Once upon a time, on a certain graphic design forum not so far away, I remember reading a thread about how our common usage of the word “font” is wrong. It was pointed out that the character sets that typographers design are called typefaces, whereas fonts, in the modern context, are merely the digital format for storing and using them on computers. Hence, for example, it doesn’t make sense for us to say “I like the look of that font”, because what we’re actually admiring is the design of the typeface.

If this seems like a trivial and pedantic thing to point out, just remind yourself that The Beatles didn’t write mp3s, that journalists don’t write Word documents, and photographers don’t take jpegs. The logic that seperates typefaces and fonts is very much the same.

As you might have guessed, I’m exactly the kind of [trivial, pedantic] person to pick up on other people misusing words – it’s all over the place if you develop a keen ear for it. Here are a few other examples of frequent cockups, that make a tiny little part of me want to stand up and shout at people like a twat in a restaurant:

1. Simple, Simplistic and Minimalistic
This one crops up a lot, in my experience, when gamers are discussing games. They say things like “I think simplistic design is always best, like Tetris”, which when you consider what simplistic actually means, is bonkers.

Sometimes they’re talking about Minimalism, but usually the word these people are looking for is just “simple”. It’s not without irony that, unsatisfied with using such a simple word to describe their appreciation for simple things, “simplistic” is often used instead because people think the extra syllable will make them sound clever.

2. Sequels, Prequels and Predecessors
The film Terminator is the predecessor – not the prequel – to Terminator 2. A prequel is a sequel that is set earlier in the story’s timeline to its predecessor[s], such as Metal Gear Solid 3, and Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace.

I’ve read film reviews that manage to get this wrong, written by professional film critics – people whose job title dictates that they should know a million times better. It pains me like a fork in the eye.

3. People saying “I could care less”.
It’s “couldn’t care less”, you chumps. Couldn’t!

4. Literally
People have started using the word “literally” when talking about things that common sense – and often the laws of physics – would strongly suggest that they don’t mean literally at all. They’re saying things like, “there’s literally nothing on TV at the moment”, and “I’m so knackered, my legs have literally turned into jelly”.

If there was ever a wrong word to use to enhance a figure of speech, it’s this one.

You wonder how much further this phenomenon – using words to mean exactly the opposite of what the dictionary says – could spread through the rest of the language. Maybe sometime in the future, words like “Left” and “Yes” will fall victim to this trend of bizarre reversal as well. Imagine that. Society and the world as we know it would literally collapse in on itself and explode!

“It’s just setting the scene, right? I need to butter my toast.”

My nerdy little heart sank as I watched my housemate Mark; turning his back on the opening sequences of Shadow of the Colossus, and casually strolling into the kitchen. He had no idea of what a momentous event this game was going to be, and how important it was that we observe and dissect every moment of every shot in its prologue…

So he didn’t see Agro’s hesitation to jump over the gap in the cliff, and catch the subtle suggestion of trust and relationship between him and Wanda. He missed the entire journey that led to the adventure – the trespassing into a world untouched. When he came back, he was too busy catching breadcrumbs on a plate to sense the ominous tone and moral ambiguity in Wanda’s words, in his insistence that the grave consequences of his intended actions are to be “no matter”.

Clearly, I was soiling myself in anticipation of what was to come, and at the time it felt easy to accuse art-film enthusiast Mark of taking a slightly dismissive attitude towards games. I conspired to an assumption on his part that this was “just” a game, and therefore he wasn’t going to miss anything of substance, or even relevence, if the cinematic introduction passed him by. I know that he understands the significance of such opening scenes in films – how they establish tone, and often foreshadow themes for the rest of the story – and that he would never get up and leave a cinema in the first few minutes.

In hindsight, however, and in his defence, it occurs to me that we weren’t exactly sitting in a cinema. We were sitting at home in front of our tiny little TV, because for videogames, there is no cinema.

For every other popular artform of today, society has established a range of ideal venues and situations in which we are able and encouraged to appreciate work to its fullest. People pay to enter darkened rooms with ordered seating, in which films are projected onto enormous screens, complete with the finest in surround sound. Paintings and conceptual pieces have the white walls of the art gallery; music has the rich acoustics of the grand hall, the stadium and the sheer volume of the nightclub. With books we create a whole world in our minds, to the sound of an inward silence.

In contrast, videogames are usually cast as fodder for the unprepared living room – competing for sensory attention against the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and in our particular case, the vicious timing of the kitchen toaster. Not that the casual environment isn’t fine, or even ideal for many types of games, but in the case of Shadow of the Colossus it simply wasn’t right. It was clearly demanding something more like the focused grandeur of the cinema, and our clapped-out, second-hand TV on the other side of the room couldn’t do it justice.