s power, and so Braybrook avoided trying for anything vaguely ‘realistic’, instead creating a highly abstract aesthetic that’s reminiscent of a blueprint. Droids are distinguished by number alone, making instant identification effortless. And yet the game’s stylish simplicity still resonates.

Rather than provide a full-on top-down view, Braybrook also hit upon the idea of a pseduo-3D viewpoint. Your droid ‘knows’ the deck layouts, but can’t see around corners or through doors. Therefore, despite this overhead game having been written in 1985, its de-facto viewpoint mirrors the kind of 3D shoot ’em ups that didn’t really exist until Wolfenstein 3D yomped on in.

Also, battling to take over another droid is a game in itself—a fast-paced battle of wits, with you firing connections to take over the circuit board of your adversary’s brain. It’s a diversion from the main battle, and almost as much fun as the main game itself.

In an era where so many games are smashed into pigeon-holes, the Braybrook vision that’s so obvious in Paradroid is a breath of fresh air. The game’s combination of arcade reflexes, strategic overtones and quickfire puzzles all add up to one hell of a production. And while some will doubtless cite Paradroid’s fans as delusional nostalgics, they’re the ones missing out by not giving this great game a chance.

Paradroid is available now on Virtual Console for 500 Wii points (about £3.50), although its sprite-collision detection is a little ropey compared to the original game. Despite this niggle, you are officially lacking in the marbles department if you don’t buy a copy. Well, unless you don’t own a Wii, obv.

Click! Click! ARGH!

I’m a tad late in mentioning it, but I was again fortunate this month to pen .net’s cover feature, which this time was about site navigation.

As is often the case, it’s inevitable that personal opinion creeps in to these things, even if I’m not quoted myself. Through the words of others, my own preferences were pretty evident in the piece: a love for intuitive, simple, carefully labeled and consistent navigation. Perhaps surprisingly, this didn’t mean saying nasty things about Flash, and although I bit my tongue a couple of times, Adobe’s ubiquitous technology got a good showing and not a hammering.

What was hard, though, was deciding on the best-in-show sites: ten examples of top-notch navigation, each of which happened to be different enough from the others to warrant inclusion. These days, I’m pretty easily annoyed by websites, and many have absolutely ghastly navigation in so many ways.

Overall, I’m pretty happy with the sites I chose, which included Guardian, Adobe, Wieden+Kennedy, Apple and the BBC. It’s notable, though, that even in these leading sites, there are major problems: the BBC’s effort to make mainstream user-personalisation of the navigation experience is hampered by dreadful bulky design conventions; and Apple’s no-nonsense approach is gradually being eroded by things like utterly hateful ‘activate on hover’ Ajax drawers.

Truly, no-one gets things perfect, but the general tendency now appears to be towards inconsistency and being too clever for your own good. After recent years of simplification and honing down, and with devices like iPhone showing how simple and efficient navigation can be, that’s a worrying trend to see.

A couple of weeks back, Retro Gamer 51 escaped from its confines (somewhere in Bournemouth), to be unleashed on the world. Inexcusably, I totally forgot to get the pimp-o-pointer out, hence this belated post.

This month, the magazine has one of those shiny gold covers, which collect fingerprints and blind small pets unlucky enough to glimpse the magazine in bright sunlight. The cover has a big Zelda image, but the game I wrote about didn’t make the cover this time, nor even the contents page. Instead, tucked away on page 84, you’ll be pleasantly surprised to find The Making of Choplifter. Well, you would have been pleasantly surprised if you’d not read this blog post, obv.

Choplifter not getting on to the contents page didn’t irk, but it did throw up the question: what is a classic game that will grab readers? Dun Durach and Heroquest both made it on to the contents page this month, for example. What it confirmed to me is that classic games really are in the eye of the beholder (and also the editor), and that those titles you think are most loved and well remembered may not be. Still, I was happy to interview Danny Gorlin and spend a few hours testing out the surprisingly large number of Choplifter conversions. Well, apart from the Sega ones, which are horrible.

The crime is life. The sentence is dentistry

When Judge Death first appeared, he was terrifying. A twisted marionette-like figure with an evil, decaying grin, dressed in a mockery of a Mega-City One Judge’s uniform, the grotesque creature sent chills down young spines. Kids were fascinated by the mystery. What was this creature? Where was he from? We were only offered tantalising glimpses, echoes about Death having wiped the stain of life from his world, where life itself was considered a crime.

Subsequent years saw more of the pieces fall into place, but as the gaps in Judge Death’s backstory were gradually filled, I liked the character a little less each time. He no longer held such mystery, and because the usually dependable John Wagner bizarrely warped the fiend into a tiresome comedy character, he no longer held any allure.

This collection is a long way from Judge Death’s nadir, but it’s no classic either. In a tale that originally saw print at the very beginning of the Judge Dredd Megazine, during the early 1990s, Judge Death holds hostage a Mega-City One reporter, forcing him to write Death’s history. This largely revolves around a cruel younger version of Judge Death (named Sidney) being inspired by his brutal dentist father into becoming a full-on genocidal maniac, ably aided by a little black magic and some college friends.

Ultimately, insight like this wasn’t really needed, and Young Death veers a little too far towards the comic side of black comedy. And although the story is fine—in fact, it’s quite enjoyable in itself—and well illustrated by the dependable Peter Doherty (despite his take on the Judge uniforms of Sidney’s world oddly bearing little relation to Judge Death’s own garb), it’s ultimately an irreverent and somewhat expendable tale that sits uneasily between the superior original Judge Death stories and the return to the character’s horror origins in My Name is Death.

Judge Death: Young Death is available now for £10.99. For more information about 2000 AD graphic novels, check out the 2000 AD Books website.