Quite a bit has been written about virtual worlds recently, primarily by psychologists, sociologists, and other "people-oriented" researchers who dive in fingers- and feet-first into the synthetic landscape. What's missing is research from other disciplines. Castronova brings the important perspective of an economist to the table.
But that's not what you get at the beginning of the book. Castronova has much larger goals in mind, attempting to introduce the vast intricacies of virtual worlds to newbies. This, in my opinion, is a mistake – the first chapter derails the book and those looking for a more serious discussion might be turned off. But if you're willing to slog through or simply skip those chapters, you're in for a treat.
The hook here is the economics – that people can get rich off of World of Warcraft – and while Castronova addresses that possibility, it's an oversimplification of his premise. Castronova provides a perspective on the insane growth of virtual worlds. If he is occasionally starry-eyed about the possibilities it's forgivable, because in economic terms virtual growth is unprecedented.
Castronova occasionally strays outside economics territory, but his thoughts are still valuable. He posits that the "Wild West" nature of self-governing through player-killing simply doesn't work, which matches with my experience as an administrator on Multi-User Dungeons (MUDs). He points the finger at "Coding Authorities," the companies who create and manage these worlds. At base, these companies have no interest in actually monitoring the goings-on of the world. Castronova skewers this sort of laissez-faire management with the statement "I've never once seen a customer service representative actually do anything." And he's right – the sheer burden of properly managing virtual worlds is much too onerous for a game company looking to make back its investment on the latest graphical avatars. Or in other words, until virtual worlds collapse in a flaming ball of anarchy (like Ultima Online nearly did) the programmers and developers won't lift a finger because it doesn't pay to. It's a refreshingly realistic take in a series of breathless books touting the wonders of virtual interaction.
Castronova concludes Synthetic Worlds by daring to make predictions about what will happen next. In a book about the exponentially increasing virtual worlds, this is risky. Within years of publication, some of his predictions have proven out (virtual interfaces are slowly advancing to include gestural interfaces, like the Wii) and some are just simply off base ("virtual citizenship" and its implications have shaky logic). But that doesn't detract from the book's value to those new to online worlds or beginning their research in this relatively new medium.
Showing posts with label Games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Games. Show all posts
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Brutal Legend
Growing up in high school, I was not a Heavy Metal fan. I looked askance at the dudes in their black t-shirts and doodling death symbols. I was struggling to be accepted as a gamer, and although the Metalheads played Dungeons & Dragons as much as I did, they came from a very different background.
As an adult it's much easier to embrace this form of counter-culturalism. Heavy Metal was rebelling at a time when 80s conformity was emerging, overhyped, oversynthed, and carefully marketed. Heavy Metal was at turns loud, angry, and violent or melodic, sorrowful, even romantic. But it's not too late. Brutal Legend will show you the way.
A lot of people criticize the short playing time of Brutal Legend, as if tearing from scene to scene, save point to save point, is the only purpose of the game. In fact, Brutal Legend is entirely the opposite – it's a world meant to be explored, a culture meant to be absorbed, a state of mind meant to be embraced. You've got to let go of your hang-ups if you really want to enjoy Brutal Legend.
Brutal Legend follows Riggs as he journeys through this strange land. He finds himself in a familiar role: supporting a better-groomed star from behind the scenes. With its twisty plotline of love and loss, allegiance and betrayal, players may be surprised to discover that Brutal Legend has a strong romantic element – an important part of Heavy Metal.
But mostly Brutal Legend is about music. Jack Black as Eddie Riggs is our comedic tour guide through this insane universe, which occasionally pretends it's part of pre-history but is actually a mad mix of Nordic legend, Heavy Metal sensibilities, and Frank Fazetta and Heironymus Bosch's art. It all ties together through a back-story that can be discovered piece by piece by wandering the land, digging up artifacts, musical solos that act as spells, and releasing bound and gagged stone dragons for blood tributes. On paper Riggs is a roadie, but in practice he's a bard of musical Metal, capable of summoning wild beasts, melting the face of his enemies, or even changing day into night.
Music is its own character in Brutal Legend. Riggs can create a vehicle known as the Druid Plow, an incredibly souped-up car that can drop mines, fire heat-seeking rockets, blast foes with sound, and – most importantly – provides the game's kicking soundtrack. This soundtrack is the perfect mood music for the game itself, which feels like you've been thrust into one of those Heavy Metal album covers.
Brutal Legend is highly original too. Forget the usual fantasy tropes of elves and dwarves. This game features carnivorous deer, porcupines bristling with metal quills, huge steel-headed beasts, monsters made-up like Kiss that breathe fire…and that's just the local wildlife. There's a whole coterie of Tim Burton-esque undead foes, the aforementioned Bosch-inspired demons, fire-trailing bikers, speaker-toting roadies…this game is as much as feast for the eyes as it is for the ears.
In fact, this game turned me on to groups I'd never heard of before: Angel Witch, 3 Inches of Blood, Motorhead, Riot, Omen, and KMFDM. I may not be a Metal-head, but Brutal Legend made me a fan of groups I would never otherwise have listened to. That's the highest compliment I can pay a game.
As an adult it's much easier to embrace this form of counter-culturalism. Heavy Metal was rebelling at a time when 80s conformity was emerging, overhyped, oversynthed, and carefully marketed. Heavy Metal was at turns loud, angry, and violent or melodic, sorrowful, even romantic. But it's not too late. Brutal Legend will show you the way.
A lot of people criticize the short playing time of Brutal Legend, as if tearing from scene to scene, save point to save point, is the only purpose of the game. In fact, Brutal Legend is entirely the opposite – it's a world meant to be explored, a culture meant to be absorbed, a state of mind meant to be embraced. You've got to let go of your hang-ups if you really want to enjoy Brutal Legend.
Brutal Legend follows Riggs as he journeys through this strange land. He finds himself in a familiar role: supporting a better-groomed star from behind the scenes. With its twisty plotline of love and loss, allegiance and betrayal, players may be surprised to discover that Brutal Legend has a strong romantic element – an important part of Heavy Metal.
But mostly Brutal Legend is about music. Jack Black as Eddie Riggs is our comedic tour guide through this insane universe, which occasionally pretends it's part of pre-history but is actually a mad mix of Nordic legend, Heavy Metal sensibilities, and Frank Fazetta and Heironymus Bosch's art. It all ties together through a back-story that can be discovered piece by piece by wandering the land, digging up artifacts, musical solos that act as spells, and releasing bound and gagged stone dragons for blood tributes. On paper Riggs is a roadie, but in practice he's a bard of musical Metal, capable of summoning wild beasts, melting the face of his enemies, or even changing day into night.
Music is its own character in Brutal Legend. Riggs can create a vehicle known as the Druid Plow, an incredibly souped-up car that can drop mines, fire heat-seeking rockets, blast foes with sound, and – most importantly – provides the game's kicking soundtrack. This soundtrack is the perfect mood music for the game itself, which feels like you've been thrust into one of those Heavy Metal album covers.
Brutal Legend is highly original too. Forget the usual fantasy tropes of elves and dwarves. This game features carnivorous deer, porcupines bristling with metal quills, huge steel-headed beasts, monsters made-up like Kiss that breathe fire…and that's just the local wildlife. There's a whole coterie of Tim Burton-esque undead foes, the aforementioned Bosch-inspired demons, fire-trailing bikers, speaker-toting roadies…this game is as much as feast for the eyes as it is for the ears.
In fact, this game turned me on to groups I'd never heard of before: Angel Witch, 3 Inches of Blood, Motorhead, Riot, Omen, and KMFDM. I may not be a Metal-head, but Brutal Legend made me a fan of groups I would never otherwise have listened to. That's the highest compliment I can pay a game.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Twisty Little Passages
Twisty Little Passages, by Nick Montfort, addresses a much needed gap in gaming analysis and history: that of interactive fiction. The precursor to Multi-User Dungeons, interactive fiction was a form of text-based interactive game that sprang to life in tandem with the rise of the personal computer. Single player in scope but capable of taking its players anywhere the programmers could imagine, it relied primarily on the written word to share its world. Although the games initially started with VERB NOUN responses (e.g., "get book", "read book", etc.), they eventually advanced to natural language parsers.
Throughout the book is a history of interactive fiction and its development through the eighties and nineties. It also analyzes the comparisons between hypertext fiction and interactive fiction and the inequalities in how the two or treated. If you can't guess, interactive fiction isn't treated very well.
Montfort seems to have an axe to grind, citing shoddy research that conflates certain interactive fiction as being fantasy adventure games and confuses the origins of Adventure (or ADVENT). Montfort corrects all these misperceptions and more through personal interviews with Will Crowther, creator of Adventure, and Dave Lebling, one of the creators of Zork.
Twisty Little Passages seeks to redress these inconsistencies, positing that interactive fiction is more than just a game but a form of literature in its own right. Montfort makes a convincing argument, but then as an administrator of RetroMUD for over a decade, I'm one of the converted. It's unlikely that literature snobs are reading his book.
Although occasionally defensive in tone, Montfort's retrospect and analysis of interactive fiction is a welcome addition to any game developer's library. It's important to know what went before, and this book addresses an important part of gaming history that has been all but forgotten.
Throughout the book is a history of interactive fiction and its development through the eighties and nineties. It also analyzes the comparisons between hypertext fiction and interactive fiction and the inequalities in how the two or treated. If you can't guess, interactive fiction isn't treated very well.
Montfort seems to have an axe to grind, citing shoddy research that conflates certain interactive fiction as being fantasy adventure games and confuses the origins of Adventure (or ADVENT). Montfort corrects all these misperceptions and more through personal interviews with Will Crowther, creator of Adventure, and Dave Lebling, one of the creators of Zork.
Twisty Little Passages seeks to redress these inconsistencies, positing that interactive fiction is more than just a game but a form of literature in its own right. Montfort makes a convincing argument, but then as an administrator of RetroMUD for over a decade, I'm one of the converted. It's unlikely that literature snobs are reading his book.
Although occasionally defensive in tone, Montfort's retrospect and analysis of interactive fiction is a welcome addition to any game developer's library. It's important to know what went before, and this book addresses an important part of gaming history that has been all but forgotten.
Moterhship Zeta
There were two places I absolutely had to visit in Fallout 3: Dogmeat and the crashed spacecraft. With the new downloadable content, Mothership Zeta, what was once a visit to a spooky alien craft turns into a full-fledged abduction scenario.
After being beamed up by into a saucer, the player is subjected to a disturbing sequence in which the aliens conduct experiments with painful probes. You wake up naked in a holding cell with another abductee, Somah, and have to fight your way to freedom.
Like The Pitt and Operation: Anchorage, this content is an entirely self-contained environment. You're in a spacecraft, after all. The green men, with their guardian drones, pack personal force fields and painful disintegrators that make the weapon you found on the dead alien in Fallout 3 look like a pop gun.
Leading the way through the labyrinthine architecture is Sally, a little girl who is small enough to traverse the ductwork. With a nod to Newt from the movie Aliens, she is at turns annoying (not all of her advice is sound) and helpful. You eventually are joined by other abductees awoken from cryo-sleep, including a samurai, a cowboy, and a medic abducted from Operation: Anchorage.
Like Operation: Anchorage, Mothership Zeta forces cocky players to change their tactics. The aliens are physically weaker but they make up for it with powerful weapons and armor. They come in groups of three or more and attack in enclosed spaces. Mothership Zeta is no cakewalk.
Along the way, the aliens plans are revealed. Creepy tapes of abductees being interviewed and experimented are littered throughout the ship. At one point, the player must conduct a spacewalk – although there's not much of a challenge in doing so. The finale is suitably climactic as you attempt to command the ship to fire on another UFO while fending off wave after wave of angry aliens. The win is hard-earned.
Mothership Zeta provides a few items that will be valuable back on Earth: biogel (heals hundreds of hit points), a disintegrator (inflicts massive amounts of damage in a single shot), and the energy ball-bouncing drone cannon (acts as a grenade but is very imprecise). When I returned to the regular Fallout 3 game, I used the drone cannon to devastating effect, especially because you can bounce the shots around corners.
Motership Zeta isn't for everyone. The foes are a bit repetitive, and listening to the alien chatter (they don't speak English, natch) gets old fast. More often than not I had to resort to bashing their big green heads in with a shock baton – ugly work, as the aliens squeal with every hit. But for fans of 50s science fiction, little green men, and Mars Attacks, this is a must buy.
After being beamed up by into a saucer, the player is subjected to a disturbing sequence in which the aliens conduct experiments with painful probes. You wake up naked in a holding cell with another abductee, Somah, and have to fight your way to freedom.
Like The Pitt and Operation: Anchorage, this content is an entirely self-contained environment. You're in a spacecraft, after all. The green men, with their guardian drones, pack personal force fields and painful disintegrators that make the weapon you found on the dead alien in Fallout 3 look like a pop gun.
Leading the way through the labyrinthine architecture is Sally, a little girl who is small enough to traverse the ductwork. With a nod to Newt from the movie Aliens, she is at turns annoying (not all of her advice is sound) and helpful. You eventually are joined by other abductees awoken from cryo-sleep, including a samurai, a cowboy, and a medic abducted from Operation: Anchorage.
Like Operation: Anchorage, Mothership Zeta forces cocky players to change their tactics. The aliens are physically weaker but they make up for it with powerful weapons and armor. They come in groups of three or more and attack in enclosed spaces. Mothership Zeta is no cakewalk.
Along the way, the aliens plans are revealed. Creepy tapes of abductees being interviewed and experimented are littered throughout the ship. At one point, the player must conduct a spacewalk – although there's not much of a challenge in doing so. The finale is suitably climactic as you attempt to command the ship to fire on another UFO while fending off wave after wave of angry aliens. The win is hard-earned.
Mothership Zeta provides a few items that will be valuable back on Earth: biogel (heals hundreds of hit points), a disintegrator (inflicts massive amounts of damage in a single shot), and the energy ball-bouncing drone cannon (acts as a grenade but is very imprecise). When I returned to the regular Fallout 3 game, I used the drone cannon to devastating effect, especially because you can bounce the shots around corners.
Motership Zeta isn't for everyone. The foes are a bit repetitive, and listening to the alien chatter (they don't speak English, natch) gets old fast. More often than not I had to resort to bashing their big green heads in with a shock baton – ugly work, as the aliens squeal with every hit. But for fans of 50s science fiction, little green men, and Mars Attacks, this is a must buy.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
The Pitt
Part of the genius of Fallout 3 is that it mixes 1950s sensibilities with post-apocalyptic atrocities, striking the perfect balance between humor and horror. With the Pitt, the balance definitely shifts towards the nihilistic, more The Road and Swan Song and less Beyond Thunderdome.
Like Operation: Anchorage, the player enters former Pittsburgh stripped bare of weapons and armor. He is pretending to be a slave. Mingling among the slaves, the player must fight his way through The Hole, a series of arena battles against increasingly difficult foes. My high-level character tore right through them in record time.
Surviving multiple rounds in The Hole grants an audience with Ashur, the head slaver and a former Brother of Steel. Indeed, this title may be more apt, because Ashur has created a bustling economy using Pittsburgh's steel mill to churn out weapons and armor.
It soon becomes clear that things are a little less black-and-white than in the rest of the Fallout wasteland. With the population largely sterile due to the Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion, Ashur settled on slave labor as a short-term solution to his manpower difficulties. Those who are tough enough ascend to join the slavers in bullying slaves and raiding other communities. The twist-ending requires a sadistic choice with no real winners or losers. It's as grim as it sounds.
Also like Operation: Anchorage, The Pitt provides one of the best melee weapons: The Mauler. An auto-blocking, persistent damage-inflicting beast of a weapon, The Mauler gets blood and guts everywhere, but then, killin's messy work.
That pretty much sums up The Pitt too. I felt a little dirty after playing it.
Like Operation: Anchorage, the player enters former Pittsburgh stripped bare of weapons and armor. He is pretending to be a slave. Mingling among the slaves, the player must fight his way through The Hole, a series of arena battles against increasingly difficult foes. My high-level character tore right through them in record time.
Surviving multiple rounds in The Hole grants an audience with Ashur, the head slaver and a former Brother of Steel. Indeed, this title may be more apt, because Ashur has created a bustling economy using Pittsburgh's steel mill to churn out weapons and armor.
It soon becomes clear that things are a little less black-and-white than in the rest of the Fallout wasteland. With the population largely sterile due to the Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion, Ashur settled on slave labor as a short-term solution to his manpower difficulties. Those who are tough enough ascend to join the slavers in bullying slaves and raiding other communities. The twist-ending requires a sadistic choice with no real winners or losers. It's as grim as it sounds.
Also like Operation: Anchorage, The Pitt provides one of the best melee weapons: The Mauler. An auto-blocking, persistent damage-inflicting beast of a weapon, The Mauler gets blood and guts everywhere, but then, killin's messy work.
That pretty much sums up The Pitt too. I felt a little dirty after playing it.
Operation: Anchorage
Operation: Anchorage was the first downloadable content available for Fallout 3. Fallout is far too complex a game to explain here; suffice it to say that the paranoia and jingoistic patriotism of the 1950s became a permanent way of life due to the escalation of nuclear war between communist forces and America. Operation: Anchorage fills in the back story of the game by thrusting the player into a pivotal moment in Fallout's history: the liberation of Alaska from communist China.
Because this downloadable content is part of the Fallout universe, it's a game within a game. Brotherhood of Steel outcasts need your help to reach a stash of pre-war technology in a bunker (dangling the promise of loot at the end of the simulation). But getting in requires a user with a Pip-Boy interface – an interface only the player possesses -- to successfully complete the virtual simulation.
This isn't really an addition to Fallout so much as it's a complete mini-game more in the vein of the Tom Clancy sneak-and-shoot games. The mission involves a series of escalated attacks against Chinese forces in a windswept arctic climate. There are soldiers that can be commanded to fight on your behalf, enabling some rudimentary squad tactics. There are no mutations and therefore no mutants, no irradiated wasteland and thus no radiation concerns, and only the equipment Anchorage supplies you. In short, it's a completely different game with a similar interface.
Even ammunition and healing are doled out in unlimited dispensers, just like a virtual game. There's no scavenging; corpses fizzle out in virtual sparks and there are no crates that can be opened. In short, this is Fallout stripped down to sneaking and shooting.
And sneaking is critical here. It was a shock for my 20th-level Fallout character, stripped of his huge arsenal of drugs and equipment, to be regularly outmatched by sharpshooters who often had a tactical advantage. In fact, all of the opponents are considerably more difficult, including the invisible Crimson Dragoons. I faced down several threats by staying near a health dispenser and clicking it every few rounds as I was pounded by Dragoon fire. There were several points in the game where I died multiple times using the brute force approach, eventually forced to sneak my way through much of the content. In short, Operation: Anchorage gave me a good dose of humility.
The conclusion involves a final push against Chinese forces. Judicious use of a high Speech skill ended the battle quickly with minimal bloodshed. I didn't even bother to use any of my squad. But it was all worth it. What lies in the vault is some of the sweetest weapons and armor this side of the apocalypse…and a good measure of skullduggery to boot.
Anchorage provides two items that will change your Fallout 3 experience. The first is the Winterized T-51b Power Armor. One of the most powerful armors in the game (DR 45), it never gets damaged. The other standout item is the Gauss Rifle, which has a scope, uses microfusion cells, and causes creatures to be knocked down for four seconds on a critical hit.
Words can't properly express how satisfying it is to hit a Deathclaw full in the face and watch it go flying off a cliff. Those four seconds can be a lifetime on a battlefield, bestowing a critical combat advantage to the player's companions who continue to pound away at the prone target; players using VATS and the right perks can knock an opponent around like a hockey puck.
Operation Anchorage isn't like the rest of Fallout 3 and that might be a turn off for some. But the Gauss Rifle and Power Armor make it all worth it.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Fallout 3
I was ready to hate Fallout 3.
I'm not a fan of sandbox games. As an adult gamer with a toddler and a day job, I have a limited amount of time on my hands. I played Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion for a few days before I threw it down in disgust, aggravated by the lack of plot direction, frustrated by all the constraints placed on me by polite society (don't even think about stealing a wooden plate!), and bored by the long walks it took for my character to get anywhere. Yes, Elder Scrolls is a hugely immersive game, but I don't have time to be that immersive.
Fallout 3 starts with you being born. It's at that point you determine your gender and, as a toddler, you learn about your SPECIAL (an acronym for your character's attributes) abilities. How many games let you walk around a playpen as a toddler while teaching you the fundamentals of the game at the same time?
You continue as a pre-teen, dealing with all the difficulties of life in the Vault, a fallout shelter to protect you from the nuclear war raging outside. As the outside world intrudes, it becomes clear that all is not as it seems. Your scientist father disappears and it's up to you to leave the safety of the Vault and find dear old dad.
Nuclear war struck in the 1950s, locking the outside world in retro-future state. Ray guns, Robby-the-Robot style automatons, and cars with fins dominate the landscape. But it is a broken, shattered landscape littered with the detritus of humanity's failed hopes and dreams. And it is here where you will find everything from post-apocalyptic preachers, cannibalistic ghouls, super-mutants, and a whole pile of Mad Max-style survivalists.
There are still the annoying holdovers from Elder Scrolls – you can't just take things without consequences. And you do get tired from all that walking, of which there's a lot of walking to do. But for some reason, this is all less aggravating than Elder Scrolls.
Part of it has to do with the sheer depth of the game. Fallout's blend of post-apocalyptic with retro-future creates a unique setting that makes you want to explore the game. From your grainy PIPBoy 2000 to the Mohawks of the wasteland raiders, to the cheery 1950s-style manuals and billboards, Fallout 3 is an immersive experience.
Like BioShock, there are multiple means of overcoming a challenge. You can be stealthy. You can reprogram robots to do your work for you. You can be a charmer, smooth-talking your way out of difficult quests. Or you can just bash stuff over the head with a baseball bat.
Unlike all the promises made in Mass Effect, Fallout 3 actually delivers. The pausing system for combat actually makes sense (it's called VATS), and yet you can still shoot an enemy's head off from a distance without using VATS. The world is large enough to make getting lost at night a terrifying prospect, but not so imposing that you can't make it to a safe place to rest. And there are plenty of quests to keep you busy.
I'm still not a fan of sandbox games. But Fallout 3's so good, I'll make an exception.
I'm not a fan of sandbox games. As an adult gamer with a toddler and a day job, I have a limited amount of time on my hands. I played Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion for a few days before I threw it down in disgust, aggravated by the lack of plot direction, frustrated by all the constraints placed on me by polite society (don't even think about stealing a wooden plate!), and bored by the long walks it took for my character to get anywhere. Yes, Elder Scrolls is a hugely immersive game, but I don't have time to be that immersive.
Fallout 3 starts with you being born. It's at that point you determine your gender and, as a toddler, you learn about your SPECIAL (an acronym for your character's attributes) abilities. How many games let you walk around a playpen as a toddler while teaching you the fundamentals of the game at the same time?
You continue as a pre-teen, dealing with all the difficulties of life in the Vault, a fallout shelter to protect you from the nuclear war raging outside. As the outside world intrudes, it becomes clear that all is not as it seems. Your scientist father disappears and it's up to you to leave the safety of the Vault and find dear old dad.
Nuclear war struck in the 1950s, locking the outside world in retro-future state. Ray guns, Robby-the-Robot style automatons, and cars with fins dominate the landscape. But it is a broken, shattered landscape littered with the detritus of humanity's failed hopes and dreams. And it is here where you will find everything from post-apocalyptic preachers, cannibalistic ghouls, super-mutants, and a whole pile of Mad Max-style survivalists.
There are still the annoying holdovers from Elder Scrolls – you can't just take things without consequences. And you do get tired from all that walking, of which there's a lot of walking to do. But for some reason, this is all less aggravating than Elder Scrolls.
Part of it has to do with the sheer depth of the game. Fallout's blend of post-apocalyptic with retro-future creates a unique setting that makes you want to explore the game. From your grainy PIPBoy 2000 to the Mohawks of the wasteland raiders, to the cheery 1950s-style manuals and billboards, Fallout 3 is an immersive experience.
Like BioShock, there are multiple means of overcoming a challenge. You can be stealthy. You can reprogram robots to do your work for you. You can be a charmer, smooth-talking your way out of difficult quests. Or you can just bash stuff over the head with a baseball bat.
Unlike all the promises made in Mass Effect, Fallout 3 actually delivers. The pausing system for combat actually makes sense (it's called VATS), and yet you can still shoot an enemy's head off from a distance without using VATS. The world is large enough to make getting lost at night a terrifying prospect, but not so imposing that you can't make it to a safe place to rest. And there are plenty of quests to keep you busy.
I'm still not a fan of sandbox games. But Fallout 3's so good, I'll make an exception.
Legendary
Legendary is one of those games that seems like it was created for me. It combines fantasy monsters and lots of guns to create a modern-day first-person shooter that takes on the creatures of Greek myth.
Wait, did I say Greek myth? Where did you get that idea? Oh, probably from the notion that Charles Deckard opens Pandora's Box (which is, you know, Greek) and unleashes: griffons, minotaurs, werewolves, firedrakes, Nari (evil little pixies), Tscuhigomo's Children (spiders that explode), a golem, a kraken, and poltergeists. Minotaurs and griffons make perfect sense. You could make an argument that the myth of Lycaeon places werewolves in Greek mythology. The firedrakes are modeled after the mythical salamander, a myth that harkens all the way back to the Talmud. But the rest? The rest is an excuse to throw monsters at you to blow up.
My delicate historical sensibility aside, Legendary is still a peculiar beast. Deckard's supposedly a jewel thief, but his lock-picking skill consists of standing at electrical panels and waiting for a counter to finish so the door opens. It seems like there was supposed to be a lock-picking mini-game that didn't make it into the finished product.
Deckard also has the ability to absorb energy from every monster he kills. This allows him to heal, shoot a burst of energy at his opponents, and power certain gadgets to defeat bigger monsters like the golem and the kraken. Reminiscent of Lost Planet: Extreme Condition, this "kill more to survive" game mechanic is only slightly less forgiving.
Every game has a developer's favorite monster, the one that the designers clearly put a lot of thought into, sometimes to the exclusion of the actual focus of the game. In F.E.A.R. it was the amazingly life-like, intelligent, and vulgar clone soldiers. In Legendary, it's the werewolves. They climb, they throw stuff from afar, they regenerate unless you chop their heads off, and they're hideous-looking. You will learn to hate werewolves with a passion in Legendary.
What's curious about Legendary is that it wants to be a horror game. There are several scenes wherein everyday citizens are torn apart by the supernatural horrors unleashed by Pandora's box, right before your very eyes. Which seems a bit out of place for a game about mythical creatures taking over the world. Given the range of monstrosities foisted on thus in most modern horror games, a man being eaten by an eagle/lion isn't all that scary.
Legendary is pretty linear too. You can only shoot the bad guys you're allowed to shoot (no putting those civilians out of their misery!). You can only go in the designated areas not blocked off by debris, which is everywhere of course. And you can't jump. Period.
The ending has to be the most hilarious, over-the-top, death scene of a villain ever. Assuming you even make it to the end (spoiler alert!), you will have the distinct pleasure of watching the main villain killed in a Rube Goldberg-ian game of monster volleyball, with each monster mangling and then tossing the bad guy off to the next until he it tossed over a ledge…and then bounces on the way down!
This isn't a bad first-person shooter, merely a mediocre one trying to compete with superior action horror titles.
Wait, did I say Greek myth? Where did you get that idea? Oh, probably from the notion that Charles Deckard opens Pandora's Box (which is, you know, Greek) and unleashes: griffons, minotaurs, werewolves, firedrakes, Nari (evil little pixies), Tscuhigomo's Children (spiders that explode), a golem, a kraken, and poltergeists. Minotaurs and griffons make perfect sense. You could make an argument that the myth of Lycaeon places werewolves in Greek mythology. The firedrakes are modeled after the mythical salamander, a myth that harkens all the way back to the Talmud. But the rest? The rest is an excuse to throw monsters at you to blow up.
My delicate historical sensibility aside, Legendary is still a peculiar beast. Deckard's supposedly a jewel thief, but his lock-picking skill consists of standing at electrical panels and waiting for a counter to finish so the door opens. It seems like there was supposed to be a lock-picking mini-game that didn't make it into the finished product.
Deckard also has the ability to absorb energy from every monster he kills. This allows him to heal, shoot a burst of energy at his opponents, and power certain gadgets to defeat bigger monsters like the golem and the kraken. Reminiscent of Lost Planet: Extreme Condition, this "kill more to survive" game mechanic is only slightly less forgiving.
Every game has a developer's favorite monster, the one that the designers clearly put a lot of thought into, sometimes to the exclusion of the actual focus of the game. In F.E.A.R. it was the amazingly life-like, intelligent, and vulgar clone soldiers. In Legendary, it's the werewolves. They climb, they throw stuff from afar, they regenerate unless you chop their heads off, and they're hideous-looking. You will learn to hate werewolves with a passion in Legendary.
What's curious about Legendary is that it wants to be a horror game. There are several scenes wherein everyday citizens are torn apart by the supernatural horrors unleashed by Pandora's box, right before your very eyes. Which seems a bit out of place for a game about mythical creatures taking over the world. Given the range of monstrosities foisted on thus in most modern horror games, a man being eaten by an eagle/lion isn't all that scary.
Legendary is pretty linear too. You can only shoot the bad guys you're allowed to shoot (no putting those civilians out of their misery!). You can only go in the designated areas not blocked off by debris, which is everywhere of course. And you can't jump. Period.
The ending has to be the most hilarious, over-the-top, death scene of a villain ever. Assuming you even make it to the end (spoiler alert!), you will have the distinct pleasure of watching the main villain killed in a Rube Goldberg-ian game of monster volleyball, with each monster mangling and then tossing the bad guy off to the next until he it tossed over a ledge…and then bounces on the way down!
This isn't a bad first-person shooter, merely a mediocre one trying to compete with superior action horror titles.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Got Game: How the Gamer Generation Is Reshaping Business Forever
In Got Game, the authors put forth the theory that gamers aren't just suited for business, but that business is suited for them—in essence, that business IS a game, and thus those who play games are better suited to survive and thrive in the business world. Beck and Wade draw this conclusion from their survey of a diverse population of more than 2,500 Americans.
From there the authors follow the white rabbit down the hole: if gamers are good at teamwork in games, then they should be good at teamwork in business; if they see themselves as natural leaders in games, then the same should apply to business; if they are accustomed to playing games with a global network of players then global corporations should be second nature to them.
As a Gen X gamer who lives a double-life in the business world, it's very satisfying to find some reification of the adult gamer lifestyle. I have seen how playing role-playing games have helped me succeed: how speaking as a game master to a group around a table is similar to speaking at a business meeting, how organizational skills in writing an adventure are the same skills I use for drafting business articles, how speaking as a panelist at gaming conventions taught me to navigate business conventions. In short, although gaming can be a frivolous activity, it shouldn't be taken frivolously.
That said, there are a few challenges with Got Game that are endemic to writing a book about an evolving culture. For one, it's already outdated; throwaway references to consoles, games, and gaming populations are no longer relevant. For another, it's very specifically written for Boomers. I find this a bit odd, as the book's subtitle, "How the Gamer Generation is Reshaping Business Forever" doesn't seem geared towards that specific audience – it's as if only Boomers can be mystified by gamers, as opposed to other non-gamers (of which there are many!). Third, some of the conclusions are reached without solid evidence to back them up.
Most specifically, Got Game doesn't differentiate between the types of gamers and how their skill-sets apply to the workplace. On page 98, action games are most prevalent (27.1% of sales) followed by sports (17.6%), racing (15.7%), role-playing (8.7%), fighting (6.4%) and shooters (4.6%). But there is a significant difference between being good at a first-person shooter and being good at a role-playing game, and the skill-sets vary tremendously. I've discovered that playing Halo has made me a better skeet shooter, but not a better manager. Role-playing games, on the other hand, require a different set of skills that may be more applicable to business. Gaming is a bit too large a category to group together everyone who has ever played games frequently.
And yet Beck and Wade get a lot of things right, name-dropping Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game, The Sims, and MMORPGs. Kudos especially for this statement: "A movie called Mazes and Monsters, starring a young Tom Hanks, even imagined the death of someone obsessed with playing too much of a D&D-type game, yet to our knowledge the number of deaths directly attributable to D&D remains at zero."
Got Game is an excellent response for any parent or manager who fears that the next generation is a bunch of brain-dead brats. A book like this should normally be distributed in web format, but considering the audience (Boomers) perhaps dead-tree format is entirely the point.
From there the authors follow the white rabbit down the hole: if gamers are good at teamwork in games, then they should be good at teamwork in business; if they see themselves as natural leaders in games, then the same should apply to business; if they are accustomed to playing games with a global network of players then global corporations should be second nature to them.
As a Gen X gamer who lives a double-life in the business world, it's very satisfying to find some reification of the adult gamer lifestyle. I have seen how playing role-playing games have helped me succeed: how speaking as a game master to a group around a table is similar to speaking at a business meeting, how organizational skills in writing an adventure are the same skills I use for drafting business articles, how speaking as a panelist at gaming conventions taught me to navigate business conventions. In short, although gaming can be a frivolous activity, it shouldn't be taken frivolously.
That said, there are a few challenges with Got Game that are endemic to writing a book about an evolving culture. For one, it's already outdated; throwaway references to consoles, games, and gaming populations are no longer relevant. For another, it's very specifically written for Boomers. I find this a bit odd, as the book's subtitle, "How the Gamer Generation is Reshaping Business Forever" doesn't seem geared towards that specific audience – it's as if only Boomers can be mystified by gamers, as opposed to other non-gamers (of which there are many!). Third, some of the conclusions are reached without solid evidence to back them up.
Most specifically, Got Game doesn't differentiate between the types of gamers and how their skill-sets apply to the workplace. On page 98, action games are most prevalent (27.1% of sales) followed by sports (17.6%), racing (15.7%), role-playing (8.7%), fighting (6.4%) and shooters (4.6%). But there is a significant difference between being good at a first-person shooter and being good at a role-playing game, and the skill-sets vary tremendously. I've discovered that playing Halo has made me a better skeet shooter, but not a better manager. Role-playing games, on the other hand, require a different set of skills that may be more applicable to business. Gaming is a bit too large a category to group together everyone who has ever played games frequently.
And yet Beck and Wade get a lot of things right, name-dropping Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game, The Sims, and MMORPGs. Kudos especially for this statement: "A movie called Mazes and Monsters, starring a young Tom Hanks, even imagined the death of someone obsessed with playing too much of a D&D-type game, yet to our knowledge the number of deaths directly attributable to D&D remains at zero."
Got Game is an excellent response for any parent or manager who fears that the next generation is a bunch of brain-dead brats. A book like this should normally be distributed in web format, but considering the audience (Boomers) perhaps dead-tree format is entirely the point.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Gears of War 2
I've beaten the campaign mode of Gears of War 2 (GOW2) on hardcore and I play multiplayer regularly on Wednesday nights (friend Talien if you're interested). I switched from our Halo 3 weekly games, so I will use that as a point of comparison.
The campaign is great. GOW2 fixed a lot of things you wanted to do before, like taking on a chainsaw with another chainsaw, holding someone hostage, fighting Reavers and even Brumaks, drive tanks, and more. More importantly, Dom's quest to find his wife adds pathos to a brutally violent game - pathos, I might add, that was so heavily hyped in Halo's campaign but never really pulled off. That's the difference between having a faceless protagonist and a character that's fleshed out through flashbacks. Through his heartbreaking quest to find his wife, Dom comes to life. It reminds us of the human cost of war, and helps take the edge off the endless macho posturing of four hugely juiced combat gorillas in armor.
There's also some weird plot involving Lambent Locusts, a revolution, an awfully humanoid-looking hottie of a Locust queen, Marcus Fenix's father, a computer gone mad, and the sinking of Jacinto. Mind you, I thought we were supposed to save Jacinto, not sink it; once it becomes clear that it would hurt the Locusts more by destroying it, the COGs seem to do the job on behalf of the bad guys. But those are minor quibbles and more than made up for the fact that the action is relentless, a pace difficult to keep up even in first-person shooters.
There are flaws in the campaign. If I never play another rail game again in a multiplayer, I would be happy. GOW2 also forces some button-mashing battles that are very different from the normal run-and-gun tactics that are part-and-parcel of the rest of the game. From a cinematic perspective this is great; from someone who just likes to shoot stuff, it can get frustrating.
The multiplayer is where GOW2 really excels. It's like a bloodstained Santa showed up and gave us everything we ever wanted that was missing in GOW. Want to be able to play with up to ten people? Check. Want to be able to just fight wave after wave of Horde cooperatively? Check. Want to play against computer-controlled opponents in multiplayer until you can fill the slots? Check, baby!
Unlike Halo 3, GOW2 feels like a vastly improved version of the original. It takes everything you loved about GOW and amps it up to 11. If you love first-person shooters, if you like team multiplayer games, or if you're just addicted to the gruesome implications of combining a chainsaw with a machinegun ... this game's for you.
The campaign is great. GOW2 fixed a lot of things you wanted to do before, like taking on a chainsaw with another chainsaw, holding someone hostage, fighting Reavers and even Brumaks, drive tanks, and more. More importantly, Dom's quest to find his wife adds pathos to a brutally violent game - pathos, I might add, that was so heavily hyped in Halo's campaign but never really pulled off. That's the difference between having a faceless protagonist and a character that's fleshed out through flashbacks. Through his heartbreaking quest to find his wife, Dom comes to life. It reminds us of the human cost of war, and helps take the edge off the endless macho posturing of four hugely juiced combat gorillas in armor.
There's also some weird plot involving Lambent Locusts, a revolution, an awfully humanoid-looking hottie of a Locust queen, Marcus Fenix's father, a computer gone mad, and the sinking of Jacinto. Mind you, I thought we were supposed to save Jacinto, not sink it; once it becomes clear that it would hurt the Locusts more by destroying it, the COGs seem to do the job on behalf of the bad guys. But those are minor quibbles and more than made up for the fact that the action is relentless, a pace difficult to keep up even in first-person shooters.
There are flaws in the campaign. If I never play another rail game again in a multiplayer, I would be happy. GOW2 also forces some button-mashing battles that are very different from the normal run-and-gun tactics that are part-and-parcel of the rest of the game. From a cinematic perspective this is great; from someone who just likes to shoot stuff, it can get frustrating.
The multiplayer is where GOW2 really excels. It's like a bloodstained Santa showed up and gave us everything we ever wanted that was missing in GOW. Want to be able to play with up to ten people? Check. Want to be able to just fight wave after wave of Horde cooperatively? Check. Want to play against computer-controlled opponents in multiplayer until you can fill the slots? Check, baby!
Unlike Halo 3, GOW2 feels like a vastly improved version of the original. It takes everything you loved about GOW and amps it up to 11. If you love first-person shooters, if you like team multiplayer games, or if you're just addicted to the gruesome implications of combining a chainsaw with a machinegun ... this game's for you.
Mass Effect
When I first played Knights of the Old Republic (KOTR) I was enthralled. Here was a Star Wars game that was better than the latest Star Wars movies, full of engrossing characters, interesting plots, and aliens true to their roots from the Star Wars universe. At the time, one flaw popped up that really bothered my wife: talking to the aliens ad nauseum meant that certain sound bites were repeated by certain alien races over and over. So you had a lot of "ooka shishka jedi" stuff going on that, while it didn't bother me too much, certainly annoyed the heck out of anyone having to listen to it over and over as I talked to everything that was willing to carry on a conversation. Then I bought Jade Empire and to my horror, discovered that it was the exact same game engine. It's the same engine used for Mass Effect. And all that dialogue is starting to get old.
Allow me to deconstruct the myth that Mass Effect is a supreme role-playing game experience.
Mass Effect is ultimately a giant sandbox that's somewhat different from KOTR, only with none of the cachet of Star Wars. The main plot line, the one in which you save the universe, is a lot of fun and makes for an interesting game. But you'll have to sit through a lot of elevators to get there.
Allow me to deconstruct the myth that Mass Effect is a supreme role-playing game experience.
- SCIENCE-FICTION ROLE-PLAYING: PERFECTED. The setting is a combination of Star Wars' exotic worlds, Star Trek's ship interiors, and Babylon 5's battle to establish human dominance in an alien world. Mass Effect uses conversational pathing. Generally speaking, the top choice is positive, the middle choice is neutral, and the bottom choice is negative. So if you want to be a jerk, you can always pick the rude bottom choice, and if you want to be a nice guy, you can always pick the positive top choice. Or if you're in a hurry, you click the button and move to the next chat menu. This is not role-playing, it's a game of multiple choice, and the majority of the time the choices are obvious. This game has more in common with KOTR than the game engine. The customizability of equipment and characters, the level up system, it's all the same. So instead of the Force we have "biotics." You can also customize your character's appearance, which is neat. However, Xbox's new interactive menus allow the same thing - avatar customization. It hardly makes this a "perfect" role-playing game. The equipment improvements come down to: Fire Ammo IV and Laser Rifle VII. There is a whole pile of scrolling text you can read about the history of the weapon, but the short of it is VII is better than VI which is better than V. You could get those kinds of power ups in a game of Diablo.
- THE VASTNESS OF SPACE BECKONS. Like KOTR, you have a ship that you can fly all over the universe. This is like the world's worst sandbox - it's hard enough to figure out what to do and where to go in a small city. Yes, there's lots of content, but it's not necessarily relevant or interesting. Almost all the quests involve "go here, get widget, return it to me." Then there's the MAKO, a dune buggy-type roving cannon. Exploring the surface of worlds primarily involves shooting at giant crab things that you can run over. In this respect Mass Effect is reminiscent of the Final Fantasy games.
- LOSE YOURSELF IN A LIVING GALAXY. The graphics are amazing, the voice acting top notch, the character expressions just as nuanced as promised. It has Seth Green as a voice actor, which rocks. But for reasons I will never understand, there are long elevator sequences. In the world of science fiction, where ships can travel through space and alien races intermingle, we have not yet invented a means around elevators. EVERY time you get in an elevator, your characters freeze, face forward, and you listen to the sci-fi equivalent of elevator Muzak. The only thing you can do is spin the camera around the characters while they stand there. You can't reload, check equipment, or anything else. It's useless downtime. For some reason, the highly advanced civilizations still like to keep their belongings in boxes. The boxes can be hacked; I'm a sucker for these mini-games, so I confess I enjoyed them. But really, boxes? There might be other interesting ways of finding equipment, but since this is the same game engine as KOTR, boxes are everywhere. There is also the romantic subplot. This subplot involves choosing between a sexy blue alien (reminiscent of Zhaan from Farscape) and a pushy human racist woman. It's pretty clear which woman the game would like you to hook up with (or man, if you play a female character, but the alien female retains her faux gender). This is hardly a deep romantic plot, and the ruckus raised over the intimate scene between the two characters is unwarranted; it's far tamer than anything on the Internet. To save on memory, the majority of aliens are the same bodies duplicated multiple times, in the same way Star Trek tended to have every alien be humanoid since that meant less makeup was required. There are a lot of the blue female aliens throughout the game, and they all look similar. There's not a fat person among them. Even the ship's doctor, a much older woman, is a silver fox with the body of a twenty year old (where was the romantic subplot with HER?).
- LEAD YOUR SQUAD IN INTENSE, REAL-TIME COMBAT. Although your best bet in beating this game is as a soldier, Mass Effect is no Halo. The third person perspective is difficult to follow, especially when you fight many enemies at once. What this means is you're constantly pausing the game to give your squad commands, which completely ruins the "real-time" combat element. There isn't the nail-biting thrill of trying to reload a weapon perfectly like Gears of War, and the ability to use terrain as cover isn't nearly as smooth.
Mass Effect is ultimately a giant sandbox that's somewhat different from KOTR, only with none of the cachet of Star Wars. The main plot line, the one in which you save the universe, is a lot of fun and makes for an interesting game. But you'll have to sit through a lot of elevators to get there.
Turok
Ever since I saw Jurassic Park, I had a newfound respect for Tyrannosaurus Rex. Forget dragons: a T-Rex is a terrifying killing machine, and Jurassic Park made it clear that you didn't just see one of these monsters coming, you actually felt its presence. Of course, my love for dinosaurs started well before that, back when I was in elementary school. What's sad is that I wanted dinosaur curtains, dinosaur bedspreads, dinosaur anything -- and back then there WERE no dinosaur-themed stuff for kids. Now my one-year-old wears a new dinosaur-themed outfit practically every day.
It's probably no surprise that I'm fond of Jurassic Fight Club, which matches two (or more) dinosaurs in tail-to-head combat. The speculation and history lessons are fun, but the actual computer graphic battles in all their bloody glory left me itching for something more. And that more is Turok.
Turok is a first-person shooter, but the thrill is in the use of the bow and the knife to silently take out your enemies. Dinosaur combat is less about shooting them and more about pressing the right combination of buttons to fend it off; the combination changes with each dinosaur attack, which keeps Turok fresh with sudden mini-games that are thrust suddenly upon you.
The other neat element is that dinosaurs are animals at heart. They run from explosions, sniff out prey, and can be lured into traps. My personal favorite: shooting a flare over a grenade, a dinosaur wanders over to sniff it and...BOOM! Instant meat shower! The dinosaurs are more forces of nature than enemies; there are plenty of opportunities to have shoot-outs with better-armed and armored opponents.
This is the first game to really do the T-Rex justice. Showdowns with this monster (which, I'm pleased to report, happen frequently) always end in horrible carnage. The great voice acting and slick script only add to the paranoid atmosphere. There's even a shout-out to Aliens, complete with flamethrowers and giant bugs.
Remember that scene in Predator, where the Native American, Billy, stays behind to take on the alien with jut a knife? His off-screen death was really lame. Turok's much better answer: Hell yeah, an Indian can take on a dinosaur...give him a knife, and he can stab a T-Rex to death with it!
It's probably no surprise that I'm fond of Jurassic Fight Club, which matches two (or more) dinosaurs in tail-to-head combat. The speculation and history lessons are fun, but the actual computer graphic battles in all their bloody glory left me itching for something more. And that more is Turok.
Turok is a first-person shooter, but the thrill is in the use of the bow and the knife to silently take out your enemies. Dinosaur combat is less about shooting them and more about pressing the right combination of buttons to fend it off; the combination changes with each dinosaur attack, which keeps Turok fresh with sudden mini-games that are thrust suddenly upon you.
The other neat element is that dinosaurs are animals at heart. They run from explosions, sniff out prey, and can be lured into traps. My personal favorite: shooting a flare over a grenade, a dinosaur wanders over to sniff it and...BOOM! Instant meat shower! The dinosaurs are more forces of nature than enemies; there are plenty of opportunities to have shoot-outs with better-armed and armored opponents.
This is the first game to really do the T-Rex justice. Showdowns with this monster (which, I'm pleased to report, happen frequently) always end in horrible carnage. The great voice acting and slick script only add to the paranoid atmosphere. There's even a shout-out to Aliens, complete with flamethrowers and giant bugs.
Remember that scene in Predator, where the Native American, Billy, stays behind to take on the alien with jut a knife? His off-screen death was really lame. Turok's much better answer: Hell yeah, an Indian can take on a dinosaur...give him a knife, and he can stab a T-Rex to death with it!
The Darkness
I've never read The Darkness comic. I couldn't get past the fact that the character looks like a bad Spawn rip-off and the quote from Brunching Shuttlecocks about the truth behind Dungeons & Dragons: "I attack the darkness!"
The Darkness is essentially every Mafia movie cliché mixed with the brooding atmosphere of The Crow. In fact, the protagonist, Jackie Estacado (Kirk Acevedo), looks and sounds at lot like Michael Wincott, who played Top Dollar in that film. If you've seen The Crow, you know that Wincott's got a very distinctive appearance, with his long black hair, leather overcoat, and hawkish features. In The Darkness, Jackie is affectionately nicknamed Ratface by his girlfriend Jenny Romano (Lauren Ambrose). As you can imagine, having personal connections in a dark game like this is inevitably a liability, but I digress.
The Darkness owes a lot to films like Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, with random narrative from our hero, outrageous characters, and an uneven mix of action and drama. The first cut scene (created with all in-game graphics) gives a perfect sense of what's to come: lots of cursing, lots of gore, absolutely no respect for authority, and plenty of violence, all taking place in New York. It's the New York of the seventies, when crime and graffiti were rampant and sane people didn't wander out alone by themselves. And you're one of the reasons.
The Darkness is a two-headed demonic symbiont that lives within Jackie and, we discover later, the entire Estacado bloodline. In that respect the game is a lot like Spawn or Venom; the Darkness is a personality as much as it is a thing that augments Jackie's considerable gun-fu skills with the ability to create black holes that suck everything into them, whiplash barbed tentacles, magical guns, and snake-like mouths. In the dark, Jackie can summon other demons to do his bidding, which range from kamikaze critters loaded with explosives to gatling-gun wielding warriors.
Jackie's opponents have no such superpowers, and it's a credit to the game's creators that any supernatural monsters you encounter all fit the plot. There's no inevitable escalation of the villain gaining superpowers to do battle; indeed, the villain behind most of Jackie's woes, Uncle Paulie Franchetti (Dwight Schultz) is as much a moral foil as he is an arch-foe. Killing him isn't the point.
The game revolves around the issue of Jackie's soul. Mob life is a violent one, and The Darkness contrasts the mythical honor of the "old ways" with the mad-dog frenzy of Franchetti. When Franchetti starts blowing up orphanages, the older mobsters use Jackie as their form of vengeance.
The Darkness uses the New York subway system as its primary means of shuttling Jackie from place to place. This makes a lot of sense and provides a sense of realism to an otherwise route form of travel that bedevils so many first-person shooters. The streets are filled with entertaining characters who all have missions of their own to complete. Two of the most memorable characters include Butcher Joyce (Mike Starr) and Aunt Sarah (Norma Michaels), but there are many more and the voice actors are all superb. Between screens, and there are a lot of load screens, Jackie narrates his life and death to Jenny, which provides a humorous series of quotable anecdotes. These are the first load screens that actually distracted me from the load time.
Despite the age-old Mafia tropes, The Darkness takes the themes explored in The Crow and Spawn and amps them up to eleven, without ever losing focus on sacrifice, violence, and even love. I wasn't entirely convinced that saving Jackie's soul was feasible (I earned the anti-hero rating from the game), but the very notion of redemption being possible is a breath of fresh air to the first-person shooter genre.
The Darkness is essentially every Mafia movie cliché mixed with the brooding atmosphere of The Crow. In fact, the protagonist, Jackie Estacado (Kirk Acevedo), looks and sounds at lot like Michael Wincott, who played Top Dollar in that film. If you've seen The Crow, you know that Wincott's got a very distinctive appearance, with his long black hair, leather overcoat, and hawkish features. In The Darkness, Jackie is affectionately nicknamed Ratface by his girlfriend Jenny Romano (Lauren Ambrose). As you can imagine, having personal connections in a dark game like this is inevitably a liability, but I digress.
The Darkness owes a lot to films like Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, with random narrative from our hero, outrageous characters, and an uneven mix of action and drama. The first cut scene (created with all in-game graphics) gives a perfect sense of what's to come: lots of cursing, lots of gore, absolutely no respect for authority, and plenty of violence, all taking place in New York. It's the New York of the seventies, when crime and graffiti were rampant and sane people didn't wander out alone by themselves. And you're one of the reasons.
The Darkness is a two-headed demonic symbiont that lives within Jackie and, we discover later, the entire Estacado bloodline. In that respect the game is a lot like Spawn or Venom; the Darkness is a personality as much as it is a thing that augments Jackie's considerable gun-fu skills with the ability to create black holes that suck everything into them, whiplash barbed tentacles, magical guns, and snake-like mouths. In the dark, Jackie can summon other demons to do his bidding, which range from kamikaze critters loaded with explosives to gatling-gun wielding warriors.
Jackie's opponents have no such superpowers, and it's a credit to the game's creators that any supernatural monsters you encounter all fit the plot. There's no inevitable escalation of the villain gaining superpowers to do battle; indeed, the villain behind most of Jackie's woes, Uncle Paulie Franchetti (Dwight Schultz) is as much a moral foil as he is an arch-foe. Killing him isn't the point.
The game revolves around the issue of Jackie's soul. Mob life is a violent one, and The Darkness contrasts the mythical honor of the "old ways" with the mad-dog frenzy of Franchetti. When Franchetti starts blowing up orphanages, the older mobsters use Jackie as their form of vengeance.
The Darkness uses the New York subway system as its primary means of shuttling Jackie from place to place. This makes a lot of sense and provides a sense of realism to an otherwise route form of travel that bedevils so many first-person shooters. The streets are filled with entertaining characters who all have missions of their own to complete. Two of the most memorable characters include Butcher Joyce (Mike Starr) and Aunt Sarah (Norma Michaels), but there are many more and the voice actors are all superb. Between screens, and there are a lot of load screens, Jackie narrates his life and death to Jenny, which provides a humorous series of quotable anecdotes. These are the first load screens that actually distracted me from the load time.
Despite the age-old Mafia tropes, The Darkness takes the themes explored in The Crow and Spawn and amps them up to eleven, without ever losing focus on sacrifice, violence, and even love. I wasn't entirely convinced that saving Jackie's soul was feasible (I earned the anti-hero rating from the game), but the very notion of redemption being possible is a breath of fresh air to the first-person shooter genre.
Blacksite: Area 51
This game is bad. Bad, bad, baddity, bad. I hate it with the passion of a thousand suns. Here's why:
In the era of Bioshock, Halo 3, and Gears of War, Blacksite is proof that graphics alone are not enough to make a great game. The developers should be ashamed of themselves, but I can't tell you who they are because while I was forced to watch the end credits...the game crashed.
- It crashes. Constantly. It would crash at random moments, whenever the game tried to load the extremely detailed environments.
- There are a million load sequences that interrupt the flow of the game. And the load screens are repetitive. And the "hints" the game shares with you are useless. Reload frequently? Thanks, Blacksite, I never thought of that!
- It's linear. At one point, the resident tough guy character quotes Star Wars, cause, ya know, the area looks like one of the chasms on the Death Star. When a character points out how linear the game is, you know there's a problem.
- The enemies are boring. There's one actually freaky alien, and it's telling that the thing is showcased in all the art advertising the game. All the other creatures look like they were ripped out of Starship Troopers. There's also the stupid "exploding monsters" which are a tired staple of FPS. Did I mention that one of them is a giant tower that slowly rotates and farts out alien bugs?
- Squad-based tactics? Sure, that amounts to telling people where to go (they never listen) and telling them whom to shoot at (because it's not obvious?).
- Non-destructible environments. Sure, the fuel trucks can be shot. There are crates you can break, but there's nothing in them. The environment is largely static.
- There's also a rail game component. With monsters that shoot projectiles at you. I've never seen this before. All that's missing is the "shoot me in the head" game.
- You can't affect anything the game doesn't want you to shoot at. You can empty an entire clip into your allies heads, shoot their vehicles, and basically act like a moron without affecting the game. And when I get bored, I can really be a big moron.
- You can jump about two inches in the air. There is no purpose to jumping. You can't scale any environment, except to slowly fall down a zip-line like you're on an elevator. In the one area where you can fall to your death, the final boss battle, your dead body stutter-steps down to the ground. This is a fabulous piece of code, let me tell you.
- It's short. I mean, really short. Even for me. I tried to play the game on a much harder difficulty, but the crashing actually drove me so insane that I wanted to at least get my money worth. So I played it on easy to get it over with.
In the era of Bioshock, Halo 3, and Gears of War, Blacksite is proof that graphics alone are not enough to make a great game. The developers should be ashamed of themselves, but I can't tell you who they are because while I was forced to watch the end credits...the game crashed.
Crackdown
When Halo 3 was announced, I actively resisted buying Crackdown for the sole purpose of getting onto the Halo 3 beta. Mind you, I love Halo 3. I play team slayer every Wednesday night (add Talien to your friends list if you want to join). But I wasn't going to pay more money just to get into the game early. So for a long time, I just avoided Crackdown out of principle. Which is a shame, because Crackdown is awesome.
Basically, you're a genetically-engineered superhero who can leap tall buildings in a single bound, lift trucks over your head, and shoot criminals real good. Did I mention the criminals? They're the reason you exist: in a society overrun by scum, you "AM de LAW!" There are three gangs you must defeat, each helpfully segregating themselves by taking over a different island. There's the Hispanic Los Muertos (death), who swear at you in Spanish and drive muscle cars. There's the Russian Volk (wolves) who drive Soviet-Era transport trucks carrying Stinger missiles. And then there's the Shai-Gen, sort of the uber-corporate villain reminiscent of Gibson-style Japanese megacorporations. You take down each of these bad guys by taking out the lieutenants, which in turn weakens the gang leader by reducing the effectiveness of his bodyguards.
There are a wide range of weapons and vehicles you can use to wage your one-man war on crime. You can impound weapons and vehicles so you can use them later. Your uber-cop advances through the skills he uses; use lots of explosives and your explosives skill goes up, run over bad guys with your car and your driving skill goes up. There are also power-ups floating around the city, blue question marks that give you bonuses to all skills and green exclamation points that increase your speed and jumping ability.
Crackdown's methodology heavily relies on the carrot approach, rewarding you for going to difficult places in the game by providing incentives. Even death isn't permanent; thanks to cloning, you reappear at one of the supply points throughout the game with a loss in some skills.
Crackdown's cell-shaded universe is both comic book-y and beautiful. It's amazing to watch the sun set and rise, or be dangling from a twenty story building when the lights flick on. I was especially fond of killing major villains and hurling their bodies off of skyscrapers, watching them fall doll-like hundreds of feet to the ground. Wait, should I not have shared that? I've said too much.
Ahem. Anyway, what makes Crackdown so different is that it truly delivers on the sandbox-style of play. You can fight gang members or kill citizens, drive vehicles anywhere, pick up anything, destroy everything. You can jump, you can swim, you can climb. Every character is as interactive as your character, and the AI reacts in a reasonable fashion: citizens run screaming, driving their cars erratically to get away from firefights. Gang members shoot you, run you down, and throw grenades at your head. When a firefight breaks out, police come screeching onto the scene, and usually get in the way. When you jump down from a distance, you shatter the pavement. When citizens see you leaping through the air or carrying heavy artillery, they flee for their lives.
There are moments in Crackdown where I was reminded of the target audience. The non-English speaking gangs and citizens shout phrases, adding to the atmosphere of the game. The English speaking drones in Shai-Gen are a lot less amusing and become downright annoying. The swearing is a little silly (with so many citizens randomly saying things, when combat goes down they end up cursing quite a bit) and over the top. But this is a game about killing gang members by throwing trucks at them, so I give Crackdown a pass.
Speaking of the audio, the narrator is the only character of substance, and he guides you through the game. His encouragement and chastisement is pitch-perfect, an older, grizzled white guy's voice telling you how it is and how to do better next time. I wasn't thrilled with the ending - like so many games, it feels rushed and a bit of a cop out - but playing the game was still a rewarding experience.
If you're a fan of Robocop, Judge Dredd, or the Tick, get Crackdown. You'll be shouting "SPOOOONNN!", hurling chimneys, and leaping across rooftops in no time. Unless you're not a fan of the Tick, in which case you'll appreciate laying down the law the old fashioned way: with a rocket launcher.
Basically, you're a genetically-engineered superhero who can leap tall buildings in a single bound, lift trucks over your head, and shoot criminals real good. Did I mention the criminals? They're the reason you exist: in a society overrun by scum, you "AM de LAW!" There are three gangs you must defeat, each helpfully segregating themselves by taking over a different island. There's the Hispanic Los Muertos (death), who swear at you in Spanish and drive muscle cars. There's the Russian Volk (wolves) who drive Soviet-Era transport trucks carrying Stinger missiles. And then there's the Shai-Gen, sort of the uber-corporate villain reminiscent of Gibson-style Japanese megacorporations. You take down each of these bad guys by taking out the lieutenants, which in turn weakens the gang leader by reducing the effectiveness of his bodyguards.
There are a wide range of weapons and vehicles you can use to wage your one-man war on crime. You can impound weapons and vehicles so you can use them later. Your uber-cop advances through the skills he uses; use lots of explosives and your explosives skill goes up, run over bad guys with your car and your driving skill goes up. There are also power-ups floating around the city, blue question marks that give you bonuses to all skills and green exclamation points that increase your speed and jumping ability.
Crackdown's methodology heavily relies on the carrot approach, rewarding you for going to difficult places in the game by providing incentives. Even death isn't permanent; thanks to cloning, you reappear at one of the supply points throughout the game with a loss in some skills.
Crackdown's cell-shaded universe is both comic book-y and beautiful. It's amazing to watch the sun set and rise, or be dangling from a twenty story building when the lights flick on. I was especially fond of killing major villains and hurling their bodies off of skyscrapers, watching them fall doll-like hundreds of feet to the ground. Wait, should I not have shared that? I've said too much.
Ahem. Anyway, what makes Crackdown so different is that it truly delivers on the sandbox-style of play. You can fight gang members or kill citizens, drive vehicles anywhere, pick up anything, destroy everything. You can jump, you can swim, you can climb. Every character is as interactive as your character, and the AI reacts in a reasonable fashion: citizens run screaming, driving their cars erratically to get away from firefights. Gang members shoot you, run you down, and throw grenades at your head. When a firefight breaks out, police come screeching onto the scene, and usually get in the way. When you jump down from a distance, you shatter the pavement. When citizens see you leaping through the air or carrying heavy artillery, they flee for their lives.
There are moments in Crackdown where I was reminded of the target audience. The non-English speaking gangs and citizens shout phrases, adding to the atmosphere of the game. The English speaking drones in Shai-Gen are a lot less amusing and become downright annoying. The swearing is a little silly (with so many citizens randomly saying things, when combat goes down they end up cursing quite a bit) and over the top. But this is a game about killing gang members by throwing trucks at them, so I give Crackdown a pass.
Speaking of the audio, the narrator is the only character of substance, and he guides you through the game. His encouragement and chastisement is pitch-perfect, an older, grizzled white guy's voice telling you how it is and how to do better next time. I wasn't thrilled with the ending - like so many games, it feels rushed and a bit of a cop out - but playing the game was still a rewarding experience.
If you're a fan of Robocop, Judge Dredd, or the Tick, get Crackdown. You'll be shouting "SPOOOONNN!", hurling chimneys, and leaping across rooftops in no time. Unless you're not a fan of the Tick, in which case you'll appreciate laying down the law the old fashioned way: with a rocket launcher.
Bioshock
"Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death one tiny creature -- that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance -- and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions?"I didn't really want BioShock. The name didn't exactly thrill me, and the concept was a little hazy. Some guy underwater in the 50s being attacked by weird monsters in diving suits? What the heck was that all about? But my brother talked the game up so much that I put it on my wish list. I got it for my birthday and was instantly hooked.--Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
BioShock has a vision, just like its creator/villain, Andrew Ryan (Armin Shimerman). And that vision is Rapture, an underwater city built with 1940s style architecture and Ayn Rand's (note the similarities to Andrew Ryan's name) principles. You are plane crash survivor named Jack and you are trapped in a hell that was once supposed to be Eden.
BioShock's central philosophical question is the plight of children. There are Little Sisters wandering throughout the complex, little girls who have been merged with some kind of mutant parasite that allows them to process ADAM from dead bodies. ADAM is a mutagen that bestows superpowers on whomever uses them, which puts the girls in a precarious position. Fortunately for them, they are protected by Big Daddies, diving suit-wearing behemoths with drills and rivet guns.
Running around Rapture are the shattered remains of civilization, the Splicers. These poor people are deranged; listening to them at length is a sanity-straining experience. Warped by their own mutations, Splicers argue with each other, weep over their fate, and of course try to kill you. Throw in a series of automated weaponry and robots dedicated to snuffing out all who cross Ryan's path and you've got one exciting first-person shooter.
BioShock is retro-sci-fi, all viewed through a 50s lens. There are hilarious instructional videos that explain how the various mutations work, vending machines that cheerfully solicit you, and public service announcements worthy of a Leave it to Beaver episode.
BioShock is well written. The plots take twists and turns and the villains aren't who you'd think. It's well acted too. You meet very few sane people, but interactions are largely through old-style cassette tapes that play in creepy, grainy fashion as you stalk the halls of Rapture. I'll still be haunted by one actor screaming, "I CAN'T TAKE OFF THE F****ING EARS!" over and over.
The graphics are phenomenal. Fire and water are rendered realistically, with bits of water beading on the screen. The Splicers are all creepy, from mask-wearing debutantes to crazy doctors in surgical masks, to Spider Splicers who crawl along the ceiling. And the Big Daddies are disturbing and a little pathetic, groaning and moaning as they pound their way through Rapture.
The game play is fun. A variety of styles can be used to win the game. Bad at combat (like me)? No problem; hack the robots and automated weapon systems using a series of tube puzzles. I'm a sucker for puzzle games, so the hacking really hooked me and kept the game from ever getting boring. I got really good at hacking. More than once I turned the entire security system against the bad guys. Using the right mutations, you can be stealthy, you can just blast your way through, or you can even turn your enemies against each other.
BioShock also gets all the basics of gameplay right. If you get lost, it tells you where to go. It helpfully lists your goals. A map is always available. These should be ingrained in every game created post 2000, and yet it's far too rare.
But back to the Little Sisters. The main question BioShock asks is: would you harm a little girl to get ahead? Maybe it's just the fact that I have a newborn son, but I found the idea revolting. You're given a choice with every Little Sister you rescue, harvesting her or saving her. Harvesting kills the girl and garners more ADAM, while saving her gives you less ADAM but the gratitude of their creator (who gives you a gift for every three girls you save). It struck a chord with me, and soon I was determined to save every one of the little girls.
I thought this was just yet another means of BioShock hooking you into the game. But in actuality your decisions in how you treat the Little Sisters affects BioShock's conclusion. The Little Sisters are integral to the plot and how the game ends. They are the future, the future Ryan claimed he wanted but could never see.
Everyone else I've spoken to gleefully cracked the little girls open and took their stuff. As one gamer put it, "I'm a powergamer and that helped me get ahead faster, so of course I killed them." I still find that notion chilling. In fact, the very first opportunity to harm or save a Little Sister is very traumatic, with the little girl begging for her life. I couldn't bear the thought of killing one, even in a sci-fi video game. Maybe I'm getting soft.
In the end, BioShock isn't just a retro sci-fi shooter. It's a moral test. Of us.
"No, I wouldn't consent," said Alyosha softly.--Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
Halo 3
I came into Halomania with Halo 2 on the original Xbox. During the time we waited for Halo 3, I played Gears of War online with an expanding circle of friends, including the Geezer Gamers (look 'em up). We chafed at the eight-man team maximum and were itching to play in the larger sandbox that was Halo 3.
My wife bought the Halo 3 Limited Edition the day it came out. Did I mention I love my wife?
There's been so many reviews about Halo 3 that there's little new I can contribute here. The campaign is serviceable, but takes itself a little too seriously. Viewing the web site for Halo 3 is unintentionally hilarious, treating the game like a World War II memorial, as if it has that much emotional gravitas. It doesn't; the hinted-at relationship between Master Chief (Steven Downes) and Cortana (Jen Taylor) gets a little silly at times, the stalwart allies die heroically, bad guys become allies and then betray you later, and aliens natter on about setting off the Halo rings and destroying the universe. The talking plant known as the Gravemind (Dee Bradley Baker) doesn't make an appearance, but his voice is ever present. In fact, the game uses the awful method of flashbacks, both from Cortana and Gravemind, to interrupt game play and force the plot down your throat. It gets old fast. The game reaches a rollicking conclusion with a crazy Warthog chase across collapsing platforms that recaptures some of the fun of Halo 2. The ending is predictable but well earned.
But forget the campaign. The real beauty of Halo is the multiplayer game. I play the game every Wednesday night (look for Talien) and we play Team Slayer with sixteen people at once. It's great fun, and the boards provide an endless array of challenges that make Halo 3 the excellent multiplayer experience we've come to expect.
There are some changes. The graphics are better, but not much better. I miss the value of a perfect reload from Gears of War. Speaking of Gears of War, Halo's environments aren't as destructible. And my favorite tactic, two-fisted Needler-ing, has been rendered obsolete. In fact, Needlers don't track nearly as well as they used to.
There are new guns and vehicles, but the biggest change is the ability to remove heavy machineguns from their mounts and walk around the board, mowing people down. I've had more kills using this new tactic than using all the other weapons combined. As for vehicles, there's a new bike and an enormous beast known as the Elephant that I'm fond of driving (I flipped an Elephant once, ask me about it some time). Speaking of war stories, there's also a neat function that allows you to view replays and share it with friends.
The packaging of LE of Halo 3 isn't very practical. Made of metal, the package I received was warped. Since the piece that holds the disc in the box is also made of metal, the disc was banging around inside the case. Even the booklet, which is in the center of the container, was warped. No wonder the discs in some copies were scratched!
Despite the changes from Halo 2, Halo 3's multiplayer can't be beat. It's a testament to the game's staying power that we come back to it every Wednesday.
My wife bought the Halo 3 Limited Edition the day it came out. Did I mention I love my wife?
There's been so many reviews about Halo 3 that there's little new I can contribute here. The campaign is serviceable, but takes itself a little too seriously. Viewing the web site for Halo 3 is unintentionally hilarious, treating the game like a World War II memorial, as if it has that much emotional gravitas. It doesn't; the hinted-at relationship between Master Chief (Steven Downes) and Cortana (Jen Taylor) gets a little silly at times, the stalwart allies die heroically, bad guys become allies and then betray you later, and aliens natter on about setting off the Halo rings and destroying the universe. The talking plant known as the Gravemind (Dee Bradley Baker) doesn't make an appearance, but his voice is ever present. In fact, the game uses the awful method of flashbacks, both from Cortana and Gravemind, to interrupt game play and force the plot down your throat. It gets old fast. The game reaches a rollicking conclusion with a crazy Warthog chase across collapsing platforms that recaptures some of the fun of Halo 2. The ending is predictable but well earned.
But forget the campaign. The real beauty of Halo is the multiplayer game. I play the game every Wednesday night (look for Talien) and we play Team Slayer with sixteen people at once. It's great fun, and the boards provide an endless array of challenges that make Halo 3 the excellent multiplayer experience we've come to expect.
There are some changes. The graphics are better, but not much better. I miss the value of a perfect reload from Gears of War. Speaking of Gears of War, Halo's environments aren't as destructible. And my favorite tactic, two-fisted Needler-ing, has been rendered obsolete. In fact, Needlers don't track nearly as well as they used to.
There are new guns and vehicles, but the biggest change is the ability to remove heavy machineguns from their mounts and walk around the board, mowing people down. I've had more kills using this new tactic than using all the other weapons combined. As for vehicles, there's a new bike and an enormous beast known as the Elephant that I'm fond of driving (I flipped an Elephant once, ask me about it some time). Speaking of war stories, there's also a neat function that allows you to view replays and share it with friends.
The packaging of LE of Halo 3 isn't very practical. Made of metal, the package I received was warped. Since the piece that holds the disc in the box is also made of metal, the disc was banging around inside the case. Even the booklet, which is in the center of the container, was warped. No wonder the discs in some copies were scratched!
Despite the changes from Halo 2, Halo 3's multiplayer can't be beat. It's a testament to the game's staying power that we come back to it every Wednesday.
Overlord
I didn't start out planning to be an evil overlord.
When I found out that Overlord was a cross between Dungeon Keeper (where you get to play the bad guy in a fantasy world) and Pikmin (where you get to control different colored carrot people in quests), I was sold.
My first impressions of Overlord was that I was playing Sauron, back when he was still a horse-headed giant-type, before all that all-seeing angry red eye on top of a tower business. As Overlord you are in charge of goblins, who come in four flavors: brown, red, blue, and green. Fans of Pikmin (or any video game on the planet) know how this works: blues are immune to water, greens are immune to poison, etc. These diabolical minions accompany your Overlord everywhere as you rampage around the countryside reclaiming your evil inheritance. You know, cleaning up the tower, reclaiming all your minions, and finding a naughty girl to settle down with.
Being an Overlord is rather domestic, apparently.
I started out feeling very charitable to the peasants of Spree, returning their food from the evil halflings. I discovered that Overlord is basically a cynical view of Lord of the Rings, with all the heroes being horrible hypocrites, and thus truly the villains. Compared to Melvin Underbelly the gluttonous halfling, the Oberon the slothful elf, Sir William the lecherous lord, Goldo the greedy dwarf, Jewel the envious and Kahn the wrathful. The seven deadly sins, wrapped up in fantasy stereotypes, all waiting to be defeated.
There are two paths you can pursue in Overlord. Be nice to people and do good deeds (or at least, not particularly evil deeds) and you can pursue the path of Lawful Evil, for those of you who know D&D. Be mean and it's a downward spiral into Chaotic Evil. These choices reflect how the various characters interact with you, from the lowliest peasant to your mistress of choice. I started out trying to be relatively nice, if only because all the walkthroughs I consulted whenever I got stuck took me down that path.
Then I was on a quest to save some stupid sacred Tree of Life in a stupid sacred elf forest and in an attempt to stop two bloody unicorns (no, really, they're unicorns covered with blood) from killing me, I used a fire spell...and set the Tree of Life on fire. This in turn set the whole forest ablaze, bloody unicorns, elves, and all, who went up in a screaming conflagration.
Well that pretty much dashed any hopes of my redemption right there and I started considering an evil path. I felt bad about the whole thing and was actually considering making it up to the elves, maybe by planting some trees or something...
Until I met Velvet.
About halfway through the game you have the opportunity to take a mistress. Rose, Velvet's older and more straitlaced sister, calls your little goblins "pixies" and generally sets an imperious tone about your tower--MY tower, which I didn't invite her to. So when I had the opportunity to switch to the sleek little minx named Velvet, reclining in laced up stockings on her bed and promising Teen-rated services...I suddenly had a change of perspective.
Velvet's evil and she's not subtle about it. She constantly threatens, cajoles, and pouts throughout the game to get you to do more evil things. It worked. Oh how it worked! And when you give Velvet what she wants, she...reciprocates.
I'm not proud of this, but Xbox Live is. Because it has Mistress Master as a title. This has to be a new low. Or a new high, depending on your perspective.
Thus I became not just an evil overlord, but a really sadistic jerk. I went back to Spree and slaughtered every inhabitant, burned every building to the ground, and took all their stuff. Then I went back and enslaved their best-looking women as servants. I mean...somebody knows what 12-year-old boys want. I am not a 12-year-old boy, but I hope to be when I grow up.
Overlord is a glorious form of stress relief. You travel from area to area via your tower, slowly accumulating more minions and gold. You can upgrade your weapons, learn new spells, and of course evil-fy your tower. Because Velvet wants you to. And you should really do what Velvet tells you to do if you know what's good for you.
Overlord can be repetitive at times, especially when you run out of minions and have to resort to "farming" lesser creatures to get the magical energy up to create new ones. Death has no penalties other than a loss of minions and starting over on a level, so there comes a tipping point where you are either clearly outmatched and thus have to spend more time mindlessly killing wimpy critters, or you are so powerful that you roll over everything in the game.
By the end of the game, I had a huge pile of gold in my coffers--you can visit your coffers and watch as the gold accumulates. I bought Velvet everything her wicked little heart desired and then some, from flaming demon-shaped fixtures to skull banners. And I had a shiny new set of armor and weapons. At one point I had ten female servants, Velvet lounging around, and Jewel in a cage in front of my throne. This is not a game that caters to females...unless your name happens to be Velvet.
It's good to be the Overlord.
(Rules courtesy of Peter Anspach's The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord: http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html)
When I found out that Overlord was a cross between Dungeon Keeper (where you get to play the bad guy in a fantasy world) and Pikmin (where you get to control different colored carrot people in quests), I was sold.
My first impressions of Overlord was that I was playing Sauron, back when he was still a horse-headed giant-type, before all that all-seeing angry red eye on top of a tower business. As Overlord you are in charge of goblins, who come in four flavors: brown, red, blue, and green. Fans of Pikmin (or any video game on the planet) know how this works: blues are immune to water, greens are immune to poison, etc. These diabolical minions accompany your Overlord everywhere as you rampage around the countryside reclaiming your evil inheritance. You know, cleaning up the tower, reclaiming all your minions, and finding a naughty girl to settle down with.
Being an Overlord is rather domestic, apparently.
-----+= EVIL OVERLORD RULE #24: I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line "No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!!!" (After that, death is usually instantaneous.) =+-----
I started out feeling very charitable to the peasants of Spree, returning their food from the evil halflings. I discovered that Overlord is basically a cynical view of Lord of the Rings, with all the heroes being horrible hypocrites, and thus truly the villains. Compared to Melvin Underbelly the gluttonous halfling, the Oberon the slothful elf, Sir William the lecherous lord, Goldo the greedy dwarf, Jewel the envious and Kahn the wrathful. The seven deadly sins, wrapped up in fantasy stereotypes, all waiting to be defeated.
There are two paths you can pursue in Overlord. Be nice to people and do good deeds (or at least, not particularly evil deeds) and you can pursue the path of Lawful Evil, for those of you who know D&D. Be mean and it's a downward spiral into Chaotic Evil. These choices reflect how the various characters interact with you, from the lowliest peasant to your mistress of choice. I started out trying to be relatively nice, if only because all the walkthroughs I consulted whenever I got stuck took me down that path.
Then I was on a quest to save some stupid sacred Tree of Life in a stupid sacred elf forest and in an attempt to stop two bloody unicorns (no, really, they're unicorns covered with blood) from killing me, I used a fire spell...and set the Tree of Life on fire. This in turn set the whole forest ablaze, bloody unicorns, elves, and all, who went up in a screaming conflagration.
Well that pretty much dashed any hopes of my redemption right there and I started considering an evil path. I felt bad about the whole thing and was actually considering making it up to the elves, maybe by planting some trees or something...
Until I met Velvet.
-----+= EVIL OVERLORD RULE #49: If I learn the whereabouts of the one artifact which can destroy me, I will not send all my troops out to seize it. Instead I will send them out to seize something else and quietly put a Want-Ad in the local paper. =+-----
About halfway through the game you have the opportunity to take a mistress. Rose, Velvet's older and more straitlaced sister, calls your little goblins "pixies" and generally sets an imperious tone about your tower--MY tower, which I didn't invite her to. So when I had the opportunity to switch to the sleek little minx named Velvet, reclining in laced up stockings on her bed and promising Teen-rated services...I suddenly had a change of perspective.
Velvet's evil and she's not subtle about it. She constantly threatens, cajoles, and pouts throughout the game to get you to do more evil things. It worked. Oh how it worked! And when you give Velvet what she wants, she...reciprocates.
I'm not proud of this, but Xbox Live is. Because it has Mistress Master as a title. This has to be a new low. Or a new high, depending on your perspective.
Thus I became not just an evil overlord, but a really sadistic jerk. I went back to Spree and slaughtered every inhabitant, burned every building to the ground, and took all their stuff. Then I went back and enslaved their best-looking women as servants. I mean...somebody knows what 12-year-old boys want. I am not a 12-year-old boy, but I hope to be when I grow up.
Overlord is a glorious form of stress relief. You travel from area to area via your tower, slowly accumulating more minions and gold. You can upgrade your weapons, learn new spells, and of course evil-fy your tower. Because Velvet wants you to. And you should really do what Velvet tells you to do if you know what's good for you.
-----+= EVIL OVERLORD RULE #53: If the beautiful princess that I capture says, "I'll never marry you! Never, do you hear me, NEVER!!!" I will say "Oh well" and kill her. =+-----
Overlord can be repetitive at times, especially when you run out of minions and have to resort to "farming" lesser creatures to get the magical energy up to create new ones. Death has no penalties other than a loss of minions and starting over on a level, so there comes a tipping point where you are either clearly outmatched and thus have to spend more time mindlessly killing wimpy critters, or you are so powerful that you roll over everything in the game.
By the end of the game, I had a huge pile of gold in my coffers--you can visit your coffers and watch as the gold accumulates. I bought Velvet everything her wicked little heart desired and then some, from flaming demon-shaped fixtures to skull banners. And I had a shiny new set of armor and weapons. At one point I had ten female servants, Velvet lounging around, and Jewel in a cage in front of my throne. This is not a game that caters to females...unless your name happens to be Velvet.
It's good to be the Overlord.
(Rules courtesy of Peter Anspach's The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord: http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html)
Friday, February 27, 2009
Earth Defense 2017
It's rare that a game gets panned and, upon reading about it, I realize it's the perfect game for me. Earth Defense Force (EDF) 2017 is a bit of a clunker, with unrealistic physics, repetitive enemies, and a terrible vehicle mechanic. Folks accustomed to the first-person smoothness of Halo or the gritty action of Gears of War would most certainly turn up their nose at EDF.
But I loved every single level of it.
You've probably guessed what the plot is: flying saucers invade and deposit hordes of giant ants, spiders, robots, and Godzillas--sorry, "Dino-mechs"--onto the Earth's surface in an attempt to take over the word, Independence Day-style. You are Storm 1, EDF's premiere ground soldier. You and a bunch of your hapless fellow soldiers are tasked with repelling alien invaders several times your size with nothing but handheld weapons. Remember Starship Troopers? It's like that.
With apologies to Winston Churchill: You fight on the seas and oceans, you fight in the air, you defend your planet, whatever the cost may be. You fight on the beaches, you fight on the landing grounds, you fight in the fields and in the streets, you fight in the hills...and you never, ever surrender. From Aliens-style bug hunts in cramped tunnels to bitter Children of Men-style warfare in ruined cities, EDF drops you into every environment imaginable, puts a gun in your hands, points you at a giant monster and asks you to take it on mano-a-giant monstero.
The enemies are glorious to behold. The giant robots are 1950s style automatons reminiscent of the Iron Giant, clunking their way through city streets with gigantic beam weapons, one eye, and weird rope-like limbs. The giant dinosaurs breathe atomic fire and smash through buildings and troops.
And then there are the bugs. Lots and lots and lots of bugs. The giant ants squirt acid or bite, swarming in an erratic pattern just like their tiny brethren. The giant spiders, a combination of tarantula and wolf spider, jump AND spit webs. As if this weren't bad enough, sometimes EDF throws all of these types of enemies at you at once.
The other major part of the game are the weapons. There are intelligent miniguns that track monsters just like in the extended cut of Aliens, bullets that ricochet off of the walls, flame throwers, grenade launchers, sniper rifles, acid sprayers, time release mines, rocket launchers, guided missiles, and of course shotguns. Each has a reload time, although you rarely run out of ammo, and a range and damage, so there's plenty of variety. The more enemies you kill, the more weapons and armor you pick up. There are also vehicles, including tanks, helicopters, hoverbikes, and mechs, but the controls are clunky.
EDF revels in its size. Everything is destructible, from bikes and cars on the street to skyscrapers. And they can all be taken out with one well-placed (or poorly placed) missile. Bugs run up the buildings and attack from above--but if you shoot one of the buildings down, the bugs just float to the ground without a scratch. In fact, there's really no penalty for falling (including blowing up the building you're standing on). I destroyed quite a few buildings and struggled to run out of the falling shadow, only to watch the rubble fall right through Storm 1.
On the other hand, the UFOs that fly overhead are also a destructible part of the scenery. As a result, there's a massive sense of scale as you fire rockets at the giant spaceships floating above you; it's exhilarating to watch one of the UFOs crash to the ground after several well-placed shots. And since the things are so darned big, they often fall on TOP of you.
The AI is dumb as rocks, of course. While there are occasional bosses, this game is mostly about blowing up the entire scenery. Sure, Storm 1 leads the EDF troops once their captain dies. And the dialogue really is hilarious: it's been structured so that they talk in vague terms about the enemy to increase the applicability of spoken phrases. Here's a typical snippet of dialogue:
"Where's the enemy?"
"The enemy is out of range!"
"Are you scared?"
"Shut up!"
This silliness adds up to the perfect B-movie dialogue. Even better, the troops are almost of no help whatsoever and actually a threat--though buildings fall through them, your troops can be hit by friendly fire. I killed off the entire platoon several times when an idiot EDF soldier ran in front of my rocket launcher.
About the only unforgivable flaw is that the game's difficulty levels are widely variable. I beat some levels with ease on hard while others were impossible. Unfortunately, EDF does not count beating a level on hard difficulty as beating it on normal difficulty. Since EDF awards points on Xbox live only upon completing every level on one difficulty, switching back and forth between normal and hard levels meant I ended up with no credit for beating the game at all.
You have to be a certain kind of person to appreciate EDF. If you've ever enjoyed THEM!, Tarantula, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, Godzilla, Starship Troopers, Aliens, Independence Day, War of the Worlds, or if you just happen to like blowing things up but suck at games like Gears of War and Halo...then grab your rocket launcher, soldier, because the EDF needs you!
But I loved every single level of it.
You've probably guessed what the plot is: flying saucers invade and deposit hordes of giant ants, spiders, robots, and Godzillas--sorry, "Dino-mechs"--onto the Earth's surface in an attempt to take over the word, Independence Day-style. You are Storm 1, EDF's premiere ground soldier. You and a bunch of your hapless fellow soldiers are tasked with repelling alien invaders several times your size with nothing but handheld weapons. Remember Starship Troopers? It's like that.
With apologies to Winston Churchill: You fight on the seas and oceans, you fight in the air, you defend your planet, whatever the cost may be. You fight on the beaches, you fight on the landing grounds, you fight in the fields and in the streets, you fight in the hills...and you never, ever surrender. From Aliens-style bug hunts in cramped tunnels to bitter Children of Men-style warfare in ruined cities, EDF drops you into every environment imaginable, puts a gun in your hands, points you at a giant monster and asks you to take it on mano-a-giant monstero.
The enemies are glorious to behold. The giant robots are 1950s style automatons reminiscent of the Iron Giant, clunking their way through city streets with gigantic beam weapons, one eye, and weird rope-like limbs. The giant dinosaurs breathe atomic fire and smash through buildings and troops.
And then there are the bugs. Lots and lots and lots of bugs. The giant ants squirt acid or bite, swarming in an erratic pattern just like their tiny brethren. The giant spiders, a combination of tarantula and wolf spider, jump AND spit webs. As if this weren't bad enough, sometimes EDF throws all of these types of enemies at you at once.
The other major part of the game are the weapons. There are intelligent miniguns that track monsters just like in the extended cut of Aliens, bullets that ricochet off of the walls, flame throwers, grenade launchers, sniper rifles, acid sprayers, time release mines, rocket launchers, guided missiles, and of course shotguns. Each has a reload time, although you rarely run out of ammo, and a range and damage, so there's plenty of variety. The more enemies you kill, the more weapons and armor you pick up. There are also vehicles, including tanks, helicopters, hoverbikes, and mechs, but the controls are clunky.
EDF revels in its size. Everything is destructible, from bikes and cars on the street to skyscrapers. And they can all be taken out with one well-placed (or poorly placed) missile. Bugs run up the buildings and attack from above--but if you shoot one of the buildings down, the bugs just float to the ground without a scratch. In fact, there's really no penalty for falling (including blowing up the building you're standing on). I destroyed quite a few buildings and struggled to run out of the falling shadow, only to watch the rubble fall right through Storm 1.
On the other hand, the UFOs that fly overhead are also a destructible part of the scenery. As a result, there's a massive sense of scale as you fire rockets at the giant spaceships floating above you; it's exhilarating to watch one of the UFOs crash to the ground after several well-placed shots. And since the things are so darned big, they often fall on TOP of you.
The AI is dumb as rocks, of course. While there are occasional bosses, this game is mostly about blowing up the entire scenery. Sure, Storm 1 leads the EDF troops once their captain dies. And the dialogue really is hilarious: it's been structured so that they talk in vague terms about the enemy to increase the applicability of spoken phrases. Here's a typical snippet of dialogue:
"Where's the enemy?"
"The enemy is out of range!"
"Are you scared?"
"Shut up!"
This silliness adds up to the perfect B-movie dialogue. Even better, the troops are almost of no help whatsoever and actually a threat--though buildings fall through them, your troops can be hit by friendly fire. I killed off the entire platoon several times when an idiot EDF soldier ran in front of my rocket launcher.
About the only unforgivable flaw is that the game's difficulty levels are widely variable. I beat some levels with ease on hard while others were impossible. Unfortunately, EDF does not count beating a level on hard difficulty as beating it on normal difficulty. Since EDF awards points on Xbox live only upon completing every level on one difficulty, switching back and forth between normal and hard levels meant I ended up with no credit for beating the game at all.
You have to be a certain kind of person to appreciate EDF. If you've ever enjoyed THEM!, Tarantula, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, Godzilla, Starship Troopers, Aliens, Independence Day, War of the Worlds, or if you just happen to like blowing things up but suck at games like Gears of War and Halo...then grab your rocket launcher, soldier, because the EDF needs you!
Lost Planet: Extreme Condition
I put Lost Planet: Extreme Condition on my wish list because it looked like Gears of War crossed with Robotech, featuring giant mecha and tiny soldiers battling huge monsters in a frozen environment. That's more or less what I got.
Our hero, Wayne Holden (modeled after Byung-hun Lee and voiced in English by Josh Keaton), loses his father to a giant Akrid known as Green Eye. When the archvillain of the game is chiefly known by the color his eyes, it's an indicator that perhaps the translation isn't perfect. Or to put it another way, we don't call Godzilla "Flaming Mouth."
Anyway, Wayne wakes up on the same frozen planet, rescued by the tasty purple-haired Luka (Christina Puccelli) and her aggravating little brother Rick (Justin Shenkarow). Rick's one of those characters who always wears goggles, as if they're surgically affixed to his face. He's a staple of anime, the energetic techie that tags along with the hot chick to make her more effective, since said hot chick doesn't seem to do a whole lot besides make poor fashion choices.
Yuri (Andrew Kishino), who looks like a villain, complete with narrow gaze and white hair, leads Luka and Rick. With Wayne joining their merry band, they're ready to go out into the frozen world and steal stuff.
They're Ice Pirates...sorry, I mean Snow Pirates. Well, not really - they're actually the Rebels to NEVEC's Empire, battling on Hoth...
Wait, this isn't the Empire Strikes Back?
Which review is this? Lost Planet? Oh yeah, right.
Sorry, sorry, my attention wandered from the convoluted plot. It involves Wayne losing his memory, a bit of time travel, a weird glowy thing attached to his arm that powers the mecha (sorry, VIRTUAL SUITS...can't the anime community agree on a standardized term for these bloody things?), some rivalry between Luka and some other mannish-sound woman, and another bad guy (we know he's bad because he wears glasses) who wants to take...over...THE WORLD! MUAAHAHAHAHA!
This is a mech game masquerading as a third-person shooter. Wayne plods along, even when there's no snow. He stumbles when he jumps. Fortunately, he has a grappling hook that fires from his wrist and never manages to dislocate his arm. I ended up shooting the grappling hook at a lot of stationary objects and dragging Wayne along like a slower, dumber version of Spider-Man.
The other challenge is that Wayne requires heat to live. Fortunately, the Akrid provide it, which really motivates Wayne to kill them however he can. There are also huge vats of energy lying around that are just waiting to be shot up. What doesn't make nearly as much sense is why Wayne has to power up his heat energy when he's indoors. Or in a volcano. Seriously.
The Akrid are beautiful to behold. They are all weird, squiggly bug-types, each unique and varied and most of all HUGE. Lost Planet revels in the size of the landscape, throwing giant worms and massive moths at you as you struggle with poor mini-Wayne to get to a mech. Once you're in a mech, the game becomes much more fun, because you can move faster than a snail's pace and blow things up much more effectively.
The human opponents, also in mechs and on foot, are annoying and suffer from the I MUST SHOUT SOMETHING BEFORE I DIE syndrome. Every time. When you kill a lot of these guys, the slogans and rallying cries get old. The Akrid bosses, who don't speak, make up for it.
In fact, the game is all about the bosses. Each is innovative, challenging, and terrible to behold. However, Lost Planet is a game of attrition; on the longer levels it carries over the energy you collected in the beginning. Since heat energy and damage are tied together, failing to get enough energy or taking too much damage in an earlier part of the game can make a boss battle impossible. I had to restart two levels from scratch until I got it right.
But Lost Planet is addicting. I played it on hard and all of the boss battles were very close. Two of the boss fights ended with Wayne going through two mecha, a handful of grenades and a missile launcher. Now THAT'S a fun game!
Our hero, Wayne Holden (modeled after Byung-hun Lee and voiced in English by Josh Keaton), loses his father to a giant Akrid known as Green Eye. When the archvillain of the game is chiefly known by the color his eyes, it's an indicator that perhaps the translation isn't perfect. Or to put it another way, we don't call Godzilla "Flaming Mouth."
Anyway, Wayne wakes up on the same frozen planet, rescued by the tasty purple-haired Luka (Christina Puccelli) and her aggravating little brother Rick (Justin Shenkarow). Rick's one of those characters who always wears goggles, as if they're surgically affixed to his face. He's a staple of anime, the energetic techie that tags along with the hot chick to make her more effective, since said hot chick doesn't seem to do a whole lot besides make poor fashion choices.
Yuri (Andrew Kishino), who looks like a villain, complete with narrow gaze and white hair, leads Luka and Rick. With Wayne joining their merry band, they're ready to go out into the frozen world and steal stuff.
They're Ice Pirates...sorry, I mean Snow Pirates. Well, not really - they're actually the Rebels to NEVEC's Empire, battling on Hoth...
Wait, this isn't the Empire Strikes Back?
Which review is this? Lost Planet? Oh yeah, right.
Sorry, sorry, my attention wandered from the convoluted plot. It involves Wayne losing his memory, a bit of time travel, a weird glowy thing attached to his arm that powers the mecha (sorry, VIRTUAL SUITS...can't the anime community agree on a standardized term for these bloody things?), some rivalry between Luka and some other mannish-sound woman, and another bad guy (we know he's bad because he wears glasses) who wants to take...over...THE WORLD! MUAAHAHAHAHA!
This is a mech game masquerading as a third-person shooter. Wayne plods along, even when there's no snow. He stumbles when he jumps. Fortunately, he has a grappling hook that fires from his wrist and never manages to dislocate his arm. I ended up shooting the grappling hook at a lot of stationary objects and dragging Wayne along like a slower, dumber version of Spider-Man.
The other challenge is that Wayne requires heat to live. Fortunately, the Akrid provide it, which really motivates Wayne to kill them however he can. There are also huge vats of energy lying around that are just waiting to be shot up. What doesn't make nearly as much sense is why Wayne has to power up his heat energy when he's indoors. Or in a volcano. Seriously.
The Akrid are beautiful to behold. They are all weird, squiggly bug-types, each unique and varied and most of all HUGE. Lost Planet revels in the size of the landscape, throwing giant worms and massive moths at you as you struggle with poor mini-Wayne to get to a mech. Once you're in a mech, the game becomes much more fun, because you can move faster than a snail's pace and blow things up much more effectively.
The human opponents, also in mechs and on foot, are annoying and suffer from the I MUST SHOUT SOMETHING BEFORE I DIE syndrome. Every time. When you kill a lot of these guys, the slogans and rallying cries get old. The Akrid bosses, who don't speak, make up for it.
In fact, the game is all about the bosses. Each is innovative, challenging, and terrible to behold. However, Lost Planet is a game of attrition; on the longer levels it carries over the energy you collected in the beginning. Since heat energy and damage are tied together, failing to get enough energy or taking too much damage in an earlier part of the game can make a boss battle impossible. I had to restart two levels from scratch until I got it right.
But Lost Planet is addicting. I played it on hard and all of the boss battles were very close. Two of the boss fights ended with Wayne going through two mecha, a handful of grenades and a missile launcher. Now THAT'S a fun game!
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