Written by Andrew Allen Wednesday, 28 July 2010 11:50

I cannot afford "Starcraft 2." I can't really afford to eat, either, but the former is a more severe problem. It's out there right now, and people are harvesting it for its precious resources, while I sit here like an idiot with my copy of "Red Dead Redemption," a game which came out an entire month ago. What is this, the Middle Ages? A month old game? It might as well be "Duck Hunt" or "Galaga," for crying out loud, because what it isn't is a COPY OF STARCRAFT 2 DAMN IT! 

I'm starving over here, people. I'm also drowning, suffocating, and burning alive. How could Blizzard do this to me? How could they release a game this important and not give me a free copy? I played the original "Diablo" until my eyes bled and I was trying to "click" on my bed to get into it and sleep for two hours before getting up to play more. I tee-peed the houses of every "Command and Conquer" fan I knew, screaming "Starcraft 4 Life" as I fled the scene. I even sabotaged "Warhammer 40k" games just so people wouldn't know Blizzard ripped them off. I've been there for this company, and it's high time they were there for me. Look at them over there. They're silly with copies of "Starcraft 2," you can't tell me it's impossible for them to spare one. One precious, sweet little copy. They have thousands upon thousands of them, but nooooo, they just won't bend, I have to pay them first. I'm standing on the rain-soaked door step like Oliver Twist, begging for a little kindness, and what do I get in return? A cold, unfeeling hand outstretched, palm up, asking for money I don't have. You heard it here first, folks: Blizzard extorts orphans.

Break texted me last night advising me I should "get online" with intention to "hit up sc2" with him and Mecha. He just assumed a copy of the game was in my possession, much the same way a person would invite you to go bowling and assume you had hands. Do you know what the worst part is, Dear Reader? I didn't correct him. I was like, "Man, I am super busy tonight, Break. I will do my best." I stepped into a sad little fantasy where I was one of his kind, a person with unlimited wealth and the means to appease his flighty desires; I might have even made up some crap about wanting to beat the campaign first. Honestly, the lie felt good, some part of me even believed what I was saying. For a brief moment I was lost in a world where I, Andrew Allen, was the proud commander of the Zerg swarm. And then the person next to me asked why I was standing in place with my eyes closed and my fingers outstreched, making clicking motions in midair.

Later that night, I came clean, and Break attempted to downplay the awesome power at his fingertips. He promised me that it was pretty much "the same game," and tried his best to shrug indifferently. He then promptly ended our conversation so he could "get in some sc2 before bed." The problem is, it was nine thirty at night, and last time I checked, Break is not my grandmother. Nine thirty is not bed time. Nine thirty is not bed time one bit. Five hours later, I was ankle deep in tear-soaked tissues, pretending to play GameTrailers videos, and Break was still online. Damn you, sir. Damn you right in your stupid, rich face.

It has helped a little that there aren't any reviews up; some part of me can just pretend the game isn't actually out. After all, during the Beta, I had gotten used to the fact that other, less worthy specimens were permitted to put their grubby paws on the game before me, and this almost doesn't feel any different. Almost. The problem is, there is no website where you can hide from Blizzard's massive, salt-in-the-wound, trumpet-sounding banners: "OUT NOW. STARCRAFT II." Thank you, Blizzard. Thank you so bloody much.

God only knows when I'm going to be able to drop the coin necessary to make "Starcraft II" mine, but until then, pulling myself out of bed every morning is a battle. In the land of dreams, I own a dozen copies, and I've installed them all on separate computers throughout my personal Bat-Cave. I frolick from monitor to monitor, play for a few minutes, then move on. And then I realize that I'm probably losing all twelve games, and promptly awake to a cold, unfeeling, "Starcraft II"-less world. Woe is me, Dear Reader.

 

 

 

 

 

Written by Mecha Monday, 26 July 2010 22:53

The crew discuss the new Dragon Quest 9 and the week's gaming news.

Download Part 1
Download Part 2 

Written by Andrew Allen Wednesday, 21 July 2010 02:03

Some games, you play for a week, others for a few days. A really good one can suck you in for a month or two, especially if you can involve other people. And then there are the love affairs: the games you never stop playing. You know the type I mean: you've beaten it so many times, but you just keep coming back for another taste. What is the mysterious chemistry that makes us love one or two games so much more than others? Some might suggest it's plain and simple quality, but I think it goes much deeper; I've seen friends give years of their lives to a title they admitted was fundamentally flawed. Like any art form, games will occasionally forge a bond with their audience, one that even the developers may not have anticipated. When it happens, it reminds you of why you got into gaming in the first place.

For me, the best example of that is a game series called "F.E.A.R." Many of you know it, most have probably played it. The original "F.E.A.R." was a PC game, which forced me, console-bound, to gawk at it from a distance. I was so amazed by the concept: fusing a corridor shooter with Japanese-style horror. Why didn't I think of that? Console gamers know that a PC game has a certain illicit charm. The world of the computer is freer and more exciting than our regulated, standardized plastic boxes, and we always covet the forbidden fruits hanging just out of reach: twitch shooters, Blizzard games, MMOs, and RTSes. Oh, how we long from a distance, Dear Reader.

But sweet mercy, Day 1 Studios finally came along and ported "F.E.A.R." to the 360. I dallied for awhile—because honestly, a ported PC game loses some of its luster—but when it finally got its claws in me, the game dug in deep. Monolith's genius in designing "F.E.A.R." was two-fold: first, they introduced the most sophisticated A.I. in town, creating breathless firefights where victories felt earned and defeats deserved. Second, they kept the formula fresh with "palette cleansing" horror sections, interspersed throughout the campaign to keep the game from getting monotonous. For most people, this was reason enough to give the game a spin, although its repetitive environments and unsatisfying final boss fight also guaranteed the relationship was not long-term.

And yet, when I got my hands on it, I just couldn't let it go. Even the endless stream of same-y office complexes didn't get to me, I actually enjoyed how grounded the world felt. The combat was brilliant, every firefight played out like a Hollywood blockbuster: I'd knock down a door, activate slow motion, dive through the middle of a room with my shotgun kicking like a mule, and land just in time to switch to an SMG and finish off the last fleeing enemy before he limped around the corner. Ragdoll physics meant that each enemy I hit would go flying, their automatic weapon blasting off stray rounds as they fell to the floor. It was some of the most truly cinematic gaming I've ever encountered.

And then there were the horror sections, ingenious little haunted house acid trips where the player got to take a break from sweaty palms and itchy trigger fingers. The atmosphere was so thick you could swim in it: a creepy little eight year old girl with telekinetic powers hunting you like an animal, and a cannibalistic super-soldier taunting you with ghostly whispers. Monolith wisely kept the details of the plot a little obscure, putting it together was like trying to remember a dream. But the symbolism invoked in the imagery made it hit hard and stay with you, and a few pop-outs were so effective I came out of my seat. I still think "F.E.A.R." is one of the scariest games ever made.

Years later, I am still playing the original "F.E.A.R." I've even beaten it on "Extreme" difficult, which is one of the most punishing challenges I've ever seen in a game. I think the secret to how a video game creates this bond is aesthetics: when the world they create hits you just right, it leaves a lasting crater in your psyche. I love SWAT teams, I love corridor combat, and I love ghosts, and "F.E.A.R." puts them all together in just the right way. I have a friend whose love affair is with "Ninja Gaiden," based solely on the fact that he loves swords (and therefore, a ninja who wields them). He's beaten both the original and the sequel on the hardest difficulties simply because ninjas are cool, and "Ninja Gaiden" seems to understand that.

I waited with baited breath for "F.E.A.R. 2," but when it came out, I swore it off as lacking the magic of the original. Although the environments were more varied and the graphics took a step up, its AI felt almost insultingly simplistic, and the scares weren't coming, no matter how much Monolith tried. At the time, I thought it was further proof of how magical the original "F.E.A.R." was, and I resolved to keep playing through Monolith's crown jewel and ignore the sequel. But as years passed, I softened, eventually purchasing "F.E.A.R. 2" and beating it twice. Sure, some of my favorite aspects of its ancestor were gone, but I quickly discovered that "F.E.A.R. 2" still had enough of its "ghosts meet special forces" style to suck me in. The story had also taken a step up, functioning much more coherently and ending with one of the most shocking conclusions I've ever experienced in a video game. And actually, by being much easier, "F.E.A.R. 2" managed to also be a more recreational experience than its uncompromising older brother. My love affair turned out to be with the series as a whole, not just any one game.

So now, with the October release of "F.E.A.R. 3" imminent, I'm playing through both of them again...as well as "Perseus Mandate"...and I'd be remiss to ignore "Extraction Point"...and also "F.E.A.R. 2: Reborn." God help me, am I going to have time to eat and bathe myself?

How about you, Dear Reader? What franchise beckons you back every time? What is that game that has your heart no matter what?

Written by Andrew Allen Friday, 16 July 2010 21:17

Video games and movies are beginning to develop a bizarre relationship, one I fully admit I don't really understand yet. Every time some nervous studio executive has a property they're unsure of, they make a game out of it to dip their toes in the water. Remember the "Ghostbusters" game that was used as a cultural thermometer recently? And how about "The Chronicles of Riddick" being re-released to gauge the necessity for reviving the character on the big screen? And let's not forget that "Wall Street" video game they made before bringing Michael Douglas back for another go. You remember it, you played as Gordon Gekko, holding Shia LeBeauf down and beating him with a crowbar. Okay I made that one up, but my point is, they're doing this a lot.

Anyway, with MGM sinking like a stone, Activision has now decided to try and re-ignite Bond enthusiasm with a new game, "Blood Stone." I hate it when they do a non-canonical Bond game, because the lack of structure to adhere to allows game developers to turn 007 into a raging, Rambo-style idiot with none of the grace or charisma that makes the character who he is. He becomes another action hero, just like all the others, and as a direct result the magic of James Bond is lost. I look at the cover of "Blood Stone," and I find myself wondering what the appeal of this character is at all.

There are three additional reasons why it's stupid to try and test the waters for a movie with a video game:

1. Games are Expensive. The trick only really works with AAA title, and apparently no one told studio heads that those are now hella expensive. You might as well go make the damned movie anyway for the amount of money and time you're about to drop on this little litmus test of yours.

2. Games are for Dorks. Casual gamers are not real gamers. I don't say this to be mean, I say it as a fact. A casual gamer is the bitter enemy of a marketing department: they have minimal brand loyalty or awareness, a complete lack of motivation to go out and spend money, and their decisions are based on split-second, apathetic impulses which are almost impossible to control. They play "Wii Tennis" and "Rock Band," but they don't give two shakes of a lamb's tail about movie tie-in video games. And, problematically, they still comprise most of the world.

3. Games are Legitimate. There's a thing I call the "cinema-centric bias," which is the basic assumption that movies are the biggest, most real art form. Write a narrative in any other artistic format, and pretty soon some idiot will ask you if it should "be a movie." Cinematic conversion seems to be some kind of legitimizing force to most Americans, it's like the story isn't real until it's been a movie. The more beloved a narrative, the more agitation there is: "why haven't they made this into a movie yet?" What about the story was deficient as a novel that it now needs to reborn in a movie theater?

The cinema-centric bias is crap. Movies routinely fail to adapt the essence of a narrative from another artistic medium; sometimes glaringly, in the case of "Watchmen," and sometimes so slightly that it becomes like an itch you can never scratch, as is the case with the "Harry Potter" films. Movies are like any other art form: sometimes they're able to repurpose narratives borrowed from elsewhere, sometimes they aren't. The movie version is not necessarily the definitive version.

Video games, on the other hand, receive the exact opposite treatment: it doesn't count if you do it in a game. Studio execs who wanted to test "Ghostbusters" assumed they could roll out the IP on the Xbox without damaging the glorious return on the big screen. But here's my point: that's not necessarily so. Video games are legitimate, they're an art form, and to a lot of people, they represent the definitive medium of storytelling. People assume a "Ghostbusters" movie can't have its thunder stolen by a "Ghostbusters" game. That assumption is wrong. You can sap the pent up energy behind your IP through a video game as readily as anywhere else, perhaps even more so.

And at the end of the day, this "you go first and tell me how they like it" system is condescending to games. It assumes that movies are the main event, and games are just a way to get everyone warmed up. I find this arrogance amusing, seeing as "Halo" and "Call of Duty" can humiliate even "Avatar's" box office receipts without breaking a sweat. In a subtle way, this is Hollywood playing the mean big brother to this younger artistic medium, trying to hold him in his supposed place while he grows bigger and stronger every day.

It isn't going to work forever.

Written by Matthew Nyquist Thursday, 15 July 2010 08:20

Thought I'd let you all know that my single is available on it's first store: click here

Now available on iTunes.

Written by Andrew Allen Wednesday, 14 July 2010 16:58

I'm back with updated impressions from my continued use of OnLive.

-Without question, the number of interruptions per game has gone up. I expressed concern that the widening user base might lead to this, and I'm worried that fear is coming true. I still don't find it to be prohibitive, but I've noticed that where it used to be 1 or 2, it's now more like 3-4 per session, and sometimes even higher.

-Having played through the entirety of "F.E.A.R. 2" using the service, I then threw the game into my 360 to do a side-by-side. I stand behind my assertion that whatever latency existed was negligible, especially in single player. The graphics are definitely a touch muddier, and the texture pop in bit more pronounced, but again, far from prohibitive.

The message here is simple: OnLive will not replace PC gaming, or at least it won't any time soon. If it were less expensive or performed flawlessly then perhaps, but as it stands, someone like our own Breakman X probably has little to gain from the service.

Nonetheless, I stand behind the assertion that it's potentially revolutionary, because PC gaming has always been off-limits to a wide number of people who either a) prefer Mac or b) don't want to pay $2,500 every year to keep on the cutting edge. For this demographic, OnLive has the potential to open up an entire world that was heretofore closed off. The games do not run as smooth as they would locally, but there's no doubt in my mind that they work, and work well. Certainly I've seen games perform far worse on local PCs because the owner was too proud to turn down the texture detail.

It will be interesting to see how the service develops now that more and more people are getting into the Founder's Program. I'll keep you posted as things develop.