Blogger Archive: slackur 
I tend to brag about my true gaming 'Holy Grail,' my beloved gamer wife. She may not get to play often, and would describe her skillset as more Words with Friends than Dark Souls, but any chick whose gaming history includes Albert Odyssey, Crazy Taxi, and the original Legend of Zelda has cred in my book. 
However, my Beloved's latest gaming experiences haven't involved her playing; she's also my co-op partner without a controller. In the last year we've completed the Mass Effect Trilogy, Binary Domain, Bioshock Infinity, Catherine and many others, cuddled together in a two-person recliner. She may not be pressing buttons, but she's sharing the game with me, discussing story in slow moments, thumbing through a strategy guide, or pointing out things in the environment I miss. During slower moments such as RPG grinding, she may have a book in her lap or article on her phone, yet her attention is at a moment's notice. Like a co-driver in professional Rally racing, she isn't just another warm body in the adjacent seat, shouting preemptive directions and adding weight distribution; she's a partner, experiencing a version of what I'm experiencing, and helping when my attention is diverted. Primarily, she's there to share my adventures and have fun.
This method of co-op gaming doesn't limit itself to this dynamic; I love finding excuses to sit down with any friend and go through a game together, even single player. When the first Silent Hill movie released in theaters, me and a fellow Silent Hill enthusiast buddy named Mike sat down with the first two Silent Hill games, drenching ourselves in the dim atmosphere and reliving the mood before going to the movie. It didn't matter that only one of us played at a time; the other person was helping to solve puzzles or navigating the occasional labyrinthine environment.
Often a game needs no excuse for this form of co-op other than being a great game; the above experience happened again with a different friend for Resident Evil 4, a game we wanted to play immediately upon release. We stayed up several nights, occasionally swapping the controller between each other. The same thing happened later with Condemned: Criminal Origins. (If it weren't for Pat playing navigator with the guide's map, I'd have never found my way through that game!) We later played through Resident Evil 5 together, and while we hugely enjoyed the built-in co-op, I can't say it was a better or worse experience; just a different way to play together.
Pat has been gracious enough to show me through the entirety of every Metal Gear Solid game (except the first, I did go through that one myself) including every easter egg and hidden scene (he's a bit of a Metal Gear completionist) and if it were not for him, I'd likely never have experienced, much less enjoyed, that series nearly as much as I do now. Pat and I have completed everything from Rescue Rangers and Contra to Gears of War 1-3 together, yet some of my favorite gaming co-op memories with him are ones in which one of us didn't have a controller.
I've shared it here before, but it fits well in this article. Before some of my close friends passed away, I had some wonderful memories of us gaming all night together, passing a controller around for Battle for Olympus, Castlevania III, and Eternal Darkness, among others. Those games now have even more precious memories attached than a fun gameplay experience. Some even have save files or passwords of the last moments of time we spent hanging out. Call me sappy, but it keeps good thoughts readily accessible once in a blue moon when missing those friends over times past.
For the first time, my Beloved recently shared from the playing side: I watched (and jumped along-side) her as she played the Walking Dead Season 1. Next up, we've already penned in Beyond: Two Souls once it comes out next week. When we play games featuring less... walking dead things, our kids are always chomping at the bit to grab a controller, though they're just as ready to cheer on mom and dad on those tough bosses or time trials. We've also begun searching for more games such as Super Mario Galaxy, certain Final Fantasy titles, and the Tales of... series that have asymmetrical co-op designs, where a secondary player can help at a more relaxed, even sedentary helper role that can be ideal for children, friends who want to hang out, or a significant other who wants to be involved.
It can take a bit of effort to develop such a socially inclusive atmosphere. Western society doesn't exactly lend itself anymore to family and friends all gathering around the single living room TV for a few rounds of Combat or Super Mario Bros/Duck Hunt. It is now industry standard to have our entertainment designed to be spread across as many personal devices as possible. And to be sure, some nights we all just want to do our own thing. But the purposeful, intentional inclusion of a social aspect to our gaming has paid in dividends, and (if you couldn't tell) I highly recommend it.
Before I seem like one of those jaded 'leave me alone and let me game' types the last entry may have implied, let me bring up another rare opportunity this new console generation is going to give;
Something shiny that gives an excuse for us all to gather 'round the TV and hang out.
One of the many changes in gaming culture that happened from growing out of a niche hobby into a mainstream staple, is that inevitably the 'newness' of video games is long gone. No longer a novelty box with extra chords plugging into that wooden framed 25"-er, chances are grandma plays a few social games on facebook and your parents kill a few hours with Angry Birds or Candy Crush on an iPad/iPhone/calculator watch. (Do they still have those?)
Nowadays, it is likely more people you know play some form of video game than don't, and that sure wasn't true for most of us in our youth. Video games are now so entrenched in our society that pretty much anything electronic is expected to feature some interactive 'for fun' element. I'm waiting for my kids to ask what else our digital thermostat 'plays.'
Whereas in the past, millions of marketing dollars were spend just to get people to be aware of, and understand what is, a new console, now billions of marketing dollars are spend to regenerate excitement beyond a 'meh, slightly better graphics and now I wave my arms at a camera that may or may not be spying on me.'
Back in the day, if you were the first on the block to own a 2600, NES, or Genesis, suddenly you had friends you didn't know the name of, asking for a turn. In my C64 days, more kids came through our living room than the local arcade. And two player games could get riotous, in a good way, with everyone fidgeting excitedly as they stared at the action onscreen and awaited their turn.
It may sound like I'm only waxing nostalgic, pining for bygone days where the freshness of video games brought more excitement and attention. Living rooms in our modern world aren't exactly 'Leave it to Beaver' style family gathering spaces anymore. In fact, Nintendo is largely criticized as being out of touch with modern gamers by designing the Wii U as a device made for such an environment. Local multiplayer focus instead of online focus? A private screen to play on so someone else could watch the 'big TV' while you play games in the same room? Hey Nintendo, did you focus test this thing in the 80s?
Unless Nintendo, true to their word, really isn't interested in more FPS and GTA experiences. Instead of catering to that environment, they are giving the tools to generate the experiences such as the one outlined in my youth. When Christmas day comes and the kids open up that Wii U, we're going to have a blast with four-player Super Mario Wii U. We're going to spend some family time puzzle-solving through Scribblenauts Unlimited. And when the kids finally go to bed, Wind Waker HD and I have some catching up to do. Probably while my beloved watches Scrooged on our 'big TV.'
But let's not even count the Wii U. By carefully cultivating an environment that encourages a group to hang out in the same area, weekend gaming is always socially rewarding. Our collection is not just out on display; it is all set up and ready to go. TVs are lined up, old and new systems next to each other, just waiting to be played. Our family is very much into social gaming, and most of the time we're not on all on the same game. As much fun as it is to have an intense Halo LAN match, hilarious 8 player Bomberman game, and full Rock Band setup going, our friends are comfortable turning on a single player game and just spending time together while we all play what we're in the mood for.
Its kind of the 'older adult' version of that youth experience; everyone knows they can come in and just enjoy themselves, play what they want (respecting kids bedtimes and M rated games, etc.) and still be social, even engaging. Or just sit, relax and enjoy the environment and friends without expectation.
Which brings us back around to the advent of the PS4. For the first time since the 360/PS3 launch, we have something new and interesting to plug in and try out. Interest and even excitement can be contagious in a group of friends, and those who could care less often still find themselves with controller in hand, trying out the new hardware. For the first time in a long time, a group stares at a single player experience as player one takes the machine through its paces. Folks debate the differences in graphics and control, and for brief moments something new and engaging is shared amongst like-minded people. At least for a little while, every new game that comes out is something to at least try, and see if anything new is brought to the table.
In the modern age of gaming, sometimes we forget how near-magical it really is to have such wonderful toys. Maybe some of us are too-far gone to care, and some never have. But with the right mindset, we don't have to try and recapture lightning in a bottle. We just have to remember what its like to be excited the next time a thunder cloud comes, bottles ready.
So, I picked up our family's special Zelda edition Wii U today. I've been happily updating the system and testing a few used games (bought on sale in anticipation of the system), and as I write I'll be downloading Wind Waker, despite reserving the physical copy that comes with a Gannondorf statue.
All of this is being done out of site of the kids, and once I'm done, it'll all be packed up and hidden... for over three months.
The Wii U is our family's Christmas gift to our family, and our boys are eagerly saving up chore money until then to buy their own games. I'll admit, it will take a bit of mental hand-slapping to pack it up all up again and be patient, but such is the duty of a responsible parent. And in the meantime, we do own a *few* other games I could play.
After several updates to the system and each game, as well as the network setup, it definitely reminded me of an unfortunate advantage our older consoles had; plug and play.
Gamers my age likely remember a Christmas or birthday that painted this scenario:
First, a younger us excitedly tearing the wrapping off a new Atari/Coleco/Intellivision/NES/Genesis/SNES/Sega CD/Turbo Grafx/Game Boy/Neo Ge-HA! WE WISHED!!- etc. and after mom/dad/uncle/older sibling figured out how to connect it to the TV, we slapped that first cartridge in and a new, unexplored (besides store demos), vibrant, virtual world awaited us. Part of the appeal was the immediacy; once that system was hooked up, all that was required was finding a controller and game and you were good to go.
Now, every new system requires some form of setup. Sometimes we get by just inputting a region and name, but nowadays we have profiles, internet setup, firmware updates, game updates, day one patches, and on and on. One of the things that made me slow to incorporate the PS3 into my common gaming was how often I would purchase a new game, unwrap it, pop it in... and mandatory installs or updates required me to spend anywhere between five minutes to a few hours (looking at you, Gran Tourismo 5) before I could actually play. For a guy who's game time is often measured in less than an hour, even a fifteen minute chunk of un-interactive screen staring means I'm thinking of a different game to play.
All this time setting up the Wii U (not to mention downloading Wind Waker!) made me feel bad for any younger kids who gets a new Xbox One, PS4, or Wii U on Christmas... and then have to wait while online accounts are set up, profiles created, updates delayed due to server overloads, installs required...
Yeah, boo-hoo, first world problem, not a biggie. Make those rug-rats go play football in the snow or play a real board game with Grandma while they wait, just like we had to do when we didn't even have a game system to wait on!
Which got me thinking about how picky we really are about games. My preference over the years for consoles instead of PC gaming developed in part because of the setup required for computer gaming. Nowadays though its pretty much the same; install, check for patches/updates, customize the controls, create a save-game... am I playing on a PC or a 360/PS3? With social media integration, messaging services, and apps such as Netflix, there is often little difference. Some gamers delight in this; a 'share' button on their controller, DV-R for their gameplay, instant tweets over gamerscore.
I know I can be a cranky old-timer when it comes to gaming, but most of the time, if I could skip signing in to my game machine altogether, I would. My 'gaming career' of scores, time spent on games, and K/D ratios can be fun to keep track of and compare/compete with friends, but there is a reason I have my profiles set to "always show offline." I game in very different, often dichotomic moods; sometimes to survive a Horde of Locusts with fellow Gears in co-op bliss, sometimes to blow things up alone to work out frustrations. Sometimes to get a quick, frantic fix of some Robotron 2084; sometimes to play a slow marathon of Tetris while my brain processes the backlog queue. Point is, the game machine is there to 'serve' my use, and somehow in the name of features and connectivity, we've enslaved ourselves to maintaining them. Just keeping the 360 LAN updated so my friends and I can sit and play anything we want any given weekend can be a tremendous chore of keeping each system and hard-drive updated and correctly connected for any game we'll possibly play.
And in a thought that could easily generate enough content for another article, this perpetually required attention extends from consoles to the games themselves. I lose interest in games like GTAIV because of the required in-game social maintenance for virtual characters. I have a difficult enough time keeping up with all my real-world social responsibilities; making sure Niko calls his girlfriend or relative may sell a more realistic experience, but when gameplay breaks down to what feels like tedious exercises to me, I quickly lose interest. I recognize this as a 'different strokes for different folks' paradigm, of course; I've completed many a JRPG or StratRPG that bored my beloved to tears. (Gave her plenty of time to read, though.)
Perhaps therein lies one of the many reasons classic cartridge systems are always connected across our home; we're always a few seconds away from another round of Super Mario 3 or Galaga.
And now I can't wait to hear my kids ask about that collection of giant, black, 'vinyl Blu-Rays' under the entertainment stand...
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Posted on Sep 13th 2013 at 05:35:47 PM by ( slackur) Posted under Early Adopters, NES,SNES,PS,PS2,PS3,PS4,XB360,BBQ,OMG,RLY |
Every time new video game consoles come out, we hear the same antagonism.
Why on earth would we functionally pay a premium for a brand-new piece of hardware that
a.) is at its most expensive upon the launch window,
b.) naturally begins with fewer games than any time in its lifecycle,
c.) has not been tested for longevity or long-term reliability,
d.) is unproven for consistent support in games and accessories,
e.) has full priced, first generation games that likely cannot compete with the slew of hardware pushing, cheaper games made during the last few years of the previous console,
f.) requires an entirely new batch of full-priced controllers, accessories, dongles, do-dads, batteries, pieces, parts, gumballs, etc.,
g.) almost always have a dreaded equivalent to the Great N64 Game Drought, and
h.) will have a better, cheaper, newer version out by the time it proves itself?
To that, I say: ...yup.
Really, if someone is not the type to buy a console at launch, they are probably not wired to be convinced by exciting sales pitches or exuberant fanboyism. I've worked in video-gaming retail for over a decade, including the two biggest retailers, as well as mom-and-pop stores (R.I.P., Endless Entertainment), and while I've convinced some folks who were on the fence about buying a launch console, I learned not to trying changing the mind of a level-headed nay-sayer.
And I understand their logic! If you're not 'into' a launch system, it would likely be a colossal waist of money. However, that does not mean early adopters are automatically being ridiculous either. This far into our industry's history, there are now visible trends that help make launch window purchases more palatable, even preferable.
(Keep in mind this is being written by a guy who bought an Atari Jaguar and all the trimmings at launch. If your name is not Redd, you probably just winced. )
First off, the most important thing for a game console: games.
Everyone knows that it takes at least a year or two for a console to come out with some games that would make it worth owning. (Or longer, in the case of Game.com. We're still waiting.) Except, that's not universally true. Sure, it takes years for a console's library to pick up steam, but there are too many examples of launch window games that carried their respective systems enough to warrant the initial purchase, at least for many people.
Some of the best examples include:
Combat (A26)
Donkey Kong (Coleco)
Super Mario Bros. (NES)
Tetris (GB)
Blue Lightning (Lynx)
Super Mario 64 (N64)
Ridge Racer (PSX)
Halo (Xbox)
For many gamers, the cost of the system was justified simply to play these launch games, with the expectation that other great games would eventually follow. Of course, no discussion on the topic is complete without mentioning the greatest selling video game of all time (as of April 2013), Wii Sports. Sure, it makes many of us groan just to mention it, but it cannot be denied than much like Tetris on Gameboy, gamers and 'non-gamers' alike bought the system just to play that game without really having an expectation to play anything else on it. There is such a mass appeal to play that one thing that the cost of the system is worth it, as if it were a machine built with just that game to play. I have to admit all these years later, I still enjoy a round of Wii Sports Bowling. My guess is that many of the 'haters' who initially liked Wii Sports before the Wii became known as the Great Waggle Shovelware Box would still have fun with a few rounds of multiplayer Wii Sports.
There are other reasons early-adopters are not necessarily unthinking fanboys. As much criticism (often earned) as Gamestop and its ilk get from their pre-order schemes, often folks use pre-orders as a lay-away plan to get a system they could not afford otherwise. $400+ is a lot to come off of at once, but $20 every two weeks for a few months? Much more do-able. Obviously, it would make more sense to just save that much out of each check and exert self-control, but I'm no money coach. Plus, often there are pre-order incentives for reserving, or perhaps the system is a gift for a specific date (Christmas, birthday) and the cut-off for system availability is much earlier. There are indeed a few scenarios in which buying a launch system makes practical financial sense, as much as buying video games ever makes practical financial sense. 
For 'core' gamers, there may be another incentive for early adoption. Historically, as consoles reach later redesigns of hardware, the thought that a console gets better with each iteration is a bit of a misnomer.
Sure, there are stacks of broken 1st gen 360s and PS2s to argue otherwise (many of them are stacked in my garage.) but consoles almost universally begin to lose features for every revision. The examples are everywhere;
As much desired as a top-loader NES is, it outputs exclusively in RF, and has visible line noise.
Buying a Sega Genesis with the best components requires a weekend college course and study guide (http://www.sega-16.com/fo...-Genesis-2s-from-bad-ones) but its pretty universal to say that the last versions, Model 3, are stripped down and incompatible with certain games and hardware.
My Super Nintendo Model 2 has no power LED and no native RF, S-Video, or RGB, all supported in the first model.
The original Playstation revisions lost ports used for cheat devices and (more importantly to me) system linking.
The PS2 lost its own system linking iLink port. The slim model, designed without the necessary expansion bay for the hard drive, was released the same year as Final Fantasy XI, a game that required the HD. (Boy, do I remember that. I finally convinced myself to invest in FFXI a week before the Slim was revealed.) As problematic as the PS2 system became for disc read errors, the lack of effective internal cooling meant that the Slims had their own hardware problems.
The PS3, in a rush to follow its lineage, has lost everything from USB ports, operating system options (linux), and video playback with anything besides HDMI, to backwards compatibility options (as has the Nintendo Wii.)
The Xbox360 lost its own propriety memory card ports (while gaining USB drive options, which did not help my stack of memory cards used for LAN profile swapping.)
I miss being able to play GBA games on the later DS models, and newer, brighter screens also included more ghosting.
Even the new, slimmer Vita is catching criticism for replacing the OLED screen for a newer LCD tech.
Admittedly, sometimes the difference is just personal preference; I like the feel of the original, wider Atari Lynx, and the second, smaller model (despite better battery life) was still way too big to be truly portable. Another example for me is the PS3; despite how monolithic the first generation was, all of the revisions felt cheaper and cheaper.) I prefer the heft and locking mechanism of the PSP 1000, and though it does have ghosting I like that better than the artifacts on the 2/3000.
Granted, most of what was lost in these revisions do not effect the majority of people playing games on them, and were dropped to save cost accordingly. Many features can be restored or even improved through hardware modification. And the last generation continued to add to a console's abilities (and ads) for everything from better video output to Netflix support. But a case can be made that early versions of gaming hardware include features that make them preferable to later models, and are therefore worthwhile investments. (I'm not joking when I say that part of my desire to buy an early model PS4 is directly related to Sony's history of re-designs.)
In the end, its about what a gamer wants to play. The same rules apply to a launch console as it does to every other console: don't buy a system if nothing is out or on the horizon that you want to play. I'm excited for Battlefield 4 and Destiny, and I don't game on PC, so a launch PS4 fit my parameters, especially since I have one reserved and pay a little at a time. With the Playstation Plus service promising free games starting at launch, it made the most sense to me.
Even if a difficult economy wasn't a concern, any large entertainment purchase should be a matter of thoughtful consideration, and not a snap-decision. Perhaps the same could be said about being critical of early-adopters.
Video game collecting can be a strange thing, no?
Here's my reflection that produced the above thought (not that its the first time I came to said conclusion.) I just finished the DLC chapter of Dead Space 3, called Awakened. I completed the game once solo and a second time co-op, which is how I played the latter.
The DLC chapter was well written for what it was, quite short (2 to 2.5 hours or so), and mostly served as a story lead-in to a theoretical sequel, since DS3's original conclusion brought a sense of definitive closure to the series. I'm glad I played it, and given my head-shaking, nope-nope attitude toward gaming's digital future (and present) I'm glad I waited until the DLC was on sale before picking it up.
As a consumer, I have sent the message to Microsoft and EA that I absolutely refuse to purchase digital-only gaming content... unless I really want it and I can get it for cheap. Looking back, that's the story of my purchase history. Fair enough. I may be hypocritical, but at least I'm consistently so.
What I find even more strange is my willingness to purchase retro games for much more than digital content, even games I know I will likely put little to no time into playing.
A rough but telling example; both me and my DS3 co-op buddy refused to pay more than $5 for the Awakened DLC. It is something we desired to play, but we likely would have never budged on our plan if the content did not go on sale.
And yet if I ever saw Cheetahmen II or, heaven forbid, Stadium Events, for $10, Of course I'd buy them. Or $15, or $50, or... yeah. Keep in mind, if I bought them, I would not 'flip' them, selling at profit, so I would not be operating under the obvious financial motivation. It would be part of the media collection we use to connect with people.
Now, I'm well aware of how awful Cheetahmen II plays, and that I already own Stadium Events in all but name and cart-label with World Class Track Meet. Therefore, aside from morbid curiosity, I have no desire to play either. I would not be interested in selling them. I don't consider myself a hoarder. (Why are you laughing?) I also do not like the idea of flaunting physical possessions in the face of someone who desires but does not own such things.
So why on earth would I pay much, much more for something I would not play, and inversely I am reluctant to purchase something I am ready and willing to enjoy?
Its easy to use the ''because I don't want to support digital instead of physical copies" excuse, but that doesn't apply to the games that are already out on disc, and I am awaiting a sale or price-drop. Of course money is the next, or even first excuse, but why then do I still spend money on old games I won't play? I'm sure I'm not alone on this site when it comes to occasionally scouring the 'net to find some retro games for cheap, even games I have no desire to actually play through.
For some, it can be a fun meta-game, looking at huge collection numbers, comparing or even competing on collection size or subgenre completion. Much like achievements or trophies, these arbitrary numbers are part or even most of how these gamers enjoy gaming. Why?
For the same reason an RPG fan is at a loss to explain how grinding and random-looking number screens are fun when discussing such with a non-fan.
Or when an MMORPG player is discussing guilds and patches and expansions to someone who thinks Azeroth is a term they forgot in Geometry class.
Or when telling a Battlefield fan how their preferred game is a sub-par Call-of-Duty clone, and witnessing how virtual violence can in fact translate to IRL violence.
Or the annual Madden/Fifa fan discusses at length to me how great/disappointing their game/franchise/team/player/mascot is this year.
Or the same reason I still go to movie theaters, despite having a home entertainment system that outclasses many of them:
We are all wired to not only enjoy different things, but also with preferences on how we enjoy them. And not just for acquiring or collecting; some of us have a favorite chair/couch/plastic crate/floor/nimbus cloud that we game from, and cannot fully enjoy otherwise. Some refuse to play on anything but original hardware, including arcade cabs; some will not pay more than $10 for any video game period, and for some of us, the hunt for cheap retro games we'll probably never play is a game itself, and is as fun as actually playing a game.
My current 'Holy Grail' gaming search is for a CIB Beyond Shadowgate, the last game of my youth that was stolen and never replaced. And yet, even if I could, I wouldn't trade for it a single memory of the gaming hunts my beloved and I have enjoyed. And we've shared countless ones.
Some things are just far more valuable to me.
Video game collecting can be a strange thing.
(With the kiddies back in school, I've finally gotten a chance to sit down and return to my fun job; writing for RFGen!)
I can easily follow the internet collective's double-take on the 2DS. As has been commented (predicted? ) here, the 2DS comes across more like Nintendo's engineering department accidentally following up on discarded notes from R&D's drunken April Fools party. When offical pictures of your product look photoshopped right out of the gate, with a concept pulled from the punchline of an old joke, it's easy to question whether any publicity (bad) is still good publicity.
And yet, as I shook my head over how wacky Nintendo can be, I quickly realized who they intended to buy this thing;
Me.
After the touch screen to our original Mario Kart DS system lost sensitivity, I gave it to my six-year-old (whose favorite game, Mario Kart DS, didn't need the touch controls anyway). He carried it around everywhere, and despite my consistent warnings, he'd carry it by pinching the corner of the top half. Sure enough, after one drop the hinge broke off, and then later the top screen gave up the ghost and went all-white. Now its in a corner of my project room, waiting a resurrection as a modified GBA.
Which means my son fits squarely in the announced demographic for this new wedge-shaped oddity. Will we get this new square peg for our little square hole? (That felt weird to write. I gotta get an editor.)
Truthfully, probably not. At least, not soon; our Wii U Zelda Edition was just pre-ordered (family Christmas present to each-other) and with the 2DS announced at $30 past that magic number 99, I'll loan him the DS Lite for awhile. But for the holidays, this newfangled contraption actually fits a niche more than we may know. Its no more designed for the folks making fun if it than a Leapster or Jitterbug Phone. Its sturdier and purposefully more disposable than our sexy 3DSXLs or Vitas. Its Nintendo doing what Nintendo does; finding a market that could be better targeted and going after it. We here at RFG may be mostly 'core' gamers, but when Angry Birds and Just Dance are two of the best-selling franchises of all time, businesses are more interested in where the money is coming from now and where is the next potential source of revenue.
Its the same reason the XBox One was not primarily designed with the 'core' gamers market at the, well, core. 'Core' gamers no longer pay the bills; the millions of Netflix and Cable/Satellite subscribers are now the bigger, and bigger paying, market. There is simply not enough money to be made in a console exclusive to games in today's 'connected' world. When a developer sees the crazy money made from service providers, mobile games, and FTP models, it becomes impossible to justify to their investors a model that, at best, won't pull in the same revenue numbers as the competition. I hate to say it, but the Wii U's biggest hurdle is not the ridiculous name, the confusion of whether it is a new system or an upgrade, or market awareness; the problem is that all it really does is play games. No Blu-ray movies, no fancy TV watching, limited social media integration, no real life outside of gaming. (Netflix may be present, but its so ubiquitous now it almost doesn't count.) The success of mobile gaming has taught game developers what marketeers have always known; the largest, most lucrative demographic will sacrifice quality for convenience and accessibility every time. (Hello McDonalds, Subway, etc.) The reason Microsoft has spent decades trying to get a 'One' service provider box into the home is obvious; most folks will eventually forget (and not put money into) an extra box they do less with.
I'm excited for the PS4 and Wii U (now that the game library is picking up steam [not Steam, but boy, talk about a killer 'app']) precisely because I prefer a gaming system for gaming, but I'm well aware of how, and why, the gaming industry has changed. The backlash on the XBox One shows that the 'future' of gaming is not quite here, but it is inevitably coming. We're no longer just seeing the signs, we're already turned on the off-ramp and picking up speed to merge onto the highway.
Hey, if we're already on this road, someone in our car will much more likely be playing a 2DS than a phone game...
OK, maybe some Words with Friends.
In light of the rather pessimistic slant of part one, full of DRM, games that will be in inaccessible over the long term, and the overall damage being done to gaming's potential cultural impact, it is equally important to ponder the brighter horizons of gaming's future.
The PS3, Xbox 360 and Wii have been hanging around longer than a typical console cycle. The big 'what's next?' question has been on "core" gamer minds for some time and Kinect, Move, and Motion Plus offered little distraction or relevance. Not to mention the concern that the folks in game development/publishing were not listening to what most gamers wanted. Given the reaction to Xbox One, that concern seems quite founded. Factor in the current market focus on games developed for phones, tablets, and browsers, and... wait, weren't we trying to go somewhere positive with this?
But these trends in gaming do in fact have benefits for us "core" gamers, for many reasons that may not be immediately apparent. Let's start with the Xbox One. It's the true, unfettered, undisguised vision Microsoft has been coalescing since their first console; a single living room box through which Microsoft becomes the middleman service provider for entertainment. They've slowly unclouded that goal over the years, though its never been a secret, and us gamers who are grumpy about a dashboard full of stuff besides games (even on a paid service, no less!) are at least partially guilty of looking at a cat and expecting a dog. This has been Microsoft's purpose all along, and while we don't have to like it, it does us little good to expect a company that has spent billions to realize this longterm strategy to alter its course for "core" gamers that largely got the Xbox platform where it is. We're not the ultimate market they've been after, and we never were; just like the Wii, we are not the ultimate target demographic, because "core" gamers cannot financially support the gaming industry behemoth, not to mention the lucrative service provider vision Microsoft is after. I'm not as ready to write off MS for gaming as many; they will undoubtedly provide some excellent games in the future. But that's a train I'll be hitching onto at my convenience and price-point, both which will reflect the fact that MS and I are expecting to travel to different places, with paths that will occasionally intersect. I'll play my new Halo and Gears games later rather than sooner.
The Xbox One strategy is actually a benefit for gamers, as either a success or failure. If the system takes off, more money will be provided for the outrageous AAA game development costs that, more and more, cannot be sustained by the current business model. Basically, all those folks using the machine for TV and Sports will be funding my new Halos and Gears. On opposite end, if the model is a spectacular failure, (and it would be wise for all of us predicting such to remember the unprecedented success of the Wii, which no one expected) it will serve as a precautionary tale for other companies to not follow such a route, at least not to the exclusion of "core" gamers.
Next up is Sony; while I'm historically skeptical of the giant, recent years and a slight corporate humility have placed the company in the best position to care for "core" gamers since the beginning of the PS2 era. If Sony does indeed have an ear to the ground over the Xbox One backlash, as recent Twitterverse chat suggests, it is the perfect time to capitalize on gamers almost ready to sit on the fence for the next few years of new gaming. Whatever Sony does, this moment highlights the fact that, more than any other time in gaming, gamers have a loud voice and new channels by which to be heard. It can be easy to assume that no-one is listening, but that cynicism belies the responses received. From tweets by corporate heads that show they are aware of internet responses, to free downloadable expanded game endings (which, whether or not we like, we have to remember it came from the company's own dime and time, and had to meet approval of the same business heads we envision with dollar signs in their eyes.) We gamers now live in an age where our dollars and internet umbrage vote stronger than ever. From Kickstarter to online petitions, blog articles to indie developers, gamers have more power in their own industry than ever before.
And no company seems more in tune with this lately than Sony. It's been a long trip from expecting gamers to "pay for steak instead of hamburger" to the playful DRM trolling of "Death Ray Manta." More vocal support of the indie platform, a greater focus on games themselves, free online play, and the game rental service of Playstation Plus shows that, at least over the last few years, Sony seems to be picking up the pieces Microsoft has been breaking off. If the PS4 launches at a competitive price-point and forsakes restrictive DRM, Sony may yet retake the throne it once firmly held in the PS2 years.
Which leaves us wondering what to think about Nintendo. While the Wii U has been largely dismissed by many "core" gamers as an underpowered gimmick, so was the DS, which went on to become the second-best selling console of all time (as of March 2013.) Once Wii U price point drops, and as Nintendo continues its history of creating excellent gaming experiences built around the hardware, there is little doubt the console will have some great games in its lifespan. The second screen may indeed prove key to its success, since games built for it can give completely unique experiences compared to the PC-inspired hardware race of the competition. Much like the Wii before it, if a gamer focuses on the games built for the console and not the ports, many excellent experiences await.
And lets not forget about the 3DS and Vita. Lately, I've enjoyed my 3DS library at least as much as my console library. Adventure Time, Bit.Trip Saga, Code of Princess, SMT Soul Hackers, Super Mario 3D Land, and many more have kept my 3DS XL from ever powering down. While I can't say the same for my Vita, there is a slow but steady stream of great games building for it, and the promised PS4 connectivity has a lot of potential. Portable gaming is no longer a second-class experience; as long as watered down console ports and shovelware are avoided, there are many gems to be discovered on our eighth generation Game-And-Watches.
I've said it before, and I still believe it; there has never been a better time to be a gamer. The future of our industry may not be as connected to our personal preferences as we would like, but our industry has also never been more in our own hands. The aforementioned precipice of cultural relevance that video games are approaching means we are in an exciting time, where our newly relevant voices can make a difference. Gaming is valuable for many reasons, not the least of which are fun, artistic display, and community. If any of these are continuously promoted, gaming's relevance will be on display.
RFGeneration is not just a niche community for hobby enthusiasts. We are a vanguard of passion for the experience and worthwhile nature of video games. Sites like ours exist because we enjoy playing, sharing, and being involved with the gaming community. Some exclusively use the collection tools, some may pass through and just leave a few posts, and some stay to become an integrated part of our ever-changing community. But no matter how the future of video games turns out, we here at RFG will be hanging around and enjoying ourselves, the great Meta-game of video gaming, the MMO of life. I hope you are as excited about the multiplayer here as I am.
The gaming industry is in transition, one as important as dedicated machines to removable cartridges or black and white to color. I believe that once a decade has passed, gaming insiders and outsiders will point to this transition of gaming hardware and use it as the reference point for how the industry changed going forward, the 'Napster' moment of gaming if you will. Where even though the signs already pointed where the momentum was heading, here we have the objects designed to capitalize on the inertia.
It was, future analysts may say, this time period that solidified the cultural insignificance of video games.
After making such a fatalistic, even crass statement, let me first say that I look forward to the game experiences of the future. Only the first few months of 2013 brought me Tomb Raider, Bioshock Infinite, Etrian Odyssey IV and Gears of War: Judgment's addictive Overrun mode, and the rest of the year includes many excellent looking games I am very much looking forward to. I'm certainly not against playing modern games. And no matter my critiques of the new hardware, I'm a gamer; one day I'll buy the newer shiny box to play on.
But now that the 'Big Three' have launched their initial salvo into the upcoming console war, the landscape of the battlefield has become visible, as well as the target areas that will be hit hardest. And, much like real war, by the time the dust settles, the victors will be forced to wonder about the prices paid.
My opinions on these giant corporations contain no real loyalty; I've been called a fanboy, but if anything I'm overly critical on each. I have no illusions that these companies exist to satisfy my entertainment desires. Even the artists, writers, and content creators behind the indie scene have to eat, and are forced into Byzantine restrictions on their creations. Not to say the inspiration doesn't come through, but without PR figureheads, interviews with game developers often highlight challenges during the creative process that had little to do with the actual artistic creation and more with the difficulties of creating a game in the modern market.
Still, what artist has not had to deal with money and politics? And so many of us involved with gaming want it to be recognized as a medium of artistic worth, of cultural significance, on par with other media considered to posses real value. For as many books, movies, and recorded music produced that seem to have little significance, no one questions the value of these forms of media. As the relatively new kid, video games have had an uphill battle to show importance beyond, at best, 'kids toy,' or worse, 'murder simulator.' With more focus on narrative and abstract storytelling, and easier-to-use tools that have taken game creation outside of the laboratory or office and into the living room, the medium of video games has never been in a better position to take its place alongside other forms of culturally significant forms of media.
Which is why this new generation of gaming consoles can be so very dangerous to achieving that end.
Not because of sequel-itis, out-of-control budgets, or immature content. These issues are rampant in other media and they have not been diminished to cultural insignificance. The problem facing modern video gaming is one of philosophy. Games are, more and more, developed as a consumable and not as a product.
We are no longer buying a video game, we are leasing an entertainment experience.
Movies, music, and literature are also following this trend, of course. But they are established, the culture universally accepts them, and while their distribution methods are following a parallel path to video games, their individual product permanence is much more assured. Vinyl warps, cassettes wear out, CDs deteriorate, even digital media can be wiped out, but we find enough worth in the original creations to continue copying the material as newer storage methods develop.
In the last decade, a growing realization has emerged in gaming culture, an awareness that we are losing history every day. This has lead to a groundswell among collectors to preserve our heritage, and even big publishers have capitalized on the trend by releasing retro compilations. Emulation, much as it can be reviled in game collector mentality, has been crucial in preserving gaming experiences that would otherwise be lost. Now, anyone who witnessed a 70's Pink Floyd concert will tell you that listening to a CD is a far cry from the original experience, and it is much the same in classic gaming. From the original Star Wars sit-down arcade cab, to spinning a real steering wheel while slamming the pedals in Crazy Taxi, to wielding an assault rifle in Space Gun, some games will admittedly never reproduce the original experience on a different platform. But if the gaming industry wants to be held upon the same ground as other culturally significant media, some level of tangible reference has to be available for both shared and personal experience. The video game providers' transition from producing an item to developing a service effectively puts a sharper timetable on the total lifespan of each video game produced.
It is impossible and perhaps undesirable to capture every gaming experience for anyone to see, for all time. But that's not really the point; as video games continue the trend of requiring online activation for single player games, content only stored 'on the cloud,' and gaming data pieced out and paid for individually, we are paying for a service, not an object. And, one day that service will discontinue. Servers will be permanently shut off, even for single player activation. Some will have workarounds, often developed by a passionate community, but not all. Some won't be worth the effort, and some just won't be possible.
So what? Why does it matter that there are arcade games that cannot be MAME'd because of coded batteries that run out, or that in a few years the complete Mass Effect Trilogy will be impossible to experience because some of the DLC stories were on servers and not discs. There will be new games! Games on phones, tablets, contact lenses and refrigerators. Our gaming content will not be tied to slow, clunky physical media. Good riddance!
Games won't go away. But their significance will dwindle, and so too their ability to have artful, cultural significance.
Say what you want about the original Star Wars trilogy. Love it or... love it less than others, the cultural significance of it is undeniable. Same with iconic music from, say the Doors, or Mozart. Now, imagine that these were developed on ethereal media that shut down forever after a few years. There will be memories of them for awhile, perhaps spiritual successors later, but if they were preserved at all, it is only by a small, niche, dedicated community. Would these champions of their media be as loved and appreciated by millions of people if they were allowed to just fade away, replaced by the new, 'better' thing? It is not that all we want is more Star Wars; we want Star Wars to hang around long enough to impact and inspire other content creators; not to be simply consumed as the next thing is coming. We want these things to co-exist in the same space; Game of Thrones only exists because Lord of the Rings existed long enough to inspire it.
We are cutting off gaming's ability to stay culturally significant because we are moving away from the ability to produce a stored thing to be appreciated for generations, and instead moving toward a temporary fix to be consumed and then replaced.
But isn't this also true for movies, books, and music? Who even buys a CD anymore? The move to digital hasn't killed the ability to keep a song forever or rendered music as culturally insignificant. But the difference is twofold. First, books (literature), music, and movies are much more entrenched as universally accepted media of value, while much of the population could still care less about the cultural aspect of video games. Second, barring a few examples, the content in music, literature, and movies are perpetually copied and passed down. Modern video games are moving away from that, onto services that will eventually lock everyone out of experiencing games that were once digital-only or required server-based DRM certification. These techniques are so obtrusive and slowly becoming so quickly and widely accepted that in a decade, while we'll likely still have access to the majority of literature, music, and movies created in that time, many video games made in the same era will be completely inaccessible. Not just MMOs or the multiplayer of Call of Duty, but the new Shadow of the Colossus, Portal, Bioshock, or Super Mario. Once that DRM server or Download is gone, so is the game, likely forever. Those assuming that there will always be services like the Virtual Console and Steam to relive those memories only have to remember how many excellent old games we're still waiting on, likely to never arrive.
Some say its no real loss; we need to forget the past and play new games. Hey, most of those games weren't nearly as good as our modern ones; worse graphics, control, awkward mechanics, etc. But to those of us that truly desire to see video games treated as relevant as other media, our past and present (and the ability to experience it) is as importance as our future.
Video games won't go away; even during the Great Crash of '83, there was never a real danger that video games would just completely disappear. The greater threat, and possibility, is that video games are here to stay, but no-one really cares.
Everybody thought the first announcement was a joke.
Then we read about the price and confirmed it.
The Neo Geo X, a new 'retro' portable, straddles the fence between so many sides it would walk bow-legged. It is a sleek, modern, savvy looking machine, designed to only play games from ten to twenty years ago. It is technically an official SNK (Playmore) product, yet its guts run an emulator and roms. The 20 pre-loaded games included are widely available in compilations and downloads, yet preorders include Ninja Master's on an SD card, a title known for rarity. It is a handheld that, once placed in a slick looking docking station, becomes a console with HDMI and full sized arcade sticks.
With as many people this sets out to please (and for as many reasons, drives people away or worse, be apathetic to its existence) you'd think the thing was running for public office.
It is a system that some of us here at RFG are undoubtedly curious over, and while I'm not the guy to ask about for the technical stuff, I can at least share my thoughts after tinkering with it over the first day.
The Good:
Its pretty.
Despite having a more square form factor than most modern portables, I enjoy the 'feel' of the NGX more than the Vita, PSP, or DS line. Completely subjective, of course, but between the face button placement and responsiveness, general heft and of course, trademark clicky digital 'stick,' I'd play just about anything on this. The screen quality is not as sharp and vibrant as the Vita, but these classic Neo Geo games look great on it.
The games included:
...in a pleasant surprise, aren't all fighting games. No complaints about including Samurai Shodown II, KoF '95, Real Bout Fatal Fury, or of course Ninja Master's (more on that in a moment) but I was thrilled to have Puzzled, League Bowlijng, Last Resort, Nam-1975 and a variety of other genres represented. For being largely (and understandably) known as the '2D fighting machine', most Neo Geo games I enjoy aren't fighters. (Here's to hoping Nightmare in the Dark and Over Top show up in future SD cards.) Speaking of which:
SD card slot:
Could be what really pushes the worth of this system. New games are supposedly in the works to be released on cards, and the firmware could be updated with more features. Not to mention what hackers are already doing with it.
The arcade sticks:
Many hardcore NG fans are claiming these to be the best thing to come out of the NGX. They may be lightweight and not compatible with the older hardware, but the sticks feel solid, and the USB ports allow PC and PS3 compatibility. (of course, there are limits; trying to play the PS2 SNK compilation on a BC PS3 failed without the PS3 guide button.) Some folks are just ordering the sticks themselves.
Ninja Master's:
This helped the value of the package for me, since not only is the game tougher to track down than most AES games, but my brief time with it revealed one of my favorite old school fighters on a system known for old school fighters. The combat is fluid, animation better than average, move list decent, and it has enough originality that I want to keep at it. Its just really, really fun to play! I was impressed.
Bad:
Price. Obviously the first consideration, since many of us would drop a few bucks on this just for the novelty. True to its lineage, its one of the most expensive devices in its market for what you get. The $200 Gold LE package included the portable with a preset 20 games installed, the AES mockup docking station, one of those nifty arcade sticks, an AV composite cable and an HDMI cord (can't use a typical one, it has a small device adapter at one end.) The LE includes the SD card of Ninja Master's, which in my opinion greatly helps the value. Its a lot of stuff, and truth be told, if you never touch emulators and roms, it really is an impressive deal compared to other methods of playing some of these games. (Of course, if you don't mind downloading roms, especially on a PSP, this thing is about worthless to you.)
It comes with a lot, but there is no wifi/online capabilities, and the games are straight up roms of the AES versions (that's right, no changing most settings, adding credits, or rom tweaking. Good luck beating Nam-1975 on default credits. ) Considering what we're used to from previous SNK compilations, and the lack of online play, this definitely limits audience interests. The idea of keeping it retro is perhaps admirable, but if a gamer is hard core enough to want these limitations, chances are they already own real hardware and are less interested in a portable that plays locked roms.
Using it as a console:
Despite owning a, AES, CMVS, and NGCD, the idea that I could plug this puppy up to a big-screen via HDMI and use the new arcade sticks was a big selling point for me. That didn't work out very well. The HDMI out has no video options, and just looks terrible on the three HD TVs I tested. We're not talking about charming pixelation and low-res; we know what to expect there. No, the rampant screen tearing, washed out colors, and terrible, terrible lag means this is not the way to play these games. Big disappointment.
Using the composite cables on a SD TV yielded better results, with less (but still present) lag and screen tearing. Colors were better, but reds bled and the picture was overtly dark. Quick reads on forums proved others were finding the exact same issues. The tech-heads claim that these are from poor emulation and could be improved with a software update; lets hope. As it stands, don't buy the NGX as your method for playing these games on a TV.
The Ugly:
Its really tough to know how to feel about the NGX. As a portable, its fantastic, with a great feel, moderate (3-4 hour) battery life, nice screen, and some classics built right in. Using it as an HD console through the dock is an exercise in frustration and is not recommended, although playing on a SD TV was workable. As a gamer who rarely plays on downloaded roms, the NGX has me in mind, but since it is using roms itself but without the customization, it almost comes across as the worst of two worlds. The device takes about 30 seconds to boot up and a few seconds between loading games, a steadfast reminder of its Linux brains. The irony is that hackers are certainly going to blow this wide open with better firmware, customization, more games, and better features, but by then I could just hack my PSP and get similar results. I want to support the original hardware, but this is an interesting hybrid.
Am I glad I got this? Yeah! Not only am I a collector and Neo Geo fan, its just darn fun to play on. Getting it as a Christmas gift was perfect, as any buyer's remorse is negated, and I am very excited to see what games will be released in the future. As is, the twenty (one) games included mean even if I never get another game for it (or indeed, if no more are released) I still have a nice portable Neo Geo collection. And Ninja Master's is such an unexpected delight.
Should you get it?
...just know what you are getting into. Most can safely pass it by, some of us hardcore collectors will get a big kick out of it.
For what its worth, I already like it more than our Vita.
[img width=640 height=360]http://image.gamespotcdn.net/gamespot/images/2012/5/predictions_001_73701_640screen.jpg[/img]
Many a gamer grumbled the world over when the 3DS was first revealed as having only a single, left analog 'circle pad.' Gaming futurists claimed the new system was already dead in the water because of a refusal to get with the times. Even the PSP has been routinely criticized for only having as many control inputs as a Dreamcast, compounded by the Vita's announcement of twice as many touch pads and analog sticks. By the time the 3DS XL came around with the gall to not split its own player base, forums were alight with proclamations of "no 2nd pad, no buy."
As a southpaw gamer, some of my concerns about this are admittedly doomed to a minority. For example, many Vita games are completely inaccessible to me because of a lack of input options, even for a portable with more input methods than ever before. It was extremely frustrating to find that Resistance, Uncharted, Unit 13, and most disappointingly Gravity Rush have no option to use the left stick for the 3D camera. I should know; I suffered terrible nausea trying to play the latter for ten minutes.
While this indelible oversight occurs often on consoles, where some systems have controller-modding options, on a handheld I'm pretty much out of luck. Sadly, it is a curse I've just had to accept about my own limitations meeting a publisher/developer's inconsideration for handicapped gamers (even for an easily correctable solution, such as the ability to swap the stupid analogs). But this element actually plays very little into the fact that I'm much happier that most portables, including the new 3DS models, only have a single analog. That's right; if given the choice, I'd rather every portable only have one analog thumb device, be it a 'nub,' 'stick,' or 'pad.'
Why? It actually has less to do with controls per se, and more to do with game design. What game types do developers make for systems with two analog sticks? As any modern gamer knows (and many an 'old school-er' laments) the genre du jour is first and third person shooters. It is generally agreed that for consoles, the now standard two-stick setup is the most ideal control method for these games, and I wouldn't argue. (Sticking to consoles, as this isn't a mouse-and-keyboard debate.)
But what do developers, who make so much money off of these F/TPS games, do about the portable market? Often, the system design is largely ignored for the sake of shoe-horning a console shooter onto it. And in my opinion, not having another stick is not the biggest problem with this; blocky graphic engines, bad framerates, limited enemy intelligence, scaled down maps, stripped down features, the list goes on. Its not that these game-types are doomed to fail on a portable; there does exist a few examples of excellent portable F/TPS games. But by and large most handheld iterations of anything resembling a Call of Duty or Halo derivative are considered subpar experiences. At best they are used as third tier backups for the 'true' experience, at worst they are practically unplayable experiments in ignoring the benefits of redesigning a game to meet the system where it is.
We naturally expect ports of popular series on our portables, and there is nothing wrong with that. The problem lies in assuming that we are capable of, or even want to, experience the same game on a system that will almost always have lower resolution and horsepower, different programming architecture, and more limited control elements than a home console. Hardware developers can see this as a challenge, trying to produce cutting edge devices (with expenses to match) to solve this 'problem.'
Except it is not a problem, any more than the idea that a Super Nintendo cannot be as entertaining as a PS3 because of inferior hardware. We have different expectations for different hardware, and of course that plays into our preconceived notions of what we will experience. But as many of us here at RFGen can attest, sometimes our modern consoles do not get nearly the playtime as our older systems. And not just because of nostalgia; our blogs here are rife with those who discovered a fifteen year-old game they never played suddenly becoming a new favorite.
If Doom were ever truly ported to the Atari 2600, it would be amusing for inventive programming, not because it was truly competing to rival the actual experience of the original. Unless... it wasn't designed to play like the original but was instead a new creation inspired by it. This leads us to brilliant redesigns like Doom RPG for cell phones. While Doom can be hacked onto a cell phone, playability and other issues would always be a concern, but by taking the original as inspiration and the limitations of the system in mind, a game perfect for the format was developed.
And here is found the solution to the 'problem' of a lack of a second stick on portables; for developers to make games with the system in mind from the beginning of development. The real problem is not one of technical limitations; it is one of design. My favorite, and I would argue the best, games on portable systems are the ones specifically designed with the system in mind. For the DS, classics like Kirby Canvas Curse, the Etrian Odyssey series, Knights in the Nightmare, and of course Scribblenauts were designed with the unique DS hardware in mind, and it shows in awesome game design. Instead of being limited by the technology, the technology was utilized in fun and inventive ways.
As port-heavy as the PSP library is, it is no surprise that my favorites are also ones that ignored the system's console siblings and were developed just for it; Killzone: Liberation, Metal Gear Acid 1 and 2, and R-Type Command are great examples of trying something better suited to the system's unique hardware. The Loco Roco and Patapon series are perhaps the best showpieces of original design catered to both the PSP hardware and its portable nature.
Having another analog should not have the opposite of the intended effect and limit game design, of course. We can also certainly have great F/TPS games on portables, and now with the Vita, no doubt there will be more to come. But where developers look at the Vita and may assume quick ports of modern shooters will make money on the system, I'm thrilled that the relatively underpowered 3DS will, if history serves correct, be host to inventive, creative, unique experiences catering to the portable. Of course, we'll be flooded with 'Party Babyz" style shovelware left and right, but that is the nature of the beast of modern gaming, and unrelated to how many silly inputs a game system has.
[img width=500 height=375]http://diamondtrustgame.com/boxes.png[/img]
There is a good chance you may not know of 'conflict diamonds,' and the politics surrounding them. There may be a slightly better chance you know of Jason Rohrer. Both are things best to have awareness of, which brings us to Diamond Trust of London.
Perhaps the most famous aspect of this game is not its setting or even its notable creator; Diamond Trust is the first DS game launched from Kickstarter.
(http://www.kickstarter.co...6/diamond-trust-of-london)
It took several years, and according to Rohrer, many a fortunate situation, but the game is now available, though only through the website: http://diamondtrustgame.com/buy.php
It comes with a typical DS case and manual, and everything included is very professional and pretty much the same as buying any new DS game from retail. As for the creator:
If Jason Rohrer's name just sounds to you like Scooby Doo trying to warn you of Friday the 13th, I highly recommend looking the man up. For a coder/programmer/engineer/musician, the guy practices 'simple living' with a family of four coming under 15k a year, has a number of interesting political and sociological theories (as his lifestyle suggests) and his games are mostly free experiments. I can't say I'd agree with the guy on everything, though I respect him for standing in his beliefs (see if you can catch his somewhat veiled criticism of circumcision from his personal website, or his interesting defenses of natural habitats.)
Most relevant here, Jason Rohrer is an award winning game designer, and his takes on game design are often cited when referencing video games as a medium to be used beyond typical base entertainment value. Works like Passage and Sleep is Death are designed to push our buttons as much as we push buttons on a controller.
Much more 'typical' a game is Diamond Trust. Though the setting is political and contemporary, it never moves past the background to become preachy (if you have no idea what the Kimberley Process Certification Scheme is, Rohrer is not about to use a game to tell you.) The design is an almost standard board game, and the strict two-player limit (an AI opponent is available, though the game's own manual desires the player to seek out someone else to play as soon as possible) keeps the focus razor sharp. This is a game about bluffing, bribing, resource management, and second/third/fourth guessing your rival.
If you normally read board games as 'bored games,' know that Diamond Trust is a tighter, faster paced, meaner version of the games you fell asleep to during family reunions or the backup entertainment for those college nights when the power went out and so did the LAN party. Simpler than Monopoly, darker than Catan, and far cheaper to acquire than Dark Tower, if you have another human whose wit you want to match, I can think of fewer alternates as fun.
Only one copy of the game is required, (you send a download copy to another DS) and the DL copy only looses the nifty chiptune music during play. My beloved and I sat down with it the night it arrived and we didn't want to stop playing. Considering the kids were in bed already, giving us some precious alone time, and this is what we wanted to do with it, I can't think of a better way to recommend Diamond Trust of London.
Fuyukaze has opened up a remarkable topic on his blog, titled The Meaning of Gaming, in which he simply asks, "what does gaming mean to you? In beginning my response I realized that chronicling my thoughts for such a query would require my own long-winded entry. (As a side note, please be kind and not derail personal answers to his question from his blog to mine. Feel free to add to the thoughts posted here, but answers to what gaming specifically means to you should probably stay under the original. I don't want to hijack discussions from another post!)
To answer what the meaning of gaming is to me, let me produce a sliver of the variety of subjects this opens which fascinate me:
Video games function as a near metaphysical examination into the ephemeral nature of technology based, progressively developing entertainment.
They provide a window into modern culture and its responses to fantasy, imagination, and social critique in the form of interactive reflection.
As with other forms of media, they function as a meter of acceptable public content to a variety of cultures, and usually trail slightly behind the pulse of corporate entertainment appetites, differing in each country. The multicultural research gained in the study of the differences in ports of games from one locale to the other is a revealing micro-hobby of mine.
The debate of video games as art is also a passion of mine, though I personally see them as not specific works but more a vehicle through which we ingest another's work. Like flipping through a child's coloring book or touring the Louvre, we are taking in a collective sensory experience of one or more artists.
A psychological examination of maturity-biased perception in gaming, which produces such ideas as "video games are for kids," or "Once you're older, you should 'move up' from Mario to Call of Duty or Madden, speaks volumes about generation gaps and peer pressure systems.
The economy of the game industry operates under peculiar laws of supply and demand, and often displays interesting trends and disconnects between financial success and critical or popular acclaim. The video game collecting aspect alone functions as it's own metagame of value analysis and worth interpretation.
The advancements of technology in gaming, including control interfaces, realism and artistic approaches to graphics and sound, and the traceable arc of gameplay simplicity/complexity, are an approachable microcosmic study of the application of technology in daily life.
And then there's the phenomena of 'gaming culture,' the interesting banners that unite and repel individuals linked to specific games and gaming systems. From Europe's Sony entrenchment, Japan's rejection of Microsoft consoles, and the classic Super Nintendo and Genesis console wars, to the cat-and-dog fights of old school PC vs. Mac gamers, entire people groups can be studied and linked to various events, marketing, psychological approaches, and economic factors.
And these topics are just the ones off the top of my head at 2 a.m.
But what, specifically, does gaming mean to me personally? It's my favorite paradigm for observation and study. It is the choice prism I use to split the pure into the abstraction, the microscope by which I enjoy looking at the world and thinking about the details. While the scope of such a lens is obviously limited to the last several decades, when linked to the branch of the also relatively recent applied mathematics known as Game Theory, (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Game_theory for a worthwhile primer) suddenly there is an entire holistic field that makes the study of video games worthwhile, academic, even philosophical.
The best part? I find myself enjoying video games not only for the angles it gives into more 'meta-' subjects, but for the simple joy of the games. As fascinating as it is to use video games as a tool for study, I just have more fun with them than any other mode of entertainment, plain and simple. I can chat about art, mathematics, and social-political dynamics all day, but at the other end of the spectrum, Super Mario 3 is still a blast to speed-run, competitive Tetris still excites, and I'm always up for another round of Halo Wars. Fun is fun.
You knew by the time I got to writing for my blog again, it'd be long-winded. So let's hope I get on a more regular writing schedule again so as not to store all this up...
Trials HD. Demon's Souls. The Etrian Odyssey series. Getting through New Super Mario Bros with four players and not strangling the person next to you.
Despite complaints along the lines of, "Video Games Today are Too Easy," there is still a consistent flow of releases earmarked specifically for their notable challenge. (Not counting the mental duress of trying to play through much of the Wii and DS shovel-ware.)
On the other hand, its now almost standard that a game ship with easier difficulties, and recently the concept of a player's avatar's death may be removed entirely.
No two recent games may represent this disparity better than Kirby's Epic Yarn and Super Meat Boy. Released only days apart, both titles are highly praised platformers with light puzzle solving and exploratory elements, and each sport bold or unique visual styles. Considering both of these games remove the traditional life count or continuing at a setback routine, on the surface both these games would appear to target the same audience.
In truth the design philosophy is radically different. While Super Meat Boy expects hundreds or even thousands of constant failures (read: avatar deaths) to happen in the course of learning how to overcoming tough yet fair levels, in Kirby's Epic Yarn death of the avatar isn't even an option.
Kirby's Epic Yarn can certainly be challenging, mainly due to the mechanic of loosing items upon mistakes such as touching an enemy, and those items are used to unlock other elements of the game. However, the main game itself can be simply played through to completion without any real fear of lost progress.
The distinct design philosophies of these two very different yet critically loved gameplay experiences show how difficulty in gaming can be used in a myriad of functional ways. Super Meat Boy is designed around the 'I can do this, just one more try' hook that develops into a frustrating but skill-developing addiction. Kirby's Epic Yarn celebrates the oft-used Nintendo approach of a game anyone can play, with extra challenges for those hungry for more.
The popular lament of a lack of gameplay challenge does have relevance. Demon's Souls, a recent PS3 release largely noted for its difficulty and what is often now referred to as an 'old school challenge', cleanly divided player interest because of such. Many critics and players lauded a game unafraid to require absolute precision, memorization, and expensive experimentation. Just as many people refused to pour the needed time into a game that had no options to play nice. Demon's Souls, like more current spiritual precursors Ninja Gaiden and Devil May Cry 3, made some gamers wax nostalgic for a time when options were limited, timing had to be exact, and progress only came about through pure effort and occasional luck. Others bemoaned the lack of now-expected easy settings, the unforgiving small timing windows of interaction, and frequent loss of progress.
Designing a game with the opposite intention creates not only division, but derision. 2008's Prince of Persia was highly praised over beautiful art direction, fluid animation, exceptional writing, and even great voice acting. Yet there was a persistent complaint often heard from critics and players alike: the player couldn't really 'die' in the traditional sense. Fall off a cliff or to an enemy, and the avatar 'magically' reappears, set back just a few steps before the misstep. This lead to a common gripe that the player couldn't really lose, and so any sense of challenge was completely void.
This latter response was quite surprising to me. While Demon's Souls tends to earn a begrudging respect even from its detractors, I rarely hear Prince of Persia defenders, instead of long-time gamers grumbling about their beloved Sands of Time trilogy being neutered. The 2008 version culled much of what annoys fans of platformers: having to reload lost progress. Mess up too much in the classic Sands of Time trilogy and you may get aggravatingly dumped to the last checkpoint or worse, the beginning of that story chapter, but never are you forced to stare at the title screen, with no recourse but to slog through the entire game up to where you lost. (Unless you just started, of course.) The 2008 variant simply removed the extra time lost in frustration, and dropped the player back in place to get correct what was just failed. By trimming out the downtime between failures and allowing the player to simply focus on overcoming the obstacle, ideally the player could better immerse themselves in the experience. Perhaps Prince of Persia suffered from trying to change too much at once; a play control timing more akin to a rhythm game, a story disconnected from the beloved series it continued, and gameplay with story mechanics surrounding a, AI co-operative relationship may have compiled too many changes to gamers who had since moved to Sony's less whimsical and more brutal God of War and its sequel.
Maybe I'm reaching, but the highly praised Super Meat Boy also features a continue system of respawning immediately after death and I've yet to read a complaint about said mechanic. (To be fair, life restrictions do factor in bonus levels, but not for necessary progress.) Now, the platforming in Super Meat Boy is inarguably more challenging than Prince of Persia, but the argument still holds: you only 'lose' when you turn the game off, since the only thing hindering your progress is giving up.
Which, of course, could be said of most video games. We may run out of 'lives' or chances to continue from our previous point of progress, but out of all of the video games ever made, only fewer than a dozen games out of tens of thousands do we lose the ability to simply start over and try again by design. The fun, the friction between an obstacle and our ability to overcome it, is where the greatest hook lies; for some of us, its Super Meat Boy's infuriating precision that we're convinced we can master. For Prince of Persia, its more about telling a fantastical story in which we play a simple, interactive part. One is like a sculpture, shaped from countless little cuts of avatar deaths until perfection is realized. The other, an interactive storybook whose greatest friction lies between the imagination of the player who's along for the ride and the game that's playing the narrator.
It's this latter field whose development often makes us 'traditionalists' feel as though aliens have invaded our turf, strange things like Farmville, Angry Birds, and Flower fighting to share space under the same umbrella of entertainment as Final Fantasy, Super Mario, and Starcraft. We often want to pretend that these 'casual' things aren't really games at all.
You know who I like to watch play games? The "Casual Gamer". Now there is a person who can enjoy the hobby. Unfettered by the expectation of new, better, harder, faster, the casual gamer goofs off, has fun, and gets on with life. They can spend $200+ on a Wii just for Wii Sports, and still get their money's worth because they don't really need anything else. For us 'hardcore', why would we be offended from someone else enjoying themselves? Maybe Bejeweled or Peggle will be the gateway, opening them up to the joys of LAN parties, Demon's Souls, Monster Hunter, and slipping in the verbal venom of online play. But if not, why should that bother us?
I stopped trying to convince my mom she needed surround sound because she was just as happy with a tinny radio speaker. It may hurt my technophile heart, but she's just so darn happy with what she already has. The Bilbos out there will bravely and nervously venture out unto the wild frontier of gaming, but there are thousands more hobbits just as content to live out their lives in simpler pleasures.
These folks don't have to 'earn' our respect. They don't have to grow up and into 'hardcore'. We're all in it to have fun, or should be. That'll be a different experience for all of us. Besides, spending more time with gaming and even with a game in particular doesn't mean we earned any more stature. I've been playing Battletoads off and on for literally two decades and I still can't finish it. I can't blame my mom for not being the type for that challenge. But Kirby? She can have a blast with a well designed game, and I can even play co-op with her and go for the real challenge of trying to gain more unlockables by not getting hit.
Then I can go home and play I Wanna Be The Guy. You know, to unwind.
Like many fellow gamers, as a child I once had a dream. My occasional exploits in various mall and theater arcades ballooned my tweeny-bopper imagination into what I could, would do as an adult flush with money, time, and ambition. I had visions as to what an arcade should be, how it would look, what it would contain, and how it should be run. By golly, once I got a real job, made some decent money, and convinced a bank that I was going to make a fortune off of this, I would build the ultimate arcade, have my dream job, unlimited play time, and live like I always wanted. It was so simple. So elegant. I would succeed where others failed because I would take my sense of what kids want and bring it into the adult world where no-one understood what kids really want, and therefore what would be profitable.
I would also keep a refrigerator stocked with those little plastic barrel 'Hugs' drinks because I only got one or two at a time and I was always thirstier than that.
Like many of you, I grew older and the reality of that grand arcade dream just faded away. Maybe we got wind of the actual costs of running a business. Maybe we did the math and realized what little profit is seen from such an industry. More than likely, consoles overtook our attention once the graphics on home systems deflated the wonder out of the darkened, noisy, expensive dreamlands. More than likely, we just forgot and let the dream die a slow, silent whimper.
But a few never let that stop them.
[img width=338 height=600]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/Metreon2.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/MetreonSide.jpg[/img]
Enter the Metreon, a 350,000 square foot 'urban entertainment destination' built in 1999 by Sony. Located in downtown San Francisco, the 85 million dollar project was to enforce Sony's hip image by offering gaming, food, exhibitions, shopping, music, and movies, as well as to showcase new technology. It was to be Sony's public hub for everything from Playstation to Anime.
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/MetreonInterior3.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/MetreonInterior1.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/MetreonInterior2.jpg[/img]
One floor was an arcade full of original games called Airtight Garage, based on the graphic novel by French comic artist and graphic designer Jean "Moebius" Giraud.
It failed.
Here's how wikipedia puts it:
"The Airtight Garage's games proved unpopular, with the exception of HyperBowl, a 3D obstacle course bowling game featuring air-supported bowling balls used as trackballs, and they eventually were gradually replaced by other, better-known games, until the arcade was finally closed, then reopened as "Portal One," which preserved the decor, full bar, and Hyperbowl but was otherwise a more typical arcade. Sunday May 13, 2007 was Portal One arcade's last day of operation. The arcade was relaunched again as a Tilt."
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metreon)
The fall of the Metreon itself, a shining example of the results of Sony's corporate mentality at the turn of the century, is better understood from this article:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi...006/02/24/BUGSVHDITS1.DTL
Enter...me. I've been visiting here in San Fran for a week, towing along a 360 hidden in the laundry luggage and hoping to finally burn through FFXIII without toddler distractions. Throw in an ancient TV in our hotel that only takes RF and with a screen so fuzzy text is all but illegible, and I'm out looking for something, anything video game related. An extensive search proved nothing but Gamestops as far as the taxi can see. Then I learn of the Metreon due to my smart, talented, and still incredibly appealing wife. I was unprepared for what awaited me.
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltFrontRight.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltFrontLeft.jpg[/img]
It...was MY arcade. The design, the aesthetics, the games, everything was as I envisioned in my youth. The mock-up props of techno-industrial equipment, the pop sci-fi neon and oversized circuitry designs, the fake cables and wiring, all of the stuff I lovingly surrounded myself with as a kid.
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltProps1.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltPropBar.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltChronoProp2.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltPropChrono1.jpg[/img]
(Yes, if you looked closely, they misspelled 'Crhono.' ?!?)
Snack machines, energy drink machines, even a bar!
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltPropBar2.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltPropBar.jpg[/img]
Virtual bowling against the wall, half a dozen Dance Dance machines and their variants, air hockey, a dozen different light gun games including House of the Dead 4 and Time Crisis: Razing Storm, all of the fighting greats including Marvel Vs Capcom 2, various Tekkens, various King of Fighters, even Super Street Fighter IV. A four player setup for Daytona USA as well as a few other racers, Skee-ball, and a three screen Sega Strike Fighter DX. The list just went on and on...
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltInside4.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltInside3.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltInside2.jpg[/img]
[img width=600 height=338]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/TiltInside1.jpg[/img]
(Not shown, for reasons explained below, was the gigantic Terminator Hunter Killer-like statue in front of the arcade that also housed ticket counter machines. Yeah, for real.)
I quickly realized two things: One, if given the space and funds, this is the arcade I truly would have built. There was honestly not much I would have changed. And two:
It would have failed miserably, as this one did.
The place was dead. During a Friday evening, only a few people entered and left in the two hours I was there. Out of those I only saw a few games played, including an arcade machine of Deal or No Deal. I'm doing my best not to judge here people, but for crying out loud, that just seems to me the most worthless game to make into an arcade cab. At least most game shows have trivia or something. Compared to the lottery that is Deal or No Deal, there's more skill involved in a game of Peggle.
Hmmm...Peggle Arcade...there's an idea...
But I digress.
My goal was to show in dozens of pictures the wondrous, lost glory of this place, this fallen dream of mine and doubtless others who visit this site. Unfortunately, as soon as I started near the entrance, the lady behind the counter gave me frantic hand gestures and told me I wasn't allowed to take pictures. She said it was in their training manual, and she seemed to genuinely try to be nice about it. Tempting as it is to call her out as a Nazi dictator, I know she was only doing her job. Still, as Metal Gear Solid music thumped out of my mind's ear, I did my best to sneak a few shots with my digital camera of Metal Gear Rex the dimly lit arcade before flooding the tanker to cover my tracks thanking the nice lady and leaving. Hence the poor quality of the pics, and not at all because of the fact that I'm not very good with a camera.
And as I wandered the giant catacomb of cabinets, this enterprise that was no longer alive with energy and people, with giant speakers on the ceiling oddly silent and the various motorized colored lights staring vacantly, I knew I was touring the living dead of retail arcades. Here was the experience in all its beauty, its gaudy, obnoxious, glorious beauty; and nobody cared. It was dead, and just didn't know it. Doubtlessly loosing money, or at best just scraping by, only a matter of time. I felt a childhood dream wither in defeat.
While traditional arcades have been on the decline for decades, and their waning mostly attributed to the rise of technologically superior home consoles and lack of public interest, two additional factors were present and obvious.
Here's one:
[img width=600 height=450]http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy259/slackur/Metreon/4Tokens.jpg[/img]
Yep, I know inflation accounts for this, and I've already written a post on gaming value. But it cost $1.50 for me and my beloved to try out House of the Dead 4, and we lasted for less than half a minute. Granted, there were older games with a little bit cheaper prices, but overall the experience felt expensive for a guy used to adding games to his collection for a buck apiece.
The other I couldn't capture well with my guerrilla-style camera work; several screens and monitors were damaged. Usually bad or distorted color or separate ghosted outlines, lots of image burn-in, and dark screens. The techie/gamer in me screamed "c'mon, guys! This could easily be replaced!" But reality hit me as quickly once I saw the price stickers on each cabinet. It just wasn't fiscally worth spending another hundred dollars or more on a machine you were already trying to sell for a few hundred. Or less. It doesn't take much wrong with a screen to turn someone away from wanting to play. And it doesn't take much damage to a cab only a few years old to make it unlikely to get the money back after repair.
My heart sank upon realizing that there were some awesome cabs here for easily affordable prices, but they might as well have the same ticket as a Ferrari for as much as it would cost to ship them over 2500 miles back to my home.
As a collector who owns more games than I'll ever be able to play, it may seem a silly thing to lament. Yet like everything in life, the presentation is a large part of the experience. Picking up the Wii ports of Gunblade NY and LA Machineguns Arcade Hits Pack is a solid reminder that some games just aren't, and never will be, the same at home. Sure, arcade cabs will likely survive in some form, but my kids will probably never see an arcade like this when they get to be teenagers. And given the fate of this one perhaps its just as well. Although some things, once lost, can't be replaced. And some dreams, from a fiscal perspective, are best never realized.
I never did stock my refrigerator full of 'Hugs'.
When Castlevania: Lords of Shadow was announced, gamers had a lot to discuss. Common soundbites included,
"Wasn't this just 'Lords of Shadow' before?"
"What, did Konami just tag a 'Castlevania' name to an existing project?"
"Well, it will suck, because all 3D Castlevania sucks"
"I saw gameplay, it's a God of War clone"
"When is Konami going to finally release an HD remake of Roc 'N Rope? What? Look at the Lords of Shadow platforming? Wha..."
Being a longtime fan of the Castlevania franchise and having played most of the titles to completion, I knew I'd have to pick it up as I have every other western title in the series. I purposefully limited my exposure to the title prior to release so as not to form judgment (heaven knows I did not enjoy Castlevania: Judgment), though I knew from the last few console entries that I should not have very high expectations. The portable editions on the other hand, of which I've finished each since Circle of the Moon, have been a pleasant and regular gaming staple.
After completing Lords of Shadow, I was more curious than ever about the development history and my research helped explain the final product. It also gave me fuel to address a relevant gaming topic concerning franchise reboots and restarts.
But first, is Lords of Shadow any good?
As with any of my reviews, I will try to write something relevant that isn't immediately gleamed from a few seconds of scouring game reviews from countless sources around the 'net and therefore redundant.
In many ways I consider Lords of Shadow to be this year's Batman: Arkham Asylum. Both came from relatively unknown developers, both took franchises with unpopular gaming histories (Many agree that the NES versions of Batman were gaming's best with possible exception to the Genesis version, and despite some love for Lament of Innocence, 3D takes on Castlevania are traditionally scorned.) Both titles are crafted in dark, brooding atmosphere that plays heavily into the game and mechanics. Both feature lauded combat systems and inventive mechanics. Each have excellent, moody soundtracks, and grand set-piece battles.
Both are also derided for occasionally terrible textures and graphics errors (made all the more obvious because most of the time both look fantastic.) Each are known for their game-breaking bugs and occasionally bad camera. Glitches and technical errors abound in both games, seemingly displaying a rush to complete the game and ship before artificial deadlines. Lords of Shadow takes special exception with a few battles clearly containing too many enemies for the game engine to handle, as the frame rate nosedives into a literal slideshow. The fact that each of these enemies are the only thing in the game that require only one or two hits to dispatch hint at an issue the developer realized but was unable to repair in time.
I did very much enjoy both games more than I expected, but as a Castlevania fan I have far more to discuss over Lords of Shadow.
Let me reference the three things most important to the game, both as a Castlevania game and as a standalone title: the combat, the platforming, and the narrative.
The combat is nothing like previous iterations, and once the player has most of the techniques and abilities unlocked after a few hours the game feels less of a God of War clone and develops its own personality. The way magic, items, and combos are utilized together feel well developed and strategic, less button-mashy, and very fluid. Definitely a highlight, and very fun to play. Only the camera would sometimes become an unfair enemy, rarely shifting the view to an angle that obscured the avatar behind a wall. It didn't happen often, but it happened on a few boss fights. For a 15-20 hour experience it didn't happen enough to stop me, but it was an issue.
The platforming is more divisive. The locked camera only became a problem for those who don't like the use of viewing angles as a purposeful technique to hide optional items. The action itself was rarely hampered, save for a few jumps that weren't immediately obvious. I assume this was part of the puzzle solving challenge, though it does have the potential to frustrate. If you enjoy the platforming style of Uncharted, Enslaved, or the 2008 Prince of Persia, you'll feel right at home. (Disclaimer: the 2008 Prince of Persia is one of my favorite games of this generation.) Some find this current design of platforming lackadaisical and boring; I find the safer and relaxed pace less frustrating and more entertaining, especially in a 3D space where the camera angle is a greater villain than any Bowser or Dracula.
Finally we get to the narrative, and since I enjoyed the first two reviewed aspects of the game, this was the piece that I find myself in a hate/love relationship with. Hiring actual voice talent is always a big plus for me, as it shows a commitment to good presentation and attention to characterization. Here I enjoyed the subtle and restrained Robert Carlyle's Gabriel Belmont the most, though Natascha McElhone and Aleksander Mikic both give superb deliveries for Marie and Pan respectively. The voice casting overall was a great joy, save for an unexpected turn; I know having Picard as a voice in any product elevates its status to a divine plain for some, but here I found Patrick Stewart's delivery to feel unnatural and his vocal intonation inconsistent, as if reading Shakespeare to a kindergarten class. He wasn't bad, mind you, just less understated than most of the cast. Unfortunately, the high school drama level dialogue written for the narration and characters strained noticeably between Stewart's voicework and the higher level the other three main characters were going for. Then again, after all these years, perhaps Patrick Stewart is just being Patrick Stewart, which is enough for most of us.
Beyond delivery, the story is a complete re'vamp' (sorry) of the canon timeline. In actuality, it ignores 26 years of loosely connected story completely. There are some interesting name drops, though most are completely incompatible with their relevant characters from other Castlevania games. For a non-spoiler example, the name Brauner is given to a well dressed. elitist humanoid vampire with two children in Portrait of Ruin, with the story taking place in the 1940s. In Lords of Shadow, set in 1047, Brauner is a savage, beast-like winged variant of a vampire who uses violence and force, and has none of the nobleman-like upper society traits as his previous namesake. Lords of Shadow is peppered with such disassociated connections in name only to other Castlevania characters, though the art and design occasionally references the other series entries directly. It can be a frustrating thematic choice for a series veteran like myself to see these names used for characters who are completely alien to their namesakes in other games. Instead of a sly reference, it comes across as needless cannibalization. Then again, complaining over needless cannibalization when discussing a series known for reusing the same sprites and animations for some enemies for over a decade seems a bit moot at this point.
Anyway, the story is interesting, maybe better than the delivery, and gives players the chance to explore vast landscapes and gorgeously realized locales. The palpable sense of dread and despair are there by design and detail, from the faces hewn in rock to the captivating rain and water effects. The game gives an excellent sense of mood, using sweeping angles and changing perspectives for scale, and heightens the sense of the epic, of loss and desperation, until...a screen slaps up seemingly at random, splashing the statistics of score and items against your tenderized eyes, because you crossed an invisible line that signaled the end of the level. For as much mood as the game generates, it lacks the elegant tack of Shadow of the Colossus or Prince of Persia, which would be fine if the game were simply trying to stay in line with other Castlevania games as a gothic cartoon. But the presentation tells us it wants to be more. We all know this is a game, but for as hard as Lords of Shadow tries to sell you on the experience, the rhythm is lost because the transitions are so jarring and needlessly reminding. Yes, I see from the flashy yellow excited letters I have a new combo available, was that necessary to punch into my view the second after the lead character cried from a conversation with his dead wife? Something a little more unobtrusive would have been appreciated. Especially after all the effort the developer put into making me care about what was going on in the game for half a second. Odd design decisions like this produce a thematic tug-of-war between selling the game as a sublime experience and jumping up and down to remind you that its a video game.
Still, these design decisions mirror the amalgamated beast Lords of Shadow really is. It is a composite of other games, marinated in an alternate idea of Castlevania themes. About a third of the game is puzzle-solving, much more than traditional games in the series. The handful of items used are more spiritual successors than derivatives of those found in previous games. A few boss fights aren't borrowed so much as completely wholesale copied directly from Shadow of the Colossus. The music, while somber yet grand, only hints at the original themes. The game's use of Dracula himself comes a bit out of left field, though obvious to those paying attention to the unfolding story. The flow and feel is not directly what we associate with other Castlevania games, yet we have to keep in mind that the series has entries as diverse as Simon's Quest, Rondo of Blood, Symphony of the Night, and even Judgment. Like it or not, 'classic' Castlevania is not easily defined. There are gamers who still prefer the original Legend of Zelda over Ocarina of Time, feeling that the transition didn't do the original series justice.
I do appreciate that a different tone and style were used for this post-God of War generation. I just feel that a good chunk of classic Castlevania charm was sacrificed on the 'must-be-modernized' altar. There is good reason to believe that the old methods of successful Castlevania gameplay will live on with the 3DS iterations. If not, we have probably lost a great heritage with the series, but to be honest, with so many excellent Castlevanias already released perhaps the series needs a few years resting in the coffin, growing stronger while its Frankenstein-created brother romps about awhile.
I for one very much enjoyed Lords of Shadow. I would have enjoyed it sooner had I dumped my baggage of what I expected of a Castlevania game and enjoyed it on its own terms. It does invite the comparison by carrying on the legendary name, but like Dracula himself, the Castlevania name resurrects itself different every time. If left alone, this one stands up pretty well without needing to be propped up from its parent games' heritage.
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