Waking Up.

I was dreaming about 40 minutes ago. Dreaming about being in my local game store - the one that is the mecca of all things video games. It was one of those dreams where you know where you are, even though the location looks nothing like the real thing. Anyways, I was there perusing the shelves, and one of the only games I can remember looking at was Resident Evil 5 for the Gamecube. You read that right. I remember thinking that it can't look good at all, then flipping the box over and saying, "Well, it looks like Resident Evil 5."

Oh, there was also another one I remember looking at, but it wasn't an actual game. Apparently, it was a boxed version of a game demo, because I remember looking at the back of the box, which had game features actually listed and then crossed out. It was letting you know what the full game will have, but not the thing you're holding in your hands. It was also $26.99. What a steal.

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Getting Emotional.

Recently I've seen the argument put forth that games cannot, by default, elicit the same emotions that movies do. Reason being, simply, that you're looking at computer-generated characters instead of real, living, breathing people. Is that actually the case, or is that a very strict limitation of games that can never be overcome? I give you two examples - one from an actual live performance, and one from a video game. The actual live performance is longer, but for the sake of my comparison, I think that's okay. I won't give you the insights into the Clapton song if you don't know what he's singing about, because the same context isn't readily available for the Silent Hill example. I'll simply place them next to each other and let you come to a conclusion.

Eric Clapton:





Silent Hill (ignore everything after the initial song):


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Immersion Factor OVER 9000?!?!?

It's not often a game pulls me in so completely. So completely, in fact, that I'm going to declare Silent Hill: Shattered Memories one of the most immersive games I've ever played. Every aspect is designed to make the player feel like they are part of the world, and it's working on me hook, line and sinker.

I'm not going to go into all the details just yet; I'll save that for when I've finished the game. Instead, I want to focus on a single mechanic: Harry's cell phone. When you hit the minus button on the Wiimote, Harry will take out his phone and hold it up to the screen. There are 9 menu items to pick from, including saving your game, dialing a number of your choice, listening to/reading messages, and using the phone's camera. There are phone numbers written all over the town, and if you dial one of them, you'll get some kind of an answer. It may just be an answering machine, but an answer nonetheless. And the genius part comes in once you hit "call". Not content to simply let Harry hold the phone up to his ear in the game, the developers decided to have the player do the same. The audio from the phone comes in through the Wiimote speaker, and let me tell you, it only adds about 985, 543% to feeling like you're really in Silent Hill. I almost said "hello" the first time I answered a call, and I did one of those things where you look at your phone, put it back to your ear, look at it again, put it back to your ear, etc. It's so wondrously simple an idea, yet its effect is monumental.

As I said, you can also choose to whip out the built-in camera. Doing so will cause Harry to hold it sideways, and you can take a picture of any and everything you want to. And just like talking on the phone, there's a little extra bit of immersion added to the camera. The phone's screen actually has the distortion and lag that real camera phones have, and walking around with it in the middle of your field of view makes everything seem even more disturbing. It's another small, genius move that puts a stupid grin on my face. Of course, there is an actual use for the camera besides taking random pictures of the game world. At times, you'll be prompted in some fashion to take out the camera. When you take a picture of a certain area, you'll get a voicemail or text sent to you from different people. It hasn't happened to me a lot yet, so I don't know the full extent of this part of the gameplay. Regardless, it's yet another use of the engrossing phone mechanic.

Even only a couple hours in, I already have so much more I want to talk about, but I'll hold my tongue until (probably) this weekend when I finish the game. I've heard it's relatively short, but I think I'm done measuring a game's worth in hours. The experience is what I'm after, not a mathematical division of hours played and dollars paid. So, yea. Silent Hill: Shattered Memories. Great stuff.

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Penumbra: Overture.....Totally Fucked Up.

Observe, if you will, the difference between MY opening scene in Penumbra: Overture vs. the walkthrough on Youtube.



Youtube: skip to the 5:20 mark for this:

Looks normal enough, right?

My playthrough:

wait....what? THAT'S NOT RIGHT. FUCK YOU, PENUMBRA.

Yea....not much else for me to say. Sucks.

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2009.

I just want to quickly point out that I have absolutely wayyy too many games that I either a) haven't finished or, b) haven't even started.

2009 was the year of me being a douche. That is all.

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Sad Reflections.

It's 5am, and as I sit here, fresh off a couple of hours attempting to subjugate my people in Tropico 3, I happened to come across this post by Michael Abbott over at Brainy Gamer. It's worth a read. But, sadly, it made me think about what the Call of Duty franchise has ultimately become: a five-second thrill rehashed ad-nauseum. My first confession should be that I'm not nearly as big a multiplayer competitor as I used to be. Turn back the clock just a couple of years and you'd be likely to find me playing a lot more Halo 3. But nowadays, I simply can't do it. The experience of standard multiplayer has become so stale and uninteresting to me that the thought of entering a match doesn't usually cross my mind at all. I need something more out of games at this point, and a game like Modern Warfare 2 just doesn't cut it.

You can call me ignorant, out of touch, pretentious, or any number of other things; one thing you can't accuse me of, however, is having a knee-jerk reaction or hypocritically enjoying the game while unabashedly, well, bashing it. My tastes have slowly evolved to where they are now, and I no longer see any value in what the Call of Duty franchise has to offer. In the Brainy gamer post, Abbott gives reactions he's heard, mostly decrying the single-player campaign as an add-on to the real meat of the game: the multiplayer. Curiously, one person said that he would play the campaign "at some point", but directly after said it would be cheap of them not to include it. But if he doesn't really care about it, then why is it cheap? His only care is obviously the multiplayer, so what's the deal? I muddled my point a bit there, but what I'm getting at is that the whole attitude about the campaign being a throwaway for the player to eventually sift through is incredibly disheartening to me.

I remember playing both Call of Duty 2 and the original Modern Warfare and being thoroughly engrossed by both. Sure, they were all about pushing the player from set-piece to set-piece, but I never felt as though I was being talked down to by the developer. I never once felt like they knew I would buy their game no matter what. If they wanted my $60.00, they had to earn it. And earn it, they did. Their stories were powerful not just because of their intensity, but because of the worlds they were grounded in. Things made sense; cause and effect seemed real; I was engrossed in what was unfolding before me, and I couldn't have been happier. Fast forward to Modern Warfare 2, and it's been turned on its head. No longer do I believe what I'm seeing - not in the least bit. No longer do I care - at all - about characters dying. I'm not moved when something supposedly shocking occurs, because I expect something ludicrous to come out of left field.

Why do I expect it? For one, in the industry's current climate, the double-edged sword of great success demands that sequels be bigger and more bad-ass. Take, for instance, the scene in Modern Warfare where your character is slowly clawing his way out of the flaming wreckage of his chopper, only to look up and see a nuclear holocaust whisking its way straight for him. That scene had impact; it meant something. Compare it with the airport scene in Modern Warfare 2, and I think you catch my drift. Again, your character gets killed, but the impact is greatly retarded by the lack of context. Sure, you know you're a sleeper agent of some sort, but who are you? You don't get to find out before the back of your skull meets the pavement. It's just no good. With the narrative style Infinity Ward employs, that very context is integral to leaving a lasting impression on the player. Without it, the meaning behind the action deflates to nothing more than a cheap trick. Anyone can do a cheap trick; it takes real artists to create something worth discussing.

I don't want to give the wrong impression; Call of Duty has never been the pinnacle of storytelling. Far from it. Still, the older games' presentations coupled with how the stories unfolded made for a really great experience. It just seems like Infinity Ward's priorities have changed now. They're not as dead-set in crafting a believable world anymore, and for people like me, that's a sad thing. Good thing there are plenty of other games that at least attempt it.


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