The Artist = Limbo

3.5.12

Now here's a kid whose whole world got all twisted, leaving him stranded on a rock in the sky. He gets up. Sets off for the Bastion. Where everyone agreed to go in case of trouble.

Earlier this week, I finally finished Bastion, indie-developer Supergiant Games' much-loved action-RPG for Xbox Live Arcade and PC. Bastion's minimalistic storytelling, Diablo-style look and upgrade system, and fun, varied action mechanics made it a great hit with me, but one element of Bastion stands above the others: how alone and isolated an experience it is.

More than any game I've ever experienced, Bastion conveyed a sense of loneliness that ran through the whole mood of the game, and took an above-average, fun action-RPG game and turned it into one of my standout titles of 2011. The game uses several tricks to accomplish its bleak, deserted atmosphere, and each is worthy of consideration from other developers.

The Wild Unknown. Place can eat a man alive. Place is so raw, even the Calamity couldn't cook it. Not all of it.

Throughout Bastion, the game's protagonist, The Kid, is all alone, accompanied only by his wits and his weapons. I've experienced games that present you with a pressing sense of loneliness, having played through my fair share of Metroid games, and Bastion's sense of isolation is up there with the best of them. Its colourful art style and stylised monster designs give the game an other-worldly feel, and the atypical visuals add to the sensation that The Kid isn't in Kansas anymore.

Whilst exploring, The Kid traverses through the ruins of Caelondia and Ura, two nations that were at war before they were destroyed by a cataclysmic disaster known as The Calamity. Little titbits of Caelondian culture are scattered throughout the journey, and slowly you will discover how certain areas functioned before The Calamity struck, or learn about the various religious practices performed by the people before everyone was wiped out. The effect is similar to the opening scene in the film 28 Days Later, when the protagonist wanders through the deserted streets of London trying to figure out what happened. The details about the world you find yourself traversing, coupled with the lack of inhabitants, help drive home how alone The Kid really is.

There the kid hears something he ain't heard in a long while.
How's it go again....?
Yeah.... that's the one.

Perhaps my favourite element that Bastion uses to convey loneliness is its music. The soundtrack blends electronic and hip-hop elements with acoustic and electric guitar, with a composition that aims for an Old West, Frontier-esque feel, and leaves you with the impression that The Kid is wandering through a feral world, surviving by his own wiles, much like the classic Western heroes of old. In a way, he is.

Yet, even more than conveying an impression of the untamed West, the music hints at a sense of emptiness and an absence of hope. Many of Bastion's songs have a bluesy structure to them, or are sparse in their instrumentation, conveying a sense of sadness and emptiness, and making you, the player, feel as if you're the only one you can trust amidst the desolation.

Now the Kid sees something stranger still. His mind races. Did anybody else survive? Sure enough, he finds another. He finds me.

Nearly as enjoyable as the music is Rucks, the narrator. As The Kid slashes, shoots, and scrapes his way through the ruins of Caelondia, Rucks provides a running, second-hand commentary on the action. Rucks' sparse, fragmented speaking-pattern describes The Kid's actions at arm's length, always talking of the action in an active voice, but never becoming more involved than a basic description. Rucks talks about The Kid as though he weren't even there, turning a potential spot for camaraderie into another distancing element. Listening to Rucks calmly describe the monsters and their motivation amidst heated combat creates a chilly sense of separation.

It is this distancing element that provides the game with its most striking moment. Whilst exploring one area, around three to four hours into his journey, The Kid hears a sole acoustic guitar and a haunting, carrying voice. It's the only other voice heard in the game, and it belongs to Zia, a woman born of foreign soil whose only companion is her music. The sound of another voice, especially after so much time listening to only one person speak, is striking, and creates a near-instance feeling of kinship towards Zia, similar to how The Kid must feel to see another survivor of The Calamity.

Don't you worry, though. Once the Bastion is restored, everything'll be alright.

Bastion is one of the most remarkable games of 2011, full of unique story-telling, compelling action-RPG mechanics and a soundtrack that needs to be heard to be believed. However, my favourite - and possibly the best - aspect of the game is how isolated it made me feel, and how well it cast me as a lone adventurer. Many games have set me up me as the world's sole saviour before, but only Bastion makes me feel how 'sole' I really am.

Labels: Andrew Testerman, Bastion, Feature, Steam, Supergiant Games, Xbox 360

A discussion about DLC and its very nature

- Andrew Testerman

by Andrew Whipple III

19.3.12

Downloadable content, along with digital distribution, is commonplace among contemporary gaming.

Not only does it allow developers to fix issues with their game post-release, but it also gives gamers the ability to augment their experience with extra features and content, if they so choose. Great as it may be, what about flagrant issues that prevent a game from being completely playable? How much content do developers hold back, so as to put it on the marketplace at a later date? When do we say that enough is enough?

Ever since the launch of Microsoft's original Xbox, DLC has blossomed into essential material that every game must embrace. As a matter of fact, it's such a decisive feature that, upon release, some games that have yet to release any DLC already have a section of the marketplace dedicated to it. At the extreme opposite end of the spectrum, some games have DLC available on their release day, a sin that many gamers regard as unacceptable. And for good reason.

Hey, I'll totally help you up here for like, you know, five bucks.

Gaming isn't a cheap hobby. Whilst you can certainly wait for games to come down in price in sales or on the used market, it's still something that you dedicate ample time to and pay for with your hard earned money. That's why when a game releases and, on day one, it already has DLC available for purchase, gamers froth with anger. Shouldn't that DLC be contained within the game itself? Take Resident Evil 5 as an example; not long after launch, a multiplayer mode became available that was found to already be on the disk. Needless to say, no one was happy about that.

One can blame BioWare and their flagship Mass Effect 3 for the current resurgence in DLC hate. Following in Resi 5's shameful footsteps, ME3 will contain day-one DLC, entitled From Ashes, at a cost of $10 or 800 Microsoft Astral Credits. However, for those who are willing to fork over the extra cash for the N7 Collector's Edition (or Digital Deluxe Edition) the DLC will come at no additional cost. BioWare has already stated their reasoning for the day-one content, but that hasn't stopped people from outright boycotting the game entirely. Overzealous as it may seem, I still see where they're coming from.

Allow me a few humble words. We are gamers; we are not developers. As much as we may see and read about it on the internet, we don't know what it's like to build a game from scratch. We don't know the ins-and-outs of working with certain engines and other design protocol, and we don't work at an office where we answer to the producer at every waking moment. However, as the consumer, we cherish a quality product and when something is wrong, our voice is usually heard. There still isn't a amiable way of accepting an additional fee for content on top of what we just paid for, and I expect there never will be. On day one, I expect to have everything out of the box that's core to the game world in question. Sure, I might miss out on a multitude of space rifles, colourful armor and other transforming oddities of doom (since you can't pre-order everywhere), but special missions that actually contain an interactive, core character is not something I'd want to lose out on.

That's right, baby! This punch will finish you and... the game dropped. Cool.

Saying that, BioWare's decision to implement this day one DLC does trouble me somewhat. I'm incredibly excited about ME3, but I definitely won't be purchasing a different version of the game just so I can get that extra content. Acquiescing in this way lets the developer and distributor know that what they're doing is somewhat acceptable. It's something that I just can't do.

This whole debacle poses several other questions brought on by this console generation, including one that still pertains to Mass Effect; are developers purposely holding back core game content so as to sell it to us later? If we're using ME3 as an example, that answer would surely be a resounding yes. However, I don't feel that every developer takes advantage of the DLC system in this way. Take, for instance, Rockstar and their exquisite, high-quality DLC for Grand Theft Auto IV. It was a bit pricey, yes, but the content and effort put into The Lost and Damned and The Ballad of Gay Tony cannot be denied.

Other developers, like Mortal Kombat's NetherRealm Studios, use DLC in ways that were both accepted and not. NetherRealm provided excellent support for their game well past its launch day, with a slew of DLC and hot fixes to make the game as balanced as it possibly could be. Whilst that's a struggle in itself, NetherRealm did a commendable job and I wish other studios showed as much passion as they have. Unfortunately, NetherRealm also used DLC to cover up the brittle multiplayer infrastructure. If you had a chance to play MK online, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Constant input lag, match slowdown, dropped games, broken lobbies - everything a fighting game considers critical to a great experience was entirely screwed.

Think I can summon you to fight this crazy boar thing? The network is still down? You can't let me die to this thing!

Fun as it was, I hold errors like MK's high on my sin list, and that leads us directly into another argument; what's acceptable when flagrant errors prevent a game from being completely playable? DLC can help this matter as unforeseen circumstances arise; issues naturally happen. For this reason, DLC can be a boon to certain games. Even still, there's no denying the embarrassing amount of games that rely on DLC to correct post-release issues. LittleBigPlanet and SOCOM: Confrontation threw up several patches just to allow you to play correctly. Gears of War 2 has its own special place in hell for what it did to its players on launch day and several months after. The point is, DLC allows games like MK to release with the intention of fixing the problem later. Dark Souls, one of my favourite games of last year, released with completely broken multiplayer functionality. It took From Software months to come out with the necessary fixes and even then, there were some mechanics that just didn't work in the way that it was intended they should.

DLC isn't the end of all things; it's just the opposite. Developers may not be using the system in ways that we would like to see, but its flashes of brilliance make gaming today a thing of beauty. It'll take time to weed out the issues but we can do our part by voting with our wallets and voicing our opinions on official message boards about what we think is acceptable. I'll never come out and say that day one DLC is ever 'alright', but I will always take a working game over something that requires several thousand title updates.

What do you think about day-one DLC? Do you have issues with patches coming in late or requiring several for you to even play your game? Voice your opinions below!

Labels: Andrew Whipple III, Dark Souls, DLC, Feature, Grand Theft Auto IV, Mass Effect 3, Mortal Kombat, Opinion, Resident Evil 5

Double Fine and the little $2m Adventure game that could

- Andrew Whipple III

12.3.12

Tim Schafer, head of Double Fine Productions, is probably one of the most creative and original developers currently working in the videogame industry.

Known for creating games that challenge the norm and go against genre conventions, such as Pyschonauts and Brutal Legend, it’s undeniable that the development team at Double Fine has a distinctive voice, which for many of us translates into interesting, fun and challenging games, and more often than not offer unforgettable gaming experiences. However, for the head honchos at videogame publishing companies, the creativity that Double Fine breathes into its projects mostly translates into unnecessary risk.

Under the current gaming business model, millions upon millions of dollars are poured into a single game. Here’s some perspective: according to a 2010 report by M2 research (a consulting firm which provides marketing intelligence and strategic consulting on gaming trends) the average multiplatform game can cost anywhere from $18 to $28 million to make, with triple-A games reporting budgets as large as $40 million. When the average publisher invests millions of dollars into a game, you can rest assured that they want nothing more than to make all of that money back, and then some. For these publishers, helping a creative developer to publish a unique and risky game has proved to not always be the smartest way to do that. In the end, what this means is that a unique game with less mass-market appeal is simply much less likely to be published, regardless of its quality or greatness. After all, most publishers are looking to make money, not great games.

That puts developers like Double Fine in a particularly difficult position. Guys like Tim Schafer do not want to just make any game; they want to make extraordinary, unique games that stand out from the pack. Case in point: Double Fine’s upcoming Adventure.

The story goes a bit like this. Schafer and co. are looking to return to the genre that made them famous; the point-and-click adventure. You see, both Monkey Island and Grimfandango were made at LucasArts by the same group of people now working at Double Fine, and these games are considered classics which have, to some extent, shaped the current landscape of the aforementioned genre. The problem is that when talking about point-and-click adventure games, there isn’t much of a landscape to speak of. Back when we were all running our games on huge MS-DOS desktop computers, the point-and-click adventure was all the rage with the cool kids. But those times have long since passed.

Double Fine, as stated above, has done its part in trying to keep the genre alive but, although the point-and-click adventure has bucketloads of old school cred and a niche following, and rare success stories do exist - just browse through Telltale Games' catalogue and see for yourself – once you translate those games into numbers, adventure games are simply no longer what you would call a safe bet. Therein lies the rub for Double Fine. Publishers are not willing to invest millions and millions of dollars in a game which is likely to achieve no more than moderate success.

Enter Kickstarter. It’s a simple enough concept: Kickstarter is an online funding platform, where creative folk rich in ideas and short on cash go to get funding for their projects. Comic book creators, filmmakers, musicians, artists and videogame designers can all head over to the website, present their project to the masses, set a goal and ask for funding in exchange for unique 'thank you prizes'. If your idea is good enough, the people - much like those dead baseball players in a Field of Dreams - will indeed come.

So, you have one of the most innovative videogame creators in the business asking the people he really works for - the gamers - for the support he needs to get this game off the ground. A $400,000 goal was set; if Double Fine was able to reach that goal, the money would be theirs, and if the goal was not achieved then any money they had collected would be lost. On 8th February, 2012, approximately eight hours after the project had been announced, the goal was reached. And surpassed.

As of 3rd March, 2012, Double Fine has collected almost two and a half million dollars; 68,510 have pledged their support; and there are still ten more days of fundraising to go. Two million dollars, pledged by random gamers to a quaint little point-and-click adventure game. Wow is the word you’re looking for, and don’t be ashamed of your ineloquent response; it’s more than appropriate.

Gamers, the sheer awesomeness of the feat achieved by Double Fine should not escape you. I mean, sure, Tim Schafer gets to stick it to the man and make his game (certainly a victory for Double Fine), but it’s also much more than that. When you think about it, those who turned Schafer away at the door weren’t only denying him the opportunity to make this game; they were denying all of us the opportunity to play the game. In the end, publishers who are mostly motivated by their financial interests and the potential economic gain that a game represents dictate what we do and do not play. This time, through Double Fine, we have been granted the unique opportunity to politely tell the publishers to suck it. We want our game, and we’re gonna get it.

What are the implications of this event for the future of the industry? Right now, I wouldn’t rush to any conclusions. For the time being, all this means is that Double Fine is going to get to make an adventure game that will probably be amazing, and a bunch of lucky gamers will get to play it, knowing that they played a part in its creation.

How this affects the industry in the long term depends on a few things. First and foremost, the success of the game. If other publishers see that this funding/publishing scheme is viable and can lead to success, I’m sure more would jump on the bandwagon, and that not only means more interesting games for us to play, but also a certain degree of control and choice too.

Could you imagine if each of the big developers tried out one of these 'community-funded' games at least once every couple of years? Do you want to see your favorite classic Capcom franchise reborn? Put your money where your mouth is, and a new Megaman X game might be just around the corner. Rather see a wholly new character then a rehashed Donkey Kong game? Well, if Nintendo were to give you the chance, you may get the opportunity to make that happen by simply investing in that new IP.

Through massive funding, via Kickstarter or other similar platforms, the power to mould the gaming landscape is, in a very real way, in the hands of gamers around the world. If nothing else, it's extremely nice indeed to think about the endless possibilities it entails.

If you think what Double Fine is doing is nothing short of epic, than show some support. Head on over to the game’s Kickstarter page and donate as little as a single US dollar. Donate $15 or more, and you’ll get a copy of the game once it's released. Go ahead and take part in potentially changing the future of gaming.

Labels: Double Fine, Double Fine Adventure, Feature, Financial, Joey Núñez, Kickstarter, Tim Schafer

Thirty hours and counting with Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning

- Joey Núñez

6.3.12

I try to stay away from open-world games.

I appreciate the charms of their huge, sprawling environments, and I understand what attracts people to them, but they've never held sway for me. I prefer my games focussed, linear and respectful of my time. I want bang for my buck, and I like moment-to-moment gameplay that keeps me on the edge of my seat. After resisting the likes of Red Dead Redemption, Fallout 3 and Grand Theft Auto IV, I've finally met my match with EA's newest fantasy RPG, Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning.

Except it isn't for the reasons I thought. Whenever a game gets into my head, as Kingdoms of Amalur has, it's because the story has firmly snared me in its tendrils, or because I've bought so heavily into the game's world. Instead, I'm counting down minutes on the clock until I leave work, raring to go home and fire up my Xbox 360, because Kingdoms of Amalur is so bloody fun. It's both exciting to play and engrossing to explore, and it renders me incapable of playing for less than two hours at a time.

Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning is an action-RPG from developers Big Huge Games and 38 Studios, a games company founded by former Boston Red Sox pitcher, Curt Schilling. Kingdoms of Amalur's design is informed by open world RPGs like Dragon Age: Origins and The Elder Scrolls, which fits, given that its executive designer, Ken Rolston, was also the lead designer on the latter series, working on both Morrowind and Oblivion. Like those games, Kingdoms of Amalur is all about exploring, levelling, and combing each and every dungeon for epic drops.

At the outset of Kingdoms of Amalur, your character wakes up amid a pile of corpses, and soon learns that they've been brought back to life by a magical artefact called the Well of Souls. That's not all, though; it seems as though your character is unaffected by the hand of Fate, a very real and present force in Kingdoms of Amalur, and your destiny is completely yours to decide. It's your task to find out what killed your character in the first place, and why Fate cares about you even less than Americans care about football.

Kingdoms of Amalur's fiction comes from the mind of author R.A. Salvatore, whose catalogue of fantasy literature includes the Forgotten Realms series of Drizzt Do'Urden books. Similarly to Mr. Salvatore's previous works, Kingdoms of Amalur's lore comes thick and Tolkien-y, and wastes no time in presenting players with halflings, dark god-kings and names in dire need of a pronunciation guide (amongst them: Ljosalfar, Alyn Shir, Dalenfarth; a race of elves, a person and a region of land, respectively). I find the game's intense dedication to popcorn high-fantasy tropes endearing and entertaining, even though it often seems borrowed from an overly-enthusiastic fourteen-year-old's favourite Dungeons & Dragons: 2nd Edition campaign.

After a brief opening tutorial, players are dropped into the main world with complete freedom to explore, taking quests or simply ambling about and taking in the scenery. It's usually during this section that open-world games lose me, but Kingdoms of Amalur does a good job of leading players along, cataloguing sidequests and keeping everything organised during the course of play. Not only that, the game also implements a very forgiving and flexible fast-travel system, cutting down on wasted time and letting players dive right into the action; travelling slowly and stopping every now and then to smell the flowers, however, is not without its perks, particularly not when the game looks so great.

Kingdoms of Amalur's art style comes from graphic novelist and artist Todd McFarlane, best known as the creator of dark antihero, Spawn. McFarlane gives Kingdoms of Amalur a brightly-coloured and slightly-cartoony vibe not unlike World of Warcraft, resulting in a completely different feel than games with a more 'dark fantasy' bent, like Dark Souls or Skyrim. I've only just finished with Kingdoms of Amalur's first main area, but so far I've enjoyed running amidst its giant trees and swimming through its many lakes.

Where the game truly shines, though, is during its action-packed, fast-paced combat. Kingdoms of Amalur's enemy encounters feel akin to stylish action games like Devil May Cry or God of War, with mid-air juggles, dodge-rolls and split-second blocks and parries fuelling the fun. Players are given freedom to pick from a large roster of weapons, choosing standard-fare equipment like swords and bows, or opting for more unique equipment like faeblades, wrist-mounted daggers capable of delivering more quick cuts than Tony Scott ^[1], or chakram, magical ringed blades that return after having been thrown like flaming boomerangs.

Magic usage is just as accessible and intuitive as mêlée fighting, as players can also hotkey a number of different spells to the face buttons, from lightning bolts, to healing charms, to a magic harpoon that pulls enemies in for further beatings (eliciting a loud "Get over here!" from me whenever I cast it). Finally, as a last-ditch effort, players can fill up their Fate Meter and enter into Reckoning Mode, granting players increased strength, slowed down enemies and an experience boost after having performed an over-the-top, gory finishing move. Combat in open-world RPGs tends to bore me greatly, but in Kingdoms of Amalur, enemy encounters are fun enough to actively seek out, making even the most tedious fetch-quests feel invigorating.

Another of Kingdoms of Amalur's selling features is its class system. Players deposit ability points gained from a level into one of three different categories: might (sword- and warrior-related techniques), finesse (bow- and rogue-related) and magic (self-explanatory). Kingdoms of Amalur offers players a good deal of flexibility when crafting their character, whether they want to concentrate purely on one category or mix and match. I opted for a combination of all three, giving me access to powerful long-range arrows, strong up-close sword strokes and crowd-clearing fire and ice spells.

Players also acquire skill points upon levelling, which can be spent on attributes like alchemy, persuasion, and stealth. Some, like lockpicking, give players greater success in Amalur's minigames, while others, like dispel, can offer different dialogue options. I poured all of my points into blacksmithing and sagecrafting, letting me forge my own weapons and armour and imbue them with powerful gems. Best of all, Kingdoms of Amalur lets players reassign their skill and attribute points at very little cost, letting them experiment with different play styles and find the one that works best for them. Freedom of choice is the name of the game, and you're encouraged to play.

So far, I have had the time of my life with Kingdoms of Amalur, but I do have several complaints as well. There is no option to turn off the mini-map, which can lead to ignoring the environmental art in favour of chasing after quest markers (think Detective Vision in Rocksteady's Batman games). Also, choices made by the player aren't reflected very well in the game, which is odd given the fuss that everyone makes of your Fate-proof demeanour. Lastly, while I do appreciate Amalur's goofy fantasy vibe, I currently have no idea whatsoever about what is going on in the main story, which is as thin and tasteless as a crêpes made of papier-mâché.

Still, these are only small gripes about one of the most engrossing and life-eroding games I've played in some time. It's by no means perfect, and veterans of The Elder Scrolls and Dragon Age might be put off by the game's shallow world-building and storytelling, but for me, Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning is an effective blend of epic scope and satisfying moment-to-moment gameplay, and I can't wait to put in another thirty hours. And, perhaps, thirty more after that.

Labels: 38 Studios, Andrew Testerman, Big Huge Games, EA, Feature, Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning, PC, PlayStation 3, Western RPGs, Xbox 360

The year's top films and their gaming twins

- Andrew Testerman

25.2.12

On Sunday, 26th February, the US awards season finally comes to a close, with the 84th Annual Academy Awards, better known to you and me as the Oscars.

The Oscars - or, as we call them in my house, 'The Movie Industry VGAs' - are a grand time in Hollywood, honouring the best and brightest in film from the previous year, along with many others hardly considered to be the 'best' or 'brightest' of anything (seriously, they nominated Rio).

With all of the excitement surrounding this year's Oscars, there is a golden opportunity to check out how the gaming industry measures up to its Hollywood counterpart. Therefore, let's take a look at the nine films nominated for the award for Best Picture, and see if we can match them with any corresponding video games.

The Artist = Limbo

The Artist, which has ten nominations and is heavily favoured to win on Sunday, was one of the most-acclaimed films of the year, taking away seven awards from the Baftas and thus it's only right to pair it with a similarly-praised game. Limbo, a side-scrolling platformer released for Xbox Live Arcade, PSN, Steam and the Mac App Store, for instance. Limbo not only shares The Artist's critical praise - it was named amongst last year's top games by several publications - but also its black-and-white aesthetic, as well as a minimal sound design. Limbo was one of last year's best games, making it a great companion for The Artist. Just make sure you watch out for spiders.

The Descendants = Bastion

Not many games feature a Hawaiian setting, and the ones that do don't quite fit; Test Drive Unlimited involves far more driving than is found in The Descendants, whilst Maui Mallard in Cold Shadow concentrates too heavily on private-eye ninja action (also, George Clooney is emphatically not a duck). Hence Bastion, a game that easily matches the prettiness of Phedon Papamichael's Hawaiian cinematography with Jen Zee's gorgeous art direction and sprite-work. Also, a hefty chunk of The Descendants' dialogue is delivered as voice-over, just like Bastion, though Bastion's writing is far less ham-fisted than anything Alexandre Payne came up with for his middlebrow domestic drama.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close = Haze

The events of September 11th are a touchy subject in the realm of games development, making the search for a parallel to Stephen Daldry's combined Asperger's-September 11th-sploitation flick rather tricky. Fortunately, we have Haze, a sci-fi shooter developed by Free Radical in 2008, and the only game that I can think of whose political message is even more heavy-handed than Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. Extremely Loud is a 'Profound Story About The World We Live In' about how September 11th 'Was A Terrible And Tragic Event'. Haze is a 'Profound Parable About The World We Live In' about how 'The Invasion Of Iraq Was Bad'. Also, both Haze and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close are pretty lousy.

The Help = Beyond Good and Evil

The Help concerns two African American maids (the titular "help") and their struggles against racism in the post-Civil Rights South; if that doesn’t sound exceptionally difficult to adapt into a video game, I don’t know what does. Fortunately, the film features Skeeter, an investigative journalist who hopes to expose the racism inherent in the town’s social structure, and here’s where we find our in-road. Jade, Beyond Good and Evil’s protagonist, is also an investigative journalist, and her desire to discover the truth helps drive much of the game’s plot. Additionally, The Help is a showcase for strong female characters, and Jade is one of the strongest female characters in all of gaming, making her a fitting through-line between the game and the movie.

Hugo = Super Mario 3D Land

The current leader in Academy Award nominations, boasting eleven, Martin Scorsese's newest film bears a startling similarity to Shigeru Miyamoto's latest slice of Mario goodness. Both are billed as family entertainment, but their appeal stretches to film and gaming fans of all ages. Also, both help push the use of honest-to-goodness quality 3D, and both feature several throwbacks to the early days of their respective medium (Hugo recalls silent films, while Super Mario 3D Land reaches for Super Mario Bros. 3). Am I suggesting that Hugo would be even better if it included a Tanooki suit? Probably, but I won't hold it against it.

Midnight in Paris = Assassin's Creed II

Woody Allen's best movie in years and years seems like a breath of fresh air in filmmaking, especially since its central plot hook is so unique. Or is it? Let's compare the two. In Midnight in Paris, a big doofus (Owen Wilson) gets transported back in time (in an old Peugeot) into a famous European city (Paris) and interacts with famous people (Scott Fitzgerald, Pablo Picasso, etc). In Assassin's Creed II, a big doofus (Desmond) gets transported back in time (in the Animus) to a famous European city (Florence, Venice, etc.) and interacts with famous people (Leonardo da Vinci, Machiavelli, etc.). Of course, it is important to mention that Midnight in Paris features far less murder and sexual content than Assassin's Creed II. To its detriment, in my honest opinion.

Moneyball = MLB 11: The Show

Games rarely feature the electrifying, riveting dialogue featured so prominently in Moneyball, making that a poor point of comparison, and even though Jonah Hill (who I will remind our readers is now an Oscar nominee) was featured prominently in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3's marketing, he wasn't in the actual game itself. Let us then turn to the low-hanging fruit, by the virtue that it is one of the best baseball games available: MLB 11: The Show. It may not have Brad Pitt's sexy allure, but it does include a wealth of game modes and all 30 MLB teams, including the sub-fifty-feet-of-crap Oakland A's, for your film-reenacting pleasure.

The Tree of Life = Myst

Terrance Malik's new treatise on creation, spiritualism and life itself has been a darling amongst cinephiles since its release in May, and finds several parallels with developer Cyan's Myst, the best-selling PC game of the 1990s, which is now available on iOS. Both The Tree of Life and Myst are sterling examples of craftsmanship in their respective genre, showing artistic discipline and control, and often furthering their creative aims using a less-is-more mentality. Both also emanate a spiritual vibe, and are best enjoyed as an experience, absorbing their subtleties and how they each paint the corners of their respective mediums. Best of all, both The Tree of Life and Myst are nigh-impenetrable and mind-bogglingly dull to the common man. They're the perfect match.

War Horse = Darksiders

In Darksiders, you play as the harbinger of chaos, War, and during the course of the game, you acquire a Horse. Quod erat demonstrandum.

Labels: Andrew Testerman, Assassin's Creed II, Awards, Bastion, Beyond Good and Evil, Darksiders, Feature, Haze, Limbo, MLB 11: The Show, Myst, Oscars, Super Mario 3D Land

Digital games and the salvation of the forgotten franchise

- Andrew Testerman

18.2.12

The better part of my teenage years were spent with a PS2 controller in-hand, and over the years I built up a pretty decent collection. Inevitably, though, there were a huge amount of games that I simply never got around to playing.

The Bloodrayne games fall into that category. From what I’ve heard, great games they weren't, but considering that these games centered around a female cahracter giving a good kicking to a vampire arse, and my being a consummate Buffy fan, the series was always prominently featured on my radar.

About ten years after the original game first hit stores, I find myself knee-deep in the awesome Bloodrayne: Betrayal, a downloadable title which hit PSN and Xbox Live a few months ago. A strong departure from the previous games in the series (3D action games), Betrayal is a 2D, side-scrolling extravaganza of a platformer, filled with gorgeous animation and old-school challenge, reminiscent of the great Castlevania games. Betrayal has been an incredibly pleasant surprise, not only because of its high quality, but also because I had all but given up hope in a new game in the series being developed.

Let us not forget that videogames, after all, are a business, and developing and releasing a fully-fledged disc game and putting that game onto store shelves is pretty expensive. As a result, whether or not a game gets made is mostly a matter of numbers; all that the big head-honchos at the top of the videogame food chain want to know is whether their investment will yield any profit. It’s a strategy that keeps the industry making money, but its also the reason we get a 'brand new' Call of Duty each year which isn’t really very 'new' at all. But when developers can eliminate all the costs incurred through the use of the DVD and Blu-ray formats, risks can be taken. In a nutshell, the lower the cost to make the game, the less return those pesky head honchos will be expecting; this means that the developer is free to shy away from the run, shoot, cover, rinse and repeat gameplay formula of most games, and can try a less conventional idea, whilst also retailing for a lower price, enticing gamers to take the risk too.

Rocket Knight, which we'll talk about later, is one IP given a second chance by the advent of downloadable games.

The digital medium has allowed indie developers to throw their hats into the ring and provide us with games that are new, exciting and inventive (Flower, for instance), but it has also allowed established publishers and developers to revisit some of gaming's greatest classics. Most publishers have taken the easy route and ported games from previous generations; you will find PlayStation Store, Wii Store and Xbox Live Marketplace laden with old-school classics now made easily available to the gaming public at large, and whilst I appreciate the opportunity to download Final Fantasy VII and Chrono Trigger directly to my PS3, I think most developers are missing out on a great opportunity; revisiting the classics via new, original games.

Bloodrayne, a so-so franchise to begin with, was given a second chance thanks to the comforts that digital marketplaces provide, and it isn't the only forgotten franchise to be given a second lease of life. Everyone from Megaman to Sonic has felt the love of the digital download in the last couple of years, but the really interesting games have been those which have taken a chance on much more obscure games of the past. Case in point: Rocket Knight. A platformer featuring an opossum dressed as a knight with a rocket pack and fighting off a bunch of moody pigs was the bread and butter of gaming in the 90s, but is certainly a tough sell in the current gaming landscape. Yet the valiant opossum made a return to consoles not two years ago, with a gorgeous looking 2.5D plaform style and engaging and challenging gameplay. Old-school fanboys rejoiced.

Squaresoft's Threads of Fate, yet another game that could be reimagined through digital distribution.

There are many forgotten franchises out there which 'older' gamers, such as myself, would love to revisit. Can you imagine finally seeing a sequel to Squaresoft’s quirky action-RPG, Threads of Fate? How about a brand new Crash Bandicoot game; I’ve always thought we should bring the little critter back as the PlayStation’s official mascot, so why not? Even more recent games such as Prince of Persia (2008) or Folklore, which were somewhat polarising, could be revisited with minimal cost and effort (at least compared to what producing a disc based sequel would entail). Ninja Theory: I know Heavenly Sword wasn’t the huge success everyone thought it would be, but how about a 2D platformer featuring Nariko? Gorgeous art, engaging combat, and a chance to control Nariko again; where do I sign? There are dozens of interesting characters, stories and worlds just wasting away into nothing, and I believe the digital gaming marketplace is the boost that they’ve been waiting for.

How about you, gamers? Do you think more classic franchises should be revisited, or should the past be left out in the cold? Should digital games strictly offer new experiences, or is a reimagined classic enough to get you involved? We want to know, so sound off below.

Oh, and one more thing. Picture this: Psychonauts 2 on PSN. Awesome? Oh, hell yes.

Labels: Bloodrayne, Bloodrayne: Betrayal, DLC, Downloadable games, Feature, Joey Núñez, Opinion, PlayStation Network, PSN, Wii Store, Xbox Live Marketplace

To clothe or not to clothe: Why industry oversexualisation turns away female gamer-folk

- Joey Núñez

by Greg Mengel

16.2.12

Girl gamers? I understand your pain.

You’re torn. You're conflicted. You're unsure. On one hand, you love videogames for all the obvious reasons. They’re fun. They’re pleasantly addictive. They come with a rich and popular culture. On the other, they’re often shallow. They can be sexist. And more often than not they send heroines into battle with naught but a thong to guard them.

I hear you, sister - men are pigs.

It's no secret that video games have developed a bad reputation amongst non-gamers for creating a gallery of shallow, oversexualised female characters. Snobbish fans of other entertainment mediums hang their hats on this; they love to point out that whilst our heroines seem to be paid by the midriff, there wasn’t a navel to be found in Citizen Kane. Our favourite industry has leapt many a hurdle since its economic genesis in the mid 80s, bounding repeatedly and with quantum leaps towards fully-fledged artistic respectability, but characters like Lara Croft, Cammy, Sivir and hundreds of others hold it back.

If you’re a man, pick your favorite male protagonist. Someone cool, and heroic (if you can't think of anyone, go with Han Solo). Now close your eyes and imagine them as accurately as you can. Make sure to account for every detail - their height, weight, stance, clothes; all of it. Once you've got a clear image, pin it down in your mind. Got it? Good.

Now have that character meet your gaze.

Now give him a speedo.

Now make him dance. He seems different now, doesn’t he? At the very least, he's less badass than when clothed. Do you still want to cheer for that character; want to lead him into dangerous battle? That’s how I imagine women feel about their videogame heroines.

Anybody who’s spent a summer of adolescent sexual tension at theatre camp knows that a character is only as good as his or her costume. You immediately realise that Malcolm Reynolds is a bona fide hero because his outfit screams 'space pirate'. We all know that a worn leather jacket + weathered brown fedora + ripped khaki adventurer's shirt = caution-to-the-wind, globe-trekking archaeologist. Combine face piercings, a hooded leather jacket and a $10,000 shopping spree at Hot Topic and what do you end up with? The troubled cyberpunk genius Lisbeth Salander, from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. These are just a few iconic characters that to some extent are defined by what they wear, by how they are presented to us.

So when a game company dresses their leading female character in a slutty bikini covered in knives, what do you think of them? Are you struck by their intelligence? Do you think they could be a doctor, or a philanthropist? Maybe a Congresswoman? I bet Margaret Thatcher wore her medieval G-string to work.

As a fan of good storytelling, I have trouble viewing scantily-clad warrioresses as real characters. They’re too impractical to be real people. Too shallow and robotic. Their existence makes me turn off the PS3; turns me away from their products. And I’m not the only one.

To be fair, there are plenty of videogame heroines with the two-hit combo of clothes and personality to choose from. Alyx Vance, from Half Life 2. Chell, from Portal. Zelda, from the Legend of Herself. Samus Aran, from Metroid. Jill Valentine, from Resident Evil. Faith, from Mirror’s Edge. Jade, from Beyond Good and Evil. Female Shepard, from Mass Effect. There are plenty of respectable women-folk to be found in the great game character sisterhood. But at the end of the day it's the gun-toting, skin-baring, Victoria's Secret model look-a-likes that seem to get the most attention.

By continuing to loudly voice how much we the gaming community enjoy seeing these clothed, believable female characters in our games, perhaps we will convince game developers guilty of oversexualising their female characters into changing their tune. If we stand together as consumers and call for more independent, badass lady-folk in our games, we might get them.

But as long as the videogame industry allows companies to create games about X-rated beach volleyball, it will remain barred from the lounge of artistic respectability, and therefore continue to press its hands longingly against the window as it watches art, film and literature converse tastefully amongst one another whilst wearing smoking jackets, puffing on expensive Cuban cigars and mahogany smoking pipes.

It's up to us to keep demanding respectable female characters in our games, brothers and sisters. We’ll slow the creation of over-sexualised video game heroines yet. And I don’t care if that lingerie is made of diamond-coated mithril tungsten - it’s not going to stop that swarm of arrows flying full-speed at your crotch.

Labels: Beyond Good and Evil, Dead or Alive, Feature, female gamers, Film tie-in, Greg Mengel, Lara Croft, League of Legends, Mass Effect, Metroid, Mirror's Edge, Opinion, Portal, Zelda

Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning, and why it needs your help

- Greg Mengel

by Andrew Whipple III

14.2.12

Can you remember the last time that a brand new intellectual property got you excited? For me that was Demon's Souls, back in 2009. The truth is that every single year there's a plethora of new brands, like Demon's Souls, that appear on the market. Unfortunately, few truly make it, and even if some get that taste of success, oftentimes the game will soon after quietly fade into obscurity.

Kingdoms of Amalur is hoping to break this formula with its audacious attempt at melding several genres. What kind of fate awaits 38 Studios' first title? That's up to us. And I'm here to tell you why you need to care.

Take one look at Amalur. It doesn't seem very special, does it? A third-person RPG akin to Fable, with an unmistakable MMO vibe? If you were like me, you wrote this game off right from the start. However, 38 Studios released a demo for the game and I decided to see it for myself. As the demo finished downloading, a friend and I were entirely prepared to sit down and bash the game. I mean, it was just going to be another derivative fantasy world with a terrible subtitle, right? Reckoning? Hah! But something magical happened as we began traipsing through Amalur; we had absolutely nothing berating to say.

My personal anecdote aside, Amalur is surely one of the biggest surprises in recent memory. Its intrepid design philosophies follow a unique path by attempting to mix several genres that normally wouldn't ever be whispered together. It takes open-world cues from The Elder Scrolls series, a questing system similar to World of Warcraft, dialogue options from Mass Effect and Dragon Age, combat mechanics from the likes of Devil May Cry and Fable, and a whole lot more from other various titles. Say what you like, but this kind of over-ambitious design is what can kill a game. Amalur's vision is certainly grandiose, but as ridiculous as it seems on paper it comes together in a package that is extremely enjoyable and accessible to absolutely everyone.

Unfortunately, just being fun isn't good enough for a game to continue its natural progression into DLC and then, perhaps, a sequel. Developers need the coin, and if something doesn't sell then we simply don't see it again. If you couldn't already tell, Amalur is a myriad of ideas and gameplay functions that come together in one beautiful motion. More than that, it's something we haven't seen before, something brand-spanking new, and we owe it to the developers to give it our attention.

Why do we owe it to 'lower-class' developers to support their games? Think about it. If we don't show interest in companies extending their reach into unused regions, which allows them to experiment with other imaginative ideas, we'd get what we've been getting every year - more Call of Duty. That isn't to say in any way that the this particular series is terrible, but since it has become a multi-billion dollar juggernaut it's been obvious that the games have been degrading in quality over the years. Yet people are still buying them. As this trend continues, Call of Duty will eventually meet the fate of both the Guitar Hero and Tony Hawk franchises. Both were phenomenal in their own right, and both were completely wiped out as a result of pure over-saturation and diminished quality. Saying that, there's no reason to embrace something that's sub-par in the quality department, but Amalur is far, far from that.

The biggest reason I'm such a proponent of this game is how much effort 38 Studios has put into it. Huge names like R.A. Salvatore, Ken Rolston and Todd McFarlane are all on board the Amalur train and, as with the examples above, it's obvious that the developers have learned from contemporary games about what works and what does not. Implementing these features is one thing, but making them work and actually enjoyable is something else entirely. You also cannot forget the demo, which is what sold me in the first place; how many games give you a feature-length demo with an open-world to do what you want with after the showcase has ended? Not even Red Faction: Guerrilla's original demo allowed its world to be traversed, and that game was all about roaming around. If that's any indication, these guys want you to explore their game; to do what you want, when you want. For that, I have immense respect.

Playing into the hand of ignorance and literally judging a game by its cover, like I did, can condemn a series in a heartbeat, and that's why a game like Amalur really deserves your attention. Is it the be-all and end-all RPG of all-time? No. Of course not. But Amalur is a familiar world set with seminal design, and it's fun to boot. Ignoring something like this only brings harm to the industry as a whole and yes, I know that the retail prices for games hurt nowadays, but just ask yourself what you're picking up this year.

Give Amalur a chance. Because we all know what happened to Okami. And I do not want to get into that again.

Labels: 38 Studios, Andrew Whipple III, EA, Feature, Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning, PC, PS3, Xbox 360

GGTL Live presents: Diablo III beta livestream

- Andrew Whipple III

by Andrew Whipple III

7.2.12

While it's been out for a while now, it's pretty tough to get sick of seeing more of the Diablo III beta. To celebrate this ravenous hunger, we at GGTL are committing to a live stream of the beta (with commentary of course) for both the USA and UK this week. New to the series? Have questions? Just want to see the game in action? Well friends, stay a while and listen.

We will be broadcasting via Twitch TV and will begin the stream for the USA at 8pm EST on Thursday (2am GMT).

If after that you haven't had enough, we will then be broadcasting at 6pm GMT (12pm EST) on Friday for the UK. Please bring any questions you have and we will field them during the play session! Fortunately I have the dignified glory in hosting this event so get ready for extremely lame jokes along with relentless demon killing.

Thanks in advance for coming to this most prestigious event. Be back here on Thursday at 8pm EST for the start of the festivities and all the goodness you simply can't get anywhere else!

Labels: Andrew Whipple III, Beta, Diablo III, Feature, GGTL Live, livestream

Six reasons to be excited about Resident Evil 6

- Andrew Whipple III

2.2.12

I am unabashedly a fan of Resident Evil. Ever since I walked into that creepy mansion in the outskirts of Raccoon City I have been hooked, having played and owned every single main game in the series.

Like every long-running series, the Resident Evil franchise has had its highs and lows, but when all is said and done, you would be hard pressed to deny that Resi is an iconic series, birthing characters and game mechanics that will go down in the gaming history books.

As you can probably tell by now, the announcement of a new Resident Evil game, to me, is nothing short of a gaming event. Consequently, when Capcom officially announced Resident Evil 6 a few days ago I felt like a kid in a candy store, and my excitement only grew once I laid eyes on the fantastic trailer. But I don’t want to be the only geek on this hype train; I want you right there with me, so here are six awesome reasons that prove why you too should be marking Resident Evil 6's release date on your calendar.

Reason 1: Mr Badass Protagonist, I'd like you to meet M. Badass Protagonist the second

For a series with famously horrific dialogue, it is surprising that Resident Evil has somehow managed to create such endearing and iconic characters. The series' core protagonists have evolved over the years, developing individual character arcs which (although convoluted) have managed to overall make a weird sort of sense. These characters have somehow managed to overcome their many flaws, including their imposed dialogue impairments, and ingratiate themselves with gamers worldwide.

Such are the cases of Chris Redfield and Leon S. Kennedy. The first has been the stalwart male protagonist of the series since its inception, and has gone from being an overwhelmed, cardboard cut-out, clichéd cop character, to a man with a mission in life, deeply affected by the rollercoaster of trauma that has surrounded him for years. The second, the rookie Raccoon City cop with the Bieber haircut, was literally transformed into a badass before our very eyes, whilst still being perhaps the most relatable of all of the series characters.

Resident Evil 6 will make series history by putting these two characters in the same game together. That was the collective gasp of Resi fanboys around the world which you just heard.

Reason 2: a story Bond would be proud of.

I have a somewhat love-hate relationship with Resident Evil's story. Most of the time, the yarn crafted by the cooky guys at Capcom isn't much more than soap opera fare. However, over the years I've found myself engrossed in the mythos of Resident Evil. I read up on the characters on wiki sites, enjoy the multiple conspiracy theories bouncing around the internet, and try to keep up with the ever-expanding history of the evil Umbrella Corporation.

The point is that what started out as a simple 'night of the living dead' game has morphed into a whole world, featuring espionage, intrigue and worldwide bioterror. I love it, and I can't wait to see just what Capcom has up its sleeve, especially with a game reported to follow three protagonists in branching yet intertwining storylines, which will see our protagonists in locales around the world. Time to update those wikis fanboys.

Reason 3: Ada-freaking-Wong

We first heard of Ada Wong all the way back in Resident Evil 1. Apparently the girlfriend of one of the scientists working in the mansion lab, Ada's name was said scientist’s computer password. Poor dope. As the series progresses we encounter Ada in both Resident Evil 2 and 4, and learn that she is somewhat of a superspy, working for one shadowy organization or another, in an attempt to obtain information and samples of the bioweapons at large.

The quintessential femme fatale, Ada Wong is an incredibly memorable, scene-stealing character, who was an absolute joy to play as in Resident Evil 4. The Asian sensation is poised to make her comeback in Resident Evil 6, and will be playable. Huzzah!

Reason 4: Survival-horror? Action? Does it matter?

The feelings I first experienced when I first played Resident Evil 5 are hard to describe. It featured prominently on my screen; both Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine, the series’ original protagonists, were featured in the game; horrifying mutated dogs were lunging at my neck; all of the ingredients that make up the Resi recipe seemed to be present. But it just didn’t feel like a Resident Evil game. It very quickly dawned on me that the survival-horror which defined original Resi games had been replaced with non-stop monster-killing action. Solitary walks down confined corridors, with nothing but a single clip of ammo and your trusty knife were out; co-op and no-holds-barred kill fests were in. Although this transition had been initiated by Resident Evil 4, the definitive jump made by Resi 5 was somewhat jarring. In the end though, I didn't really care.

The fact of the matter is that Resident Evil 5 was a good action game. The game mechanics of the original Resident Evil games were starting to show their age, and a change was needed. The series was turned on its head, and no-one can say that's automatically a bad thing. Resident Evil 6 seems to be pushing that action envelope even further, and to Capcom I say go for it. They gave me Megaman; I trust those guys.

Reason 5: Co-op Madness?

Six player online co-op? Six players, controlling six Resi characters, facing a horde of the series' best monsters? Although this has not yet been confirmed by Capcom, the rumour mill is running at full force, encouraged by a post about the game featured on Xbox.com. The post has since been removed, but if there is any truth to the rumour you should be excited; very excited.

If you have played the mercenaries mode featured in Resi 5 with a friend, you know how addictively fun co-op Resident Evil madness can be. Adding four more of my pals into the mix is a stroke of genius if you ask me. I’m in.

Reason 6: Zombies!

Watch the trailer. Zombies are back. Rejoice!

Labels: Feature, Joey Núñez, Resident Evil, Resident Evil 6

Interracial one-liners and burnt rubber: why Driver: San Francisco was the best thing in 2011

- Joey Núñez

by Chris Hawke

25.1.12

Late to the party, you say? 2011 may be dead and buried old news, but forgive me; I've only just built up the courage to say what I'm going to say.

You see, I'm not a man with splitting opinions, a vicious tongue or a mind for devil's advocacy. I like what I like, and generally that tends to be what everyone else likes. You'll find no 'Homefront was the bestest game evar!' antics from me. But in a year that granted me the gift of Batman: Arkham Asylum, the cherished delight of Portal 2 and the unforgettable, unconquerable, unbelievable Skyrim, amongst a glittering sea of celebrated gems, it was a coma-fuelled carmageddon that gave me the greatest joy.

Driver: San Francisco is a throwback in pretty much every way possible. The story itself harks back to the vibrant, garish and funky, beat-heavy 1970s, where everyone was either pushing coke or doing dope or being a dirty cop or doing something illegal and slightly hilarious. There's also the gameplay, which doesn't burden the player with muddy motion control, sloppy shooting mechanics or faulty free-roam. You drive, and occasionally you'll press a button, move the camera over another car, and press a button. Then you drive again. It's pure, clean and fresh. Whilst most modern titles cram the back of their game boxes with trademarked UltraCrap™ features ("now with 50% more green-brown textures!"), Driver had you, a car and a beautiful city. To top it all off, this is Ubisoft Reflections' last attempt at reviving the lifeless and much spat-on corpse of the Driver series; from the golden age of the ultimate PS1 cop-chase emulator, Driver has fallen hard, shooting itself in the foot with the awkwardly-titled Driv3r and then proceeding to maul its own limbs off in desperation with Parallel Lines and 76. When it was announced that the latest Driver would be a retro throwback to San Fran's heyday, all coddled up in the mind of coma patient John Tanner, eyebrows raised. When the game released, jaws dropped.

Well, mine did at least. See, 2011 was a wonderful year. Not if you were a dictator, or a Middle Eastern rebel, or near an earthquake hotspot, or Amy Winehouse, or pretty much anyone else in this sickening world slowly trudging to your inevitable anti-climactic demise. But, for videogames at least, it was damn exciting. Needles plunged into eyes in Dead Space 2, robots plunged into fiery pits in Portal 2, elbow-daggers plunged into cyborg motherboards in Deus Ex, and Skyrim plunged the world into a fury of 'Fus Ro Dah'-ing and wishing their cats could dual-wield. There was fierce competition, no doubt about it. But Driver: San Fransisco stole my heart and drifted across the Golden Gate bridge with it. And I'll tell you why.

You knew what Dead Space 2 was all about. If you had hands, or even eyes, well before your clammy palms had caressed your controller of choice you knew Dead Space 2 was about kicking alien ass and taking alien names. Maybe you'd completed Dead Space (2008), or just played the demo, or even caught a fleeting glance of a trailer, but any semblance of surprise had been squandered long before you ever played it. You knew how it would feel to decapitate an otherworldly head, and fly about in zero-gravity, and what Issac would say, do, think, whisper, murmur, smell like; the corpse of Dead Space 2 was examined and pored over long before its release into the big wide world. All the grand games of 2011 had the same issue: hyped beyond excess, with endless trailers, walkthroughs and interviews to feast upon, your appetite was spoiled before the main meal. I'm a huge Skyrim fan, and the game itself is unconquerable colossus of scale, and yet killing my first dragon didn't feel all that special. Because only a few months ago, I'd watched Todd Howard do the very same.

Driver: San Fransisco didn't have that problem. I'll choose my words carefully so I don't offend any hardworking Ubisoft employees, but... how do I put this? The game was shoved into a grimy corner to die a lonely death. Advertising was basic; no grand statements spilled from Martin Edmondson's - creative director - mouth; there wasn't a new trailer every thirty seconds. I knew a bit about the game, but I certainly hadn't followed it with the same wide-eyed vigour as I had with the better-endowed releases that came before it. It was brilliant.

When I got the game, seamlessly swinging sideways around San Francisco's sunbathed streets was an absolute thrill. Leaping from car to car in comatic fury was a real joy, whilst the good-cop/bad-cop (or in this case, white-coma-cop/black-sassy-cop) relationship - filled with sharp one-liners and just enough homoerotic tension to emulate all those 70s buddy movies - was riotous fun. With no expectation or preconceived notions, Driver: San Fransisco had an empty stage on which to wow the player, and it did so with all the tricks it could stuff up its sleeve.

The crux of the game had to be the side-missions. The main plot was tongue-in-cheek, bizarre, over-the-top brilliance, with interweaving threads of stolen ammonia and hospital beds. But to keep you interested, there had to be stuff to do, and I'll happily hold my hands in the air and claim that Driver: San Fransisco had the best side missions of any game I've played for a long, long time. Whilst Skyrim had you traversing endless load screens as you fast travel, enter a building, talk for a bit, leave a building, fast travel, find some treasure, fast travel, speak to a guy, and so on and so forth, Driver makes every side mission an attention-grabbing, emotionally-involving rollercoster. Who could forget Jun and Ayumu, clumsy Korean kids who accidentally get themselves embroiled in vicious street-races? An ageing truck driver nearing retirement who is caught up in a Speed-style bomb threat? An unfortunate husband unwittingly driving an adulterous wife to a lesion with her lover?

They each had spirit. They each had flair. They each had soul. Every single one of them felt crafted, sculpted and born out of love, and you find yourself becoming more and more involved in these characters with every lightning-fast second. I shouldn't care about these people! Whole games devote themselves to creating sympathy with a block of pixels, yet fail with a fizzle; Driver: San Fransisco, with a sharp script and colourful characters, grabs you and doesn't let go.

That's without retracing the fleet-footed main plotline, that's so brilliantly tongue-in-cheek yet straight-faced that you can't help but admire Ubisoft's gumption. Going from the meandering countryside roads of automobile shifting fun, through narrow back-alleys of genuinely disturbing plot twists ("Christ - he's everywhere!"), hurtling down the open highway of one of the most thrilling climaxes of the year - Driver was an utter joy to behold.

There are hundreds of honestly superb games out there. Games with blockbuster budgets, Spartan-sized teams and the community's eyes focussed dead on their every move; these types of games are wonderful to play and technically proficient. But when was the last time a game rocketed out of the blue and knocked your socks off? When was the last time you were properly, genuinely excited by the game you were playing, full of wonder and possibility and brimming with the unknown? Nowadays, those games are harder to come by. And all the more incredible for it.

Labels: Chris Hawke, Driver, Driver: San Francisco, Feature, Opinion, Ubisoft

Couples that Trine together, stay together

- Chris Hawke

17.1.12

I am a big believer in the positive aspects of gaming. I’ve defended my hobby both in person and on the net, and I truly feel that videogames can have a palpable, positive effect on people everywhere.

Recently, I was pleasantly reminded of this fact, thanks to the little downloadable game that could, Trine. Trine is a PSN game (developed originally for Windows PC) by Finnish developer, Frozenbyte. In the game you take control of three heroes, each of whom have been bound together by the mystical Trine. As a result of the magic spell of the Trine, a knight, a thief and a wizard are forced to share one body, and must work together in order to traverse platforms, solve puzzles and defeat enemies. The main concept behind the game is that you can - and must - freely switch between any of the three characters, but can only control one of them at a time, forcing you to use your head and think about which character’s ability you need to get past a specific challenge.

Trine was one of the first downloadable games I ever purchased. The game enamoured me with its beautiful graphics and its old-school, 2-D platforming; plus, since the game allowed up to three players to play locally, I figured it would be a great chance to convince my boyfriend to join in on the gaming fun.

It’s been a concerted mission of mine to turn my boyfriend into a pseudo-gamer of sorts. I have had varying degrees of success. Fighting games he can manage, as long as you don’t force him to choose more than one character. It still surprises me that, to this day, when I play Mortal Kombat with friends and they choose anyone other than Zub-Zero, I had forgotten that such a decision was even possible. Shooters have also been a success of sorts, and we’ve logged hours upon hours playing Resistance - it has become quite evident that shooting aliens in the face is something that makes us a better and happier couple.

Trine was one of our earliest co-op experiences, and I kid you not, gamers, but that game taught me more about us and our relationship than I care to recall.

Before we go further into this, there are a few things you should know. I am not what you might call a 'patient' gamer. If you see me flipping a switch, grappling off a wall and double-jumping over a fiery pit onto a platform, I expect you to do the same. Damn it, how hard could it be?! You just saw me do it, didn’t you? I sometimes forget that not everyone has been doing this since they were five.

Case-in-point: my boyfriend. The poor shmoe owned a Nintendo with a copy of Mario Brothers a few eons ago, and that’s basically where his gaming-jedi training ended. And, although talented in many areas – the man makes a mean apple pie - when it comes to games, a fast learner he is not. As you can imagine, in a game in which three heroes share one body, throwing two gamers into the mix only confuses things even further. Co-operation and communication are key. The players, like the characters of Trine, have to find a way to share the three heroes and their abilities, and act in unison towards achieving their goal.

I think it was maybe after the fifth consecutive time that I plunged to my death, after my significant other conjured a box directly over my head with the Wizard as I attempted to manoeuvre over some platforms, that I very seriously thought it was time to reconsider this whole 'relationship' thing. "It’s just a game!" he protested. "Why are you so lame at this!?" I yelled. It didn’t take much more than that, and a full blown fight was on. Over Trine. Over a game. But not really.

Turns out it wasn’t so much that we were having trouble communicating during our Trine gaming session, but rather we were having trouble communicating in general. I was not only an impatient gamer; the fact of the matter was that I wasn’t a patient boyfriend. As for him, it became pretty evident that he was hesitant to follow my lead during Trine, because, in a lot of ways, he wasn't too keen on following my lead at all. We had run into a problem here; a puzzle of considerable challenge.

Here’s the thing though. We both wanted to make it work. We both wanted to beat Trine, so to speak. Trine became a metaphor for our relationship and its creases. So we took a step back. We took an inventory of what our strengths and weaknesses were, and reassessed that puzzle. Long story short, we beat that puzzle and kicked Trine’s ass.

A few days ago, we started playing Trine 2. Every now and again, a random box will be conjured directly over my head. And yes, many a digital death has ensued as a result of his inherent noobness. But he’s getting better, and I’ve learnt to sit back and enjoy it all. I’ve stopped trying to turn him into a fully-fledged gamer (sort of), and instead I've begun to enjoy the simple joys of gaming with my significant other. As a result, the yelling to laughing ratio has been flipped on its head.

Trine, and gaming in general, has not only helped my relationship, but has provided me and my boyfriend with a hobby that not only allows us to spend time together, but that forces us to work together as a unit, to communicate or fail, that gives us ample opportunities to help each other succeed and to share triumphs. And that's certainly not bad for a pastime that has a reputation for turning us all into a bunch of antisocial loners.

Labels: Feature, Joey Núñez, Opinion, Trine

Spike VGAs 2011 post-mortem, or: Suppose they had an awards show, and no awards were given?

- Joey Núñez

16.12.11

I want very much to say that this year’s Spike VGAs were the best they’ve ever been, but I’m not sure that I can.

Make no mistake; this year’s broadcast, which aired on the 10th November at 8:00pm EST, saw markededly clear improvements over previous years' instalments. The now bog-standard celebrity guests were, by-and-large, less awkward, with most sounding excited to be there, and several even giving off a genuine gamer vibe. Spike also finally found a competent host for the VGAs in Zachary Levi, whose ‘aw, shucks’ charisma helped sell even the most staid of material (oh look, a life bar joke in 2011). And the actual broadcast itself has become a well-oiled machine, shuttling between segments of the show and killer trailers with an ease that the Oscars could only dream of.

The problem was, though, that it was too well-oiled. In all of the fervour to promote new trailers, promote VGA-related competitions (“Check out how popular the VGAs are on Twitter!”), and Felicia Day’s noble-though-misguided backstage shenanigans, the producers failed to give attention to the actual reason everyone was there: the awards. During the course of the evening, all of three proper awards were given and accepted. Three. The first, Best Action Adventure, was given at the very beginning of the show, and nearly a solid hour and a half went by without so much as a peep about the other awards.

Actually, I take that back — they did mention sixteen other awards during an earlier portion of the broadcast, because they announced the winners in the form of a montage. To put this in perspective, more time was devoted to Kevin Jonas introducing the Rainbow 6: Patriots trailer than on the presentation of sixteen different awards. In fact, so much was lost in the shuffle that Spike didn’t even mention the winner for one of their categories (if you’ll check out the Wikipedia page, you’ll notice a blank spot for Best Team Sports game.

It’s kinda surreal, truthfully. I realise that the VGAs are starting to become a hot zone for announcing new games and showing off huge trailers, which, in all fairness, is pretty conducive to television, but Spike aren't even pretending that the awards matter anymore. I mean, fun as it was to watch Felicia Day play real-life Fruit Ninja with the cast of Comedy Central’s Workaholics, it felt disrespectful to all the major industry figures whose hard work was supposedly being honoured at the ceremony, a sentiment shared by more than a few actual nominees. Though, in terms of developer disrespect, nothing quite tops Michael Condrey of Sledgehammer Games getting teabagged for running over the time limit on his acceptance speech for Best Shooter.

Award neglect was certainly the largest problem this year, but it was far from the only one. As with any awards show, several presenters were absolutely dire during their onstage moments, particularly Jason Biggs of the American Pie franchise, who either did not care one iota about how obvious it was that he was reading from the autocue, or was simply stoned out of his gourd. Felicia Day’s Japanese game show-esque antics for Child’s Play were sound and admirable in concept (promoting a major game-related charity, and doing silly stuff for donations), but they killed the programme’s momentum whenever they popped up. And the aforementioned teabagging, which was funny as a concept-based joke, was simply terrible as an execution-based joke.

The most frustrating aspect of the VGAs, though, wasn’t the unfunny jokes or the awkward celebrities. No; it was the moments of actual, legitimate entertainment, the slight glimpses of what the VGAs should be. Case in point: The Legend of Zelda’s induction into the Videogame Hall of Fame.

Seth Green briefly talked about Zelda’s achievements, and then showed a video with clips from nearly every Zelda game, whilst a tasteful narration discussed some of the series’ finer points, including an acknowledgement of the game’s resonance despite the lack of spoken dialogue. After the video, the curtains opened, and who should walk out but Shigeru Miyamoto, who gave a charming acceptance speech in English to a standing ovation from the crowd. In another cool segment, Levi showed a video from Activision featuring Captain Price and Frost of Modern Warfare 3, saluting US troops and promoting a program to help veterans acquire jobs after they've returned from active duty. Moments like these tell me that, ultimately, the VGA producers 'get it', which makes the segues into rocky, stereotypical ‘gamer’ territory that much more painful.

Despite my negativity, I really do have hope for the VGAs. This year’s ceremony was ultimately stronger and less painful to watch than in previous years, and if the show continues to improve in the way it has, there is every potential that it might really be worth watching in a few years. Still, if the VGAs want to be taken seriously as an awards show, they need to focus more attention on the actual awards; to quote Justin McElroy of Joystiq, "if winning [a VGA] is ever to be a big deal, that has to start with you guys [the Spike producers] believing it is." ^[source] Even the MTV VMAs (the ‘award show as entertainment’ programme that the VGAs obviously wants to be, which is a perfectly fine goal) understand that winning is a big deal; if Spike wants to improve the VGAs for next year, I’d start there.

Labels: 2011, Andrew Testerman, Awards, Feature, Spike, VGAs, VGAs 2011

Guessing games: predicting the 2011 VGA winners

- Andrew Testerman