Cheap Thrills - Alan Wake

I recently reviewed Alan Wake for a school paper, so I figured I'd throw it up here. It's lengthier than most of the stuff I normally write, so be forewarned. I actually didn't get to address everything I wanted to because of length, so I might put up a separate post talking about those things. This one's worth it, though, because it's fucking awesome. Enjoy.


“But nightmares exist outside of logic, and there’s little fun to be had in explanations; they’re antithetical to the poetry of fear.” - Stephen King

Alan Wake, a psychological thriller developed by Remedy Entertainment for the Xbox 360, opens with the above quote by Stephen King, and the titular character narrating what seems to be the central theme of the game. According to Wake, the “Why?” is never as important as the emotions one goes through during a horrifying experience. There’s nothing wrong with that sentiment. In fact, I mostly agree with it. But Alan Wake forgoes the “Why?” almost entirely, in favor of nonsensical exposition and repetitive, tired shooting mechanics that would be more at home in Max Payne 3 than something rooted in psychological horror.

Alan Wake is a writer. After a string of best-sellers, he feels burnt out and ready for some rejuvenation, so he and his wife, Alice, retreat to the small town of Bright Falls. It’s a typical, if extraordinarily beautiful, mid-western American town, replete with trailer park communities and neighbors all on a first name basis. Bright Falls would normally make for the perfect getaway destination, but when Wake and his wife arrive, they quickly find something more sinister and violent lurking about the otherwise peaceful surroundings. His wife soon ends up missing, and the only clues to her whereabouts come in the form of torn manuscript pages from a story he doesn’t remember writing, but is obviously penned by him. As the game progresses, it’s made evident that whatever is written on the torn pages actually comes to pass. Armed with this knowledge, Wake tries desperately to find and save his wife from whatever is holding her captive.

Alan Wake’s premise was one of the things that caught my attention early on when the game was first announced. I figured the mountainous and woodsy terrain would make an excellent backdrop for psychologically-themed horror. Playing the first chapter of the game, which takes place inside one of Wake’s nightmares, communicates a world full of unique and scary situations. The very first enemy encounter is simply a man with an axe, but it’s not the weapon he wields that makes him terrifying. While blindly swinging the axe back-and-forth, the man assaults Wake’s fragile psyche by calling him a fraud and a horrible writer. The threat of physical harm may be obvious, but barrages of mental abuse, especially within the context of a nightmare, carry much more weight than wood and steel ever could.

Unfortunately, such a promising concept is all but abandoned shortly after the end of the first chapter. Gone are the venomous projections of Wake’s personal demons, and in their place are slews of non sequiturs about working at lumber mills and pumping gas. Part of who these people used to be is still inside them, but they are now owned by whatever entity is plaguing Bright Falls. That may sound intriguing, but by replacing the focus on Wake’s internal strife with random, nonsensical shouts about small town living, all the tension and fear is instantly siphoned away. Coupled with uniformly featureless faces and pitch-black appearances, the enemies in Alan Wake directly mirror the game’s inability to differentiate itself from countless other horror-themed experiences.

And at no time is that exemplified more than during a point about mid-way through the game, when Wake finds himself a guest in a local psychologist’s mental institution called “The Lodge.” Wake opens his eyes to the doctor peering down at him, telling him that he’s been a patient of his for some time. Wake’s wife died a long time ago, and he couldn’t handle the stress and grief, or so the well-meaning doctor informs him. This section of the game could have contained its most probing character study, but instead devolves into the predictability and repetition that plagues the entire work. Instead of Wake questioning his own sanity, cooped up in a loony bin with all the other fine patrons of the establishment, he never second-guesses himself. Within ten minutes, the doctor’s ruse crumbles against Wake’s underwhelming scrutiny. Once he decides to expose reality for what it is, all it takes is a trip to the main office, where records clearly exonerate him of his “fragile” mental state. Of course, after this information is obtained, enemies begin appearing, and Wake has to shoot his way to freedom. It’s also worth mentioning that once he makes it to the outside grounds, Wake must navigate through a Shining-esque hedge maze in order to escape. No, he doesn’t freeze to death while screaming “Danny!”, but that would have at least been unexpected.

The more contiguous narrative problem goes back to Wake’s declaration that “Why?” is not a necessary component of effective horror. In the case of Alan Wake, its believability hinges on that question being answered. And to a degree, it is. Throughout the course of the game, the moment-to-moment narrative is explained well enough, but the bigger, game-spanning question of “Why?” is almost never even addressed. If the whole game takes place after Wake writes a story, then why are characters and situations he’s yet to encounter present in an unrelated nightmare before he even goes on vacation? Why is only his manuscript capable of changing reality? Why can demons that appear out of nowhere be killed with guns when light is supposed to be their weakness? Why does the evil entity even need Wake when it seems capable enough of destruction on its own? Why can’t Wake just write the happiest ending imaginable at any point during the game? All those questions are perfectly reasonable to ask, but they’re sidestepped in favor of vague premonitions or visions that don’t make much sense, even after the game is over.

Perhaps even more disappointing than the story are the mechanics. This might sound like a snarky question, but it’s an honest one: What the hell has Remedy been doing for 7 years? Their last game, Max Payne 2, released at the tail end of 2003, and they’ve been silent since. I could brush that aside if there was a reason to, but the core game play doesn’t feel like it’s changed much since their previous efforts almost a decade ago. Wake aims a flashlight at enemies, shoots them until they’re dead, and then does it again when necessary. That’s it. There’s really no finesse to speak of, and nothing interesting, evolutionary or innovative has been added to the static formula of most third-person shooters. What that boils down to is the unfortunate fact that I could have played this game 7 years ago and been fine with it. But at this point in the lifespan of the medium, to only require such a rudimentary and rote skill set speaks volumes as to the mindset of the people responsible for implementing it. Enemies never change, and neither do the tactics for dispatching them. If there are too many to handle, just pop a flashbang or use a flare gun to thin the crowd. Always aim for the head, and reload often. Those tips shouldn’t be applicable in the slightest in a self-proclaimed psychological thriller. After all, shooting everything that moves seems pretty physically thrilling to me. In any case, Alan Wake’s game play is a textbook case of wash-rinse-repeat, only in the blandest way possible.

One of the most egregious examples of Alan Wake’s stale mechanics again takes place at “The Lodge.” Once Wake finds the evidence of his still-reigning sanity, he has to get out of the asylum as fast as possible. But first, he must do battle with inanimate objects come to life - a notable Stephen King trope - in order to get outside to safety. Floating couches and barrels might be scary in a movie or book, but when “defeating” them entails the exact same shooting mechanics employed against human enemies, I have to wonder why the game even bothered to include them.

After having valiantly and courageously struck down a possessed Art Deco ball sculpture, Wake heads outside, where the aforementioned hedge maze awaits him. What kind of surprises could be hiding in the bushes? If you guessed “shadow people,” you might have a job opportunity as a Remedy scriptwriter in your near future. Just like every other encounter in the game, Wake is tasked with putting bullets into people while running forward (technically in a zigzag pattern). But what stands out the most in a long line of miscalculations is the decision to turn the psychologist from the beginning of the chapter into just another faceless goon. A potential story-defining character is reduced to acting out enemy behavior whose redundancy knows no bounds. There is a clearing at the end of the hedge maze, and in the middle of it stands the good doctor, patiently waiting around for Wake to show up. Once he does, the doctor reverts back to the supposedly antagonistic cries about work-related situations that have already grown tiresome. Such is the cure-all in a game more able to deal with the illusion of fear, rather than the reality of it.

There are some great environmental effects, such as the trees and wind looking as if they’re being perpetually rewound in a VCR, and gigantic trees crackling and buckling for seemingly no reason, only to fall directly in your path with a deadening thud. But those effects are wasted when the whole game consists of the same few tricks repeated ad nauseum. If having explanatory power is antithetical to the poetry of fear, then predictability should be a cardinal sin of writing horror. Even when certain plot points are explained at the end, the only thing that I came away with was the fact that an even bigger mystery just supplanted a smaller one. Ambiguous endings have their place, and when done well, they can turn befuddlement into a praise-worthy event. Without giving anything away, Alan Wake basically ends with “…and you thought THAT was weird!” As a matter of fact, I did, and I also realized that there have been dozens, if not hundreds, of similar experiences in different media that far outweigh this game’s blind repetition and reluctance to explain anything of importance. If the devil’s in the details, Alan Wake is as angelic as it gets.
Read more...

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.


Read more...

The Wrong Kind of Challenge: Why Demon’s Souls Represents Rudimentary Game Design

Based on the title of this article, it may be assumed by those reading that I would take the stance that Demon’s Souls is not a game worth playing. The reality is quite the contrary. More than anything else, Demon’s Souls is a game that ultimately challenges players to examine the notion of game difficulty, and asks us to consider several questions regarding the relationship between game design and game difficulty: What aspects of a game make it difficult? What is the difference between challenging and difficult? Is there a difference?

The answers to these questions, particularly if you agree that there is a difference, all eventually lead us to the ultimate consideration that Demon’s Souls invites gamers to consider:

How difficult is it to make a difficult game?

The answer that Demon’s Souls relates to that question is one that could not be understood without the existence of, and comparison to, another game of a different genre: Ninja Gaiden. With both games in mind, the answer becomes quite simple.

It is not difficult to make a difficult game, but it is challenging to make a challenging game.

Everyone agrees that this is a hard game...

In the case of the two games above, Demon’s Souls would be difficult; Ninja Gaiden would be challenging.

I realize that based on the overwhelmingly positive reviews for Demon’s Souls, my statement may get under the skin of the game’s fan base. However, it is important to note that nowhere have I stated that Demon’s Souls is a bad game. I have simply stated that it is much easier to make a game like Demon’s Souls than a game like Ninja Gaiden.

Think about it. Reconsider the questions I posed above. How hard is it to make a game difficult, and what tools do game designers have at their disposal to make this happen?

What is actually being asked with these questions is how easy is it for game designers to kill you in a game?

Very easy. At every step through every part of a game, the designer plays God. Their power is limitless, and what becomes possible and impossible in the game world is entirely in the designer’s control. The player, on the other hand, is the guinea pig. While some aspect of player choice may be perceived by the player, the reality is that those choices have already been predetermined by the designer.

Therefore, any possibility of player death within a game is entirely under the designer’s control, and making a game difficult simply means the designer makes it easier and more frequently possible to die. This accomplishment is rather easy, and the choices the designer has to make this happen is varied: Increase the damage dealt by the enemy. Decrease the player’s damage dealt to enemies. Make more enemies. Make more traps. Decrease the amount of checkpoints between saves. Take away checkpoints. Take away saves. Decrease the amount of healing items. Decrease health.

This list could go on even longer, but the general principle will always revolve around one central concept: the manipulation of numbers. In each of the examples given, the designer is able to increase or decrease a game’s difficulty simply by manipulating a set of numbers.

In the case of Demon’s Souls, and with many games of the early consoles, this tool is the backbone of the game’s concept and design, and in most cases, the system is praised for its risk/reward factor. While the sense of accomplishment may exist from completing such a game, the reality is that not much thought or skill is needed to create a game with this type of difficulty. In theory, any designer could create the most difficult game ever made simply by setting the numbers against the player unreasonably high, and dropping the numbers associated with the player unreasonably low. As a result, the player would deal little damage, but take a lot; the player would have very little health to fight with, but have to deal with fighting enemies who could absorb a lot of damage.

I’m certain that this game would be very hard to beat. I’m also certain that this game would get praised for how punishing it was.

With Demon’s Souls, this results in only one real tool that the player must utilize to complete the game: memory. The player must memorize where the enemies are, and slowly and progressively take them out one by one. This is rudimentary game design.

However, the days of rudimentary difficulty in game design have long passed, and superior forms of player manipulation have surfaced that favor challenge and complexity over punishing difficulty.

Examine the aspects that make Ninja Gaiden challenging and you notice that none of the design principles have anything to do with memory of enemy locations, excessive punishment of the player with a lack of checkpoints, or overwhelming damage of enemies. Yet nobody disagrees that Ninja Gaiden is one of the most challenging games ever made.

... but this game is actually challenging.

The reason why Ninja Gaiden achieves that dichotomy is that the game designer gives the player more tools than simple memory: skill and variety. In order to be successful, the player has many methods for taking out the enemies, and survival has nothing to do with memory, and everything to do with reflex, reaction time, and dynamic strategies of using the wide array of moves and combos available to the player.

Simply put, the game favors complexity as the catalyst for challenge, not number manipulation. As a result, Ninja Gaiden is only as challenging as the player’s lack of skills and reflexes. No battle will ever play out the same, even when the same battle is fought several times after death, because the game does not allow memory to become a factor.

Moreover, when the player dies, the game does not elongate itself by placing the player at the beginning of the level, instead using checkpoints to encourage the player to experiment with new techniques without worrying about unreasonable risk.

It is no secret that gameplay is unrealistic to the way the real world works. No matter how difficult a game is, it never truly reflects the impossible realities of the scenarios that we as gamers play out in our games. It will never be realistic to assume that any one, ordinary soldier could slaughter hundreds of equally skilled soldiers. Games will always favor the player (the protagonist), much in the same way that movies do. Otherwise they wouldn’t be very fun.

But as long as we strive to make the notion of game completion an actual accomplishment, the decision on whether or not a game should be difficult or challenging must be addressed.

Should game difficulty be designed with challenging complexity in mind, and not simple difficulty? Should game design favor player skill and dynamic gameplay over player memory and numbers manipulation?

We can thank Demon’s Souls for making that a question to ask.

Read more...

Take This in your Pooper, Kotick.

I just thought I'd share the fact that my crusade against Activision DEO (Douchey Executive Officer) Bobby Kotick has officially started. I was able to, by way of simple explanation of the situation, convince a hardcore gamer to boycott Activision products. That's called a win.


[adding...] Yes, I'm aware that I only convinced one person, but I'm hoping to start a meme here. I tell him, he tells his friends, they tell their friends, etc. It can happen.

Read more...

Bobby Kotick Thinks You Are a Moron.

Bobby's early years, before heading up one of the country's biggest games publishers. He is on record saying it was a "dark, yet extremely rewarding time in my life."

If you haven't read this story on Gamespot, do so now. The quotes attributed to Activision's CEO, Bobby Kotick, are despicable and unethical, to say the least.How this man is allowed to leave his house without checking in with a parole officer is beyond me, but I don't make the rules. If I did, I'd make sure ol' Bobby was trading places with the kid actors from Slumdog Millionaire. What a douchebag.

"I think what the untethered Guitar Hero does is equal the playing field a little more and give you some leverage with first parties when it comes to downloadable content and the business model," said the crotch-sniffing asshat Kotick, during the Deutsche Bank Securities Technology Conference. Sure, that quote sounds innocuous enough, but read it again and then think about it. What he's actually saying is that if Guitar Hero winds up not requiring an actual console to play it on your T.V., then they can do whatever the hell they want as far as pricing their DLC. At least that's what I'm reading into it. Maybe I'm reaching. But then again, maybe Bobby Kotick is an evil cock that doesn't deserve the title of Head of Custodial Arts, let alone his actual title of CEO.

Promotional material for my upcoming Docu-Drama, "Life With Bobby, or; How I Learned to Like Not Being a Rich Cunt"

That quote alone wouldn't even remotely approach the sound reasoning that he deserves the scorn and ridicule I'm doling out to him. Nay, I say to you who doubts his assholeishness. Observe another gem of wisdom when Kotick says, "We have a real culture of thrift. The goal that I had in bringing a lot of the packaged goods folks into Activision about 10 years ago was to take all the fun out of making video games."

Exqueeze me? Baking powder? What the fuck did he just say? His life-goal with Activision "...was to take all the fun out of making video games." Way to go, asshole. You're not SUPPOSED to say that shit in public. That's the type of thing you say to your secretary over an early morning breakfast of infant appendages and A-1 sauce while twirling your moustache with grease made from aborted Christian fetuses.

Here is Bobby Kotick, clearly not looking like a tool.

And, astonishingly, he didn't stop there. To quote the Gamespot story, "The executive said that he has tried to instill into the company culture 'skepticism, pessimism, and fear' of the global economic downturn, adding, 'We are very good at keeping people focused on the deep depression.'"

You'd think something would fire up some neurons in his brain and involuntarily keep his fat fucking mouth shut before he was able to get out that utterly ridiculous "company culture" bullshit. That's no way to run a company, and I don't care how big that company is. If that's how you treat your employees, then Activision can't be a very nice place to work. In all seriousness, this kind of attitude is absolutely unacceptable. It's unethical, immoral, and whatever other synonym for shitty you can think of.

In an article from Edge dating back to August of this year, the Prince of Darkness decided to chime in when Activision executives were asked about retailers' reactions to their pricing, saying, "…You know if it was left to me, I would raise the prices even further,” before pulling a giant lever which opened up a cavernous hole beneath his #2's plush office chair.

Here, Bobby is seen celebrating his random sale of stock, which happened to make him $17 million in a single day. He later admitted he is going to use the money to nuke us into oblivion. Victory!

As if you need any more proof that this dude is a jerkoff, The Business Insider picked up on a little financial transaction by Bobby from around May, in which they found "Kotick, who had sold a big chunk [of Activision stock] in March, filed to sell 1.5 million shares worth about $17 million..." Let me be clear about this kind of thing: I don't think that there is anything inherently wrong with anyone selling stock that they own. But I will raise questions when you are the CEO of a major corporation who makes millions every year, and yet you still think it's a good idea to sell an ass-load of stock in your own company. Why, you ask? Well, the final sentences in the article sum it up pretty well for me. "It could be that they[sic] execs need to do some 'estate planning' or some other functional reason. It could also be some ill winds blowing across the gaming sector. Retailer GameStop said on Friday that same store sales were weak and its outlook cloudy for the second quarter." You see, when I read something like that, all I can think of is random opportunity for Bobby. He makes a lot of money. Durh. So why would he sell millions of shares of stock in Activision? On a whim? And if that's the case, did he even bother to think of what this might tell people like the writers of that article? He's putting artificial doubt in the minds of financial analysts for the sole sake of making $17 million on a whim. That's ridiculously unethical in my not-so-humble opinion. Like I said, there's nothing illegal about doing what he did, but I think it's pretty telling as to his character and ethical center.




I'd already swore off Activision-published games, as the poll on the right-hand-side of the blog points to. I'll admit to buying the odd game published by them, but that's only because I didn't know the full extent of Kotick's insane beliefs. I already knew he didn't want to publish a game unless he could franchise it, but Jesus, I had no idea he was this far down the rabbit hole. Fuck this guy, and fuck everything that comes from Activision. It's too bad I won't be able to enjoy Call of Duty 6 when it comes out, but Infinity Ward should really consider moving on to greener pastures at this point. Activision is ruining their franchise by watering it down with inferior products every other year, and the trend is only going to continue. With CEOs like Bobby Kotick lurking around the dungeons of corporate depravity, it's no wonder sometimes I feel like the games industry is lagging behind where it should be in terms of creativity.

Seriously, fuck Bobby Kotick and Activision. Don't support this type of bullshit by buying their games. It has to be done.
Read more...

Burned by Friendly Fire: Game Critics Rant...well, part of it

I just read about this panel today, and while a lot of it was interesting, I found myself insulted by one speaker, and befuddled by another. Unfortunately, I can't find a transcript of it, so I won't even bother linking to anywhere that talks about it. It's out there, you can find it easily enough.

Let's first start with the speaker who insulted me. Heather Chaplin is her name, and I don't care to ever hear it again. I don't know anything about her, and I've never read anything she's written before. But from all the lengthy quotes I did read from her, I just don't care to ever read something by her ever again. Sorry. Her whole schtick was about how the industry is full of adolescent man-children who only use games as a way of acting out power fantasies. Apparently, men who make games aren't men, because they make games with violence and sex. While I'll agree that I'd like to see some of our focus trained on other, different kinds of games, the fact still remains that other, different kinds of games exist. They're there, whether or not Heather Chaplin wants to, or is able to, see them. What about Shadow of the Colossus and ICO? What about Braid? Bioshock? Heavy Rain? I guess they don't count.

And she says we don't have our Citizen Kane. Um, ok. There's several problems with that statement. First - and I've said this before - games aren't movies. There are fundamental differences between the mediums that, while some valid comparisons can be made, make shit like spouting off about games not having a Citizen Kane sound just plain idiotic. For every Citizen Kane that a studio produces, how many 12 Rounds do we have to put up with? It's a shitty comparison, plain and simple. I could argue that games journalism doesn't have their Walter Cronkite, but I would see that as discrediting the loads of people who go to work every day to report about the games industry. I actually do think that games journalists need to figure out some way to stop relying on publishers and PR departments to get all their information, because, I would imagine, and it's been talked about before, they have to meet certain criteria to gain access to a game. That's bullshit. You see what Heather has done to me? I'm going all over the place now.

The focus of my anger is with her babble about developers "not being men." Who is she comparing them to, first of all? Secondly, who is she to make that comparison? She talks about neoteny, which, according to Wikipedia, is "the retention, by adults in a species, of traits previously seen only in juveniles (a kind of pedomorphosis), and is a subject studied in the field of developmental biology." Now, I don't need to be an expert in neoteny to understand what she's getting at. Man-children. She's not just attacking the games that developers make, but them as people. And by extension, she's attacking the people who buy and play said games. I don't think I should be made to apologize for playing and enjoying Gears of War. And I also don't think my enjoyment has anything to do with her so-called "power fantasies." I play the game because it's fun. Period. That's what games are all about, or did she forget that in all her serious, world-changing journalism classes? I also happen to read a lot on subjects such as religion, politics and philosophy. But we'll just ignore all that because I like to play shooters. Whatever. And by the way, nice job calling out immature men on their infantile ego-stroking power fantasies, and then ending your rant by saying "What do you want to be, a Chihuahua or a wolf?" Durrrhhh.

David Jaffe has a fantastic response on his blog.

Another speaker on the panel was Adam Sessler, and I have to preface this with the fact that I think he's great. Sessler's Soapbox is the greatest thing on television. That being said, his talk was about Metacritic and why people rely on it so much. Again, I don't have a transcript, but I'm pretty sure I understand what he was talking about. Basically, either Metacritic should stop using scores to aggregate rankings, or people should stop using Metacritic as a barometer. Either way, the problem honestly comes down to people like him, and every other magazine and t.v. show that ranks games. If there were no scores on reviews, there would be no Metacritic. It's that simple. There's not really much else to say about that, because it really is that easy to figure out. If you would stop putting scores on games, Metacritic would just go away. So let's get that train moving, if you would.

Read more...

Grand Theft Auto IV: Cake or Death Edition

The GTA series has been pretty much on auto pilot since GTA III. Make a few upgrades to graphics and physics as new hardware allows and roll out the next one. Which is fine because it’s one of those games that you just want more of. It doesn’t need to be overhauled or redesigned every iteration. All you have to do is come up with a new main character and basic story frame that doesn’t interfere to support some challenging missions. There's no real excuse for any garbage then. It's as formulaic as an episode of the A-Team. The problem is that a lot of the new innovations do interfere with the game play, and I can’t remember back to the previous GTA games but there’s some really basic changes that should have been added in.

Let’s start with Niko’s character. The main character is a war veteran who’s been worn down by the violence and just wants a shot at the American dream to live a normal life. That’s all well and fine. In the early part of the story, Niko talks a lot about wanting to live a peaceful life while running some really boring taxi missions. Then his cousin, Roman, is getting pushed around by a local mobster. He’s sleeping around with Roman’s girl and talking down to Niko. Niko gets pissed at him and shortly thereafter he’s dropping bodies while still droning on about his inner angst. His biggest sticking point for the rest of the game? Pay him well, good help doesn’t come cheap. I actually like the development for his character early on, but you can’t set him up as some kind of reborn pacifist when he’d kill his own mother for $500. My favorite set of missions were the killings Niko performs for Brucie. Basically Brucie says he needs somebody taken care of for some vague reason and you go kill them for the obviously steroid-addicted maniac. Later Niko finds out they were just people who cut Brucie off or dented his car or something minute like that and Niko throws a hissy fit. Here’s a thought: If you don’t like killing people for no real reason, you should probably stop being a hit man.

Next up is the network of friends and girlfriends for Niko. On the surface it’s a really great game play feature. You can call them or they can call you and you go hang out or eat or whatever. You get some cool mini games and interesting dialogue between Niko and maybe a dozen or so other characters. Also, when you get your friendship maxed with one of the important characters, they can give you bonuses. Brucie can give you a helicopter lift, Jacob can drive to you and sell you weapons out of his trunk, etc. As your network of friends gets larger and larger however, you begin to get bogged down. Between the lot of them you’re lucky if you can get from one mission to the next without being called by at least a half dozen. You can’t say no to hanging out with them, or they become angry with you. But you can’t just not answer your phone either. Same result. Ignore them too many times and you’ll lose your perks. The management and time required turn this feature from a series of nice subplots to a cumbersome upkeep system.

Cars and missions. It’s a game called Grand Theft Auto. I’d like to have fun stealing cars. I’d also like to have fun driving those cars on missions. Far too many missions in this game require you to ditch whatever ride you brought and use some other P.O.S. Sometimes this makes sense, like when you have to block off the tunnel and ambush a motorcade. But when it’s all said and done, I’d like to go back to my car and go home. Unfortunately anything a little out of your range despawns, which creates other problems I’ll get to later. This means taking your car out for a mission ends up with you losing it more often than not, and since you have no way of knowing what’s going to happen on a mission, why would you ever bring your own vehicle? But then why would you even bother to save a vehicle if you can’t really use it on a mission? Unless all you wanted to do was zoom around from one end of the city to another as a butt buddy for your friends to earn their perks.

Another problem with vehicles is that if you’re driving a certain vehicle, you tend to see a lot more of that vehicle spawning on the streets. So you may go for several hours before you find your first Turismo, but after that if you’re driving it around, you may see one every 30 seconds. Seems a bit broken.

Also, the vehicles you’re often forced into handle much, much worse. All of that is usually bearable, I just chalk that up to making the game play challenging. But the bikes handle like complete ass in the game. I don’t like driving them, I shouldn’t have to, but I do. The most irritating mission for this was the final mission. You go in guns blazing, come out the back and the bad dudes are getting away on a motor boat. So you have to jump on a bike. Not too long after, a car pulls in front of you with a guy driving and another hanging out the window shooting at you. I cleared them out and hopped in the car and caught up to the boat. Then I failed the mission. Why? Because I got too far away from the bike. You know, because it matters what vehicle I was driving when I murder someone.

Sandbox. I can do whatever I want in the ‘world.’ Problem is, there’s no lasting impact for any of my actions. Murder 50 cops in the police station? No problem, just get out of the radar range for 30 seconds or so and it all goes back to normal. Have to leave your car behind for some reason? It won’t be there when you get back. Go back to the police station where you killed 50 cops? No one cares. There’s 50 more ready to bleed coffee and donuts. Mass murdering people is kind of amusing for the shock value of it at first. Like “Hey, I can kill a lot of people! This is awesome!” 5-10 minutes later, and you’ve been doing exactly the same thing for 5-10 minutes. It runs out of steam quickly. I’d personally like some deeper ways to interact with the environment, or some lasting consequences of your decisions.

Linear game play in a sandbox world. If you know how something is going to play out, you aren’t rewarded for your creativity in planning ahead. You can stack all the garbage trucks you want in the alley behind the stripper joint, but when the mobster books it into his car in the back alley, all the garbage trucks have apparently been reclaimed by their dispossessed garbage men. Or how about when you’re really wailing on a car from behind with your SMG, but it won’t take damage because it’s scripted to drive to a certain point? If I can deal with the awkward drive-by shooting mechanics well enough, I should be able to take vehicles out early, or if I'm creative I should be able to finish missions in multiple ways.

And it should ‘save’ cars to you, so that if you ditch a car which you just pulled out of one of your spots and it’s relatively unscathed, you should find it back at that parking spot then next time you visit it. Or something similar to that. I get tired of walking out of a save point and seeing 2 pimp cars sitting in front of me and saying “Well, I don’t want to lose one for this mission, let me grab that minivan.” In the end that leaves you feeling more like Petty Theft Auto.

There are a few pluses, though. The shooting on foot has been improved with the lock on system. You don't have to worry about that whole eating fast food/working out thing anymore. And the core game play is still really well done. I'll be looking forward to V with the hopes that a lot of these design choices will be changed for the better. Read more...

Writing about games takes almost as much time as playing them.

With me having to write for two separate blogs, I haven't been actually playing much of anything over the past few weeks. I've dabbled in Tales of Vesperia and a couple of community games, but that's about it. Before I started the blog, however, I was working my way through a few titles. I'll be picking them back up slowly as the new car smell of writing for this shit wears off. Those games are:


Yakuza 2
Far Cry 2
Prince of Persia
Valkyria Chronicles
Beyond Good & Evil


When I make any significant progress in any of those, I'll write about it. But for now, it's off to hoping my new laptop doesn't spontaneously turn itself off again while I'm ripping a dvd(so I can make trailers/clips...it's my legal copy and I'm not a dirty stinking pirate)........I'd talk about my laptop issues but it's boring and doesn't have to do with games. Bah. Read more...

Presumptions of a Protagonist

A discussion over at Brainy Gamer got me thinking: just what is it that we look for in a protagonist? Does it depend on the genre? The story? Lets assume, for the sake of argument, that the protagonist in a game functions as our own avatar -- we project at least some part of ourselves onto that character. In doing so, do we also try to instill a set of beliefs to uphold while we play? I'm aware that some people really don't care, and they just play games to have fun. But others do insist on keeping a kind of moral decorum throughout their playtime, and that ties into the central question of identity that I'm trying to explore.


Let's first look at what is necessary for there to be any point in being self-aware while playing a game. First, the game world has to allow you some degree of choice or consequence that forces you to act according to your own standards. Second, the story has to be believable enough that those choices and consequences have meaning to the player. I'll admit it's not the best of examples, but Bioshock is a game where your choices directly affect the outcome of the story. If you choose to harvest the little sisters, at the end of the game Rapture has turned you into a monster. If, on the other hand, you choose to free them, you become a savior to those children and the story adjusts to accommodate your choice. Other than the simple fact of the two different endings existing, what are the motivations for choosing one over the other? In my case, I couldn't find it in myself to add to the already rapidly decaying citizenry of Rapture. The little sisters may have had to adapt to their surroundings in order to survive, but if I could free them from their fate, there was really no question in my mind. The game also presented its main character as a blank slate, with no dialogue or input from his own thoughts, and in doing so, made it easier for me to make decisions based on what I would do if I were in his shoes.


Another, perhaps better example of a game that let me add my own consciousness to the experience was Fable II. A lot of the quests involved me deciding whether I should help the people of Albion, or make their lives miserable by siding with the various criminals scattered throughout the world. I could protect farmers by eliminating the raiding parties trying to make off with their valuables, or I could join in on the looting and get the farmers killed in the process. Each like decision had a direct influence on my character's physical appearance, and my reputation changed accordingly. And as the game drew to a close, it presented a moral dilemma: save the world, save your friends, or save yourself. I chose my friends, and as a result, the world changed to reflect my choice. It was a tougher decision to make than the one Bioshock asked of me, and its consequences were farther-reaching both in concept and execution. When it was all said and done, my judgments made the game what it was. You could argue the significance of my choice at the end of the game, since I don't think it had much of an impact on the physical world I inhabited -- outside of the central characters' roles in that world, everything basically stayed the same. But the narrative didn't, and for better or worse, it was of my own doing.


Both Bioshock and Fable II meet the criteria for being self-aware while playing a game. I'd like to focus now on a game that meets some of, but not all those criteria: Grand Theft Auto IV. The environment that Rockstar crafted is a fully-realized, living, breathing world. People walk the streets while talking on their cell phones, drivers get into car accidents, the weather changes, and you get a strong sense that you are in an actual city where things happen whether you're there or not. Such a world is an ideal place to have the player experience the full potential of the medium. What could happen in the context of the story if, say, you were driving along the streets of Liberty City and you struck and killed a pedestrian? How could the designers factor in such situations to make a more relative experience? It's fascinating to think about, but unfortunately Rockstar didn't entertain the same thoughts. Or if they did, they weren't able to make a polished game out of them. But still, the world they created remains, along with the potential for the brand of immersive storytelling that lets the player become one with his avatar. The designers not being able to tailor their story to the unique characteristics of their world doesn't negate its existence. And as grand as it is, it's only half of what makes a game fully immersive.


The narrative centers on a man who is looking to escape a world of crime, yet always finds himself dragged(without much resistance, I would add) back in. Initially I was drawn to the character -- I sympathized with his plight, and I tried to see and feel what he saw and felt. But as the game went on, I felt more and more disconnected from what was happening. In a scene central to the motivations of my character, I could choose to shoot someone or let them live. I chose the latter, and was told by another person in the game that I did the right thing. Did my character just grow as a person? At this point, I knew better. The main problem is the way the story and game world mix together. After the scene I just described, if I so chose, I could go about murdering hookers, blowing up police cars and helicopters, setting fire to pedestrians, and committing all sorts of other over-the-top violent acts. Which, taken by itself, I have absolutely no problem with. It's actually fun to me. But the disconnect occurs when I've had enough murder and mayhem for the time being, so I get in a car, drive far away and wait a few minutes, then everything resets in the game. It's like nothing ever happened, and I can continue following the narrative -- which is about my reluctance to commit crimes -- while pretending I didn't just burn thirty people alive. I think GTA IV is such an aggregious offender because of how obvious the disconnect between player and avatar really is. Right when a part of the story sucks you in, you then have to play the game, and all emotional investment is immediately lost.


So it's with that in mind that I ask: are sandbox games not tailored to the self-awareness in games I want to experience? My answer would be no -- at least for the time being. I assume at some point a game will come along that takes both pieces of the puzzle and arranges them in the correct way. But for now -- I don't know, maybe it's a technological shortcoming -- a more focused experience seems to be a better fit for total immersion. I'm hoping Heavy Rain turns out to be one of those experiences, but there's still a lot about the game I don't know. However, judging from the developers at Quantic Dream, it stands a good chance of succeeding where others have failed. At the very least, it will be an aesthetically pleasing adventure game with superficial choices and a very linear plot progression. I'm sure the story will be great, but if it's to do what I think it can, the game will need to give me choices on a far greater scale than most others use.


Aside from player input, another aspect that influences the level of immersion achieved is the physical appearance of the on-screen avatar. Liking or disliking the presentation goes a long way for measuring how much a game connects with the person playing it, and good character design is paramount to getting the best possible connection. Conversely, poor character design can immediately turn off the player, no matter how well other aspects of the game are implemented. Creating the perfect design can be difficult, and depending on the genre, the definition of "perfect" changes. For instance, Mirror's Edge is a game about free-running. To effectively convey that the character belongs in the game world, their design needs to match their surroundings. As such, DICE chose to use a female character design that was more slender and athletic, and she looks like a person accustomed to sprinting and hurdling obstacles. Faith does speak during cutscenes, but her design, combined with the first-person viewpoint allows the player to be more in-tune with her character. Playing the game feels like an extension of your own body instead of just pressing buttons for a desired effect. Add to that a control scheme that compliments the feeling of self, and you end up with a great, immersive experience.


My next point is rather obvious, but the overall quality of a game also determines how well the player is able to combine identities with that of the game character. Jerky animations, rough or unpolished textures, and poor voice acting are all factors that detract from the desired effect. Budget and time constraints weigh heavily on the quality of a game, but a team with enough talented people and creative freedom should be able to excel in any given framework. Braid is an example of a very small team creating an amazing experience with a small budget. While it might not have even made a million dollars, it only cost about $180,000 to make, or at least that's what Jonathan Blow put up from his own pocket to fund the project. Even if that cost was tripled, based on the amount of people who downloaded Braid in its first week of release alone, it still would have made a profit. On the artistic and technical side, Braid used a nostalgic viewpoint as the gateway to a different kind of experience. It may seem like just a platformer with a creative gameplay mechanic, but there are some subtle(and some not so subtle) bits of storytelling strewn about the game world. Everything looks like it's part of a watercolor painting, and just looking at all the art is half the enjoyment of playing. While I don't feel Braid achieves total immersion, it does represent what can be created with limitations in place if the talent is there.


A game could have the greatest story of the last decade, but if the character models look and move like mannequins, the illusion of them being alive is gone. However, I think this only applies for the current generation of games(Xbox Live Arcade exluded), meaning if a game is from before the current hardware cycle, it should be viewed as such. The games that truly make the generational leap intact won't need explaining or excuses for how they look or play. They're looked upon with the same respect they received initially because something about their design still hits a chord with players.


In closing, I'd like to share my personal feelings on why total immersion is so important. I'm a heavy film buff, and along with games they are my primary source of entertainment and critical thinking. With film, I don't expect to relate to a character in the same way I do with games. The people and places depicted in film have a definite story arch that cannot be altered. I begin watching, experience what the filmmakers want me to, and the experience ends. I'm certainly capable of relating what the characters go through to my own life, but with games, the potential for me to do so is far greater. By dictating what happens in a game with my own ideals and beliefs, I feel a greater sense of ownership and have a deeper emotional investment in what's going on. But that only happens when a game allows it to. Most of what I play doesn't aspire to such heights, and that's fine by me. But when they do, it solidifies my assertion that as a medium, video games are totally unique in regard to any other form of entertainment. I'll continue to play and enjoy games that are solidly built yet flawed, but when those special gems come around with higher aspirations that elevate them above the pack, it makes me proud to call myself a gamer.


Read more...

The Shortest Distance Between Two Points.

So I'm playing Tales of Vesperia, and I found myself thinking about the linear nature of its world. While the game is pretty big so far, it urges you forward by only letting you explore small sections of the map at any one time. I don't really mind it; in fact, I might even prefer it this way. When I'm playing a game that lets me roam around a huge expanse, I usually find myself getting sidetracked by various side quests, and sometimes by just running around looking at random shit. That's all well and good, but when a game allows you to do that, it runs the risk of making the story seem almost secondary. Granted, when it's done right it can exponentially increase the experience, but sometimes I really just want a more direct apporach to storytelling.


And with Vesperia, the story is good enough so far that all I want to do is progress through it. There haven't been any meaningless side quests with endless repetition to wrap my brain around, making me forget just what the fuck it is I'm actually trying to accomplish. As much as I like both Oblivion and Fallout 3, I haven't played more than around 35 hours in each game. Those hours have been great, but eventually I just flame out and play other games. It takes so long to do something actually worthwhile, that by the time I finally get to that point, something else comes along and I end up not coming back to either game for months. I still like those games a lot, and I haven't given up on them. It's just going to take me a hell of a lot longer to get around to finishing them. Maybe before this generation is over, even. In the mean-time, I'm having a blast with Tales of Vesperia, and I still have to finish Far Cry 2, Prince of Persia, and Yakuza 2. Holy shit, why am I still yammering in your ear then? I have about 60 more hours to play of Vesperia. Good day to you, then. Read more...

Gaming Flashback: Silent Hill 2 - Welcome to the Sins of Your Life

Let's cut to the chase: Silent Hill 2 may still be the greatest character study in gaming history. It's also still one of the most consistently organic games ever made.

To start off, I must say that if you are reading this, you should expect a lot of spoilers, as this is a retrospective on a game that, if you haven't already played it, you should immediately stop reading and go find a copy of it to play.

Now back to the topic at hand.

In many ways, it is actually inappropriate to look at Silent Hill 2 as any kind of sequel, despite the fact that it shares the location of its predecessor. Realistically, Silent Hill 2 redefined why the town of Silent Hill existed, and more importantly, gave it a valuable purpose.

Gone were the conspiracies and cult conflicts of the first game. Silent Hill 2 didn't even require you to understand the history of the town, and realistically, you were better served without knowing it when playing the game. Instead, the sequel (in name only) created a more intimate portrait of a smaller cast of characters, and gave the town a utility for existence. Silent Hill wasn't just a living, breathing game world. It was a personified character all on it's own, with its own motivations and intentions.

More importantly, Silent Hill 2 was successful in the way that it fused the gameplay experience metaphorically into the inner conflicts of each of its characters. To the little girl, Laura, Silent Hill was simply a normal town that had been deserted. She had no inner demons to cope with, or past sins for which to atone, and as a result, no origin for reconciliation. She was a pitch-perfect portrayal of innocence not yet lost.

In contrast, for James Sunderland, Eddie Dombrowski, and Angela Orosco, Silent Hill was a proving ground for facing inner demons and a place of punishment for the guilty conscience and past transgressions. Those who were unable to cope were destroyed, be it physically or mentally. However, for those strong enough to survive, Silent Hill was also a place of self-redemption.

That determination was left up to the player, and it is also in this function that Silent Hill 2 elevates itself to one of those few masterpieces where gameplay, story, and outcome intertwine into one unified purpose. Choices made by the player, and therefore James, affected whether or not James would find self-redemption, and unlike other games, where player choices can be arbitrary and usually unrelated to the story itself, Silent Hill 2 made them organic.


Examining the suicide knife left on the table by Angela? Then you've made James realize suicide as the means to an end. Do you look at the portrait of your wife and the drawing that Laura left on the window? Then James would realize the error of his ways and disengage himself from Maria, allowing him to leave the town with Laura and have his moment of confession with his wife. Do you ignore all of those, and simply attach yourself to Maria, the double of your wife meant to punish James for his sins? Then you better be prepared for James to leave Silent Hill with Maria and be punished all over again with Maria becoming terminally ill, just as Mary did.

Even the monsters you fought in Silent Hill 2 also existed seamlessly with the town and plot, each being a physical manifestation of the very demons and sins the characters were facing. Angela, who was facing both torment and sin, was forced to face her childhood molestation in the form of a boss shaped like a disfigured bed. Unfortunately, for Angela, she was not able to overcome her torment, nor the sin she had committed when she burned her house down and killed her mother and father. Her fate, then, was left with an eternity of burning, oppressive flames.

As for James, nothing was more perfectly symbolic than facing his sin face-to-face, with a crimson-colored version of his wife, through Maria. Throughout the entire game, every moment of James' interaction with her was a deliberate dance, started by luring James in with seduction and nostalgia, followed by driving against him with persistent guilt, and then ultimately making him watch as she is repeatedly killed in horrifying ways, all while James is helpless to stop it.

It is for all these reasons, and so many more, that Silent Hill 2 remains as one of the most complex and poignant character studies ever attempted in a video game world. By providing a dichotomy of punishment and redemption, the town of Silent Hill creates doubt as to whether or not it truly is evil. For those drowning in their sins and inner struggles, Silent Hill may be their only hope of coping.

Silent Hill is of your own making. Read more...

What's the Point? - Reaching the Next Level of Game Design.

I like all types of games. Action, survival horror, adventure -- you name it. I play countless hours of Halo, and enjoy sharing narrow escapes with Lara Croft. I get what those games are trying to do. But my aim here is to figure out what makes a story resonate. With the right combination of characters and events, even the simplest of plots can turn into something so much more. Something that reverses the game back on the player and forces them to think about their own life relative to what the designers are asking of them.


When you enter high school, no matter where you go, there is a list of books that are required reading if you are to graduate and move on with your life. Catcher in the Rye, Lord of the Flies, Fahrenheit 451(not to be confused with Fahrenheit 911), to name a few. These books aren't chosen at random; rather, they've each displayed the ability to stand the test of time. Their narratives have been deemed worthy of being passed on from generation to generation. It's not hard to see where I'm going with this -- we, as gamers, still don't have our Masterpiece. A tale so poignant that it is mandatory we know it before we are allowed to call ourselves thinking people. There are games that have tried, and valiantly failed, to transcend the medium and reach the hearts and minds of those who seek to better themselves.


Is it too lofty a goal to attain? Does the industry's by and large reliance on metacritic scores and age brackets halt any progress that might be made? I don't know the answers to those questions, but they're worth asking just the same. As we get older, our tastes change. We mature and start to see the world in a different light. That applies to everything we consume -- be it games, movies, books, politics, or anything else we focus our attention on. And with maturity comes the realization that we are part of something bigger than ourselves. We all have a place in this world, and it's up to us to figure out where we want to put ourselves in relation to it. That simple revelation can lead to a deeper reflection, and that's exactly where I want to see games evolve.


I mentioned we have yet to find our Masterpiece; our shining example of what games can aspire to be. After thinking on it some more, only one game came to mind that could possibly define itself in such a way. That game is Shadow of the Colossus. Underneath its simple story and minimalist design, it poses the question, "How far would you go for your selfish needs?" The answer doesn't come easy, nor does the question itself. The game doesn't force itself on you; it merely exists. The point of the game seems obvious -- save the girl, then save the day. In the hands of lesser craftsmen, I'd agree. But Fumito Ueda and everyone working at Team ICO went far beyond the narrative confines where other developers don't dare go. From the moment you kill your first colossus, blackness engulfs you and you wonder if what you're doing is right. Are the consequences worth the risk, or are you throwing out reason to do what your heart desires?


Every aspect of Shadow of the Colossus compliments itself and mirrors its themes of love, redemption, fear and loneliness. Since there are no other enemies other than colossi, the game allows you to think about the events that are transpiring in a much broader sense than what you initially realize. And as you see your character slowly degrade to the point of near death, you finally understand at least part of the price you've paid for reaching your goal at any cost. Would a more noble person just accept the cards they've been dealt, rather than risk even more cataclysmic consequences? Possibly, but the point isn't to reach a definite conclusion. Sometimes simply posing the question yields more thought than could otherwise be reached by putting forth a certain point of view. For all its accomplishments, Shadow of the Colossus still has to stand up to time's rigorous testing. My hope is that ten years from now, people can go back to this game and see a moment in gaming history, still as giant as ever, and know that its high praise wasn't a product of the times.


Shadow of the Colossus is a perfect example of a game's story seamlessly co-existing with its gameplay. That's not to say games can't be great without doing so, but the disconnect felt when those elements don't mesh can't go unnoticed. Grand Theft Auto IV, for example, tries to tell a story of reflection and possibly redemption. But at its core, the game is morally ambiguous. Metal Gear Solid 4, on the other hand, eschewed its gameplay by rushing you through cutscene after cutscene of heavy-handed melodrama and forced perspective. Taken seperately, they can be satisfying, and even great. But to fully elevate itself to the template by which every other game should aspire to, these experiences need to be one and the same.


With everything said, I understand how hard it is to accomplish what I'm asking for. It takes the right combination of time, money, and above all, talent. Without capable minds, no strides will ever be made toward reaching a greater base level of expression. It's with this in mind that I look at what the future might hold for the games industry -- what its aspirations are, the kind of people it reaches out to, and how the rest of the world views it. Right now, I believe Ken Levine and 2K Boston are the people most able to see that future, and it's in their work I hope to find the template I so desire.


Bioshock, for all its depth and intelligence, took me by surprise. I was expecting a fantastic shooter with a competent story and a suitable world to explore. What I found was far more engrossing, and the game's financial success only makes me that much more excited for what's still in store. As is the trend with developers, there will be Bioshock clones. But I think it's reasonable to hope that whoever decides to immitate the emotions Rapture evoked, they will do so with the understanding of just what made that game so great. The way it led you by the nose the whole way without you knowing it, while all around you laid the destroyed vision of man's arrogance and ambition was near flawless. If there was any game I'd want to see mimicked, it would be this one. I don't expect an equal to rise up from such flattery, but I'll certainly appreciate the sentiment.


I'm a patient person, and it's with a positive outlook that I wait and watch where we go from here. The games industry is still in its infancy, so it's logical to expect the most profound growth is still to come. In the mean time, I'll be perfectly happy grinding away in Ninja Gaiden and Tomb Raider.


My kids just won't be reading about them in high school.

Read more...

Nearly four years into this console generation, the greatest game remains in Oblivion...

I challenge you to find a more believable game world than this.

There are so many reasons why people play games. To have fun. To escape from reality for a short time (or long time). To imagine and/or live in another world. To see a great story. To have a ton of fun fighting and kicking ass. To marvel at amazing graphics. The list goes on and on.

As we approach November of this New Year, we will also be approaching the four year anniversary of this generation of consoles. Yes, hard to believe, but it's almost already been four years since the debut of the Xbox 360.

Countless great titles have released of all different genres imaginable. Yet three years after it's debut, The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion still remains the single most outstanding, definitive, and complete game of this generation.

I know it may seem curious as to why I would be writing a blog about a game that's three years old. Perhaps it is because while most of the gaming world saw 2008 as one of the greatest gaming years in a long time, I found it to be rather disappointing. All the major titles that released with huge hype ended up falling well short of expectations. GTA4 had clear story and gameplay inconsistencies, along with blatantly broken sandbox mechanics when it came to missions disabling you from completing the mission your own way. Metal Gear Solid 4 was an example of how to take a great build up of grand story ideas and then run them through a meat grinder and see if people can still make any sense of it (that, and the game wasn't really a game). Fallout 3 took everything that made the Elder Scrolls series great, and shaved off all the icing and toppings, leaving only the dry bread of the cake for us to have trouble swallowing.

Which brings me to Oblivion. Simply put, Oblivion still remains the greatest game of this generation because it fulfills all the reasons anyone would want to play a game (see list in first paragraph). Somehow, through it's blend of fantasy RPG/Action/Sandbox gameplay, Oblivion succeeds wildly in giving any gamer, regardless of taste or purpose, a reason to love it.



I think it goes without contention that Oblivion achieves a true otherworldly sense of place and time that is more convincing than any other game has to date. Cyrodil wasn't a game world, it was simply a real world. Sprawled out with diversity, locations, mystery, people, stories, and ideas, Cyrodil was a living, breathing character all on its own. And it wasn't just that it gave you so much to do, as many MMORPG's have done. It was that it gave you things to do that were actually intriguing, intricate, complex, and extremely detailed. Every side quest was brooding with conflict, and a real sense of character and purpose.

No, Oblivion wasn't perfect. The combat system definitely let me down at times, particularly in huge battles when it became very difficult to attack an enemy while making sure not to hit friendlies. And the facial animations definitely left a bit to be desired.

But to this day, I continue to find myself sinking back into Oblivion's game world, devoting hours and hours to exploring a world and game that never ceases to penetrate to that core of us that can't help but admire the amazing beauty and solitude of a great landscape, or symphony, or story.

Oblivion gives us everything at once.


Read more...

If it's going to be groundbreaking, it's got to be organic... and no, I don't mean without pesticides...

I guess I should probably follow my esteemed colleague and introduce myself as well. Don't worry, I'll be brief. I agree with most of everything that George said, although I would also say that by having a background in literature, I do prefer a good story in a game over one without.

That being said, Metal Gear Solid 4 is an extremely poor example of that.

I would put myself in a category that is probably more leaning in the direction of game creator Jonathan Blow. That's not to say I'm the biggest fan of deliberate ambiguity, or messages hidden within excessive layers of over-interpretation.

However, I will introduce myself by making a blanket statement. Video games as a medium will have the potential to elevate themselves into the category of "art," along with films and novels, the day that they finally realize that all the aspects of a game (graphics, sound, gameplay, story, etc) have to feel organic. What this means is that all of those aspects have to exist in conjunction with the other elements of the game.

A great example of this NOT happening would be in games like Grand Theft Auto IV and Metal Gear Solid 4. In GTA4, unlike it's past iterations, we were meant to understand that Niko Bellic was a sympathetic anti-hero who had a moral dilemma when committing murder, even if he had to do it to survive. That might sound like an interesting premise for a story, but it ran head-on into a paradoxical gameplay mechanic where after every cutscene, should your heart desire as the gamer, you could make Niko essentially commit mass genocide on a city street by blowing up, shooting, and beating to death, hundreds of civilians. Sure, we've all had our fun moments doing this in a GTA, but it doesn't fit with the character design Dan Houser and his team were going for in Niko.

I want gaming to elevate to that level of art, and there have certainly been many games in the past that have done this to incredible levels. George mentioned Shadow of the Colossus and Ico. Games like Bioshock and the original Deus Ex have also done this extremely well, just to name a few, in which the gameplay and first person perspective lend themselves to the overall meaning and point the game itself.

In Bioshock, you had singular objectives that you completed because, well, the game required you to. Atlas said "would you kindly save my family," and "would you kindly kill Andrew Ryan," and, as the player, you followed orders because, just like the protagonist, that's what you were programmed to do. Bioshock made the player very self-aware of a linear video game, because after all, when you put that game in, are you really NOT going to do what the game tells you?

Deus Ex used the first person perspective in the opposite way of Bioshock, in that it was all about perception and choice. Every newspaper article you "decided" to read, every email account you hacked that revealed what was being said behind your back, all served to allow the player the feeling that which side you ultimately took in the grand conspiracy of the story depended on your own initiative in seeking out knowledge. If you never took the time to learn the history of the world in Deus Ex, then your character simply followed orders as he was intended. But if you found yourself suspicious, and confirmed those suspicions for yourself by taking a few minutes to read the notes on your boss' desk, you suddenly realized you were a pawn being guided to selfish ends.

There's other games that do this well, I'm just not going to sit here and name them all. My point is that it's been done well in the past. The technology keeps improving, so there's no reason why the core of gaming has to remain stagnant, or even rescind backwards.

Here's to hoping the golden era of gaming is right around the corner... in the meantime, Fallout 3, GTA4, and MGS4 aren't how we're going to get there.

Oh, and I guess I lied... it was a long post. By the way, my name is Brett. Read more...

Allow me to introduce....myself.

Hi, I'm George, and I like games. Games with guns, where you get to shoot stuff. Explosions and boobs are cool, too. If a game were to have all three of those, I would give it a 10 and buy a copy for my mother. Not that she would play it, but if I came to her house, it would at least be there for me to look at the box and giggle like a schoolgirl. And by giggle like a schoolgirl, I mean pump my fists in a manly rage.



Just kidding.



The rather auspicious start to my first entry here at The Grind Spot was made to illustrate a point. I'm not really a story guy. Don't get me wrong, there are definitely games that craft a well told story, but those are exceptions to the rule. I'm not going to get into the age-old debate on whether or not games are art. Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. But for me, the most important part of playing a game is having fun. A game could have the greatest tale ever burned to disc, but if it sucks to play, I'm probably not going to waste my time struggling through the crap to see what happens next. That being said, story can play a big part as to whether a game is fun or not. A prime example. Some people need to learn that a game is not a movie, and the same techniques won't necessarily work when applied to a wholly different medium. I honestly think writing a script by trying to emulate a movie is a bad move. At least in its current state, the games industry just isn't capable of eliciting reactions on the same plane as a good drama.


I wouldn't say video games is the medium where screenwriters go to die; it's more like Florida for 65 year-old retirees, only they're more mobile, and they seem to have an eagle's eye for locating the epic struggles of the most obnoxious people ever in existence. If you were to pick ten random games, how many do you think would have something worthwhile to say? One or two? If I seem harsh, it's because that's a cold, hard fact of life. Some people may want it to be different, but the industry just isn't at a point yet where it can stand next to, say, film, and be shown in a positive light. One thing to keep in mind is that the film industry has had time to sit in the corner and think about what it's done, while a lot of developers are still in time out, wearing a dunce cap and waiting for the teacher to let them eat their snack pack.


I don't want you to think I'm placing blame squarely on the shoulders of people who write these stories and produce our entertainment. Sure, they have to want to strive for excellence, but it's not entirely their fault. One major thing will have to change before we can move forward in the way we look at the quality of stories in games: the consumer. Obviously, if you're reading this, your taste is impeccable and you yearn to play a deliberately paced character study about a man contemplating suicide. But besides you and me, who would actually buy a game based on The Fire Within? I'd be the first to plunk down five bucks on a pre-order, but the reality is that no one would give a shit about it. By and large, as an audience we're still looking for the familiar. If it doesn't resemble in some fashion something already made, the chances of it selling are pretty slim.


Again, there are exceptions to the rule. For example, Shadow of the Colossus sold almost a million copies, but if you were to look at it in passing, all you would see is some dude riding on a horse for ten minutes. Sadly, games like that are few and far between. Not the ones with dudes riding on horses for ten minutes, but the ones that have narrative built into every detail of the game, forgoing exposition for the sake of inference. Instead of reaching emotional highs by creating characters you feel for and building said emotions over the course of a game, we're stuck with this. There's nothing particularly wrong with the scene itself(I actually think it was done fairly decently), but it wasn't a conclusion to a tightly woven narrative. It was just a throwaway cutscene that was quickly forgotten once you finished the level.


Therein lies the dilemma a lot of companies are faced with: go for broke by trying for something with more substance and possibly less action, or keep it simple and aim for the demographic that always buys your shit. Not an enviable position to be in, and far be it for me to criticize anyone for wanting their game to actually sell some copies. Unless you're these guys. So for now, I'll just hold out hope that in the years to come, more people will be willing to give new things a try. You never know; Heavy Rain might just be the catalyst this industry needs to spark change. Read more...

The Sleeper Year of 2009

Forget 2007 and 2008.

As my first official contribution to our brand spankin' new website, I thought I'd kick things off by making a perhaps bold (but what I believe should be somewhat obvious) prediction that 2009 will end up being a sleeper year, becoming the greatest year in gaming since 1998.

There's been a lot of talk by many various outlets about how 2007 and 2008 were some of the best years in gaming history. While I won't argue against the many great games that came out in each of those years, most of the major hits that came out during those times were sequels to major series that were more refinements to existing formulas than true alterations to the series' expectations.

That being said, I've created a list of games that all have been pretty much confirmed for release in 2009. Each of these are titles that have shown real potential to bring something entirely new to the gaming medium, much like the famous titles from 1998 did. As such, any sequels and major titles that, based on early previews, appear to be more derivative and conservative in their execution, have been excluded (i.e. Killzone 2, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, Resident Evil 5, etc).

Heavy Rain
Mafia 2
Infamous
Bioshock 2: Sea of Dreams
Chronicles of Riddick: Assault on Dark Athena
Batman: Arkham Asylum
Uncharted 2: Among Thieves
God of War III
Beyond Good and Evil 2
Bionic Commando
Alan Wake

Note that the other obvious releases are not on this list, not because they won't probably end up being outstanding games, but because the games listed have the potential to break new ground with the medium if taken in the right directions.

Feel free to email me, and let me know what you think of this list. Did I miss any? Are any overrated? Read more...