Preparing to Die
by Zen
Posted on Saturday, April 12, 2014
So I last wrote about the problems that go with using zombies as the object of violence in a video game. I was hyperbolic and self-righteous, but there's nothing in there I would want to take back, short of pointing you to some of the more recent research into the Kitty Genovese case that shows I maybe should not have used it as an example. All the same, I'd like to talk now about one of very few games that actually does something interesting with zombies and undeath: Dark Souls.
The undead of Dark Souls are essentially ordinary people, but afflicted with a curse that gradually eats away at their memories of home and self. The game is set in and around an asylum where the undead are sent in hopes of preventing the curse's spread. Their ultimate fate is a violent madness, such that other undead serve as the game's foes as well as merchants and allies. By far the most important thing about undeath in Dark Souls, however, is that it represents a real-world affliction that the game gives genuinely sweet and sincere perspective on: dementia.
There are two storylines in the first Dark Souls that I'd like to highlight. Anyone who plans on playing the game should probably stop reading, since I'm going to spoil the ways one's interactions with these characters unfold. While these aren't story spoilers in the usual sense, they're a part of why Dark Souls is a brilliant and challenging game and I recommend letting the game reveal itself to you naturally.
The first character on the list is Big Hat Logan, a ravenous scholar who has ditched his apprentice and keeps getting himself captured:
After this you find his clothes in a heap, and if you search carefully you'll find him in another area of the archives running around naked. He attacks you on sight, wild and paranoid. The player has witnessed Logan's decline from celebrated intellectual to babbling fool, and there is no "good path" to take with Logan to prevent this fate. It's a sad perspective on the fragility of intellect, where we witness perhaps the heaviest fall from greatness in the game.
But for me the most poignant story in Dark Souls will always be that of Siegmeyer of Catarina and his daughter, Sieglinde. It's always been a heartbreaker, but when I sat down to write about it I realized it was even sadder and far more real than I had thought. Siegmeyer is an undead adventurer. He's friendly and good-natured, but not really up to the task of scurrying around Lordran getting into scrapes. Time and again the player helps him out of a bind, and eventually comes across his daughter. She's not undead, but she's come to Lordran to track him down and make sure he spends his remaining time comfortably instead of being a burden on others and getting into trouble.
Sieglinde is just as sweet and kind-hearted as her father, but when the player eventually comes across their reunion it's the aftermath of his inevitable decline: he has gone hollow, and it was up to her to put him down:
Rather than leave him to his fate in the Undead Asylum, Sieglinde sought to look after her father herself. When the time came for him, it was left to her to pull the plug. This is the scene that rewards the player for helping Siegmeyer through all of his difficult troubles, and it's representative of the tone of Dark Souls in general.
Dark Souls 2 made a tiny change that drives these themes even further. Instead of being called "Humanity", the item that returns the player to full human status is called a "Human Effigy". Upon creating a new character, the player is not prompted to decide the character's appearance or background until Strowen the firekeeper bestows one of these, saying it is a doll made in the image of a famous adventurer. She then says it is the player's image, and this is when appearance and background are decided. The doll is in fact completely vague in appearance, but the act of trying to make it out as one's self allows one to recall one's own self by trying to project it on the effigy. Instead of a magic soul item, it's a definite focus for "getting it together" and recovering one's sense of self.
The undead of Dark Souls are essentially ordinary people, but afflicted with a curse that gradually eats away at their memories of home and self. The game is set in and around an asylum where the undead are sent in hopes of preventing the curse's spread. Their ultimate fate is a violent madness, such that other undead serve as the game's foes as well as merchants and allies. By far the most important thing about undeath in Dark Souls, however, is that it represents a real-world affliction that the game gives genuinely sweet and sincere perspective on: dementia.
There are two storylines in the first Dark Souls that I'd like to highlight. Anyone who plans on playing the game should probably stop reading, since I'm going to spoil the ways one's interactions with these characters unfold. While these aren't story spoilers in the usual sense, they're a part of why Dark Souls is a brilliant and challenging game and I recommend letting the game reveal itself to you naturally.The first character on the list is Big Hat Logan, a ravenous scholar who has ditched his apprentice and keeps getting himself captured:
Initial meeting:
Mm, you seem quite lucid! A rare thing in these times.
I am Logan. I'm a bit cooped up, as you can see.
I have a bright idea. Suppose you set me free?
I'm old and empty-handed, but i could repay you with my knowledge, and sorcery.
This place is melting my mind. The inactivity is repressive!
In the Duke's Archives, after rescuing him:
A great pool of knowledge, the fruits of superior wisdom and an unquenchable desire for truth.
Some would say Seath had an unsound fixation …But his work is a beautiful, invaluable resource.
All progress demands sacrifice.
And I certainly bear no antipathy for that wonderful scaleless beast.
After defeating the area boss in the Duke's Archives:
Oh, there you are, it has been a while.
Or were you just here?
This fascinating place defeats my sense of time…
Then later:
Mm…mm…
Later still:
…Who are you…
…Stay clear…stay clear of my work…
…Curses upon you!
…How dare you disturb me!
After this you find his clothes in a heap, and if you search carefully you'll find him in another area of the archives running around naked. He attacks you on sight, wild and paranoid. The player has witnessed Logan's decline from celebrated intellectual to babbling fool, and there is no "good path" to take with Logan to prevent this fate. It's a sad perspective on the fragility of intellect, where we witness perhaps the heaviest fall from greatness in the game.
But for me the most poignant story in Dark Souls will always be that of Siegmeyer of Catarina and his daughter, Sieglinde. It's always been a heartbreaker, but when I sat down to write about it I realized it was even sadder and far more real than I had thought. Siegmeyer is an undead adventurer. He's friendly and good-natured, but not really up to the task of scurrying around Lordran getting into scrapes. Time and again the player helps him out of a bind, and eventually comes across his daughter. She's not undead, but she's come to Lordran to track him down and make sure he spends his remaining time comfortably instead of being a burden on others and getting into trouble.Sieglinde is just as sweet and kind-hearted as her father, but when the player eventually comes across their reunion it's the aftermath of his inevitable decline: he has gone hollow, and it was up to her to put him down:
My father…all Hollow now…has been subdued. He will cause no more trouble.
It's finally over…I will return to Catarina.
You assisted us both greatly. I can hardly return the favour.
Oh, father…dear father…
Sob…
Rather than leave him to his fate in the Undead Asylum, Sieglinde sought to look after her father herself. When the time came for him, it was left to her to pull the plug. This is the scene that rewards the player for helping Siegmeyer through all of his difficult troubles, and it's representative of the tone of Dark Souls in general.
Dark Souls 2 made a tiny change that drives these themes even further. Instead of being called "Humanity", the item that returns the player to full human status is called a "Human Effigy". Upon creating a new character, the player is not prompted to decide the character's appearance or background until Strowen the firekeeper bestows one of these, saying it is a doll made in the image of a famous adventurer. She then says it is the player's image, and this is when appearance and background are decided. The doll is in fact completely vague in appearance, but the act of trying to make it out as one's self allows one to recall one's own self by trying to project it on the effigy. Instead of a magic soul item, it's a definite focus for "getting it together" and recovering one's sense of self.
A few years ago my father was diagnosed with vascular dementia. It's been a long and gradual decline, full of worry and crisis and hard decisions. The worst thing about it is that whatever hard decisions you make, and however correctly you make them, the result is the same. The best you can sometimes hope for is to make him comfortable for a very slightly slower decline. Most players won't even realize it, but Dark Souls forces these kinds of decisions. At the end of the game it's up to you whether to prolong a misguided and exploitative source of warmth and life for a little bit longer or plunge the world into an age of darkness. Fans still can't agree much on which is the "good ending", because there isn't one.
Ultimately, Dark Souls is far kinder to the player than it is to its characters and world. Advertisements for Dark Souls 2 proclaim that it's not about death, but life and learning. This is an optimistic spin, but not untrue. As with all stories that dwell on themes of the inevitability of death, Dark Souls teaches us to hold on to what we love and make the most of our time. It also brazenly confronts the fact that not all of us live out our days as ourselves, and sometimes we lose those things we cherish before our time really comes.
The undead aren't always cannon fodder, hellspawn, or an apocalyptic plague; sometimes they're our parents.
Article Permalink
Sins of Our Fathers
by Zen
Posted on Friday, October 9, 2009As an avid reader of German philosophy, I so often find myself at the mercy of translators to properly understand the material. Even if I, like Heidegger, refuse to concern myself with fidelity to the philosopher's intent, a poor translation can obfuscate or even completely cover over useful nuances and enlightening tricks of meaning. This problem is as much present for novels and music as it is for philosophical works, and I've found it applies to video games as well. Masterpieces like 7th Saga, Final Fantasy V, Secret of Mana (Seiken Densetsu II), Chrono Trigger, and even parts of Final Fantasy VII suffered from having poor to nonexistent translations that hid their greatness from view.
Fortunately, Japanese publishers started to catch on that not everyone in the US is a drooling moron around the time the original PlayStation came out. Instead of dumbing down hard games and not even releasing games that were too complicated, Japan discovered that gamers in the US were thirsty for true works of art. For me, the turning point was a game called Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, and after the opening scene I knew things would never be the same again.
What follows is an annotation, a sort of recreation of my own thoughts as I relive these precious moments today. You are encouraged to click this YouTube link first, so that you can appreciate these lines as I first did all those years ago.
Fortunately, Japanese publishers started to catch on that not everyone in the US is a drooling moron around the time the original PlayStation came out. Instead of dumbing down hard games and not even releasing games that were too complicated, Japan discovered that gamers in the US were thirsty for true works of art. For me, the turning point was a game called Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, and after the opening scene I knew things would never be the same again.
What follows is an annotation, a sort of recreation of my own thoughts as I relive these precious moments today. You are encouraged to click this YouTube link first, so that you can appreciate these lines as I first did all those years ago.
Richter: "Die, monster! You don't belong in this world!"
We see here a desperate and crucial line being drawn, a dualistic boundary with foundations in Plato that has, much like Dracula himself, endured (some might say thrived upon) the millennia of strife human beings call history. The irony foreshadowed here is that not only does Dracula belong, but this world is contingent on another dualism that he represents. He cannot be banished from this world, because without him there can be no world. Koji Igarashi is arguing here that one cannot banish value, cannot operate outside of it, and cannot simply eschew the uncomfortable and macabre. This becomes important later, but for now one can simply appreciate the claim that worldliness comes after value.
Dracula: "It is not by my hand that I am once again given flesh. I was called here by... humans who wish to pay me tribute."
Richter: "'Tribute'?! You steal men's souls, and make them your slaves!"
Dracula: "Perhaps the same could be said of all religions..."
This famous exchange at first seems to contradict Dracula's opposition to the value of Goodness, but he is not trying to equivocate. He is in fact highlighting his nature as the opposite, that he behaves the same but in the other direction. There is a note of sadness to be discovered here by the perceptive: there is no hate in this exchange, as though Dracula mourns the fact that his foe, whom he respects more than he can ever let on, could just as easily have been his most trusted ally and friend. The futility and contingency of it all throws the attentive player into an authentic experience, fully appreciative of the arbitrariness of the very distinction the series represents. This irony is one of the most compelling moments in video game history, and is possibly the main reason for the fondness so many gamers have for this title.
Richter: "Your words are as empty as your soul! Mankind ill needs a savior such as you!"
Dracula: "What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets! But enough talk... have at you!"
Who knows what secrets lie hidden, deep within a man's heart? Does Dracula? Is it his lack of a soul which clouds the deepest truths of humanity from his vision? Or is it perhaps the very thing which allows him the keenest vision of all, a pure and objective view of humanity which is the source of his contempt? In this beautiful passage we see the heart of Castlevania's meaning, the foundation and culmination of all of its themes. Dracula--dangerous, powerful, timeless--displays a kind of insecurity. Unable to relate to anyone but his greatest foe, he is quick to dismiss the subject. Could he abandon his position, see if the world could survive without his chaotic influences? Best not to think about it. The last time he let himself see humans as anything more the results were too painful to bear. Best to end the discussion and do his duty. Best to go on forgetting, go on hating. It's the best for everybody.
What childhood could a man like this possibly provide? Is it even so different from the plight of any father quaking in the face of the insurmountable responsibility of parenthood? The roles of faith, love, fatherhood, and family legacy all collide here. In this brief encounter with Richter we seem to learn so little of Dracula, and yet one can see his entire person (dare one even suggest a soul?) laid bare in these few lines. It is only fitting that Richter sit the game out, having done his duty: the stage is set for Alucard (Is he his father's opposite? He goes in the other direction, but is made of the same stuff...) to discover his father, and himself. By the end of the game we see not only the purest of good, not only the most dastardly of evil, but the gentle, terrified man who sits precisely between them. And we see the horizon by which to judge him: the balance of all things.
Frightful Methodology
by Zen
Posted on Thursday, July 30, 2009
Every once in a while somebody who makes games will tell a story or explain a decision in a way that is really jarring and thought-provoking. The obvious example is Miyamoto's story about the origins of The Legend of Zelda. Even more primal than Miyamoto's childhood adventuring, though, is the anecdote itself: romantic and inspirational, reminding us that there are reasons games are fun and that it might be possible to understand what they are on some level. The problem is that only rarely does this kind of personality shine through in a game on its own, and the language barrier between us and Japanese developers keeps any explanation on the side either completely opaque or vastly leveled-down.I'm going on about this because I just read this spectacular piece on game design, and it gives a great look into the workflow of game designers. One man's brief epistle, while restrained in scope, approaches the game in its complete character in a way marketing copy and third-party features and reviews are hard-pressed to. This has been on the rise of late because smaller, independent development teams not only thirst for direct contact with players, leading to more direct essays like this, but their small size brushes away all the dirt that covers over the personality of the people making the game. This has been talked about at length over the last few years as independent games have begun to thrive, but as video games have become more personal they have also necessarily, thrillingly, become more dialectic.
It's tempting, when writing a review of a game, to enframe it in terms of "difficulty", "music", "graphics", and "gameplay" (usually meaning the interface). None of these things necessarily has much to do with playing a game. They are attempts to objectively measure its quality, not to convey the things one feels while playing it. The result is that most such reviews set out to tell you nothing at all that you need to know, and only accidentally and ambiently convey some notion of what the reviewer's experience of the game really was. Saying that GOD HAND is "too hard" is a troubling proposition. On the one hand, GOD HAND is incredibly hard. On the other hand, its difficulty is so masterfully paced that with the proper introduction it pulls you forward like a conveyor belt. Reviewers of Devil May Cry 3 were infamously humbled by the first levels of the game's original US release, to the point of dismissing the game entirely. Both of these examples show games whose reviewers are so consumed by the need to objectify the game that they have a hard time simply experiencing it.
Any game can be challenging, and this challenge can help or hinder it. Just as an older game's graphics can be technically inferior but factically far more expressive than a more recent one, a game that is easier to beat might be far more difficult to play well. Most of us have a list of things we hate to see used to add challenge, and yet we have sometimes enjoyed games despite these things. I am inclined to agree with Hiroshi Shibata that one way for a game's challenge to "work" is for it to force the player to confront and overcome fear. More than just a series of command inputs, a game takes place in terms of its presentation. A game can be challenging without making the player lose, as the fear of losing is only one kind of fear the player of a video game confronts (as anyone who's played La Mulana will attest). Shibata's essay brought to mind Heidegger's characterization of "what is encountered in fearing":
1. What is encountered has the relevant nature of harmfulness. It shows itself in a context of relevance.
2. Thus harmfulness aims at a definite range of what can be affected by it. So determined, it comes from a definite region.
3. The region itself and what comes from it is known as something which is "uncanny."
4. As something threatening, what is harmful is not yet near enough to be dealt with, but it is coming near. As it approaches, harmfulness radiates and thus has the character of threatening.
5. This approaching occurs within nearness. Something may be harmful in the highest degree and may even be constantly coming nearer but if it is still far off it remains veiled in its fearsome nature. As something approaching in nearness, however, what is harmful is threatening, it can get us, and yet perhaps not. In approaching, this "it can and yet in the end may not" gets worse. It is fearsome, we say.
6. This means that what is harmful, approaching near, bears the revealed possibility of not happening and passing us by. This does not lessen or extinguish fearing, but enhances it.
[Being and Time p.140]
There's a lot of Heidegger jargon in there, but I'm sure you can see how this list reads almost like a map of an action game's boss fight. Typically one thinks of the phases of a boss fight in terms of its attacks, patterns, and tells, but the designer must put it together in more primordial terms. What this reveals is a more existential way of looking at video games in general. Facing off against a boss for the first time is always more terrifying than when you come back to it, not simply because of its dramatic presentation but because it places the player in an environment that is unfamiliar, "uncanny". The player's own imagination of what harm this opponent can inflict is even more terrifying than the actual "damage output".
Existentialism in novels and films has led to a great deal of snobbery and competition over who's the biggest artist. It's comforting to see that in video games we have the possibility to employ the ideas in a way that's less referential and more applied. Video games are existential always already in that they must involve the player in an experience. A game that seeks to limit the player's experiences to a script is missing this critical point. I've talked before about how good games empower players, but that's probably the wrong way to put it. A good video game puts the player in a world in a way fundamentally different from mere storytelling. A good video game opens up a world of decision making and possibility, gives the player a chance at pursuing a project.Sandbox games, nonlinear games, storytelling games, puzzle games, fighting games, every single genre of video game does or doesn't do this at various points, and I think it's important to change the language we're accustomed to using when talking about these successes and failures. We live in a time when game designers can perform, can put players in a world like never before. It's time to stop waiting for video games to be the same things as books and movies. We're well beyond that now, well beyond the script and the recording and the measured span of time. Video games found their way years ago, with almost nobody noticing and even fewer taking the lead.
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Summer DS Grab Bag.
by alzabo
Posted on Tuesday, July 29, 2008I bear FFIV no ill will, it was an excellent SNES/SuFami game. While I don't think people who played it in 1991 need to rush out and pick up a copy, if a FFIV veteran does pick up the game they will not experience the nostalgia death marchs that FF IV, FFV & FFVI were on GBA. The game presentation and difficulty level are so different that it honestly feels like a different game, even if the primitive 3D models do feel inappropriate for some of the emotionally heavy situations (kind of like FFVII). If you're interested in playing something a little different this summer you could always import a DS game.
As a child I felt Japan got all the best games, reading gaming mags that endlessly previewed what was hot in Japan every month. Importing games used to give me a giddy little thrill, I felt I was performing an end-run around the domestic companies who usually dictate what the American public can play. How I viewed Japanese games has been summed up neatly by Percy Bysshe Shelly:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
'Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' "
There are 3 games that come out within a month of one another in Japan this summer that I'd love to get my hands on. While the majority of DS owners around the world will never play these games, they'll at least have a chance to own one of them this fall. Provided Nintendo doesn't fuck up the localization. Moving on, here's a list of DS games you can import this summer.
1) KORG DS-10 Synthesizer
It's a KORG synth, IN YOUR DS. If you are not immediately rushing out the buy this after reading that you should probably skip ahead to the next section of this article. The Synth is supposedly a super accurate recreation of the real KORG synth and has features such as a touch screen patch panel & a built-in save memory big enough for large drum loops and crap like this:
Sorry 'bout the rickroll. I applaud the concept and exicution of the KORG DS10 Synthesizer software/tool. However, I must admit that I have no desire to fool around partially because it is yet another DS game that requires the use of headphones and mainly because drum loops are about as interesting to me as running a mixing board at a raga concert.
2) Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni Kizuna: Dai-Ichi-Kan Tatari
If the Phoenix Wright games and Hotel Dusk are the decendents of the old LucasArts adventure games like Day of the Tentacle and Full Throttle, the Higurashi games are the crossbred decendents ofthe most brutal Sierra and Infocom games you ever played.
The basic premise of the Higurashi adventure games is that you fail over and over again. With each failure you crawl towards the ultimate "good ending." The "bad ends" (NWS) are honestly quite disturbing (yet strangely enjoyable) and are as satisfying as the "good endings" that lead to the ultimate solution to the game. I also love the game play element where the perspective of the player changes from one cast member to another as they play through the various scenarios. While a comparison of the Higurashi Games and Sound Novels to the Bill Murry's film Groundhog's Day would be apt, I feel it has just as much in common with the Harlan Ellison's I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.
I could bang on about good adventure games like this on the DS for quite a while I must draw a clear line in the sand and say I won't be playing this game because it'll never receive an English localization. Oh well, at least Konami is US localizing their weird time-travel DS adventure game Time Hollow.
3) Rhythm Tengoku Gold
The first Rhythm Tengoku game was a pretty big hit at a time when the GBA was near the end of its production life cycle in Japan. It's simple controls, addictive game play and off-beat sense of humor made it THE GBA game to import for people everywhere.
The sequel will be more of the same, and I can't wait. Nintendo has stated that they're considering bringing the game to North America and maybe Europe. Call me obtuse if you must but I can't bring myself to trust Nintendo to localize the game properly. If I choose to buy Rhythm Tengoku Gold, I'll be importing the Japanese version.
I don't have a good closer for this article. I could write something snide about Nintendo or how "America misses out on the good stuff again." I could write something redundant about how Nintendo's gutsy little platform is home to more than mere children's games. Honestly, this is a wish list that belongs to a person who has become so jaded with mainstream games that he only wants to play with synthesizer simulators, horror novel games with 50+ gory endings and off-beat 1 button rhythm that are difficult to the point of being inaccessible to mainstream gamers. Article Permalink
Enix's atrophied appendage twitchs once more
by alzabo
Posted on Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Chrono Trigger for Nintendo DS. I guess this is the sign we've been waiting for.
Back when Enix and Square merged many invisioned a future where both RPG power-houses would colaborate and create a slave army of basement dwelling teenagers that would be wholely incapable of doing anything more menacing than making people around them feel uncomfortable any time they open their maws to emit a horrible mixture of internet memes and feminine Japanese.
While the above nightmare has come to pass, it is not by Enix's hand. They actually merged with Square to endlessly rehash all of Square's old properties until they are completely unprofitable. While Enix's wish to grind Square into dust may seem cruel, at least they have found a way to keep Tetsuya Nomura's emaciated, zipper clad, emo charecter designs from infecting other games.
With Chrono Trigger on the horizon I suppose a wireless multiplayer version of Secret of Mana isn't far behind.
The only reasons I would consider replaying Chrono Trigger again is to name everyone in my party Lavos. Article Permalink
GOD HAND
by Zen
Posted on Sunday, April 6, 2008
So it turns out that the lead guys from Clover Studios are still out there, and with the Wii port of Okami anyone who hasn't felt the love yet should get started. The game rains down style on you for like forty hours, and shows Nintendo that if they're not going to take Zelda anywhere then other people are certainly up for the job. Once you're done getting a furry handjob from Okami, though, I've got something you need to try:
Where Okami makes love to you, GOD HAND rapes you into tiny pieces without even noticing you're there. Remember when games weren't just hard? Remember when you needed not just the skills but the right constitution to finish a beat-'em-up? Besting GOD HAND is a triumph of will, a demonstration of one's ability to go beyond playing the game and take up the reins of one's own destiny. To complete GOD HAND is to face one's ownmost, inevitable, yet indefinite potentiality-of-being. As born, the player undertakes the journey. Dying, the player discovers the resoluteness to complete it.
GOD HAND gets a lot of gruff for being "too hard". I'm here to tell you that that is an ignorant thing to say. Despite its difficulty, GOD HAND is one of the most fair games I've ever played, and while it is extremely difficult, it has a scaling difficulty system that lets you and the game reach a natural equilibrium while still rewarding skillful play. There are two different kinds of super-powerful attacks that you can use strategically, and every time you die in the game you not only learn a ton from your mistakes, but also get to keep any moves and cash you picked up. This is an example of one of GOD HAND's most brilliant accomplishments: the complete abandonment of archaic and irritating game behavior.
Every single power-up item an enemy drops or you find in a crate will stay on the level indefinitely. This means you don't have to waste a healing item when you don't need it, you don't have to break your combo to go pick stuff up, and you can plan your use of powerful moves based on what items appear. Not only that, but if you do pick up an item that you don't need, you get money for it instead.
There's a lot of other surprising little touches that show the game's fairness. When you use a weapon on enemies, it'll break after a certain number of hits, but you can use it to break open all the boxes you like. Punching exploding barrels doesn't blow them up, and there are unlimited continues with frequent checkpoints. GOD HAND is not difficult because the game environment is arranged to be stingy, irritating, or punishing. GOD HAND is difficult because you don't know how to play it yet.
To get good at the game, you'll have very little tutorial to rely on. Practicing with every move, studying enemy behavior, mastering the subtly versatile dodging system, and managing your tension meter are all genuine skills you develop as you make your way through GOD HAND. You can actually learn a lot by watching other people, as I did with this thread.
Besides the fact that the gameplay is super rewarding, though, why should you play GOD HAND? Because it's hilarious. Anyone who's played a Resident Evil game knows Shinji Mikami's knack for B-movie kitsch, but the celebrated campiness in this game has been turned all the way up. Dialogue between the protagonists is awkward and nonsensical, charmingly childish, and never tries to be genuinely moving. All the characters have literally the most awesome names possible, and the animations and subtle gags are better than I can possibly describe. Every single note is hit perfectly.
In the end, the experience of playing GOD HAND is put best in the words of a scantily-clad woman you rescue from a pair of dominatrices:
I can't believe this is happening! They smacked my ass so many times... But in the end, I started to like it!Article Permalink
Rise from your grave
by alzabo
Posted on Monday, February 11, 2008
A decade ago,
Adventure Games died.
A good place to look for examples of the genre's death this is LucasArts. After Grim Fandango performed poorly in 1998, the lackluster sales of Escape from Monkey Island caused LucasArts to abandon every project that didn’t have “Star Wars” in the title. Other companies were having the similar problems, Westwood Studio’s Blade Runner did poorly the previous year and Sierra Entertainment had stopped producing adventure games. In a round of layoffs Sierra fired a quarter of their workforce; including Al Lowe and Scott Murphy, who created Leisure Suit Larry and Space Quest respectively. It was a sad time to be a PC adventure game enthusiast, some say 3D games in general and the proliferation of First Person Shooters specifically killed the adventure game genre. There are other theories about what killed the genre, but I’m not writing this to mark the 10th anniversary of Adventure Gaming’s death, I’m celebrating its return.
The Nintendo DS has become the new home for this timeless Genre. The first time I realized this was when I picked up Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney in the Fall of 2005, the game is a classic point & click adventure that gained popularity via word of mouth and has had multiple repressing by Capcom. Phoenix Wright’s two sequels in 2006 and 2007 did equally well and I can say that the ending of the 3rd game ties all three together into a fun and memorable trilogy that I enjoyed more than most adventure games I played on PC. Even though Phoenix Wright is an adventure game with some mature themes (almost all the cases revolve around murders that are somewhat grisly), the game has an “animu” flavor that is impossible to ignore. Luckly, there are alternatives made by the developer Cing.
After Cing’s first forgettable DS adventure game Trace Memory they developed the mesmerizing Hotel Dusk: Room 215. Hotel Dusk has the gameplay of a adventure game, a classic point & click interface with a FPS navigation twist, visuals that are mature and seem fitting (I love the whole “Take On Me” look) and a story that is right up there with the best PC games of yester-year. When I started playing, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was playing Icom’s Déjà Vu. The atmosphere of Hotel Dusk is so spectacular that I want to go back and play it for the first time all over again. I cannot stress the following enough: If you love adventure games you need to play Hotel Dusk.
Most people probably never expected Adventure games to make a comeback, the best part of all of this is that most of the people picking up these new games have never played a Adventure game before. It’s unlikely that they’ll go dig up old PC games to play on their PC, but the classics are available to them via another channel. One of the programs available to people who choose to hack their Nintendo DS handheld is ScummVM, a emulator designed to play adventure games by LucasArts, Sierra and other developers.
The reason I’m writing this today is because I finished Phoenix Wright 3 last night to clear up some of my game back-log to make room for both Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney (a.k.a. Phoenix Wright 4) and Professor Layton and the Mysterious Village. While I know exactly what PW4 is going to be, I approach Prof. Layton with high expectations, the game is very popular in Japan and spawned two sequels. The visuals of Prof. Layton reminds me of the excellent 2003 French animated film The Triplets of Belleville. I’m quite excited about these new Adventure games, their arrival is another sign of the Adventure genre’s return to popularity.