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Funny thing about us humans, we do a lot of things without asking why we do it. The same goes for continuing to do something without asking ourselves if we should have stopped long, long ago. For all of the things humanity has studied with great introspection, one thing most people tend to be terrible at is questioning their own actions and adjusting their lives accordingly.
If there's a whirling fan, someone's put their finger close to it. If it exists in the material world, it's been in someone's mouth. If you have young children, you learn daily how the simplest task can go horribly awry. And to the point of this article, if you're a gamer, chances are at least once you've stared at a Game Over screen and wondered why you feel compelled to press a button to continue.
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"Truth is not elusive. We avoid it. We do not desire honesty, as it makes us aware of our complicity. Truth is a singular shining light that burns away our comfortable illusions. Therefore, a child is not healthy to absorb the whole of any truth, and not one of us is yet fully grown." - Nights In Forever
In those formative years just before high school, I had next-door neighbors with a son a few years my senior. The only electronic entertainment in their home was a simple 13" color TV in his room with an NES and three or four games. Normally he'd come over and enjoy our larger gaming library and bigger TV, but my own family strife meant every now and then we'd grab a few games and head to his house, sacrificing screen size and gaming access for peace and quiet.
One day after school, I stopped by his home and found an unusual sight; his mother and older sister were in his room, boxy grey controllers in hand, playing the original Super Mario Bros. I'd known my friend for over a year and had no clue anyone else in his family played games; no one in mine ever did. I was further surprised to realize that his mother was in world six; who went there when the warp pipes bypassed all of that?
My friend told me we'd have to game at my place, seeing as his mom and sis would likely be at this 'till past bedtime. They took over the NES on occasion, and would exclusively play through Super Mario Bros. several times in a row, from the beginning until 8-4, and loop again.
Continue reading The Gaming Naive
CCAG 2014. Cleveland's annual Classic Console and Arcade Gaming Show.
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An event so enjoyed by my Beloved and I that we plan half a year in advance and spend the whole day getting the most out of it. It is mainly a vendor event, but it also has arcade and pinball tables set to free play, old PCs and consoles set up for fun, tournaments and competitions for prizes, and a Chinese auction spread throughout the day. We've been going for over a decade and have yet to be disappointed.
This year was particularly memorable for several reasons. We nabbed five (!!) more NES games for our set, over 50 PS2, GC, and Xbox games for a buck apiece, several C64 and Bally Astrocade carts, more systems and parts for our Xbox LAN (yay original Halo LAN!) along with lots more goodies. We got to reconnect and chat with several convention buddies, and we tried Colombian cuisine for the first time, which was absolutely delicious.
Also, for the first time I found myself in a pseudo-argument with a gentleman selling me a game.
Continue reading CCAG, Playing Games, and the Philosophy of Flipping
Here's an article I never expected to write. Titanfall has shown, or more specifically re-enforced, one of my favorite things about video games; a unique and engaging method of storytelling. Even though it's not a particularly great story, or well executed, or ever beyond standard sci-fi tropes, I enjoyed it for other reasons I'll get to in a moment.
First, let me say that as a happy owner of a Wii U and PS4, I'm not impressed with the Xbox One. I've thoroughly enjoyed the 360's run beginning at launch, so admittedly I had hoped the successor would step into some big shoes and start walking. Instead, it has tripped, fallen, and at times stumbled backwards. Frequent hard-lockups, crashes on the dashboard, features winking out without notice, and occasional trouble just signing in to the system (all with Kinect disabled) lead me to worry I received a bum system. Chatting with other Xbox One owners has confirmed that, unfortunately, this is the current reality of owning a system that often doesn't play multi-platform games with parity. I have little doubt most issues will be resolved over time and once a new Halo and Gears of War are released, I'll be thrilled to already own a One. In the meantime, let's just say I'm glad I got rid of a stack of undesirables to pick this up.
But Titanfall! Since I don't have a PC capable of running it, I'm glad I can enjoy it on a new system (when it doesn't crash.) And it really is fun, if not revolutionary. While 'twitch' FPSs aren't normally my style, somehow Titanfall invokes that old Unreal Tournament meets Tribes feel mixed with a bit of MechWarrior. It has a far lower human player count than even the first Quake, and after the massive scale of Battlefield 4 I assumed that would disappoint me, but it has actually somewhat worked in its favor. I'm not usually that great at these games and I only have a few hours a week during my workouts to get any better. Having less aggressive AI bots I can conquer lets me contribute and lessens frustration. Especially after suffering a dozen deaths from a human who can play more in a day than I have all week. Even with up to 40 bots in the match, it still feels much smaller in scale than Battlefield, and it doesn't generate that 'huge war campaign' feel that would draw me more into the game, but it's still plenty fun.
Initially the lack of single player, online-only multiplayer design greatly diminished my interest in the game. I certainly understand the design intent after reading the developer interviews; why spend thousands of man-hours of work on an experience that only lasts a few hours and many players won't bother with, instead of investing that effort on the experience most will spend dozens or hundreds of hours in? Even as the weirdo who picked up the Call of Duty games to go through the campaign and some zombies mode, the rationale made sense. When Respawn Entertainment announced the intent to actually have a story that plays out during the multiplayer matches, I was very curious how that was going to work.
Turns out, I loved how it worked.
Make no mistake; as I mentioned before, I didn't find the actual story well written. It had much more potential, and had it focused on explaining and exploring the man/machine or rebels/corporation dichotomy, it could have perhaps given something to hang its narrative hat upon. Instead the story is designed so that it is obvious who the good or bad guys are at all times, and the only motivations mentioned are greed, one-upmanship, and survival. We're not exactly expecting Asimov or even JJ Abrams here, but between the strategy guide and art book there are hints of a much greater and better told story that got watered down to the point of nonsense before release. In fact, that sums up the whole game rather well; it feels like a prologue to serve a far larger universe. It is assumed that was Respawn's intent all along, and I for one hope the inevitable sequels give better story treatment to what can be developed into an interesting sci-fi universe.
All that being said, it is the success of the narrative's transmission that surprised me. Most of the time if a video game is interested in its own story, it communicates by highjacking Hollywood's playbook of show-to-tell. Cut scenes, stilted narration, and unsubtle plot expositions are the order of the day. The player is the action star, but the attention is often yanked away from the controller as soon as 'story' has to be served. The player watches another storyboard, and is then unceremoniously dumped back into 'action' mode. The greatest and most unique feature video games offer, interactivity, is ignored as the player has to observe from a distance instead of staying in the game.
It's disjointing, and as great games have shown, unnecessary. One of the best recent examples has been Portal and its sequel. The building of the narrative is firmly established through player interaction and progression. There are no need for lengthy expositions or show-stopping cut-scenes. Such would ruin the well-constructed mood and rhythm the games masterfully construct.
Titanfall does have a few cut-scenes, but almost all of the narrative is radio chatter and in-game events. The game doesn't hijack the player's attention, even as important events are unraveling. Heroes die, armies are abandoned, and alliances change, all from the prospective of an elite but nameless soldier/pilot caught in the conflict. The delivery of how it all happens makes sense; as I read in one review, this must be how the marines in StarCraft feel as we give them marching orders to their doom. The campaign of Titanfall feels more involved, in a sense, because the illusion of player agency is not enforced. You really are just another grunt, albeit a higher-ranking grunt, fighting in a war of far greater scale than you are going to single-handedly impact. Sure, a battle's success can fall on you besting the enemy human players, but you're never the 'named' hero of either side. Those characters, shallow as they come across, are the real movers and shakers of the game's universe, and you never control them. Design parameters dictate that your successes and failures in-game do not substantially change the story outcomes. This breakdown in fundamental player agency usually works against a game, dispelling the illusion of control.
However, in an industry that brags about games that are shaped by the illusion of player agency, there is something refreshing and arguably more engaging about being a mostly normal guy fighting in the trenches instead of tomorrow's superhero. Sure, the AI grunts on your side can be overheard speaking in awe about the 'Pilot' ranking soldier amongst them, but the game's important characters more or less treat you as another soldier with a job to do. In this way the narrative is not embracing the idea that the player is in control, but instead using the interactive nature of a game to immerse the player in a story that is being told around him.
Of course many, many other games have taken this approach. Call of Duty sort of started to do this, but as the series progressed the named soldiers the player controlled grew into legendary super-soldiers and the story of the whole franchise grew more silly with each entry. It's no coincidence that the first Modern Warfare was my favorite; it came closest to feeling like you were a normal soldier (with, um, unexplained Wolverine-like healing) caught in a world-changing war instead of a Michael Bay movie. Even compared to the first Modern Warfare, Titanfall feels like a slightly newer progression because instead of a completely scripted, handheld single player experience, Titanfall uses the competitive multiplayer environment to the same effect. The result feels even less like watching an action movie and more like a form of virtual role-playing. The game-master has control of the story, but the players have freedom with some virtual toys within the framework.
There's also something engaging about replacing the role of hero with more normal characters caught in an epic web. One of my favorite Halo games is the underrated ODST. While it had cut-scenes and narrative shifts, it used them to tell the story of relatively normal marines and their different adventures that paralleled each other before meeting up at the end. It certainly wasn't anything new. But the noir style of the art, lighting and setting, and excellent soundtrack combined with the story of average-joe soldiers just trying to survive the invasion of Earth, made the experience far different than Master Chief's save-the-world-again-today missions. For all the players complaining that Halo's mostly-silent leading man had no personality, it seemed even more of them complained that they didn't want to play as random, talkative soldiers. While I enjoyed every Halo campaign, I consider ODST to be a very successful experiment of short-stories in a grander narrative universe.
As for Titanfall, even though the story itself didn't do much for me, the manner in which it was told allowed me to feel much more invested. In every review I've read, if the story is even mentioned, it's to reference how throwaway and non-existent it is. While I understand where the critique is coming from, I ended up with a different takeaway. It felt within context that the campaign was transpiring regardless if my mercenary or rebel cared. I enjoyed the feel of not being the hero, but someone a touch more relatable fighting alongside the heroes. As starships exploded above and martyrs changed the outcome I couldn't, it was easier to enjoy my role as a guy doing what he could. As the radio chatter provided the vast majority of narrative, it felt natural that I would struggle to catch every detail in the middle of fighting for my life, instead of pausing the action so story could be shoehorned into my experience. It felt more immersive. And in a game where my giant robot can punch into the cockpit of a rival's giant robot and toss the pilot aside, immersion is a quality I appreciate.
As a video game collector, I have to admit I'm somewhat accustomed to picking up a game I'm not necessarily expecting to play. Oh sure, it usually won't be more than a dollar or two, but I'm guilty of spending (very little) money on games I consider duds such as Bebe's Kids or RapJam Volume One simply because I love the Super Nintendo and collecting for it. The same goes for many game systems, and even some eclectic oddities that I like to play around on more than play on, such as the CD-I or N-Gage. When it comes to modern games, the fact that most are more than a few bucks means I don't do the same, and I don't have a desire to grab a (as close as possible to) complete collection like I do for my favorite pre-PlayStation oldies. While seemingly unrelated, this brings us to:
When Titanfall was shown, I was not star-struck as many in the industry was but I have to admit the ol' Mech-lovin', giant robot-stompin', sci-fi buff in me was piqued. Interested, but not entranced. Other announcements such as system exclusivity and an online multiplayer-only design all but killed my immediate interest. Even the 360 version failed to appeal to me, especially since the 360/PS3 ports of Battlefield 4 felt so watered down from the PS4 port I enjoy.
However, when I found a window to acquire a Titanfall Xbox One bundle by a combination of trading off a stack of broken devices and redundancies in our collection and finally cashing in on all the Gamestop points we've amassed, it just made sense. Despite not having much interest in the system or library at the moment, it's a game system we don't have, acquired without much of any loss from us, and I know by the time another Halo or Gears of War comes out I'll be much more interested. And since it's the same price to get the system with a digital copy of Titanfall that it is a normal one, it just makes sense.
And don't get me wrong; I'm sure I'll enjoy the game. While I've never been an avid Call of Duty multiplayer fan, I enjoy many online shooters like the aforementioned Battlefield and Halo. And I've liked mechs since the Battletech board game days in my youth. Perhaps I'll be as charmed as the gaming media once I load it up and indeed have a 'genre-redefining' good time. I hope so!
But I'm more that fine right now with some excellent games that have perhaps gotten overlooked in the last several months of new system releases and Titanfall hype. Here's what I've been playing lately (instead of, oh say, writing for RFGen as I should.) 
Bravely Default (3DS)
I can't say the Final Fantasy name brand is dead to me like I've heard others say. I also can't say I get that old excitement whenever it's name-dropped either. Seeing as how Bravely Default began development as a Final Fantasy title, released as a new IP, and has been better received critically (and personally) than the last several Final Fantasy games, I sure hope the series continues. The story is naturally cliche to a fault and I have to say I endure the characters instead of being endeared to them. But the art is fantastic, the music beautiful, the gameplay fun, and the mechanics interesting. It's also rather addictive; I haven't carried my 3DS around everywhere this much since Soul Hackers.
Plants Vs Zombies: Garden Warfare (Xbox 360)
This just shouldn't have worked, especially as well as it does. Essentially a scaled-down Battlefield mod using the Plants Vs Zombies universe, Garden Warfare excels because of a humorous art design, decent and varied balancing, and the prevailing sense of quirkiness that the original PvZ games did so well. Perfect for those who tire of the gritty combat of modern shooters, Garden Warfare is smart in its focus of pure zany fun; kills are 'Vanquishes' and player deaths aren't even counted on the final tallies. The cartoony style is well realized and detailed, and the lack of gore and heavy atmosphere makes the whole thing so playful it's hard not to come away smiling. C'mon, you get unlocks by opening sticker packs! Unfortunately being an EA game, there's no LAN support and the only bots are in the Horde-mode like Garden Ops mode, but other than that it's about perfect for $30.
TxK (Vita)
If it weren't for the NSFW and completely unnecessary vocal effects during the bonus round (which I think were toned down with the latest patch), this game is the perfect successor to Tempest 2000 and Tempest X3, two of my all-time favorites.
Puppeteer
I'm not too far into this yet, but if the rest of it is as magnificent as the first few hours, this game is criminally unknown. I made the mistake of initially assuming this to be something of a modern Clockwork Knight: Interesting visually, but otherwise an average platformer.
Wow, was I underselling this game.
If we gamers mean it when we say that art, sound design, and originality are of supreme importance in a game, it's criminal that no one talks about this one. The first few hours I've put into it have shown more attention to detail, fascinating world construction, and inspired design choices than anything since the storied Journey. This game has, thus far, been quite the diamond in the rough and I intend to give far more attention to it soon. Here's the trailer, if you forgot about it or never heard of it:
Whether or not you're expecting Titanfall to soon eat up all your free-time, try giving one of these a shot; aside from possibly Bravely Default, they're likely to disappear under the shadow of higher profile releases, sort of like grunt soldiers under the massive metal feet of a-
Sorry, too easy.
What will be the last game you ever get? Many gamers assume that question simply depends on a bit of morbid posturing on when they die, and back up the clock a bit. But what if it was a conscious decision? What if, sometime in the future, you as a video game player picked up a game, or received one as a gift, and said definitively, "This is it. The last game I'll ever add to what I already have."
Kinda smacks as weird, huh? And perhaps more monumental than it really should. Firsts and lasts are generally memorable, and since most gamers assume they will be playing something off and on until they kick the bucket (and most of us are uncomfortable pondering our own end,) we don't normally think about what would be the last video game we will ever own.
But what if it were on purpose? A decision to stop buying any more games. Not for financial or practical reasons (though understandable, naturally) but because we have all we'll ever 'need' to play? Oh sure, it's perhaps easier to ponder for a collector who has more games to play than free time will ever allow, (ahem) but between free-to-play models, Steam sales, compilations, retro digital offerings, and future streaming options, most gamers have easy access to more games than they could ever complete.
And yet, even as many are lukewarm to the new generation of hardware, the assumption is that once prices come down and more games are released, we'll buy-in somewhere. Many gamers are even choosing now to jump into the 360/PS3 generation for the first time, given that prices are low, libraries are huge, and bugs are known if not resolved. Gaming is by nature technologically driven; more detailed graphics, longer (in theory) games, more (in theory) intelligent AI, higher player counts, added features, etc. Not every gamer ascribes to the 'newer is better' mantra, but few would argue against a future that continuously provides more options.
Yet the constant addition of game machines and games every year provides an embarrassment of riches to gamers who play more than the occasional title. It has literally become mathematically impossible to play, thoroughly, every new game released in a year, even if money allows it. Sure, each genre will have slow months and even years. But the back catalogue in each main (and many sub-) type of game has , with few if any exceptions, eclipsed the ability for a fan to have completely engaged each relevant title, not to mention each game in the genre.
Of course, the industry doesn't bank on a gamer's desire to play absolutely everything for everything. Its not uncommon to find a video game player who only plays one or two types of games:
The JRPG fan with a little strategy gaming on the side. The sports and Call of Duty bro. The $800 rig (not counting the actual PC) racing pro who dabbles in flight games. The MMO and-what-else-would-I-have-time-for? guru. The modern whatever's-free-on-tablets -and-phones casual.
When a gamer's scope is very focused (some would indeed say limited) it is easier to justify the constant upscale that the business-end of gaming runs on. Play out each Call of Duty and map-pack until the next game; hope that next year is more than a roster update and actually addresses legacy issues; upgrade your phone/tab to run the new wave of apps and games. A steady stream of new content to fit the field. And if you are more of a general gamer, chances are things aren't much different overall; a constant flow of 'gotta finish x to get to y'. Sometimes the games aren't even Pokemon.
Thus the consumer service is born. And all those folks who bought a Wii for Wii Sports, played for awhile, had their fun, and never bought a new game? Maybe they bug us because it goes against the modern consumerist gaming mentality. Played the next game, 'beat it,' and then moved it aside for some new hotness. Are games to be consumed and then tossed aside? Is this the only way to go about our hobby?
Well, sure, for an entertainment process it works. And I'd be rather pretentious to claim it 'should' be otherwise. But what if we stopped buying 'new' games? What if we looked back and decided, 'you know, I love old platform games. If I wanted, I could just go back and play all the greats I haven't played in awhile and ones I missed. Then, I could investigate and find platform games I never tried and played those.' After that, maybe I'm in an arcade racing game mood. I could start with the Burnout series, then move to ...'
Basically, almost each genre in gaming now has so many options, it would be feasible to spend our gaming time entrenched in genres we like, playing games already released, and not run out of material. It begs the question; why do we keep pursuing more new games when we haven't really played everything before? Especially in these days of PSOne/2 downloads and Nintendo's eShop, backwards compatibility and the relatively inexpensive costs for many older systems and games? In some ways it would make much more sense; as mentioned in previous articles, these games are going to slowly get harder to find and play, on hardware that is becoming ever more scarce.
Most gamers who have been through a few generations of hardware have likely played through a bulk of games that interested them and them moved on to the next system. We often 'beat' a game and then trade it, sell it, or store it, but rarely revisit it. Does that mean endless games have better value simply because they cannot be considered 'beaten?' Is Galaga inherently a more valuable video game than Radiant Silvergun? Or is it better for a game to have visible signposts, completion markers that signal it 'OK' to move on to the next game?
Obviously, there is not going to be a unified correct answer. I'm not advocating a position, but an examination. I want to make sure I don't have pre-existing assumptions about the how's and why's. I don't want to assume I have to buy the new thing because it is the new thing, anymore than I want to close off the future and assume nothing past a certain era is worth my attention. We can spend some time involved with something, and never remember to stop, look up, identify where we are, and plan to get where we want to be. As games have transitioned beyond quick-fix, in-and-out experiences and into involving, ever deepening virtual universes, the temptation can be to trudge ahead without pausing to wonder why we play what we play, and question if perhaps there is something better. A better game, a more enjoyable genre for our tastes, an unquestioned bias that we didn't realize we owned. A different way to go about things entirely.
Maybe we are better served widening our experiences, or focusing on favorites. Maybe a shotgun approach really fits us best. Maybe we should let games just be games, or perhaps use them as another lens by which we examine ourselves and the world around us. Maybe I can keep playing games as an excuse to ask more questions. Or the other way around.
I knew for a long time that PlayStation Plus was a great deal. At first, it just wasn't a great deal for me.
Now that I have it, it's still a great deal, but I'm at odds with the way it has steadily changed my gaming habits.
Back in the summer of 2010 when Sony announced PlayStation Plus, the addition of the Instant Game Collection rotation created one of the best deals in gaming, even if it boiled down to a Gamefly-like digital service where someone else picked out the rental games every month.
Since then the catalog has grown for several years, to the point that if one owned Sony platforms and an internet connection, the service could practically provide enough games to last a customer indefinitely. The longer the subscription, naturally, the more choices and variety in games become available. By design PlayStation Plus rewards those who have subscribed the longest. While I appreciated the design and intent, I had little desire to buy-in since I prefer physical copies and played my 360 much more often at the time.
Fast forward a few years, MS's focus on Kinect, and a promotion that allowed me to pick up PS Plus for a free year, and I find myself with every Sony system and a quickly growing backlog of games only visible from a menu. Given the PS4's requirement of PS Plus for online play, I took advantage of 2013's Black Friday, and let's just say I'll have Plus for... awhile.
Especially compared to the very meager Games with Gold feature added to Live, Plus is still easily one of the best deals in gaming, and at this point it would be silly for me to argue otherwise since I've greatly enjoyed many of the free games and discounts provided, not to mention the online fun on PS4. However, video games developing into an entertainment service as opposed to an entertainment product still goes against my personal philosophy and Plus is a poster child for such an implementation.
This change is not just rhetorical, much as I would like it to be. I've found that I now plan my gaming around what is announced for free each month on the service. It's not always intentional, and of course it could easily be argued that a simple matter of willpower should break this trend. In fact, many years ago I had to break my habit of playing for Achievements instead of fun, a practice I slowly developed and struggled hard to eventually overcome. The difference, at least in part, is that Achievements only tied into a virtual scoreboard and not my personal list of desired gaming experiences. While it was a surprisingly tough mental addiction to break, once I did it was easy to 'play what I want to play' instead of 'play what I bizarrely feel I should play for arbitrary score regardless of if I'm having fun.'
When it comes to Plus, games I would have perhaps desired to play later are front and center, and there is a greater incentive to play them before they get lost in the digital pile, a list that sticks out less than the physical copies of games on our shelves. I know that I'm far less likely to dig up a game from a digital back-catalog than a game temporarily forgotten on the shelf. In fact a cursory glance at my 360 XBLA games reminded me that I never completed Insanely Twisted Shadow Planet, a game I had once eagerly awaited, excitedly played for a few hours (including a nifty co-op mode) and somehow promptly forgot about. I'm correcting that now, and shaking my head at how it happened, and I know that exact scenario has played out a number of times.
I could just 'play what I want' but as the back catalog builds and the hard drive space shrinks (especially on PS4) I find myself once again picking and choosing experiences based more on what's on the Instant Game Collection rotation before it disappears. I tag every game to download so it's not completely gone from my grasp, but I know if I have to search previous downloads to find it, it's even less likely to be played than if it only existed on hard drive.
Having fake cases to display for digital copies of games may seem silly, but now I genuinely understand the idea. Once it's out of sight, it's out of mind, even for desirable games.
Of course this is all silly. It's just games on a service, and it's quite a silly complaint to fuss about how there are so many games popping up I want to play that I'm letting many slip through my limited attention. If that were the only problem, I'd just shrug and move on.
The real problem for me, though, goes back to intentionality. Back in the glory days of the NES and SNES, my friends and I would pour over every new (pre-internet) gaming magazine. Each picture of a game we wanted grew our expectations. Even when a game was released, limited funds meant sometimes those previews and reviews were the extent of our experience with a game for quite some time, and it built up the desire and passion to really get as much out of the experience as possible. The tempered wait, the lofty expectations, the intentionality of playing games meant that even the poor quality ones were often savored, and the great ones were truly cherished.
The opposite of this, for me, are Steam sales. I'd be a hypocrite for griping about buying access to dozens (or hundreds) of great indie and big name games for a few bucks apiece. Yet this complete saturation of immediate gaming breaks down the intentionality of gaming. In a few short years, these sales have made having a backlog like mine very commonplace. Sure, a game can be picked and downloaded easily from the digital library list, but how many folks are intentionally savoring each, or even a few, of those games the way we used to before such access was available?
During the original PlayStation era, I knew a fellow who would rent each game as it was released, play through it as fast as possible, and return it for something he hadn't yet 'beat.' I hadn't thought much about it until I began asking him about the actual games he played.
"How did you like Vandal Hearts?"
"Who?"
"Vandal Hearts. You said you finished it last week."
"That the one with the squares?"
"The one with th- What? Squares?"
"Yeah, didn't you have to move each guy on little squares?"
"...yeah, sort of? I liked how in the story-"
"Yeah, I don't remember the story. That was like two games ago."
"Seriously? You don't even remember when-"
"I remember, like, the cool Mr. T with a gun for an arm. He was cool."
"Gun for a-... that was Final Fantasy VII!!"
"Was it? Oh, I remember that one. It had the bike, right? I wanted to just stay on the bike. That was cool."
"I... have to go cry in a corner for awhile now."
"You should totally sell your old Nintendo crap and buy Madden."
"Great. I'm about to have to cry in the corner of a jail cell."
That's a paraphrase, but the idea is there. He was the original games-as-service customer. He played through each game as a notch on a scoreboard, and moved on. And as much as that's not me, I respect that's just how some folks game. That's their entertainment, their unwind, their free-time preference.
This approach does, however, work against the 'games as an art media,' but that's another article. More to the point, I have no desire to engage in video games this way; I want to intentionally experience individual game creations. I'm not looking to elevate Bomberman to Shakespeare, but I do want to make sure that when I play a video game I'm not going to look back at the last hour and think, 'that wasn't what I wanted to spend my free time doing.' And I find that games-as-service models, such as PlayStation Plus, tend to rewrite my gaming time to match its schedule instead of me proactively choosing how to spend my time.
Will I be able to break myself of this tendency like my Gamerscore pursuit before it? Or has Plus become a fixture I'll wrap my gaming around until those servers are shut off and I lose every game I never got around to? Am I trapped in a game providing service the same way monthly paid MMOs 'trap' me into feeling I have to play enough each week to justify the cost? Does it really matter?
The first step of intentionality is to identify the factors involved, both static and dynamic. So here's step one, and that answers the last question; any pursuit that improves understanding of the self is a worthwhile venture, especially when video games can be involved.
As video games become more culturally relevant, the skills and artistry needed to create such media becomes more appreciated. The occasional name-drop such as Will Wright, Sid Meier, or Hironobu Sakaguchi gives deserved credit and helps gamers to find and follow those responsible for their favorites. However, like movies or music bands, many of the other important and project-defining people are rarely listed or known.
One such under-credited job are the teams responsible for porting a pre-existing game to different hardware. Like a movie's editor or lighting director, if the job is done well it's easy to forget them, but if something goes bad...
And gaming has certainly had its share of bad ports;
From the passable (Killer Instinct on SNES)
to the abysmal (Street Fighter II on ZX Spectrum)
to the notorious. (Pac-man on Atari 2600)
Despite the fact that the large majority of gamers do not have any working knowledge of how a video game is made, many assume that the process of porting a video game from one console to another, especially onto more powerful hardware, is a simple and straightforward task. For example, the original Sonic the Hedgehog was released in '91, so putting a version of it on much more powerful hardware made ten years later should be a cinch, right? For anyone unfortunate enough to pick up the glitchy, frame-rate stuttering, tinny sounding Sonic the Hedgehog Genesis port that came out on the Game Boy Advance, apparently it's not as easy as CTRL-C and CTRL-V with a few touch-ups.
It is perhaps more understandable to have problems when a new game is developed for multiple systems around the same time. Battlefield 4 has become a poster child for the disaster of releasing what appears to be an unfinished, buggy game with intentions to patch later. Frustrating as it is, one thing to keep in mind is that within a fairly short window, the game released for (count 'em!) PS3, PS4, Xbox 360, Xbox One, and Windows. Four consoles and PC, each with very different hardware and challenges, two of which are completely new to the developer. Sure, other games have released across this spectrum, including EA's own much-better running Need for Speed: Rivals. However, Battlefield 4 has a massive online player count, a (mostly) high frame rate, and many features and components that arguably push the respective systems beyond contemporary releases. In short, to have such a massively complex game with five different builds release close to the same time is an undertaking the average game player honestly cannot comprehend.
Don't think I'm letting EA or Dice off the hook, mind you! I've had the PS4 version of Battlefield 4 and Premium since day one, and it's been a yo-yo of excitement and disappointment. Certainly, I think if the game wasn't ready for release, it should have had longer to cook, and likely some systems are requiring more work than others to fix completely unrelated issues across platforms. Even games released for a single system can wait months, or indefinitely, for corrective patches. That Battlefield 4 has seen multiple patches across all five platforms since release (and still has issues across the board) speaks to the monumental challenge of making each version work as intended. Obviously, even with the money and manpower behind one of gaming software's biggest juggernauts, these problems cannot be easily resolved.
In a completely different area of ports, there are the challenges for Farsight Studios, makers of The Pinball Arcade. Whereas Zen Studio's popular Pinball FX series takes pinball into magical realism with tables that only exist in the virtual realm, The Pinball Arcade is an attempt to replicate, as close as possible, original real-world machines. From buying and deconstructing the actual pinball tables, digitizing all the art, and creating 3D models of each visible component, Farsight Studios takes a painstaking, documentary-like approach usually only seen in series like Gran Turismo or Forza.
Here's a glimpse at their process:
http://www.nintendolife.c...wii_u_3ds_and_kickstarter
Next to the eye-candy of Pinball FX2's tables (including my favorites, Plants Versus Zombies and Empire Strikes Back) the extraordinary work involved in a digital replica of original tables can easily go unappreciated. Sadly, here Farsight Studios often doesn't help itself. I own most of their physical collections, and the most recent disc copy of The Pinball Arcade has an ultra low-budget feeling front end. Despite being released for multiple systems, there are no cross-buy options. There have been occasional sound and support issues, and the patch list of fixes and soon-to-come features is even larger than Battlefield 4's. Yet despite all this, (and undoubtedly having a small team to work with,) Farsight's underdog work in keeping pinball alive in a digitized form has kept me on their virtual tables much longer than Pinball FX, and despite its clunkiness the PS4 disc has stayed put in the system.
But my favorite example of a recent port brimming with passion for the source is definitely Galaxy Force II on the 3DS, part of the Sega 3D Classics line. As much as I like Ecco the Dolphin, Sonic the Hedgehog, and Shinobi III, adding 3D to these classics comes across as a nifty but completely unnecessary parlor trick. Galaxy Force II, on the other hand, was designed as a 3D perspective game using nifty sprite wizardry. Out of SEGA's back catalogue considered for 3D ports, those with 'Super-Scalar' technology are the premier chance to put the effect to great use.
Initially, I had no real interest in Galaxy Force II for the 3DS. It had many strikes against it as a digital-only release of a game with a history of unimpressive home ports, whose only notable new feature was something I never use. (To be fair about the home ports, I never imported the PS2 Sega Ages version, though now price and not interest is the barrier.) However, a chance read over at www.hardcoregaming101.net lead to this interview:
http://blogs.sega.com/201...erview-with-developer-m2/
And after reading about the crazy amount of passion for this project, I was enamored with how the team tackled each challenge. Despite the massive increase in hardware power the 3DS represents over a 1988 arcade board, their description of the process involved requiring encyclopedic knowledge of the original hardware and a constant search for efficient coding tricks in order to get the game running. Then running at 60FPS, then running with sound, then running in 3D, then running in 3D with a perspective of riding the original moving cabinet. It's a fascinating read, especially to gamers who assume that a simple copy-paste rom and some tweaks are all it takes to get a game running on hardware other than the original.
After becoming so impressed with the effort involved, and since the fruit of their efforts was available for six bucks, I decided to give it a shot, and now I realize that reading developer interviews may be dangerous for my wallet.
You wouldn't expect a game from 1988 to be the showpiece for the 3D on the 3DS. But after viewing the game with the slider almost all the way up, this was the first 'wow' experience I've had that stayed that way through the entire game. Even jostling the screen around and having the angle occasionally pop in and out of 3D while getting into the game, I never wanted to move that slider. Galaxy Force II felt as if it were a game designed around the effect, and the fluidity and responsiveness made the game play more like a nostalgic mind's eye version instead of a cruel reality version of an old classic.
Sure, it took longer to read the article than to complete the game (admittedly with some helps turned on to relieve some of that old-school quarter-munching gameplay) but the game is so much fun to play, I want to go right back to it. Every ounce of dedication I read about is visible onscreen and felt in the action. What could have been a cheap, quick cash-in on an old name feels like a true labor of love and a reminder of why SEGA's arcade days were so lauded.
It's a cheap download with no substantial marketing, a quickly-finished arcade experience in a list of hundreds of games for a system who's namesake feature has been abandoned even by its creator. Developer M2 no doubt knows just how niche this little game is, and yet they treated it as if they were given a precious gem to shine and display brighter than ever before.
When ports go bad, everybody points a finger and moves on. When a port is good, gamers tend to shrug and just pick it up for their system of choice, often not giving a second thought as to the immense work it likely took to get there. When a port is a passion project, built with care and attention, sometimes it becomes even better than the original and deserves attention.
So kudos and thanks to all the artists, programmers, engineers, and talent that occasionally, quietly produce a port that shows their passion.
Like other collectors on this site, I'm blessed in that years ago I bought, and kept, many video games that have risen in value over the years. Over time I've seen games for classic systems such as the NES, SNES, and Saturn go from a couple of bucks at most to several hundred dollars in value. My original Panzer Dragoon Saga was bought new at EB for $20; most of us have similar stories.
The flip side, naturally, is that I regret not tracking down Radical Rex for Sega CD before it became a $200+ CIB item. While I don't have much desire to play a decidedly average platformer (and one that I already have on two other systems beside) that does mean that grabbing the last few titles to make a complete Sega CD library is cost-prohibitive. It's easier to justify saving up or trading for that rare gem of a game that you love or always wanted to play, even more so if it's one of the last games for a collection. But few can deny that the mystique surrounding Stadium Events is because of its unavailability and not its gameplay; otherwise World Class Track Meet would be on more lists for top ten NES favorites. All this is restating the obvious, but things get interesting with the modern state of retro gaming and the economics of both our industry and the world at large.
Video games have proliferated our culture from both financial spectrums: the top down (expensive new consoles) to the bottom up (free mobile and browser games) so that the industry is enjoying a new ubiquity. Early eras were mostly coined by a single system, and to say you played video games meant you played Atari, or later the NES. As the market and competition grew, so did the visibility of an entire spectrum of available game machines. While there have always been extreme fanboys for respective systems and companies, most of the time the playing field was close enough that to be a 'gamer' meant pretty much the same thing to everyone.
What started as 'console wars' has now grown into such a diversified stratification that various sub-groups have no connection to each other. New terms such as 'casual' and 'hardcore' have become classifications that are coined to distinguish video game playing habits, and these camps are sometimes vehemently exclusive in nature. I've heard a 25-hour-a-week World of Warcraft player say she wasn't a 'gamer', and friend who has a phone loaded with Candy Crush Saga, Angry Birds, and a dozen others (that I see her play often) claim that she doesn't play video games. In the similar vein, I've witnessed devoted Call of Duty and Madden players completely dismiss any Nintendo console as worthless, as well as many a retro gamer completely disregard any system or game after the PS2 era as having nothing to play.
It is within this diverse stratification that we retro game collectors find ourselves in a new, interesting territory. Since the hobby began, there has been, and always will be, worthwhile video game experiences that are locked behind prohibitive barriers of price and availability. That's just the nature of the beast in any luxury entertainment industry. But imagine Citizen Kane or Star Wars, two inarguably important cultural movies, being largely unavailable to the public. Perhaps they are only available on an old film stock and require aged technology that is incompatible with current displays, or they are available on modern media but are limited to a few thousand copies and are therefore incredibly expensive. What if countless movies of worth are completely unavailable to most people who would desire to experience them, even willing to pay reasonable amounts for them, but can't afford the huge expenses necessary to purchase what would ordinarily be reasonably priced and available?
Of course this is already true for movies. Some folks like myself still await non-bootleg versions of Song of the South, Captain EO, and Let It Be to see release. (If you haven't, check out Hugo. Excellent movie that gives a real glimpse of what's already been lost.) There are an untold number of movies that have, for various reasons, never become available to the modern public.
When it comes to video games, arguably the most technology-driven entertainment industry, we are perhaps most susceptible to more and more games becoming completely unavailable over time. As has been noted, the rise of digital-only distribution and server-based software puts virtual timers on a game's later availability, and therefore its ultimate ability to impact and influence, or at least entertain.
For retro collectors, this issue has become one of economics as well. The resurgence of interest and popularity of retro video games, including originals and new games mimicking older art, music, and gameplay styles, has refreshed a market once known for offering countless titles for next to nothing at any yard sale or flea market. Many of us collectors remember the days of buying an Atari, NES, SNES, and almost any other game system with a box of games and accessories for a couple of bucks any given summer. Now that retro video games are a big market, the corollary is that these bargain finds have mostly dried up, giving way to eBay and Craigslist selling for hundreds what once went for pennies.
Not that this is surprising or even necessarily unfortunate. However, as the years go by more and more great games are becoming cost-prohibitive to gamers who would otherwise pay 'reasonable' money for sought-after games. If you're reading this far into the article, you likely know many of the names: Earthbound, the aforementioned Panzer Dragoon Saga, Little Samson, Metal Warriors, M.U.S.H.A., Master of Monsters, Lucienne's Quest, Magical Chase, Beyond Shadowgate, and the list goes on and on. More and more uncommon games such as Hagane have gone from cheap obscurities to valuable collectables, and prices on rarer games such as Snow Bros. and Aero Fighters have doubled or tripled in only a few years. Sometimes these are temporary spikes, but often the prices level out higher and higher. There are many factors to account for this, including mentions on popular sites like the Angry Video Game Nerd and Racketboy, and the adjusted prices of normal inflation. And naturally, as the years go by and more people develop interest in retro video games, the laws of supply and demand mean fewer games going for higher prices across a larger pool of people.
What this has done and will continue to do is price more and more retro video games out of the availability to the average-income video game player, collector or not. As they age, video games naturally become more difficult to find as retailers replace them with newer titles and systems. Since most consoles are not backwards compatible, even the availability to play retro video games is slowly diminishing. Digital rereleases and newer streaming models such as PlayStation Now will help, but only temporarily, due to their own inherent ethereal design.
Whereas a board game can be rebuilt and replicated, and movies are mostly transferred to newer media, the pool of older video games are becoming smaller, generally pricier, and overall less available. In another decade or two, prices on even common pre-PlayStation era games may be inconsistently priced next to their modern brethren. Certainly today, it is cheaper for me to pick up a full-priced modern game rather than any of the hundreds of retro video games on my to-complete-this-system-library-list. To collect the bulk of Atari, NES, and SNES games in any given region has always been a crazy task, but most games were more readily available for cheaper prices only a few years ago. It has been many a collector's lament, myself included, to have not picked up more when it was available for cheaper.
There are plenty of exceptions, such as the myriad Namco and Midway Collections, and a new trend as of late for HD rereleases like Ico/Shadow of the Colossus and Kingdom Hearts. On a rare occasion, older games get a new lease on life such as the recent rerelease of the SNES oddity Super Noah's Ark 3D. But the vast majority of video games are going the way of the early decades of the film industry and the first few thousand years of musical development, disappearing forever.
While I certainly find all of this more than a bit sad, it is of course the natural progression of entertainment culture. Even with our ability to record and store our media with greater permanence than ever before, the scope and practicality of completely preserving our forms of entertainment and artistic expression is beyond our means. But the desire to preserve and maintain is not at the expense of advancement and growth. It is to cherish, reflect, and learn from the past. Students of history tend to know more of the future than those over-focused on the present. Like all media of its time, video games are a reflection of where culture is in technology, morals, ethics, thought, expression, language, and change. They are a unique, interactive snapshot of their time. There is genuine worth in keeping this stuff around!
This is why I enjoy being part of the RFGeneration community. We keep the flames of video game culture alive, passing the torch to each other with each game recommendation, review, and long-winded article (ahem). Site members here are have shown a very uncommon generosity and kindness to each other in the form of free gifts, helpful information, community gaming experiences, and a general sense of goodwill that reminds me more of the ancient BBS dial-up days rather than what is mostly seen on today's internet.
The retro and collecting video game community is alive and well here at RFG, and we have brought to it a sense of worth. There's no solution to preserving every video game ever made, and probably not a healthy reason to do so. But this site, and community, makes preserving our video game culture legacy a visibly positive, worthwhile effort.
I've always been something of a salesperson for the video game experience. When I was little I enjoyed sharing our C64 with the neighborhood kids. When I was in middle school, I droned on about the incredible story of Final Fantasy II (IV) to mostly disinterested classmates. In high school, I was the nerd who recorded Gate of Thunder and Ecco the Dolphin onto a mix tape/CD and gave it to all my friends. In college I was constantly setting up huge LAN games in the computer labs. As an adult, I love how our entire family enjoys spending time gaming together.
And while I've always had particular games and genres I much preferred, I've never been much of a fanboy to the exclusion of a 'competing' side. As entertaining as Nintendo vs Sega, Madden vs NFL2k, or mouse/keyboard vs controller rivalries can be, even if I 'pick' sides I still appreciate everything video games have to offer. To completely dismiss and write off an alternative selection in gaming seems to me like a Pittsburgh Steelers fan loving the team but hating a rival team so much it affects their enjoyment of the sport. One gamer's Superman 64 is another gamer's Shadow of the Colossus. There's simply so much to video games in the modern world, it makes sense to keep an open mind about new experiences as well as to find and pursue preferences.
Even though I'm more resistant to digital download-only games than physical copies, I still investigate the market, and occasionally purchase and enjoy. I've made sure to pick up occasional sports titles and try them out, despite not really getting into one since Double Dribble and Blades of Steel. MMOs are inherently problematic for me due to the time required, but I love to read about Eve Online and experiments like Second Life. And while I've stopped short of installing a PC full of games for productivity reasons, I finally got a Steam account to tinker with. All this to say, basically, that when it comes to video games, I try not to just write anything off.
Well, except mobile games. I've liked a few, notably Plants versus Zombies and N.O.V.A., and I read about new titles on occasion. But by and large mobile and tablet gaming just did not appeal to me for a variety of reasons. Given how adult life and responsibilities keep gaming time at a premium, for me it has been the easiest sub-sector of gaming to dismiss. And since I don't think the average adult can keep up with everything in gaming anymore unless they work in the industry full time, I felt somewhat justified in keeping my not-interested-in-mobile/tablet gaming bias.
Which means I tend to miss out on some excellent experiences like Space Team.
The requirements can be a barrier; exclusively 2 to 4 player, on iOS and Android, only local play on WiFi or Bluetooth. And even directly next to a router, we experienced some occasional connection problems. But once we get started...
The idea is that you and your friend(s) are on a spaceship hurtling through the cosmos. At the beginning of every stage, the bottom two-thirds of your touch-screen is filled with randomly generated virtual dials, knobs, and switches, each labeled with goofy technobabble like P-muffler, Sloping Solvent, Harmonic Shutter, etc. Occasionally the scientific pretext is dropped completely in favor of humor, such as when you end up with a 'Make Waffles' or 'Eulogize Previous Crew' button.
Above your control panels, an instruction pops up, such as 'Turn Sloping Solvent to 2,' or 'Set Wafflemaker to On.' Under the instruction is a timer, and if the instruction is not followed, the ship takes damage. Too much damage and your ship falls apart, including panels that swing off hinges and have to be manually replaced, green goop sliming the screen that requires wiping, and the eventual destruction of your ship. The catch is that most of the time, the instruction you are given is for someone else's panel, and the most efficient way to communicate is to simply shout to your team-mate. By the fifth stage, the game easily begins to break down into hilarious verbal expressions, phones and tablets shaken to avoid asteroids, and screens flipped around to escape wormholes. You really just have to see it in action:
Here is a simple concept with brilliant execution. The random panel names and placements are a reminder that unlike most video games, the point is not mastery of the controls. Efficient, effective closed-loop communication under strict time pressure is what saves the day in Space Team. And as laugh-out-loud and fun as the game is, it also forces the development of useful real-world skills. Our successful advancement in the game was in direct correlation to how well we developed a rhythm of communication with each need as it came up (and the speedy resolution necessary.) It would usually work until our nerves and communication would break down under the speed necessary to exchange what was needed and what was already done. By then everyone is shouting excitedly, laughing uncontrollably, and our little virtual ship starts popping and fizzing like the Enterprise on an old Star Trek episode.
I couldn't help but be reminded of my EMT training so many years ago, and the constant necessity for effective communication under duress. If some surgeons are reported to play video games in order to progress and maintain vital hand-eye coordination, and Minecraft is used in schools for creative exercises, Space Team fits perfectly as a game with real-world benefits and application. Plus it's hilarious. And free!
After playing Space Team I recognized how ill-advised my near-complete disregard of the mobile and tablet gaming market has been. Much like the Wii U and 3DS, the best games for the platform tend to be ones fitted to the unique traits of its hardware. From the simplicity of Atari's original Combat, to the brain straining of the Professor Layton series, to the crazy sim-like complexity of Steel Battalion, there are so many experiences video games have to offer, some even with potential real-world benefits. Guess that includes those mini-computers we carry around that I used to play Snake on all the time.
Finally, the Wii U is unwrapped, opened, connected, and already has a sticker or two on it. Our Christmas and New Year vacation is over, and our family had a ton of fun.
The actual video gaming didn't begin until near the end of Christmas day proper, as I had to construct the Mario Kart K'Nex sets for the older kids. The sets were pretty easy to build, and fairly nifty to boot. For the curious:
http://www.amazon.com/Nin...35&sr=8-12&keywords=mario+
So that bought me and my Beloved some food-prep and relax time. The later evening was filled with Wii U game-time, and it did not disappoint in the slightest. I recall reading a 'not yet' purchase recommendation for the system from Kotaku, and I just couldn't disagree more. The Wii U will very likely compete with our PS4 for game-time in the years to come. Here's our impressions of the half-dozen titles we have so far:
Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker HD:
I'm glad this art style survives the ravages of age much better than its contemporaries. Pacing issues aside, I still think this is a marvelous (and gorgeous!) Zelda game. The revisions and gamepad make a great game excellent.
New Super Mario Bros. U
The second most played thus far. Just a fun, fun Mario platformer that becomes a co-op riot with five people playing together. The addition of a gamepad player's ability to add platforms and mess with baddies gives much needed balance to the added challenge of extra players, and the experience just comes together wonderfully. I purposefully pushed off getting 3D World until we finish Mario Wii U and Luigi Wii U, and I'm glad I did so because I think these games deserve their own play-through time.
New Super Luigi U:
A perfect example of an expansion pack done right. Remixed challenges to a superb game. Definitely worth it if you're as big a fan of Mario Wii U as we are.
Nintendoland:
I had not really heard a single positive thing about this one, but we picked it up on sale and I'm so glad we did. I suppose as a single player experience it's not worth full price, but as a multiplayer game it's a blast. The Luigi's Mansion mini-game and Find Mii were reminiscent of our Pac-man Versus nights in the best way. I'm a Balloon Fight fan as it is, and the Nintendoland version was a neat addition. We blazed through the Zelda game and enjoyed it, and then stayed up way too late challenging Kraid and a few tough stages on the Metroid game. Even the F-Zero game got passed around a bit. All in all, Nintendoland was a great party game with a few fun single player experiences I intend on returning to. Nice to pick up on sale if you have the social atmosphere to support it.
Scribblenauts Unlimited:
Here it is, my favorite experience on the Wii U by far. I've championed the series since the clunky but inspired first title, and they've just gotten better with each iteration. (I've yet to grab Unmasked, for the same reasons we have yet to pick up 3D World.) We load this up, the whole family sits on the couch, and we just take turns with the quirky puzzle-solving this game provides. The interesting, creative input young kids offer for solutions is priceless, and even helps us synapse-hardened adults sometimes. Everything about this title is great, from the story to the art to the execution. We've laughed, thought hard, and thoroughly enjoyed this game so far. I see myself going back through this myself on the 3DS version later and coming up with different solutions, it's just so much fun.
Zombi U:
I'll admit I haven't put much time into this, only because I can't play it around the kids. But I have been impressed thus far with the production and tension. I'll have to update about it later, but it definitely interests me because of the use of system exclusive features (particularly the gamepad) and that's exactly what I want to see on the Wii U: games built around the unique features of the system.
Overall, I have to say I'm very happy to own a Wii U. There are still several exclusives out now that I'm excited about, not to mention announced games on the horizon like a new Smash Bros., Mario Kart, and Zelda. Even features that may seem like a gimmick, such as playing only on the gamepad, come in handy; my middle child is actually playing on the gamepad, curled up next to me as I type! Perhaps the best part overall is that I definitely feel as though our family is on the same wavelength as Nintendo for this system and it's games.
Most of what's new on the Xbox One, even including the changed policy features, are at best throwaway clutter we won't use, and at worse outright antagonistic toward our entertainment preferences. The PS4 is a great system, but mostly because it is a straight-forward upgrade from the PS3. Nothing wrong with that, and I've already had fun with games that were basically upgrades from the last generation. But with the Wii U, right out of the gate, we're playing interesting twists on old classics or outright new experiences. It feels more fresh. That will fade, no doubt, but the emphasis on couch-co-op and family friendly games are foundationally evident. Sure, I'll play some great new games on what some would coin the 'real' next-gen systems. But it'll already be hard to match the Wii U on outright fun.
Happy New Year!
As previously mentioned, we have a very social home, and we host a New Year's party every year. Of course, we have some great party games set up! And the highlights of our New Years parties are often, naturally, video games.
We've cycled through all sorts of favorites. During the Dreamcast years, popular multiplayer games included Virtua Tennis, Red Dog (No kidding! MP is lots of fun!), Fur Fighters, and lots and lots of Unreal Tournament.
Fast forward a few years, and 16 player Halo LAN parties ruled the night. (With a bit of Crimson Skies and Mech Assault.)
A few more years and we grew into Gears of War 2/3, COD: BO Zombies, and ODST: Fire Fight LAN matches that kept us up long past the Times Square Ball dropping.
And some games have always been in the rotation, including many renditions of Bomberman, Guitar Heros and Dance Dance Revolutions.
If I had to pick a favorite New Year's party video game moment, it would be split between two:
Playing 4 player Rock Band all night until we finished the last set list and watched the credits. We had no idea this game had a credits screen. Or any ending.
Then there was the night many years ago where my greatest 2D fighter/Dance Dance Revolution rival and I decided to settle our score once and for all. I tended to barely win more often on Street Fighter Alpha 3, and he would generally defeat me on Dance Dance. So the obvious next step was to load up Street Fighter Alpha 3 on a Playstation, plug in two dance pads instead of controllers, and fight each-other as God intended; skill against skill alone.
It. Was. Hilarious.
We wore ourselves out after only three matches (I got him two out of three!) because, let me tell you, it's harder than it looks. But so worth it. Ryu and Ken twitched and jerked about like they were in a Lady Gaga video. And I hope that's the last reference to Lady Gaga I ever make, ever.
Other than video games, we've kept coming back to some other favorites including Jenga, Battletech, HeroScape, and Jamaican Scrabble.
Well, whatever you do this year and into next, I sincerely hope you're New Year's Eve is as fun as ours! Feel free to share some great New Years Eve experiences (gaming or otherwise) and stay safe out there!!
To all the staff, members, and visitors of RFGeneration, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
Even for those of us gamers who are greatly opposed to the materialistic nature and family stress inherent to the season, we enjoy getting surprised by awesome gaming-related gifts. Despite some tough times in my childhood, one particular game-related Christmas memory will forever grant some occasionally much-needed holiday cheer and appreciation for the thankless job my parents often faced.
Many moons ago, in the ancient age of '93, I was working a pretty rough construction job after high-school. I hardly saw my parents, and though they knew my many interests, any parent knows that's a far cry from knowing exactly what to get. So they called up my then-best friend Thor.
Yes, that's his name. Yes, it fit him perfectly.
Thor, as eclectic as his name implies, grew up with a gaming mother. And while he was very specific about what he would play, he was just as into video games as I was. Thor's family was the first I knew of to get the awesome machine that was the Turbo Duo, shortly after launch. Including the hidden Bomberman, this beast came packaged with seven (!) games covering a broad spectrum of genres; Ys Book I & II, Bonk's Adventure, Bonk's Revenge, Gate of Thunder (still a favorite!) and a TurboChip copy of Ninja Spirit.
Needless to say, Thor's house was very popular amongst our friends.
(The following was relayed to me after-the-fact, obviously.)
So when my folks gave my best friend a call and asked what to get me, his natural response was to talk-up what I played at his house every weekend. Then, likely because my parents were unaware of the excellent pack-ins, they asked what game to pick up with the system. Because Thor was the best friend a gamer could ask for at the time, he said something along the lines of, "well, he likes Castlevania games a lot, and they make one for it. So probably that one."
Did I mention I love this guy? I love this guy.
Since the cost of the Turbo Duo far exceeded any gift I had ever received at that point, I'm under the opinion that my parents probably had no idea that Devil's Castle Dracula X: Rondo of Blood was import only, or how much that would cost them by the time they found it. I imagine that by the time they took the effort to track it down in pre-internet '93, they had already spent so much time and effort to get it that they probably gritted their teeth and bought it despite the total cost.
Now we didn't have much money growing up. Most of my gaming after the C64 and a surprise NES to the family was through systems I bought or traded to get myself. So I cannot explain to you how impressive this Christmas was to me. Maybe it was because I was hardly at home and my mom wanted to give one last big hug. I'm not sure, though now as a parent myself I can identify with the occasional 'wow-I-shouldn't-have-spent-that-much-but-its-my-kid-so-OK' frame of mind.
I can't relay how blown away I was after opening that Turbo Duo. Or how over-the-top it was to open up Dracula X. (Or how frustrated my dad was after learning that we had to buy another expensive adapter to play the RCA AV cable only output on our RF only 25" console TV.) But my parents sure knew they had a happy teen that Christmas. I still cherish that memory.
In an unfortunate turn of events, things at home got much rougher the next few years, so perhaps I was blessed with that burning-bright moment beforehand. Either way, when it comes to physical Christmas presents, I have to admit that one is my childhood best. I played that system until I finished almost every game it came with more than once. (well, not Ninja Spirit. Man is that a hard game!) And I've gone through Dracula X more than perhaps any game I've owned, and still enjoy it today.
Now of course I'm not saying gifts (even gaming gifts!) are the point or should even be a focus over the holiday. But I hope that everyone has some great, cherished Christmas memories, and if they have some video games included there, even better!
So if you have some fun gaming or non-gaming related Christmas memories, please share,
God Bless, and GAME ON!!
We're all familiar with the modern FPS conventions. Character movement with an analog stick or keyboard, a 3D 'look' with another analog or mouse, and often a jump and shoot button. Some games, like Battlefield 4, add layer upon layer of complexity, strategy, and high player population to take this control mechanism to its current extreme. This control method and design is now so ubiquitous that it is often just called the 'shooter' genre, snatching the moniker from the recently retitled 'shmup' classification in the common gamer vernacular.
In the common gamer mindset, this particular convention of game design is so entrenched that the occasional rethink and upset can lead to something remarkable. Perhaps the most popular recent example has been the Amnesia series, which purposefully take away combat and focus on a helpless, tension-filled atmosphere to excellent effect. Plenty of other games such as the Thief series and newcomer Dishonored also put more thought into interacting with the game world itself instead of using the environment as a shooting gallery. Perhaps the greatest example of using the FPS design to give an open-ended, choose-your-own-adventure setup while still obeying the norms of FPS design has been the Deus Ex series, the first of which is often still regarded as one of the greatest games ever made. In fact, from the Elder Scrolls series to the Portal games to RealMyst, the FPS has proven far more robust than golden oldies like Quake suggested.
So when a game uses this design in a unique way, it still surprises because the modern gamer has seen so much variation with this interface methodology. Enter The Unfinished Swan, a fascinating game/storytelling method/interactive art project. The opening narrative tells of a recently orphaned youth whose mother never finished her paintings. Taking a single, minimalist painting of an unfinished swan to the orphanage, the child notices one day that the creature has disappeared from the painting, and he begins pursuit.
Then, the screen goes white and no other clues, hints, or tutorials are given. Through sheer experimentation, the player quickly realizes that a button press ejects a round glob of black paint that splatters against the white space, revealing walls, objects, and an entire environment to navigate, with loose paths to follow. Too much black paint hurled against surfaces begin to obscure their details, since at the beginning the only thing giving definition to the environment is the contrast between the white space and the hurled, splattered paint. Color is shown sparingly, to call attention to a handful of objects or show the foot-paths of the absent fowl. Cue 'wild goose chase' pun.
While the color is almost exclusively black and white, the sound is also minimalist, with more environmental sounds heard as more of the world is revealed. A simple jump is the only other control besides the conventional move, look, and 'shooting' paint. More narrative is told as the game progresses by using the simple tools of the game and a storybook-like series of reveals.
The pace is slow, purposeful, experimental, whimsical, and best of all, playful. Other games of this ilk such as Dear Esther or the recent critical darling Gone Home have a moody, voyeuristic design, but the difference with The Unfinished Swan is that the interaction with the environment figuratively and literally defines the game. Better still, it uses this original interaction method as a story device that feels intrinsic and holistic, instead of tacked-on or forced. Whereas some artistic game worlds are criticized for force-feeding standard game conventions into an otherwise complete virtual experience (the Bioshock series are popular examples) The Unfinished Swan feels like a complete experience defined by how its gameplay is intrinsic to storytelling.
If any of this sounds interesting to you, please take the plunge and grab it from the PSN. It's worth it just to see something different, interesting, and in my opinion, wonderful. Seeing a 'normal' game design used like this inspires me to continue believing that our hobby has far more to give us in the future, even using the familiar.
It is a strange wilderness into which this modern world of gaming can take us.
Anyone who has followed along with my previous writing and ranting has a pretty good understanding about my views on the industry shift from physical media to digital downloads. My written objections run the gamut, including giving up rights as an owner of an object, leasing an experience instead of paying for an item, and losing our history of gaming culture.
I cannot say my thoughts on these things have really changed, but there have been interesting developments. Just recently, I traded (gasp!) my physical copy of Battlefield 4 for the PS4. My reasoning; I got a very cheap deal on the digital copy that put me at a profit for trading in the physical disc, I didn't care for my time with the single player and therefore only intended on playing online which would require an internet connection anyway, and finally I knew I could pick up the disc sometime later when the price is much cheaper.
Sure, it's logical, but it also goes against my collector instinct and even smacks a bit of hypocrisy given my general views of supporting physical media as long as possible. I've played plenty of 'indie' digital only games, but this marks the first triple A big budget experience I've been playing as a digital download. While it's certainly not that big of a deal, like anything else I like to pay attention to how things change mental constructs, and this small difference has reinforced a process I've observed about the difference between digital and physical gaming.
It actually doesn't have anything to do with value, art, or collectability, but intentionality.
I prefer to be intentional in everything I do. That certainly does not mean I resist spontaneity, and my beloved would laugh uproariously if you suggested that I'm a type A, regimented personality. Rather, I prefer to make sure I'm thinking through something before agreeing, accepting, or doing. At least, as much as I am able given surrounding circumstances.
This intentionality extends to entertainment and video games. I primarily play games during three different opportunities; 1. Working out on our stationary bike, 2. Social gaming, generally on weekends, often on our 360 LAN and online with friends, and 3. Spontaneous moments where I have to wait on something, which is where portables usually come in handy.
Outside of these situations, I don't tend to play games much because the other things in life are too valuable to sacrifice the time.
Given how little time during the week we have for gaming, the last thing we want is to stare at a blank screen with a blank mind, or to load up a game for a moment only to decide a few minutes later that we aren't in the mood to play that. In the same way my beloved is quoted as 'knowing all about the moods with the foods' when it comes to satisfying a hunger craving with the perfect ingredients, if our gaming is not intentional then it becomes easy to waste away what little time we have. Oh, one day it may be co-op Tales of Xilia and then the next day Dirt 3, but identifying what would best serve where we are in the brain and heart makes all the difference when deciding how to spend our time.
Years ago in college I was introduced to the wonders of emulation. My gaming buddies and I could never afford a Neo Geo AES, and yet here on a friend's PC we suddenly had access to a library we had never played. The first few hours were great, amazing even. Despite not having a good joystick, we loaded up ROM after ROM and spent some time with games we were always curious about. However, after a few days we lost interest.
I can't speak for anyone else, but I know part of why gaming through emulation never caught on for me is because it equates to a big, ethereal list of games without much presence, no label in the shelf to remind me of its existence and no physical object for me to intentionally take ahold of and make decisions. It becomes easy to sample a dozen games and harder to stick with and play through one. Out of sight and out of mind, desiring to play that game becomes less a matter of intent and more a matter of fleeting accident. Occasionally happy accidents, to be sure, but too often a sugary glaze instead of a filling meal. Not the game's fault, but the delivery vehicle effects my mentality towards it, for better or worse.
With a loss of intentionality, a library of digital games on a hard drive becomes something I scroll through and pick something that I hope will meet me where am. For me, and I don't assume this is universal of course, but there is a function to having a shelf of games that forces me to intentionally complete the process of decision making by physically connecting what I want to spend time on with the device I want to use. It's everything from the solid *Thud-clink* of plastic in a slot, the *Errrrreeeeh* of an optical media drive loading, the introduction loading up that serves as a driveway to my destination.
I could sum up the above mentality by saying I'm that guy that won't go to see a movie in the theatre if I miss the previews, because that's just part of the experience. I'm also that guy that whines when a preview shows too much of the movie, but that's another article.
But it's not some nostalgic ritual that I'm searching for. (incidentally I lost part of that when games stopped shipping with instruction manuals. Again, another article.) Having to decide on a game and then physically setting it up is part of the process of me being intentional, purposeful, thoughtful about where I am and what I want to play. It's getting excited for that Christmas/Thanksgiving meal days or weeks before the aroma hits your senses. When searching through my XBLA and PSN games, I'm looking at a buffet where I too often gorge and eat too much of something I may not have really enjoyed as much as I wanted.
Of course I can be intentional about digital release games; I'm loading up Battlefield 4 all the time. But I have historically noticed that I struggle with picking up and staying with a game that takes up no more space than data on a drive.
Delivery avenues like Steam and PlayStation Plus provide gamers with huge libraries overnight. I know I come across as an old fogy for saying it, but at least for me, it feels more like a bunch of games to 'get through' rather than intentional experiences to savor.
Maybe I'll pick up another Battlefield 4 disc sooner rather than later. It may seem silly in a financial perspective, but learning is not cheap, so says any honest college guidance counselor. If I'm not receiving the lessons gaming teaches me about myself, I'm probably making bad investments in both money and time.
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