Here are some screens of Virtua Tennis 3 for PlayStation 3, screens around which we just wrote a stupidly long piece about the history of Tennis games. We did that because, in a horrible twist of irony, it was deemed that there was little more of worth to say other than "here are some screens of the Virtual Tennis 3 for PlayStation 3." So we constructed a comic-informative muse about how Tennis games shaped gaming.
We made jokes about what the word seminal means, we wrote a clever bit about how innovations on the Pong concept reached a Darwinian level of natural selection, concluding that this was apt as Pong was literally the Origin on the Species.
We pointed out that although many of Tennis games have released,
(click here to see SPOnG's database on the search term) only Pong, Super Tennis and the Virtua Tennis series actually mattered. We gave an honourable mention to Grandslam Tennis for the MegaDrive, explained how it was developers of this game, working for Sega's Hitmaker studio, pitched and got approval for a new Tennis game under the Virtua banner. See? It was a really good piece.
So what happened to this whimsical piece of indulgent copy? Brilliantly, technology and stupidity combined with brainwashing by fear to deny you the chance to read it. You see, our boss makes us save data. He's got a ten foot boner about constantly saving data. If you lose unsaved data, you're fucked. It's as simple as that. The other thing that makes him go insane is writers not using keyboard shortcuts. He hates it, even made it company policy that everyone had to use them all the time. So we went to CTRL-C the text from document but our finger slipped onto the CTRL-X, the dreaded cut. Not a problem on its own. After pasting the golden copy into the piece, we returned to the document. And instead of lifting further jewels of tennis game knowledge, we hit CTRL-S. Because we're scared not to so we do it all the time.
Then it happened. Our browser crashed. We waited. And we waited. We tried minimising everything, flicking through windows... We left it for an hour and eventually, it just gave up. Our copy trailed away into the digital depths in a way that reminded us of the last scene in Titanic. Except we cried more today than we did the in cinema and we only cried then because we'd secretly been drinking rum hidden away in our two pint Coke cup through a straw for three hours.
It's about now that we are realising the horrible further irony of writing another long piece, explaining how the original long piece went missing, which has actually taken as long as it would have done to rewrite our first effort.
We're going to stop now. If you fancy, we're up for a protracted conversation about tennis games in the forum, located just underneath these very words.