Call of Duty games have come to represent everything ”hardcore” gamers loathe about the industry. It is the lifeblood of the biggest publishing monolith, Activision, and it has become an annual experience that doesn’t offer anything new in each iteration. Innovation is faltering in favor of shoving the same game out the door repeatedly. Repetitive multiplayer has become its biggest selling point.

My own reservations regarding the series aren’t as strong as those I’ve just outlined, though. In fact, I rather like the games, although only with regards to singleplayer. Regardless of whether you’re playing through Infinity Ward’s Modern Warfare games or Treyarch’s spin-offs, you are guaranteed an action-packed ride. Even this seemingly solid and straightforward formula can turn rotten when it is overdone, though, because while the first Modern Warfare felt like an all-out action film with a dash of political thriller – an excellent combination – the following Modern Warfare games left the realm of reason and normality, and entered the realm of the ridiculous. It was as if they had to outdo the first game by throwing as much over-the-top action in as possible in ...]]> Heavy spoilers for all the Modern Warfare games hide beyond this. Proceed with caution!

Call of Duty games have come to represent everything ”hardcore” gamers loathe about the industry. It is the lifeblood of the biggest publishing monolith, Activision, and it has become an annual experience that doesn’t offer anything new in each iteration. Innovation is faltering in favor of shoving the same game out the door repeatedly. Repetitive multiplayer has become its biggest selling point.

My own reservations regarding the series aren’t as strong as those I’ve just outlined, though. In fact, I rather like the games, although only with regards to singleplayer. Regardless of whether you’re playing through Infinity Ward’s Modern Warfare games or Treyarch’s spin-offs, you are guaranteed an action-packed ride. Even this seemingly solid and straightforward formula can turn rotten when it is overdone, though, because while the first Modern Warfare felt like an all-out action film with a dash of political thriller – an excellent combination – the following Modern Warfare games left the realm of reason and normality, and entered the realm of the ridiculous. It was as if they had to outdo the first game by throwing as much over-the-top action in as possible in the game. Oh, and adding Bond-esque villains as icing on the cake.

In Modern Warfare 2, civilians are slaughtered in a Russian airport, the U.S. Eastern Seaboard is ravaged by a Russian invasion, and The Capitol and The White House burn.  In Modern Warfare 3, the Russian president’s plane is shot down on the way to a peace conference, Europe is struck by toxic attacks and then invaded by Russia, and the Eiffel Tower is brought crashing down. Contrast this to the first Modern Warfare where the “only” real massive event was the nuke exploding in some unidentified Middle-Eastern city. It kept a constant fast pace, but it didn’t become nonsensical in the process.

In this first part of an analysis of the trilogy, I’ll focus on all the reasonable things that Modern Warfare did, because it did contain elements that could have elevated the plot beyond the entertaining but shallow waters of Bond-writing.

Modern Warfare 1 starts out relatively small. A team of SAS operatives board a cargo ship in the Bering Sea suspected of carrying nuclear weapons. None are found, but they uncover connections to a rebel movement in an unnamed Middle-Eastern country, and mentions of nuclear weapons being shipped to them. While the actions of the SAS might seem excessive at the time – a rather large number of Russian sailors lie dead after the operation – it is still within the realm of reason, as nuclear weapons in the hands of terrorists is something that frightens everyone. Even though we are not told from where the suspicion stems from, though it is later revealed as another mission has you rescue the informant, it is not unthinkable that such an operation would be initiated. After all, covert ops like this one are a way to pre-emptively avoid full-scale conflict, so it’s a decision most leaders are willing to make, even if it means the death of a few Russians.

At the time the game takes place in, the aforementioned Middle-Eastern country finds itself in a state of turmoil. Shortly after the events on the cargo ship, the tensions erupt into a genuine uprising, led by a certain Khaled Al-Asad. This culminates with the president of the country being executed on live TV, resulting in American intervention. While the American action may be considered rash, it is understandable. The US must be aware that an Al-Asad-led country will be a US-hostile country, possibly even a security threat. At the very least, it would certainly be damaging to American interests in the region, and further destabilize the situation. Once Unspecifiedistan (courtesy of Yahtzee) falls to the rebels it could inspire the peoples of other, similar countries to emulate them. This kind of domino theory-like thinking might be too rooted in the Cold War, but it’s not unheard of for uprisings to spread from country to country, the Revolutions of 1848 being one example, and the Arab Spring being a more recent one.

Here, Modern Warfare 1 made another ballsy move, in that the Americans aren’t portrayed solely as the liberating heroes, but as simply protecting their interests. This view is more in line with the current state of warfare, as it has become de-romanticized since World War II, the last war where one could try to apply the terms “good” and “evil”. Games sometimes seem to exist in that world still, though, with one side having clear moral superiority. In addition, the Americans are depicted as being overly gung-ho, and their eagerness to go to war results in their downfall, a scenario that could easily be inspired by the Iraq War, where it after while became evident that plans post-war Iraq were not as solid as the invasion plans themselves.

Then, in the game, a nuclear device goes off killing thousands of American soldiers. The moment was poignant, but did not make a lot of sense in the grand scheme of things (this will be covered in part 2). The ultranationalist Imran Zakhaev is eventually hunted down, as he supplied the rebels with the weapon. In the process they corner his son, trying to acquire information of his whereabouts, who commits suicide. At that point Zakhaev is in command of a missile silo facility holding multiple ICBMs, which he fires at the United States in retaliation for his son’s death. Joint British-American forces storm the facility as the ICBMs are fired, and in a dramatic race against the clock disable them. All is not over yet, though, as Zakhaev’s forces pursue them away from the facility, killing the majority of them. Apparently, only the player survives as reinforcements arrive and take the player to safety, though not before he has planted a bullet in Zakhaev’s skull.

The moment that truly saves Modern Warfare 1 from its earlier transgression into absurdity, though, is the very ending where the player is hoisted onto a helicopter, white light filling his vision. As this is happening, a news reporter speaks in the background. She is talking about the Russian government confirming a series of nuclear test, infighting in the Ultranationalist party, and about the cargo ship in the beginning, which was sunk by Russians and how the search for it has been called off. No mention of how near the world had come to experiencing a nuclear holocaust is made. This one line gives a better picture of how wars are fought in these times than all the spectacular battles you’ve fought through. Instead of wars being fought between two massive opposing armies with fairly transparent goals, wars are fought with secrecy, the public not always getting the full story as facts are hidden behind smokescreens. And Modern Warfare 1 seemed to hold a message, namely that in the information age we currently live in we must still be critical of what we hear, rather than happily gobble it up.

Although vastly inferior to Modern Warfare 1, Modern Warfare 2 included a theme as well, namely the dangers of nationalism. One could argue that Modern Warfare 1 in some ways also contained the theme “nationalism”, seeing as the main antagonists Zakhaev and Al-Asad both highlighted the dangers of nationalism, but in the end it was overshadowed by the ending. Modern Warfare 2 was also weighed down by a confusing plot, which prevented it from unfolding completely, but the elements that it did shed light on were admirable. It tried to pit two antagonists who, despite being different sides, were very similar (that the antagonists evolved into Bond-like chariactures is a different matter, which will be the topic of part 3). Perhaps this was intentional, to show that nationalism is pointless since whatever country your defending so fiercely is a construct, and that nationalists across borders have more in common than they might initially believe. It’s also shown through the callousness of their actions that they might in fact not care that much for the nationalistic virtues they extol. It is merely a means to control the masses. The rise of nationalism certainly has relevance in these times, as nationalist parties have cropped up across Europe, and it is a motivating factor for some terrorist organizations.

Semi-political statements in mainstream video games are a rarity. I suppose having a non-political approach when making video games is a sensible choice, as you do not risk alienating or offending parts of your audience. Modern Warfare 1 attempted to do this, and not in a blatant manner like one could have feared. I’m also reminded of the loading screens, which sometimes showed a piece of military equipment next to the cost, which indicated the enormous expense, wastefulness even, of war. In a way, it also hinted at a human face behind the evil, although it – rightfully so – made sure to clarify that this did not excuse the heinous acts.
Check back on Sunday for part 2, in which we take a closer look at the many, many plot holes that littered the trilogy.

A scant two days before its European release, us Western RPG players got the best news we could hope for: The Last Story is getting an American release. The forces of good have prevailed.

We’ve now gone full circle on the saga of Xenoblade and The Last Story, having moved from full on depression at the idea that Nintendo of America would throw away the most critically acclaimed JRPGs of this generation to cautious, restrained optimism at the idea that Xenoblade would release as a Gamestop exclusive to now, finally, acceptance thanks to Nintendo and XSeed coming together to bring The Last Story to America.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the JRPG has been at best mediocre across the board, at worst utterly decrepit on modern consoles. Sure, it’s experienced a renaissance on handhelds, with brilliant, top five JRPG of all time caliber games like Radiant Historia, but these games did nothing but reinforce the trope that the JRPG was a relic of the past. The “best” console JRPG of the generation, Mistwalker’s Lost Odyssey, felt like a good title lost at sea trying to find relevance in a market that didn’t desire it. By ...]]>

A scant two days before its European release, us Western RPG players got the best news we could hope for: The Last Story is getting an American release. The forces of good have prevailed.

We’ve now gone full circle on the saga of Xenoblade and The Last Story, having moved from full on depression at the idea that Nintendo of America would throw away the most critically acclaimed JRPGs of this generation to cautious, restrained optimism at the idea that Xenoblade would release as a Gamestop exclusive to now, finally, acceptance thanks to Nintendo and XSeed coming together to bring The Last Story to America.

It doesn’t take a genius to see that the JRPG has been at best mediocre across the board, at worst utterly decrepit on modern consoles. Sure, it’s experienced a renaissance on handhelds, with brilliant, top five JRPG of all time caliber games like Radiant Historia, but these games did nothing but reinforce the trope that the JRPG was a relic of the past. The “best” console JRPG of the generation, Mistwalker’s Lost Odyssey, felt like a good title lost at sea trying to find relevance in a market that didn’t desire it. By way of comparison, it felt like Jade Empire or Knights of the Old Republic stripped of its Star Wars trappings: Lost Odyssey was a good game that wasn’t quite sure how to conquer the realities of the modern HD generation.

By this metaphor, Xenoblade and The Last Story appear to be JRPG’s Mass Effect and Dragon Age, where the genre finally figured out how to take bold new steps into the future. They take classic JRPG ideas and meld them with novel strategies, something which has to be exciting for any fan of the genre except the most hardened traditionalist. Because here’s the thing: while the last two generations were defined by JRPGs (the Playstation by Final Fantasy VII, the Playstation 2 by Final Fantasy X and, in the minds of its rabid fans, Persona), in this one they’ve barely been a footnote.

Which is what made it so strange that Nintendo would reject these two titles. Sure, lots of gamers express scorn at JRPGs, but it’s a pretty beloved genre for a large portion of the internet. And here were two games that, apparently, do everything right: they hit all the high notes of the JRPG and enough new ones to be revolutionary experiences. On a console as dead as the Wii is right now, I’m still amazed these games were plotted for quicker releases.

Then again, now they’ll come out in the relatively dead summer months (JRPG fans are laughing knowingly, because the summer has always been Atlus time, when Atlus releases their new games to avoid the holiday rush), where they might make some more mainstream noise. JRPG fans are no doubt even more thrilled, especially with titles like Gungnir and Growlanser: Wayfarers of Time holding down the traditional JRPG fort on the PSP. And as a fan of the genre, it’s hard not to go through today and think that we won. Operation Rainfall did it.

The JRPG isn’t dead; long live the JRPG.

At 11:00 AM PST, the timer on the Mechwarrior: Tactics Teaser Site hit zero, revealing a press release detailing exactly what the mysterious title would be all about.

“MechWarrior Tactics is a brand-new MechWarrior game set in the BattleTech® universe and includes everything you love about MechWarrior,” the announcement began. “MechWarrior Tactics is the latest evolution of turn-based strategy and blends tactical gameplay, deep collectability, and unique online features, and is set against visually stunning environments for the supreme MechWarrior battle experience. Players earn, collect, and purchase combat and aesthetic resources to outfit each Mech and prepare for the next online battle.”

A short features list confirmed that each player would have access to a full “‘Mech bay” of customizable BattleMechs, and that the game would feature a leveling progression system that allows the player to unlock more ‘mechs, parts, and (unconfirmed) hats. The game will be Free to Play, meaning that players will presumably be able to buy enhancements rather than earning them through gameplay. No word yet on how developers Roadhouse Interactive and A.C.R.O.N.Y.M. Games plan on addressing the usual “play to win” concerns.

This marks the fourth upcoming free-to-play ‘Mech title, joining co-licensee Mechwarrior Online along with spiritual ...]]>

At 11:00 AM PST, the timer on the Mechwarrior: Tactics Teaser Site hit zero, revealing a press release detailing exactly what the mysterious title would be all about.

“MechWarrior Tactics is a brand-new MechWarrior game set in the BattleTech® universe and includes everything you love about MechWarrior,” the announcement began. “MechWarrior Tactics is the latest evolution of turn-based strategy and blends tactical gameplay, deep collectability, and unique online features, and is set against visually stunning environments for the supreme MechWarrior battle experience. Players earn, collect, and purchase combat and aesthetic resources to outfit each Mech and prepare for the next online battle.”

A short features list confirmed that each player would have access to a full “‘Mech bay” of customizable BattleMechs, and that the game would feature a leveling progression system that allows the player to unlock more ‘mechs, parts, and (unconfirmed) hats. The game will be Free to Play, meaning that players will presumably be able to buy enhancements rather than earning them through gameplay. No word yet on how developers Roadhouse Interactive and A.C.R.O.N.Y.M. Games plan on addressing the usual “play to win” concerns.

This marks the fourth upcoming free-to-play ‘Mech title, joining co-licensee Mechwarrior Online along with spiritual MechAssault sequel Reign of Thunder and the MechWarrior-inspired Hawken. Hawken and Mechwarrior Online seem to be competing for the Mechwarrior successor title, as they’re both aiming to really “simulate” the experience of piloting a 100-ton war machine in a way not seen since 2002′s Mechwarrior 4: Mercenaries. Reign of Thunder is inspired by the newer, more arcadey MechAssault series, but is still competing in similar action territory.

So while it may seem like a certain form of madness to enter such a crowded market, Mechwarrior Tactics seems to at least be offering a distinct experience. After all, “MechWarrior” was originally just a pen-and-paper adaptation of the BattleTech miniatures game, before becoming the video game series that arguably overshadowed its source material. By re-entering the strategy arena, Tactics seems to be trying to capture not only the old BattleTech fans (as well as its successor, the Mechwarrior: Dark Age “Clix” miniatures game), but those who wondered why Microsoft never followed up on their charming MechCommander titles. And, of course, they need a whole new generation of players. Whether Mechwarrior: Tactics can please all these disparate audiences remains to be seen; but at least us ‘Mech fans can’t complain about a lack of titles.

I hate multiplayer. Unreal Tournament 2004 with my college buddies was the most recently I’ve enjoyed playing with other people. I tried games like Team Fortress 2 and Left 4 Dead and didn’t particularly enjoy them. Borderlands was fun, but I preferred playing by myself—it was sad and depressing, but I hated having to deal with other people.

Mass Effect 3′s multiplayer, though, is different. To use a sad, tired cliché, I had to force myself to stop playing it to write this up.

I complained quite a bit about the demo’s single player portion. And sure, the plot felt old and tired, but what surprised me was how differently the game played. It felt more like a corridor shooter than one of Mass Effect 2′s firefights, where you had a number of options at how to take out the opponent. I was worried that Bioware had forgotten that because we had all these exciting powers we didn’t want the game to become a run and shoot. Rather than guns and conversation, we should call it “Hit target with 1200 newtons of force and send him scuttling off a balcony” and conversation. That’s where the game is fun: when we’re pulling absolutely ...]]>

I hate multiplayer. Unreal Tournament 2004 with my college buddies was the most recently I’ve enjoyed playing with other people. I tried games like Team Fortress 2 and Left 4 Dead and didn’t particularly enjoy them. Borderlands was fun, but I preferred playing by myself—it was sad and depressing, but I hated having to deal with other people.

Mass Effect 3′s multiplayer, though, is different. To use a sad, tired cliché, I had to force myself to stop playing it to write this up.

I complained quite a bit about the demo’s single player portion. And sure, the plot felt old and tired, but what surprised me was how differently the game played. It felt more like a corridor shooter than one of Mass Effect 2′s firefights, where you had a number of options at how to take out the opponent. I was worried that Bioware had forgotten that because we had all these exciting powers we didn’t want the game to become a run and shoot. Rather than guns and conversation, we should call it “Hit target with 1200 newtons of force and send him scuttling off a balcony” and conversation. That’s where the game is fun: when we’re pulling absolutely ludicrous strategies, using the powers we’ve been given to defeat a much superior opponent.

This experience is distilled into the Mass Effect 3 multiplayer. It reminds me of my favorite moments of playing Battlefield 1942 with friends, not against each other but instead four of us against the most superintelligent computer characters we could muster. It became a game of doing things against impossible odds, of throwing yourself into the fray and surviving only because of your own superiority.

Mass Effect 3′s multiplayer captures this concept. There’s four player characters armed to the teeth with customizable arrays of weapons and obligatory Mass Effect powers facing down waves of hundreds of relentless enemy soldiers over large, twisty maps. It creates a brilliant sense of desperation by throwing increasingly difficult waves at you, leaving you to wonder how you’re going to topple the next one when you barely beat the last. And when you feel you’re at your wits end, it makes you run across the map to disable terminals, or capture a point.

Most important is the map’s structure. They encourage the kind of logical thinking and tactics that make Mass Effect more fun than just a straight corridor shooter. Playing as a slightly different kind of space wizard (a sentinel with biotic and technological powers), I’m startled by just how much freedom is given to the player. Each map is pretty massive, with twists, turns, obvious choke points, and well thought out location; enemies then proceed to come from all sides. You’re able to rely on the things Mass Effect does best: rather than place you into corridors with obvious solutions, the multiplayer tells you, “There are five enemies down the way behind cover putting down a lot of suppressive fire. What do you do?”

In my case, the answer usually involved flanking and a punch to the face thanks to the Throw power. But it highlights the changes to the combat system. Grenades make more sense when you have other places you can go to shoot at the enemies, and the melee upgrades are highlighted. In the single player the grenades were speed bumps that kept you from killing quickly; in the multiplayer it forces you to consider other tactical decisions. With relatively limited ammo, sometimes it’s smart to run in and melee with the stragglers rather than shoot them, and the big melee attacks feel pretty good to use.

The sheer amount of character builds, however, are what really makes it fun. Even with the demo’s limited functionality in this regard (each class only has one build unlocked), the variety of characters was fascinating. Every class can equip two different weapons (from the standard Mass Effect arsenal) and can level up their powers. Human sentinels, for instance, got access to Tech Armor, which makes them tougher to kill; warp, which kills enemies with special types of shielding particularly well; and throw, which does a little bit of damage and tosses enemies away from you. You also have statistic-upgrading skills: one to boost your damage, one to boost your health. Then there’s the title’s weapon modifications, as well as a collection of one use only equips that can make you significantly more powerful. All told, it lets you build a unique character that deals with situations in your own way.

The multiplayer isn’t without its niggles, however. Without a microphone (and yes, I am from the past) you have no way of communicating with your squadmates, which means that oftentimes you’ll find them running off to perform the least intelligent actions possible. The game also doesn’t seem to scale particularly well: with three players it plays frantic and fun, but with two it’s a slog through too many enemies and the one time I got in with four relatively competent players we cut through the enemies too quickly. It’s a hard balance, though: the most difficult moments of the game are when it makes you disable devices scattered around the arena, and with one player out of action disabling it’ll always be easier with four players than two.

There’s also a rudimentary feel to a lot of the presentation. It shows why games like Call of Duty have entire extremely competent teams of people dedicated to designing just the interface. It feels like it was tacked on to make it possible to find games, and therefore it feels clunky. Just little things, like how the weapon select menu doesn’t let you cancel out of choosing a new weapon and instead makes you deselect it, or how you can look at your squadmates collection of powers but not what they have leveled up. Or how it’s not immediately plain that your supply of heavy weapons ammo and medigel carries over between sessions, so that you shouldn’t waste it all on a lost cause.

Overall, the Mass Effect 3 multiplayer did the impossible: it made me excited for the game again. It showed how much potential for excellence the game’s revised combat system has, and it made me care about how much fun it’s going to be to shoot people in the full version to be released a scant two weeks from now. At the very least, we now know that the multiplayer, despite initial backlash, will be a welcome addition to the Mass Effect lineup.

Sometimes it takes a parody to understand convention, laying out the quirks and foibles where the most strident of fans would find the most humor. In short, the recently translated Hatoful Boyfriend reveals the inner workings of otome games better than the typical example could. The English audience has few to choose from, but the appearance of Hatoful Boyfriend notes that otome games have their place in gaming culture. You’re a high school student that goes to a well-off private school… of pigeons. Yes, all of your romance options are pigeons, and the main character is still human. She doesn’t feel out of place, however, and actually can end up romancing most of the pigeons she meets. One is the debonair Sakazaki Yuuya, the popular boy at school with mysterious interests. His playthrough blurs the line between parody and a serious dating sim; you may not be attracted to pigeons, but why do you care enough to learn about him and plan your game ...]]> Mattie Brice picks a date from a visual novel and breaks down how they represent culture’s expression of sexuality. Today she talks about her time with Sakazaki Yuuya from MIST[PSI]PRESS’s Hatoful Boyfriend. Spoilers ahoy!

Sometimes it takes a parody to understand convention, laying out the quirks and foibles where the most strident of fans would find the most humor. In short, the recently translated Hatoful Boyfriend reveals the inner workings of otome games better than the typical example could. The English audience has few to choose from, but the appearance of Hatoful Boyfriend notes that otome games have their place in gaming culture. You’re a high school student that goes to a well-off private school… of pigeons. Yes, all of your romance options are pigeons, and the main character is still human. She doesn’t feel out of place, however, and actually can end up romancing most of the pigeons she meets. One is the debonair Sakazaki Yuuya, the popular boy at school with mysterious interests. His playthrough blurs the line between parody and a serious dating sim; you may not be attracted to pigeons, but why do you care enough to learn about him and plan your game to romance him?

Having pigeons as the dating options isn’t serving an obscure niche but playing up the contrast between otome games and dating sims for men. Yuuya is suave and overly flirtatious, but we’re not exactly repulsed because we’re responding to the personality archetype, not the physicality. As they are often known for, men’s dating sims revolve around attaining a sex scene, which often has the player assessing their romance options by physical/sexual archetype. This is a convention of limited sexuality the genre perpetuates, assuming women are going to games to be romanced and not pursue their sexual interests. The reason Yuuya is so confident in his charm is because he knew I’d eventually forget that he’s a pigeon and start to care about his situation. That’s not because I, or any woman, don’t have a sex drive or ignore looks, but because I’m trained by the genre of what I find attractive in games. When Yuuya makes a veiled come-on, I went “Oh stop, you” not “Um, you’re a pigeon.” He actually reminded me of my inaugural date on Love Interest, Derek, the somewhat-damaged playboy with a heart of gold. Hatoful Boyfriend uses this against its audience, giving us pigeons because any graphic would do as long as they performed the correct role. The high school of pigeons lets the player see exactly what’s going on in dating sims, speaking to how we emotionally invest and manage our time in these games.

Yuuya’s path also dramatically changes the main character’s life, rather than the other way around as we usually find in men’s dating sims. This is most likely dating sims attempting to simulate the conventional dynamic of the chase, or being chased, however it becomes ironic in otome games. How are you chased while ludically chasing your love interest? This paradox defines the main character’s relationship with Yuuya, who will hit on her every time they meet, but hastily run off to some urgent matter. Going through his story, you find yourself stalked by gunmen and calling Yuuya out of hiding until he reveals his identity as a secret agent spying on unethical experiments going on at the school. Though this is the first scene he actually talks about himself and shows any other emotion besides flirty, the main character decides to give up her entire life and run away with him forever. There’s no reversal scene typical for this kind of character, which shows vulnerability and a need for the heroine to “fix” him. Instead of leaving room for the player to fantasize in, it’s all about Yuuya. It might seem less absurd inside a game of romancing pigeons, but shows otome games might not know what they are doing while inside a genre made for men.

Hatoful Boyfriend also questions whether this sort of parody could succeed in men’s dating sims, because the convention demands that they bring their sexual interests into the game. Whereas reactions to this game is more along the WTF line, I suspect if there was a Hatoful Girlfriend instead, there would be an element of disgust in this reception. As well, this parody shows how it’s possible to have an idea of romance largely informed by video games, similar to how deeply pornography influences our ideas of sexuality. Why exactly is there such a separation of dating sims for men and women, and does this imply another section for queer players? Need to spend more time at St. PigeoNation’s Institute to find out!

Know a visual novel with awesome love interests? Does your visual novel have awesome love interests? Leave a comment or contact me to suggest one! In the mean time, go date Yuuya at Hatoful Boyfriend.

I have no doubts that the game will be good. It’ll be better than that, probably, and then some. Like clockwork it’ll happen: top scores piling up, whitewashing the floor of every game-related site for a few hours. The praise will be a full-up foamy pit with good things and great things about Dear Esther and the criticisms will be a pathetic snake ditch, sandy, and boon to plague. There’s got to be something to say – something big – that slanders, slurs, smears.

*****

There’s no shame in admitting defeat. What I wrote before was ill-informed debauchery and I should be riled up with incontinence from all the stupid in my diet. It was silly. Somewhere between the asterisks above, I ...]]> The syndicated remake of 2008’s Dear Esther is out in a day and there’s hubbub. People seem to think that something wonderful is just breaching the horizon. And they’ve been talking – everyone has – about the life-changing power they’ll be imbued with. By the time this is published, thousands of people will have already drunk themselves into a Dear Esther paralysis. Just a taste and they’ll have grown feeble from the knees down, just like that.

I have no doubts that the game will be good. It’ll be better than that, probably, and then some. Like clockwork it’ll happen: top scores piling up, whitewashing the floor of every game-related site for a few hours. The praise will be a full-up foamy pit with good things and great things about Dear Esther and the criticisms will be a pathetic snake ditch, sandy, and boon to plague. There’s got to be something to say – something big – that slanders, slurs, smears.

*****

There’s no shame in admitting defeat. What I wrote before was ill-informed debauchery and I should be riled up with incontinence from all the stupid in my diet. It was silly. Somewhere between the asterisks above, I played the new Dear Esther and I loved it. Of course I loved it. It’s a brilliant remake of a brilliant game. Numbers don’t mean anything here, but it’s up there, way up.

When Dan Pinchbeck, developer of Dear Esther, said that he’d finally be able to bring his artistic vision to fruition with level designer Robert Briscoe (of Mirror’s Edge fame) and Jessica Curry (music, sound effects), I was confused. The game was already perfect in my eyes. It needed nothing and should be left alone, high and sacred in its own league.

A few days ago, I was desperate for alleviation. I needed to understand why Dear Esther could be considered a subject for sprucing up.

*****

I’ve got this aching in my heels, begging me to run away with an old copy of Dear Esther and an older laptop, begging me to live and play in a straw-topped cabin fitted with a shitty generator and a putty scale model of Dear Esther’s bleak world. I’m scared of change! It’s a conservative ache! It means I’m supposed to hold the old relics of the past as immutable forever and hope that they’ll remain relevant until I’m gone.

The same struggle for relevance is at heart in all the tampering we see in film (Star Wars, Titanic, Spiderman) and in videogames (Halo, Team Ico). It’s fashionable now to double-back and pick away at the things that no longer fit right in this time and with these modern feelings. The context is no longer “back when it was made,” but “now.”

Someone’s struggling to keep their darling things relevant. I wonder if Pinchbeck is doing the same.

*****

Those few days ago, I was confused. I lost my head, blew the lid, and generalized too much. Remaking Dear Esther was never about ripping people off or confusing them into thinking that things of the past ineluctably fade away. We all know that’s not true when we go to the library or pull up some black and white film or find inspiration in retro art. Why should it be true for videogames?

Dear Esther is not mine to care so much about. It’s Pinchbeck’s and Curry’s and now Briscoe’s precious, darling little thing, not mine, not ours. To me – rationally now – the old Dear Esther is just a game that I invested a fraction of my time into playing and a fraction more into thinking that it was all for me. Clearly, that’s not true. I just had the eyes and ears and fingers to find it worthwhile. Dear Esther was always an experiment riddled with flaws that never bothered me much.

*****

It doesn’t matter that the grass isn’t on the ground all the time, or that the beach has unjust triangles leaping forward into the black, black sea. I can fill all that in, all those gaps, just fine however I want to. I’ve got imagination. A British man tells me a great story with cathartic appeal and my heels comply with forward motion. Because why not? Dear Esther is an adventure, a true pouring of the soul into a medium most people shit on constantly.

I use Dear Esther to affirm, in others, the greatness of this medium; I say that graphics don’t matter and that mechanics could be tossed aside and something beautiful could still emerge with hard work and dedication. I say that it doesn’t matter how far below the bar anything is so long as it tries something new, so long as it isn’t some run of the mill millet. Now, I can’t keep Dear Esther in my arsenal. It’s inching ever forward, clammy hands in pace with broad shoulders, to the larger realm of videogames boxed up at Gamestop. Meanwhile, I’m staying behind, reliving the moment when they decided the grass in my head wasn’t pretty enough.

*****

I played Dear Esther – the new one – and during all the narrative and exploring and listening, I tried my best to hold onto my memory of the one that came before. It wasn’t easy. I went in afraid that there wouldn’t be room for both – one, so critical to my taste in videogames and the other, attempting to revamp the first. I figured that I would miss a few things along the way, backtrack, and realize that “this thing” fell short and “that thing” was overdone. I was over my own head and wrong.

Well, I think I understand the relationship between the two versions now. The logical beginning was never the 2008 mod with the scrappy, yet endearing mock island. That seems like a preview for something greater now and I finally get the itch Pinchbeck felt; it was one of incompleteness, not money-grubbing.

The logical beginning was always the part after the somber, pleading “Dear Esther…” and before the first few steps on dry land. The only difference is that, now, the ground’s got real grass and not that Astroturf from before.

It’s finally finished.

Adulthood is difficult to define – sure, there’s the legal definition, which relies on an arbitrary number of years to designate being ‘of age’, but everything is a little hazy beyond that number. With good reason: what it means to be an ‘adult’ is an ongoing consideration; you’re likely to maybe never ‘feel’ like an adult. Maybe one day you wake up and ‘decide’ that it’s about time you called yourself that: an adult. For whatever reason, that’s what you are that day, an adult. Less amorphous, however, is the path toward adulthood, the framework involved in ‘coming of age’. We have a clear understanding of what ‘childhood’ means, and there are markers of ‘adolescence,’ too. In particular, I think that games’ penchant for delving into morality is characteristic of what it cognitively means to be a teenager, and that recent attempts of tapping into adulthood, or perhaps the slightly less esoteric idea of maturity, result in blunder.

Consider, for instance, the difference between Uncharted 2 and Uncharted 3. Uncharted 2 starts out with Nathan Drake scrounging his way out of a train wreckage in the middle of an icy wasteland. The impact of the scene cannot be understated: ...]]>

Adulthood is difficult to define – sure, there’s the legal definition, which relies on an arbitrary number of years to designate being ‘of age’, but everything is a little hazy beyond that number. With good reason: what it means to be an ‘adult’ is an ongoing consideration; you’re likely to maybe never ‘feel’ like an adult. Maybe one day you wake up and ‘decide’ that it’s about time you called yourself that: an adult. For whatever reason, that’s what you are that day, an adult. Less amorphous, however, is the path toward adulthood, the framework involved in ‘coming of age’. We have a clear understanding of what ‘childhood’ means, and there are markers of ‘adolescence,’ too. In particular, I think that games’ penchant for delving into morality is characteristic of what it cognitively means to be a teenager, and that recent attempts of tapping into adulthood, or perhaps the slightly less esoteric idea of maturity, result in blunder.

Consider, for instance, the difference between Uncharted 2 and Uncharted 3. Uncharted 2 starts out with Nathan Drake scrounging his way out of a train wreckage in the middle of an icy wasteland. The impact of the scene cannot be understated: we arrive en media res, which establishes confusion and later, once we grasp the scope of the danger Drake finds himself in–we’re hanging off a cliff!– exasperation. The reason is simple, but effective: we see Drake at his most vulnerable, and this situation challenges our preconceived notion of an invincible hero. Drake is hurt, seriously hurt. He could die.

What is striking about this scene is the circumstances that got Drake there–Honor Amongst Thieves. The premise, carried by down-to-earth, likable characters is remarkably nuanced for the minimal spurts of narrative stringing together what would otherwise be a series of set pieces. Here, Drake explores relativism: put in simplistic terms, the idea that there are no black and whites in life, but rather shades of gray. This is a concept that surfaces most prominently during our teenage years, when we start forming conceptions of what sort of morals and ethics we hold, and how to judge the world around us. Here, Drake has to evaluate whether or not there can be such a thing as “honor amongst thieves.” The premise is this: Drake is after treasure once more, but in his pursuit, complication arises as he’s betrayed by his informant, Flynn as well as by Chloe, an old flame. Though arguably all scoundrels alike, this betrayal floors Drake.  Drake possesses a moral imperative to protect his own–even if they’re all thieves–and it’s shocking to him that others would break that trust.

Admittedly, Drake’s predilection for “do the right thing” is naivety at it’s best, but nonetheless the betrayal and the complexities surrounding that situation ask us to think upon some of the nuances involved with morals. The central question could be said to be ‘who do we do right by, and why?”, and it’s during our teenage years where we begin to actively consider questions like these. The ‘newness’ of it all–given that we’ve never seen Drake in a situation that is this complex–makes it feel as if we’re helping Drake come to terms with nuanced world view for the first time, as if he was a teenager. Later, when we meet Chloe once more and Drake ends up forgiving her, we end up revisiting her motivations: could it be that she’s worth forgiving? At this point we may realize that Chloe’s imperative is survival, not selflessness, and when Drake refuses to only look out for himself by keeping Elena and Jeff safe- reporters who get involved, mid-heist – she finds this moral tenet threatened. Protecting Elena and Jeff means Chloe’s chances of survival are diminished; Chloe tries to reinforce this reality on Drake, but he won’t have it. He wants protect everyone.

The character’s nuanced exploration of ‘honor amongst thieves’ and the relativism it elucidates becomes a narrative device that gives reason for us to wade through an otherwise mechanically mediocre game. Nobody plays the single player of Uncharted for the manshoot, after all.

Uncharted 3 attempts to take Drake’s personal growth to a level that I readily attribute to ‘adulthood.’  Before I delve into that, let’s get into definitions. As I stated earlier, it’s difficult to pinpoint what exactly adulthood means, but for the sake of this article, I am defining adulthood through the idea of ownership of responsibility. The New York Times stipulates that there are five major milestones that cement the transition into adulthood: “completing school, leaving home, becoming financially independent, marrying, and having a child.” These milestones have the same overarching axiom: responsibility. You become responsible, after all, through self-sufficiency and the appropriate consideration of others. The premise of Uncharted 3 may be exactly like the previous games–Drake is after treasure once more–but this time, the incentives driving Drake are called into question. How responsible Drake is, especially in relation to his significant other, Elena, and his ‘family’, Sully, is called into question.

Treasure hunting, you see, has become all-consuming to Drake. He puts those closest to him–Elena, Chloe and Sully–in danger for the sake of the chase, without much concern for their well-being. The reason why he’s risking it all is never justified. At best, we can attribute Drake’s obsession with treasure to having his dreams stolen from him when he was a child. One of the earlier scenes in the game shows Drake as a teenager in a third world country, and after he finally tracks down the key to an ancient treasure pursued his alleged ancestor Sir Francis Drake, the treasure is snatched away from Nate. This is a loss that sticks with Drake for decades, and works toward a larger narrative of loss – Drake grew up an orphan, without a family, without a past to cling to. So he makes a new one: he’s the descendant of the awe-inspiring Sir Francis Drake. The fantasy Drake concocts gives his otherwise empty life meaning. In this sense treasure hunting becomes Drake’s way of weaving himself a worthwhile legacy; to etch his name alongside the likes of Sir Walter Raleigh, Marco Polo, Lawrence of Arabia. It’s an act of escapism that we as gamers know all too well.

That insatiable pursuit is no longer acceptable for Drake, the ostensible adult with impending responsibilities and people to look out for. The central theme of the third game–responsibility, justification of the life we pursue as adults–is mishandled, though. We never see the consequence of Drake’s actions. We are continually told that Drake’s pursuits might get someone hurt, might result in something unpleasant, but that moment never actually comes. The moment when Drake is forced to suffer the consequences of his actions by losing a loved one, it turns out that oh, that person didn’t actually die and it was all in Drake’s head. This could have been an effective scene anyway, but it’s not. That the drama is staged by magical drugged water that Drake casually ingests, in an lost city we don’t learn about until the very end, where everyone was driven crazy by this water. This all happens in the middle of  having to fight a new enemy type: ancient boogeymen. To me, this fantastical framework lessens the seriousness of the moment. Drake might have learned his lesson (for all we know he’s simply been scared!) because suddenly, ancient drugs in a level that almost felt rushed, abrupt, a repeat of the “lost city” final level of Uncharted 2?

Nonetheless asking us to consider why Drake pursues his adventures and how long he can keep doing it is a particularly ‘mature’ question. The problem is, the extent to which we can mediate upon that question is limited when we are asked to indulge in a never ending stream of action and violence. There’s barely any room to breathe, save for a short ‘ lost in the desert ‘segment that ends before we can really start chewing on the circumstances that led us there. Contrast this with Uncharted 2, which had a premise and characterization were strong and nuanced enough to string together the gameplay elements. This is true in spite of the disconnect between “Drake the good guy we know and love” and “Drake the senseless killer who mows down armies for the sake of frivolous treasure.” I’m not saying we didn’t notice the ludonarrative dissonance, just that we were able to enjoy the game in spite of it. Uncharted 3 doesn’t allow us to overlook that disconnect when the game asks us consider why we’re chasing a child’s fantasy in the first place.

As I mused on Drake’s motivations, I noticed that the more you mow enemies down, the more exasperated you become as you realize that no, there really isn’t a good reason for why you’re doing all this. I don’t think this is an intentional result. It would cement Drake as an unlikable, vapid character and I doubt that’s what Naughty Dog intended. Moreover, there’s technically there is little difference in the gameplay between Uncharted 2 and Uncharted 3. Uncharted 3 feels as if it was built to glorify and privilege that very gameplay, but I say this relative to how much care and attention was put in the other elements of the game: there are a myriad blunders with plot and the pulled punches with the narrative. This is unfortunate, given that the shooting elements are the least memorable thing to me about the Uncharted franchise. It’s difficult to shake off the feeling that they focused the most on the gunplay and setpieces when you consider that Naughty Dog says the game came from “conceiving and building out gameplay scenarios within a desert locale.”

The conclusion of the game implies that Drake now knows what things are the ‘real’ treasure–Elena, his love interest, and Sully, his father figure–but (and pardon my assumption) when you know there’s future Uncharted games down the pipeline, the gravity is lost. Are we really going to believe that Drake has grown past his frivolous treasure hunting pursuits when that realization would put an end to the franchise? In my mind, that’s the only conclusion that would validate the journey and reinforce Drake’s growth: him giving up treasure hunting. Sully is getting old. Elena wants to settle down. Drake can’t keep doing this forever, right?

Ultimately, the third title in the franchise turns out to embody the idea of “deception” in the most tragic of ways. Uncharted 3 is a game with the artifice of heart, whose pulse only quickens to vapidity of adrenaline, of action. You’re tricked into believing the game will meaningfully explore mature themes, but Naughty Dog doesn’t go all the way. As a result, my disappointment feels more pronounced: they were so close to nailing it! Instead, they give us just another shooter. Perhaps this was unavoidable, given that the reality is that games have been stuck in an arrested development for a long while. Only recently have we started to explore ‘adulthood’ through games like Catherine and Heavy Rain, and it’ll take some time to develop sophistication in that department.

The Dunbar number is about 150. That’s the number of people we can maintain social relationships with. It’s the size of the average hunter-gather tribe. It’s the number of modern army companies.  It’s the average number of people who will see your Christmas cards (In the UK).

The advent of social networking and online gaming have pushed the limits of this number. According to the Pew Research Center, the average user on Facebook has 229 friends. That number of people pushes the upper bounds of what Dr. Robin Dunbar considered the limits of our neocortex. Well, maybe it isn’t. I mean, how many of your online friends do you interact with regularly? As more aspects of our lives become about networking, we will have more online connections. I think Google Plus tried to capitalize on that. Google Plus created different circles to organize our ever expanding list of acquaintances. This could be a good or bad thing. On the one hand, the law of averages would claim that the more online friends we have, the more likely it is that we find who we are looking for. That could mean anything from spouses to business partners, ...]]>

Friends, Romans, Online Gamers

The Dunbar number is about 150. That’s the number of people we can maintain social relationships with. It’s the size of the average hunter-gather tribe. It’s the number of modern army companies.  It’s the average number of people who will see your Christmas cards (In the UK).

The advent of social networking and online gaming have pushed the limits of this number. According to the Pew Research Center, the average user on Facebook has 229 friends. That number of people pushes the upper bounds of what Dr. Robin Dunbar considered the limits of our neocortex. Well, maybe it isn’t. I mean, how many of your online friends do you interact with regularly? As more aspects of our lives become about networking, we will have more online connections. I think Google Plus tried to capitalize on that. Google Plus created different circles to organize our ever expanding list of acquaintances. This could be a good or bad thing. On the one hand, the law of averages would claim that the more online friends we have, the more likely it is that we find who we are looking for. That could mean anything from spouses to business partners, or even combining the two for an adult webcam service. On the other hand, the law of diminishing returns would state that the more of something we have, the more worthless it becomes. You have limited time to invest in maintaining your relationships, so if you have a lot of them the quality will diminish which creates a positive feed back loop. This dichotomy is very evident in the online gaming world. It may be a cross section of things to come as the virtual world continues to expand.

More is better

The NPD Group estimates that 63 percent of Americans play video games. Even if you don’t consider the rest of the world (being American, I wouldn’t) that’s still large pool of potential people to interact with. Of course, that interaction happens through various mediums from in-game to water cooler conversations. Some games are built around the idea of interacting with other people. A great example is Second Life. I wouldn’t categorize Second Life as a game per se, but it is a virtual interactive medium.  It allows us to take off the masks that we wear most of the day that we wear for the sake of social cohesion.  In the gaming world, we can pour ourselves into an avatar, the actions of which have few consequences.  Playing such  games can be very liberating.  This is especially true for introverts. In her book The Introvert Advantage, Dr.Marti Olsen Laney describes how introverted people are better at written communication which dominates how players talk to each other in online gaming. Introverts are also often drowned out by large groups of people. A videogame interface creates a buffer for introverts. Whether it be an online game of scrabble, or a full fledged MMORPG, introverts can get a chance to show off their skills as well as their thoughts in the gaming world. While online, these introverted gamers can open up to an array of people. A double plus is that the gaming world is filled with choice that caters to tastes of all kind. Thus, when you’re playing with someone you’ve already found common ground and can be yourself or not.

Identity is fluid within the gaming world. Not only can one meet a multitude of people but we can be a multitude of people. For myself, depending on the type of game I’m playing, I adopt a different attitude. I’m more aggressive when I’m playing Call of Duty and often shout at the screen when I’m killed by some camping bastard who skulks in the shadows like a lizard. When I’m on multiplayer flash sites like OMGPOP (Don’t judge me. Don’t you dare judge me.) my demeanor is more subdued, usually because of some substance I’ve just inhaled or ingested. This may seem like adjusting your personality to fit the venue, but I see it as revealing a different side of yourself. It is no different than acting differently with your parents than your peers. Just like those people, some of them will always draw a cock and ball where ever they are.

All this openness can lead to more civility. One can out pour all their negative feelings in one game, shotgunning dudes in the face and then settle down to a nice round of online trivia. They can help lift our inhibitions without destroying our livers. Online gaming has opened new doors in helping people socialize. Not only do they bring us together with common interests but also under common causes. For example, Extra Life is a charity in which gamers play non-stop for 24 hours to help raise over a million dollars for Children’s Miracle Network Hospitals.

Less is More

It’s not all shits and giggles. A study published by Public Agenda, a non-partisan group, found of seven focus groups that 73 percent of Americans believe that our society is getting ruder. Nowhere is that more evident than in online gaming. It’s more pandemic in games that are rated mature. From experience I know that anything that claims that it’s mature is really going to attract the attention of young teenagers. Whenever I play Left 4 Dead all I ever hear on team chat are thirteen year old boys spouting homophobic slurs. Perhaps they are like that all time, but I doubt it. I doubt they’d say all those rude things to my face. It’s the flip side consequence of the introvert’s buffer.

Anonymity gives us sense of safeness from retaliation. It reminds me of the ring of invisibility from Plato’s Republic. People free from constraints will be mischievous but not outright evil. However, as the virtual world expands and more and more time is spent behind a veil of anonymity it will effect our behavior. I think it comes down to shame and guilt. Both very powerful tools for social constructions. In India, business owners who don’t pay their taxes will get a drum circle outside their door.  This circle beats their drums, announcing to the community that the owner is a tax dodger, shamming him into paying.  In the online gaming community, I feel that there is a shortage of shame. This touches on the same subject as cyber bullying, but it’s a little different because gaming lobbies are filled with people you don’t know and with whom you have no connection. In mainstream games, there is a constant shuffle. So instead of making nice, we can just leave and assume a new face. There is no repercussion for rudeness and a lack of social graces. Sometimes they are even rewarded. It reminds me of the Congressman Jon Wilson who shouted “You Lie!” during an Obama speech. The day after, he received tens of thousands of dollars in donations.

Our society in general seems to be moving towards adoration of crass outbursts. Nowhere is this more evident than in the world of gaming. MMORPGs have become more shallow to attract a bigger market. At the same time, they are losing the immersion and tight knit nature that initially brought them success. Back in the day, Diablo II was about dungeon crawling with a small group of people, pooling your skills and communicating.  With these players you had to foster a sense of trust.  The online gaming community was smaller and these games were much harder.  If you didn’t pull your weight and be civil, your group would abandon or accost you.  After a while, the thought of being rude fades.  You’ve grown accustomed to your group’s sensibilities and you have faith in their abilities.  Now, World of Warcraft has a system were you shuffle through groups of strangers to assemble a 20 player raid. That sense of community has shrunk as the player population swelled. It almost reads like a contradiction, but that is the essence of the law of diminishing returns, the more of something you have, the less pleasure you will derive from it.  Players here often ninja things, steal from the group.  There is no mechanism for shaming these players because they can just move onto the next group.    

The Future of Man’s Kind

Since we know more about the moon then we do about ourselves, it’s unclear that what the future holds. Gaming could be used as a tool to bring people together onto common ground. Another possibility is that it will push us apart, isolating us into our own virtual cubicles. It may be like the taste of Soylent Green, varying from person to person. Whether online gaming brings out the best or worst in us is impossible to predict. I’ll put my money on both. I guess we’ll have to play to find out.