Here's the thing: I really want to talk about No More Heroes. I want to read Leigh Alexander's "Aberrant Gamer" column about it, and Michael Abbott's post at the Brainy Gamer. In all likelihood, I want to comment on their posts. This is the kind of game that demands to be discussed. It is impossible to play it and not think about it; think deep and analytical thoughts about what it is, what it isn't, and what it means. And it's impossible not to want to share those thoughts.
But I can't, just yet. I'm filing my review overnight tonight, and until that's done I don't want to read what anybody else has to say about it. No reason to go into it biased.
So... be prepared for some No More Heroes posts starting tomorrow. They're going to be great. I swear!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Ten dollars to any reader*
Who can point out one real, substantive difference between Kotaku, Joystiq, and Game|Life. I have them all in my Google reader and it's like getting the day's most unimportant news in THX surround sound. Did you know they're making a game based on the Saw movies? Can I tell you three times?
Seriously, though: which of these three should I keep in there?
*Offer not valid.
Seriously, though: which of these three should I keep in there?
*Offer not valid.
Gamestop.com User-Submitted Previews: Turok
I didn't much cotton to the Turok demo, but with the full version shipping, why not take a look and see what our friends over at Gamestop.com have to say?
Gamestop user "Turok" provided this unbiased take:
Gamestop user "Turok" provided this unbiased take:
i was blown away when i put in the demo its awsome i played the turoks of the past i like this change of pace they did breaths new life into him the detail in the game is crazy you can tel this a 360 game right here i love the A.I. unlike most people who say they are dumb i disgree with them they are smart a tell there comrades to flank you and they start come from all sides i like the fights with the dinos that alone makes the game worth buying i love pulling out my knife and geting into it with them im impressed so far im looking forward to the full game cant wait my blood is pumping turok rocks
What's it like when your blood is pumping Turok rocks? Is it like passing a kidney stone?
Rnylee seems a little too concerned about the fortunes of Turok retailers:
I've been a Turok fan since the golden days of the N64,but this is by far one of the best in the series.I just got through the demo and it was awesome.It was everything I expected it to be it a must own title dont settle for a rental on the release date go pre-order it and experience Turok like you've never seen him before.
Dollars to donuts Rynlee shares an IP address with Gamestop CEO Richard Fontaine. "Why not pick up some GME shares while you're at it, fellow young people? Free t-shirt with market order!"
Jack Sprat thinks guys like me should sit down and shut up:
i think its stupid that people bash a game before its out because they have a bad experience with the demo. you cant really tell how good a game is until you play the full thing, you cant expect the demo to have everything good that the full game will have
It's true. The reason companies release game demos is so that they can later exceed our low expectations.
But adile98 makes a persuasive case:
I cant wait for this one to come out ive played all 4 of them and they are some of the greatest games ever turok is gunna be awsome and for sure im gunna buy this one i advise all you to do the same
TUROKSSS RULE
I was on the fence until that third "S."
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Who's that guy in the suit?
My review of Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law is up now. It was a difficult game to review, because it really is like five interactive episodes of the show. That's a good thing for all the reasons the show is entertaining, but it's not so great from a gameplay perspective. Comparisons to Phoenix Wright are perhaps unfair, but inevitable. The biggest difference between the two is that Phoenix's cases are taken all the way through to surprising and satisfying conclusions, whereas Birdman's go for the abrupt gag. The Birdman game is true to the spirit of the show, but as we've seen from most of the attempts to translate games into movies, it's not always easy to translate from one medium to another. It's just not enough of a game.
And if I can toot my own horn a sec, I'm pretty proud of the closing line to this review.
And if I can toot my own horn a sec, I'm pretty proud of the closing line to this review.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Balancing Puzzle Fighter
This is a bit old, but it's just fascinating. I always think people happen upon excellence by accident -- that innate talent tends to take care of the little details that can mean the difference between success and failure. Maybe that's true sometimes, but more often it seems that dedication and persistence are the most potent fertiziler for the fecund mind. So it was interesting to read about the design decisions that went into the Super Puzzle Fighter II remake for Xbox Live Arcade, not least because I wouldn't have thought the original needed any improvement.
Most of the Puzzle Fighter re-balancing involved each character's drop patterns. The funny thing is that we all played as Donovan back in the day without having an inkling of the advanced strategy this piece describes. Specifically: "Because you know the pattern of colors that the opponent is capable of dropping on your side, it’s possible to build your side so that enemy attacks sometimes help you. If all characters sent random patterns of blocks, it would be very difficult to build up large Power Gems on your side without having them covered up all the time."
Who knew? Not me. Nor was I aware of the "Diamond Trick." Maybe it's a good thing I haven't downloaded the XBLA version, because people would probably be wiping the floor with me.
Most of the Puzzle Fighter re-balancing involved each character's drop patterns. The funny thing is that we all played as Donovan back in the day without having an inkling of the advanced strategy this piece describes. Specifically: "Because you know the pattern of colors that the opponent is capable of dropping on your side, it’s possible to build your side so that enemy attacks sometimes help you. If all characters sent random patterns of blocks, it would be very difficult to build up large Power Gems on your side without having them covered up all the time."
Who knew? Not me. Nor was I aware of the "Diamond Trick." Maybe it's a good thing I haven't downloaded the XBLA version, because people would probably be wiping the floor with me.
Friday, January 25, 2008
"A deeply flawed and laughably shallow exercise in comic book violence"
Jeremy Parish has written the definitive take on Crackdown, which he calls his favorite game of 2007. I agree with every word. Many games were "better" than Crackdown last year, from an empirical perspective. There were games with more satisfying and thoughtful narratives, prettier graphics, and what Erik Wolpaw referred to as "dicey underwater moral choices." But there was no game that was nearly as much fun from start to finish.
People often say that they play games for fun, which is not a position I wholly agree with. Yes, fun is a component of games, but the kinds of games I usually like aren't "fun" in the traditional sense. They're often grueling, depressing, and, ideally, thoughtful. BioShock was a great game, the best of 2007, but making those dicey underwater moral choices wasn't exactly what I'd call a good time. Fulfilling, yes. But it didn't make me giddy. It left me drained some of the time, awed at others, and when it was all over I felt more a sense of relief than elation.
Crackdown, though? Completely naughty, illicit, guilty-pleasure fun. There's a troubling, not terribly buried subtext to the game that takes the shine off if you look at it too closely, and if the gameplay weren't as exciting and addictive as it is, I wouldn't be so apt to let it off the hook. But the game is loud and dumb, and so reckless in its pursuit of open-world mayhem that it's hard not to be won over simply by its energy. Parish says the musical equivalent of Crackdown is Journey; I'd suggest Andrew W.K.
It's worth remembering that this game was a fairly low-profile winter release, marketed not for its gameplay but for the included invitation to the Halo 3 multiplayer beta test. Lots of people made the joke that Microsoft was selling the beta invite, with Crackdown as the freebie. I've never been happier to be wrong about something. Almost a year later, this game has stuck with me. That's a rare feat.
Oh yeah, it's less than $30 at Amazon
now, too.
People often say that they play games for fun, which is not a position I wholly agree with. Yes, fun is a component of games, but the kinds of games I usually like aren't "fun" in the traditional sense. They're often grueling, depressing, and, ideally, thoughtful. BioShock was a great game, the best of 2007, but making those dicey underwater moral choices wasn't exactly what I'd call a good time. Fulfilling, yes. But it didn't make me giddy. It left me drained some of the time, awed at others, and when it was all over I felt more a sense of relief than elation.
Crackdown, though? Completely naughty, illicit, guilty-pleasure fun. There's a troubling, not terribly buried subtext to the game that takes the shine off if you look at it too closely, and if the gameplay weren't as exciting and addictive as it is, I wouldn't be so apt to let it off the hook. But the game is loud and dumb, and so reckless in its pursuit of open-world mayhem that it's hard not to be won over simply by its energy. Parish says the musical equivalent of Crackdown is Journey; I'd suggest Andrew W.K.
It's worth remembering that this game was a fairly low-profile winter release, marketed not for its gameplay but for the included invitation to the Halo 3 multiplayer beta test. Lots of people made the joke that Microsoft was selling the beta invite, with Crackdown as the freebie. I've never been happier to be wrong about something. Almost a year later, this game has stuck with me. That's a rare feat.
Oh yeah, it's less than $30 at Amazon
now, too.
Demo May Cry
Yesterday, the Devil May Cry 4 demo landed on both Xbox Live and the PlayStation Network. This, along with Burnout Paradise, is one of the games I'm most looking forward to this winter. After playing the demo, I have one overriding thought: what the hell happened to game demos?
Remember the days of shareware, when a demo was practically the whole game? Wolfenstein and Doom each gave you an entire episode, with several levels, a complete storyline, and most, if not all, of the game's weapons. Wolf3D even let you escape from the freaking prison. Now that's a loss leader! Did I ever end up buying the full versions of these games? Of course not! I just played the free portions over and over. And that's way I likes it.
Clearly, game publishers disagree. Demos these days tend to contain a couple of minutes of gameplay, don't show much of the game, and cut off abruptly. They also weigh in around a gigabyte, compared to a single meg for the original Doom download. It's just ridiculous. They're also plastered with disclaimers about the demo not being indicative of the quality of the final version -- in which case, I'm not sure why they'd release it at all.
In the case of Devil May Cry 4, I am fairly certain that the demo is indicative of the quality of the final version, or else Capcom has some amibitious plans between now and February 5. But I'd say that's a good thing.
I keep telling myself I'm going to stop gaping at HD graphics, but again and again I just can't help it. This game looks gorgeous. One of the first locations it drops you into is a castle courtyard area that should be familiar from screenshots. At 60 frames per second, the structures look solid and the draw distance seems infinite (granted, the matte backgrounds are a little less impressive). I just wanted to run around and look at everything. Unfortunately, of the two game modes included in the demo, the one that features the castle has a ten-minute time limit.
So instead, I turned my attention to opening up a can. The only DMC I've played before is the third installment. I think it's a great game, one of the best for the PS2, but it's also ludicrously difficult. That's part of the charm. Advancing through that game took real skill. That's not the case with this demo. Your enemies seem to have taken their fighting techniques from classic martial arts movies, in which hordes of villains maintain a respectful distance while the hero battles one of their cohort. And since the demo also gives Nero only one sword and one gun, the rapid weapon switching that led to big combos in DMC3 isn't available here.
Instead of a time limit, the other portion of the demo limits you to one life. The purpose is to showcase a boss battle, a fight against a very large and angry flaming demon. Again, it seems a little easy -- I only tried it once, but I hacked away more than half of the boss's hit points before dying, without even attempting to analyze his attack patterns. Graphically, though, it's very impressive, not least because the size and detail of the monster doesn't lead to any perfomance hitches.
While it might have been nice to have an entire level to play through, at the end of it the Devil May Cry 4 demo did what it's supposed to do, which is make me want to play the full game. Just would have been nice if it had also made me want to play the demo again.
Remember the days of shareware, when a demo was practically the whole game? Wolfenstein and Doom each gave you an entire episode, with several levels, a complete storyline, and most, if not all, of the game's weapons. Wolf3D even let you escape from the freaking prison. Now that's a loss leader! Did I ever end up buying the full versions of these games? Of course not! I just played the free portions over and over. And that's way I likes it.
Clearly, game publishers disagree. Demos these days tend to contain a couple of minutes of gameplay, don't show much of the game, and cut off abruptly. They also weigh in around a gigabyte, compared to a single meg for the original Doom download. It's just ridiculous. They're also plastered with disclaimers about the demo not being indicative of the quality of the final version -- in which case, I'm not sure why they'd release it at all.
In the case of Devil May Cry 4, I am fairly certain that the demo is indicative of the quality of the final version, or else Capcom has some amibitious plans between now and February 5. But I'd say that's a good thing.
I keep telling myself I'm going to stop gaping at HD graphics, but again and again I just can't help it. This game looks gorgeous. One of the first locations it drops you into is a castle courtyard area that should be familiar from screenshots. At 60 frames per second, the structures look solid and the draw distance seems infinite (granted, the matte backgrounds are a little less impressive). I just wanted to run around and look at everything. Unfortunately, of the two game modes included in the demo, the one that features the castle has a ten-minute time limit.
So instead, I turned my attention to opening up a can. The only DMC I've played before is the third installment. I think it's a great game, one of the best for the PS2, but it's also ludicrously difficult. That's part of the charm. Advancing through that game took real skill. That's not the case with this demo. Your enemies seem to have taken their fighting techniques from classic martial arts movies, in which hordes of villains maintain a respectful distance while the hero battles one of their cohort. And since the demo also gives Nero only one sword and one gun, the rapid weapon switching that led to big combos in DMC3 isn't available here.
Instead of a time limit, the other portion of the demo limits you to one life. The purpose is to showcase a boss battle, a fight against a very large and angry flaming demon. Again, it seems a little easy -- I only tried it once, but I hacked away more than half of the boss's hit points before dying, without even attempting to analyze his attack patterns. Graphically, though, it's very impressive, not least because the size and detail of the monster doesn't lead to any perfomance hitches.
While it might have been nice to have an entire level to play through, at the end of it the Devil May Cry 4 demo did what it's supposed to do, which is make me want to play the full game. Just would have been nice if it had also made me want to play the demo again.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Turok demo impressions
Eventually, they'll get around to ruining all of our childhood memories, but at least Turok: Dinosaur Hunter has the advantage of not being something anybody remembers too fondly. It was pretty well reviewed at the time, but especially in retrospect it's a shining example of what not to do in a first-person shooter. Much of the gameplay was based on platform-style jumping sequences, for which the controls were simply not up to the task. The player was also encased in fog, with a draw distance of about ten relative feet, with environmental objects jumping into view right in front of you. Overall, I preferred Doom 64, which wasn't as technologically advanced, but at least had the benefit of good level design and lightning-fast gameplay. When I played Turok, what I most liked to do was input the code to unlock all weapons, and then fire the nuclear-powered arrows in order to ogle the particle effects.
So I'm not really sure why I downloaded the Turok demo, except that I was home and nothing much else was happening. It seems as though the developers have scratched some of the more mystical Native American aspects of past games and put you in the shoes of "Joe Turok," a special forces soldier who, in pursuit of his rogue former commanding officer, crash-lands on an alien planet and finklghhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Sorry. Fell asleep on the keyboard, there. Almost immediately, Turok does several uninteresting things. Besides that cookie-cutter premise, you're also saddled with computer-controlled allies -- one of whom seems like a dick! Whoa! And you can dual-wield! Dual-whoa!
The demo begins in a drab cave. After dispatching some raptors, you move outside into a drab forest. Not much is interesting about fighting the dinosaurs, with the annoying exception that they can knock you over, which was an idea first conceived and rejected in the making of the original Quake. The dinos can also leap on top of you, but you can get stabby on them by hammering buttons really fast. Just which button changes each time, to keep you on your toes.
Then there's the "stealth" portion of the game. If Joe Turok can sneak up on a human enemy, he can quickly dispatch them -- again, stabbily -- by hitting the R2 button. It's an all right way to do things, and certainly not enough to hang a whole game on, but since this is apparently optional to completing the game it's not worth getting too worked up about. The problem I had was that the game gives you no indication as to how visible you are. I was crouched in some tall grass, and assumed that I was adequately camouflaged. I assumed wrong, as I found out when somebody far away started shooting at me. Whoops. Clearly, Joe Turok is not one with the earth.
Or with the hostile alien planet that's without precedent in the annals of games, I should say. I mean, really: dinosaurs, people! That's how you know this game's different.
So I'm not really sure why I downloaded the Turok demo, except that I was home and nothing much else was happening. It seems as though the developers have scratched some of the more mystical Native American aspects of past games and put you in the shoes of "Joe Turok," a special forces soldier who, in pursuit of his rogue former commanding officer, crash-lands on an alien planet and finklghhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Sorry. Fell asleep on the keyboard, there. Almost immediately, Turok does several uninteresting things. Besides that cookie-cutter premise, you're also saddled with computer-controlled allies -- one of whom seems like a dick! Whoa! And you can dual-wield! Dual-whoa!
The demo begins in a drab cave. After dispatching some raptors, you move outside into a drab forest. Not much is interesting about fighting the dinosaurs, with the annoying exception that they can knock you over, which was an idea first conceived and rejected in the making of the original Quake. The dinos can also leap on top of you, but you can get stabby on them by hammering buttons really fast. Just which button changes each time, to keep you on your toes.
Then there's the "stealth" portion of the game. If Joe Turok can sneak up on a human enemy, he can quickly dispatch them -- again, stabbily -- by hitting the R2 button. It's an all right way to do things, and certainly not enough to hang a whole game on, but since this is apparently optional to completing the game it's not worth getting too worked up about. The problem I had was that the game gives you no indication as to how visible you are. I was crouched in some tall grass, and assumed that I was adequately camouflaged. I assumed wrong, as I found out when somebody far away started shooting at me. Whoops. Clearly, Joe Turok is not one with the earth.
Or with the hostile alien planet that's without precedent in the annals of games, I should say. I mean, really: dinosaurs, people! That's how you know this game's different.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Blu Ray ascendent
The post-Warner Bros. announcement numbers are in, and it looks like Blu Ray is off to the races. Money quote:
The week after the announcement? Blu-ray players outsold HD DVD players more than 12 to 1.
Believe it or not, even though I'm a PS3 owner I don't feel I have a horse in this race. My setup is dedicated exclusively to games -- it would be a terrible place to watch movies. I do have one Blu Ray disc, RoboCop, but other than that I still watch movies solely on DVD (in the living room, where we still have an SDTV). If HD-DVD were to become the dominant format, I'd be happy enough to adopt it when the time comes. All the same to me.
And yet, what's interesting is that we may eventually have to admit that Sony knew what they were doing all along. This would be a paradigm shift akin to discovering that the earth revolves around the sun, but you can't argue with hard numbers, unless you're a Republican politician. Their strategy from the start was to leverage the PlayStation brand as a Trojan horse in order to establish their high-definition media format media format globally. They took a bath on the hardware. They took a drubbing from the online gaming community. And now, it seems, they're going to take us all to the cleaners.
Well good for them, I say. It was a ballsy strategy that, unbelievably, is going to pay off. That's why they're Sony, and we're not.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The folly of man
When I tell people that I review video games for the Phoenix, usually they're shocked to find out that the Phoenix runs video game reviews. Their second reaction is something like, "How cool!" Usually, I agree with them. Most of the time it is very cool.
Then there are the times I have to play games like Godzilla Unleashed. It turns out that you literally could not pay me enough to play this game more than two hours.
Then there are the times I have to play games like Godzilla Unleashed. It turns out that you literally could not pay me enough to play this game more than two hours.
Books that should be made into games
Yesterday's post got me thinking. Despite its truly unfortunate portrayal of Jim, a Tom Sawyer game sounds like a great idea. So many games are based on movies and TV shows. Why not games based on books? There are centuries of fantastic literature to draw from, and in most cases the source material is in the public domain -- no need for onerous licensing fees. I offer these suggestions free of charge.
Don Quixote
A third-person action-adventure game -- think God of War in medieval Spain. Besides the standard brawling elements, the signature sequences would be on-rails jousting events with Don Quixote on his horse. Sancho Panza is the wise-cracking, AI-controlled sidekick, who can be ordered to attack, defend, or heal Don Quixote. He frequently gets caught on door frames, because there just wasn't enough time to iron out all the kinks in testing.
Moby-Dick
A lush, 3D update of the basic gameplay established in the mostly-forgotten NES Jaws game. Cruise the seas on the Pequod, battling various oceanic creatures in search of the ultimate prize: the great white whale, Moby Dick. Mini-games include squeezing the lumps out of a barrel full of whale blubber, and taking control of Queequeg for harpooning target practice (using the Wiimote, naturally).
War and Peace
A sweeping, turn-based strategy game that lets you take the side of Russia or France during the Napoleonic Wars. With thousands of units to command at once, the game quickly becomes untenable and overwhelming to all but the most dedicated strategy buffs. But everybody claims to have played it all the way through and loved it.
1984
Stealth action is the name of the game in a dystopian future with chilling parallels to our own time. Take control of Winston Smith and attempt to foment revolution under the all-seeing gaze of Big Brother. The "Two Minutes Hate" button-pushing mini-game is inspired by Konami's arcade classic Track and Field.
Finnegan's Wake
Just a bunch of incomprehensible ASCII art and system error messages.
Don Quixote
A third-person action-adventure game -- think God of War in medieval Spain. Besides the standard brawling elements, the signature sequences would be on-rails jousting events with Don Quixote on his horse. Sancho Panza is the wise-cracking, AI-controlled sidekick, who can be ordered to attack, defend, or heal Don Quixote. He frequently gets caught on door frames, because there just wasn't enough time to iron out all the kinks in testing.
Moby-Dick
A lush, 3D update of the basic gameplay established in the mostly-forgotten NES Jaws game. Cruise the seas on the Pequod, battling various oceanic creatures in search of the ultimate prize: the great white whale, Moby Dick. Mini-games include squeezing the lumps out of a barrel full of whale blubber, and taking control of Queequeg for harpooning target practice (using the Wiimote, naturally).
War and Peace
A sweeping, turn-based strategy game that lets you take the side of Russia or France during the Napoleonic Wars. With thousands of units to command at once, the game quickly becomes untenable and overwhelming to all but the most dedicated strategy buffs. But everybody claims to have played it all the way through and loved it.
1984
Stealth action is the name of the game in a dystopian future with chilling parallels to our own time. Take control of Winston Smith and attempt to foment revolution under the all-seeing gaze of Big Brother. The "Two Minutes Hate" button-pushing mini-game is inspired by Konami's arcade classic Track and Field.
Finnegan's Wake
Just a bunch of incomprehensible ASCII art and system error messages.
Monday, January 21, 2008
The Most Stereotypical Black Characters in Gaming History
Today is Martin Luther King Day, a day on which we celebrate Dr. King's life and legacy, and recommit ourselves to achieving his vision of racial equality. Race relations have come a long way since the 1960s, but there's some distance left to go. Want proof? Check out these cringe-inducing, decidedly politically incorrect portrayals of black characters in video games.
Dee Jay, Super Street Fighter II
According to Wikipedia, Dee Jay was based on Tae Bo founder Billy Blanks. Billy Blanks, you may recall, also played the wide receiver who blows his brains out on the football field at the beginning of The Last Boy Scout, which is probably one of the ten best movies ever made. I guess what I'm saying here is that Dee Jay isn't really that much of a stereotype, except for his hip-hop style moves, but god damn The Last Boy Scout is awesome.
Barret Wallace, Final Fantasy VII
Moreso than the other characters on this list, Barret is an example of the residual racism that still hangs over global culture. He's an honorable and complex guy, quick to action but also with a nurturing instinct that informs his relationship with his adopted daughter Marlene. And yet... on the Japanese side of things, Square just couldn't help giving the guy a Mr. T haircut and a permanent scowl. The American translation is even worse, saddling Barret with uneducated, profane dialogue that makes him sound like a doofus. Why Barret, and no other character? Why, indeed.
By the way, if you're wondering why I haven't bothered to spotlight the other stereotypical Final Fantasy characters over the years, like the brooding goths Squall and Lulu, it's because moody goths have historically not been oppressed by the state and cultural institutions -- only by their parents.
Augustus "Cole Train" Cole, Gears of War
I was willing to overlook the Cole Train for most of Gears of War, even though, of all the characters in the game, he was the only one who couldn't spit out a sentence without swearing, and had been a pro athlete pre-Emergence Day. (At least Epic Games are equal-opportunity stereotypers, also giving us the tight-assed white guy, Baird. How much would it have blown your mind if Baird had been the cocky pro athlete and Cole the uptight wuss?)
Then I beat the game and was treated to the Cole Train rap song that plays over the end credits, featuring the repeatedly lyrics "Whooo!" and "This my kind of shit!" That just pushed it over the top. The only redeeming thing is that the Cole Train was portrayed by the same guy who played Terry Tate, Office Linebacker.
The Entire Cast of Def Jam Vendetta, Fight for NY, and Icon
The Def Jam games aren't games. They're a marketing nightmare. This is a case of savvy businessmen peddling an image to a large group of people who are not in on the joke. In the case of the most recent game, Icon, the horrid gameplay was really just the platter upon which endless courses of ads were served. Ads for clothes, electronics, record albums, and, most of all, the participants themselves. Product placement and celebrity endorsements are nothing new, but they should serve to accent the gameplay, not to take the place of it. Not that it matters if the game is hit. I'm sure the people who made this game are crying themselves to sleep at night, on top of a pile of money.
Jim, Tom Sawyer
Well, geez, just look at him. That would have offended the Confederate Army. At least this game never came out in the States. Thanks to Jeremy Parish for having once posted about it.
Dee Jay, Super Street Fighter II
According to Wikipedia, Dee Jay was based on Tae Bo founder Billy Blanks. Billy Blanks, you may recall, also played the wide receiver who blows his brains out on the football field at the beginning of The Last Boy Scout, which is probably one of the ten best movies ever made. I guess what I'm saying here is that Dee Jay isn't really that much of a stereotype, except for his hip-hop style moves, but god damn The Last Boy Scout is awesome.
Barret Wallace, Final Fantasy VII
Moreso than the other characters on this list, Barret is an example of the residual racism that still hangs over global culture. He's an honorable and complex guy, quick to action but also with a nurturing instinct that informs his relationship with his adopted daughter Marlene. And yet... on the Japanese side of things, Square just couldn't help giving the guy a Mr. T haircut and a permanent scowl. The American translation is even worse, saddling Barret with uneducated, profane dialogue that makes him sound like a doofus. Why Barret, and no other character? Why, indeed.
By the way, if you're wondering why I haven't bothered to spotlight the other stereotypical Final Fantasy characters over the years, like the brooding goths Squall and Lulu, it's because moody goths have historically not been oppressed by the state and cultural institutions -- only by their parents.
Augustus "Cole Train" Cole, Gears of War
I was willing to overlook the Cole Train for most of Gears of War, even though, of all the characters in the game, he was the only one who couldn't spit out a sentence without swearing, and had been a pro athlete pre-Emergence Day. (At least Epic Games are equal-opportunity stereotypers, also giving us the tight-assed white guy, Baird. How much would it have blown your mind if Baird had been the cocky pro athlete and Cole the uptight wuss?)
Then I beat the game and was treated to the Cole Train rap song that plays over the end credits, featuring the repeatedly lyrics "Whooo!" and "This my kind of shit!" That just pushed it over the top. The only redeeming thing is that the Cole Train was portrayed by the same guy who played Terry Tate, Office Linebacker.
The Entire Cast of Def Jam Vendetta, Fight for NY, and Icon
The Def Jam games aren't games. They're a marketing nightmare. This is a case of savvy businessmen peddling an image to a large group of people who are not in on the joke. In the case of the most recent game, Icon, the horrid gameplay was really just the platter upon which endless courses of ads were served. Ads for clothes, electronics, record albums, and, most of all, the participants themselves. Product placement and celebrity endorsements are nothing new, but they should serve to accent the gameplay, not to take the place of it. Not that it matters if the game is hit. I'm sure the people who made this game are crying themselves to sleep at night, on top of a pile of money.
Jim, Tom Sawyer
Well, geez, just look at him. That would have offended the Confederate Army. At least this game never came out in the States. Thanks to Jeremy Parish for having once posted about it.
A New Taxonomy of Gamers: Table of Contents
The series "A New Taxonomy of Gamers" wrapped up last Friday. For your convenience, here are the links to all 11 parts in one convenient post.
Part 1: What We Talk About When We Talk About Games
Part 2: Hardcore? Casual? Hardcasual?
Part 3: Skill Players vs. Tourists
Part 4: Case Study: Guitar Hero
Part 5: Skill Players: Drilling Down
Part 6: Case Study: Metroid Prime 3: Corruption
Part 7: Cash Rules Everything Around Me
Part 8: Supply and Demand
Part 9: Case Study: The Orange Box
Part 10: Tying It All Together
Part 11: Know Thyself
That does it for this series. I hope people enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and that it gave you some food for thought about the way we play our games. I'd like to do more of this type of essay in the future.
Friday, January 18, 2008
MTV Cribs: Insult Swordfighting
Inspired by the recent Kotaku series, here's a look at my personal gaming space. This is where the magic happens.
My Xbox 360 shares space with my PC. The 360 is hooked up this way because I bought it before I had an HDTV, so it seemed to make sense to buy the VGA cable and run the picture through my monitor. The Xbox's audio also runs through my PC speakers, which are pretty decent, if nine years old at this point. Yes, the Guitar Hero guitar is in an actual guitar stand.
Close-up shot. That's the DS Lite over there against the wall, but it's hard to make out among some scraps of paper. Note identical bottles of hand sanitizer under monitor, from my Christmas stocking in two consecutive years. Notice also fiancee's skin care products on the dresser behind my desk.
Okay, those are actually mine.
No, not really.
I turn 180 degrees and this is what I see. The Samsung and the PS3 are both just under a year old, which is hard to believe. You SDTV holdouts may think that going HD will not improve your life in any appreciable way. You are wrong. This thing still brings a tear to my eye. A progressive-scan tear, with 720 lines of resolution.
The problem with this setup is that I can't really jump around to play the more physically involved Wii games, but that TV stand is on a swivel so I can point it toward the middle of the room, where there is a little space. And also a ceiling fan that I've almost knocked down several times while playing Wii Tennis.
I keep most of my games on some wall shelves above the TV (the PSP is currently hanging out there, too, as you can see). Generally, the rule is that as soon as I can't fit any more games on the shelf, it's time to trade some in. I have not been following this rule too closely. The PS2 games that you see there are the ones I couldn't bear to part with, plus Karoake Revolution Vol. 3. The rest are some combination of games I really liked or games I couldn't be arsed to trade in yet. The coffee can contains my retirement fund.
If the spirit moves you, please post your own setup in the comments. I'd like to see how people are customizing their own game space.
My Xbox 360 shares space with my PC. The 360 is hooked up this way because I bought it before I had an HDTV, so it seemed to make sense to buy the VGA cable and run the picture through my monitor. The Xbox's audio also runs through my PC speakers, which are pretty decent, if nine years old at this point. Yes, the Guitar Hero guitar is in an actual guitar stand.
Close-up shot. That's the DS Lite over there against the wall, but it's hard to make out among some scraps of paper. Note identical bottles of hand sanitizer under monitor, from my Christmas stocking in two consecutive years. Notice also fiancee's skin care products on the dresser behind my desk.
Okay, those are actually mine.
No, not really.
I turn 180 degrees and this is what I see. The Samsung and the PS3 are both just under a year old, which is hard to believe. You SDTV holdouts may think that going HD will not improve your life in any appreciable way. You are wrong. This thing still brings a tear to my eye. A progressive-scan tear, with 720 lines of resolution.
The problem with this setup is that I can't really jump around to play the more physically involved Wii games, but that TV stand is on a swivel so I can point it toward the middle of the room, where there is a little space. And also a ceiling fan that I've almost knocked down several times while playing Wii Tennis.
I keep most of my games on some wall shelves above the TV (the PSP is currently hanging out there, too, as you can see). Generally, the rule is that as soon as I can't fit any more games on the shelf, it's time to trade some in. I have not been following this rule too closely. The PS2 games that you see there are the ones I couldn't bear to part with, plus Karoake Revolution Vol. 3. The rest are some combination of games I really liked or games I couldn't be arsed to trade in yet. The coffee can contains my retirement fund.
If the spirit moves you, please post your own setup in the comments. I'd like to see how people are customizing their own game space.
Is Cloverfield a video-game movie?
Gus Mastrapa has seen Cloverfield and concludes that it has more in common with video games than do many films that are based on video games. He draws parallels between scenes in Cloverfield and games like BlackSite: Area 51 and Half-Life 2, concluding that this is the first film whose method of storytelling seems to be primarily informed by the way games tell their stories. There's also room for this interesting take on Super Mario 64:
When I think about the third-person video game camera, I always think back to Super Mario 64 and that moment when Mario walks up to a mirror and we see Lakitu, the bespectacled turtle, floating on a cloud, dangling a movie camera from a fishing pole... Part of me thinks that it was the introduction of Lakitu that made games too complicated for the average player. Because when we're playing Super Mario 64, we're really responsible for two characters. We move Mario around. And we have to keep tabs on Lakitu to make sure he's giving us the shot that we need. These new perspectives complicate things. Are we Mario? Are we Lakitu? Or are we the camera that Lakitu is dangling?
And here I thought Cloverfield was just about a big slimy monster!
A New Taxonomy of Gamers: Know Thyself
This is the last in an 11-part series. To start from the beginning, read part one: "What We Talk About When We Talk About Games." Or read the previous post, "Tying It All Together."
Employing this new taxonomy, we're able to discuss games without resorting to a simplistic rubric in which games either suck or rule. And we're able to see gamers as a lot more than simply hardcore or casual. Instead of talking past each other when we're coming at games from fundamentally different perspectives, we'll be able to seek common ground and at least disagree with one another from a place of understanding.
Again, I'm not suggesting that we simply slap labels on people and let that take the place of constructive dialogue, especially because nobody is likely to fit neatly into one category or another. In particular, Premium and Wholesale Players aren't necessarily in separate groups as much as they are points along a continuum. Thinking seriously about your own inclinations can give new focus to what you like and why.
For myself, I'm predominantly a Tourist. To the extent that I have any Skill traits, Completism ranks high above Perfectionism. On the value scale, I'm more of a Premium Player than a Wholesale Player. Now that I know this, it explains a lot about myself that I had never been able to concretize before -- like why I preferred Ratchet and Clank Future to Super Mario Galaxy.
Ratchet and Clank is almost all Tourist events: fairly rudimentary combat, lots of jokes and well-produced cutscenes, and unique platforming elements from one world to the next. The Completist aspect consists of searching for hidden golden bolts and the secret components of a weapon schematic, but these parts are fully optional. Powering up each of Ratchet's individual weapons is also a Completist factor, but because this happens as a result of simply playing through the game, it's a side benefit to the Tourist. Perfectionism doesn't really factor in.
Super Mario Galaxy, on the other hand, is primarily Completist and secondarily Tourist. It's close, which is why I did enjoy the game quite a bit. But I could never quite shake the feeling that I wasn't loving it as much as I should have. The reason is that collecting stars is the objective of the game, and experiencing all those wonderful galaxies supports that aim. You don't have to collect all the stars, but to advance through the main story you do have to revisit the same places over and over and pick up most of them.
On the value tip, Ratchet was fairly short, and although there was some optional content (like the battle arena rounds), for the most part it was a linear, narrative game. That fits it comfortably on the Premium end of the scale. Mario Galaxy is similarly short for the main game, but since collecting about half the stars is optional, that puts it on the Wholesale side of the divide. As before, it's not so much that Mario is fully one kind of game or another -- it's that the parts of it to which I responded most strongly were usually not the most salient ones.
This isn't to say that I fully eschew Perfectionist games, either. Some games, like and Ninja Gaiden and Devil May Cry, are so difficult that they require the rigorous effort a Perfectionist craves. These games also have so much to offer my Tourist nature that I play them as a Perfectionist without even realizing it. That doesn't mean I achieve an S ranking -- or even care to -- just that it takes a greater level of effort to beat these games than I'd ordinary be willing to commit.
None of what I've written here is intended to be the final word. In fact, I hope it's only the first step toward a broader and more constructive gaming conversation. There's much more to be said, and probably better than I've said it. I'll consider this series successful not if people adopt the terms I've suggested, but if it inspires anybody to think more critically about the way they play. That's the critical next step for games to achieve cultural relevance.
I cede the floor to you, readers. What are your thoughts?
Employing this new taxonomy, we're able to discuss games without resorting to a simplistic rubric in which games either suck or rule. And we're able to see gamers as a lot more than simply hardcore or casual. Instead of talking past each other when we're coming at games from fundamentally different perspectives, we'll be able to seek common ground and at least disagree with one another from a place of understanding.
Again, I'm not suggesting that we simply slap labels on people and let that take the place of constructive dialogue, especially because nobody is likely to fit neatly into one category or another. In particular, Premium and Wholesale Players aren't necessarily in separate groups as much as they are points along a continuum. Thinking seriously about your own inclinations can give new focus to what you like and why.
For myself, I'm predominantly a Tourist. To the extent that I have any Skill traits, Completism ranks high above Perfectionism. On the value scale, I'm more of a Premium Player than a Wholesale Player. Now that I know this, it explains a lot about myself that I had never been able to concretize before -- like why I preferred Ratchet and Clank Future to Super Mario Galaxy.
Ratchet and Clank is almost all Tourist events: fairly rudimentary combat, lots of jokes and well-produced cutscenes, and unique platforming elements from one world to the next. The Completist aspect consists of searching for hidden golden bolts and the secret components of a weapon schematic, but these parts are fully optional. Powering up each of Ratchet's individual weapons is also a Completist factor, but because this happens as a result of simply playing through the game, it's a side benefit to the Tourist. Perfectionism doesn't really factor in.
Super Mario Galaxy, on the other hand, is primarily Completist and secondarily Tourist. It's close, which is why I did enjoy the game quite a bit. But I could never quite shake the feeling that I wasn't loving it as much as I should have. The reason is that collecting stars is the objective of the game, and experiencing all those wonderful galaxies supports that aim. You don't have to collect all the stars, but to advance through the main story you do have to revisit the same places over and over and pick up most of them.
On the value tip, Ratchet was fairly short, and although there was some optional content (like the battle arena rounds), for the most part it was a linear, narrative game. That fits it comfortably on the Premium end of the scale. Mario Galaxy is similarly short for the main game, but since collecting about half the stars is optional, that puts it on the Wholesale side of the divide. As before, it's not so much that Mario is fully one kind of game or another -- it's that the parts of it to which I responded most strongly were usually not the most salient ones.
This isn't to say that I fully eschew Perfectionist games, either. Some games, like and Ninja Gaiden and Devil May Cry, are so difficult that they require the rigorous effort a Perfectionist craves. These games also have so much to offer my Tourist nature that I play them as a Perfectionist without even realizing it. That doesn't mean I achieve an S ranking -- or even care to -- just that it takes a greater level of effort to beat these games than I'd ordinary be willing to commit.
None of what I've written here is intended to be the final word. In fact, I hope it's only the first step toward a broader and more constructive gaming conversation. There's much more to be said, and probably better than I've said it. I'll consider this series successful not if people adopt the terms I've suggested, but if it inspires anybody to think more critically about the way they play. That's the critical next step for games to achieve cultural relevance.
I cede the floor to you, readers. What are your thoughts?
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Not owning Rock Band is becoming physically painful
Anybody who knows me knows that I love three things above all else: video games, Oasis, and beer. Well, two of those are about to come together in a big way. Word on the street is that Harmonix is delivering an Oasis song pack to Rock Band owners next week.
It's an excellent troika, featuring "Wonderwall," "Live Forever," and "Don't Look Back in Anger." Of those three, "Wonderwall" seems the least suited to the game, given the lack of a blistering solo. Some better choices might have been "Supersonic" or "Champagne Supernova," but considering that the game has been lacking in power ballads, it could have been a lot worse. "Wonderwall" is still a fantastic song. As for "Don't Look Back in Anger," it's one of my top five songs of all time -- maybe even number one.
I've been able to resist the siren call of Rock Band to this point for several reasons: the price, the lack of space in my game room, and my desire never to invite anybody to my apartment for any reason. Now, though, I don't see what choice I have. Ever the optimist, I have added the game to my wedding registry. I'd prefer that over, say, a salad spinner.
It's an excellent troika, featuring "Wonderwall," "Live Forever," and "Don't Look Back in Anger." Of those three, "Wonderwall" seems the least suited to the game, given the lack of a blistering solo. Some better choices might have been "Supersonic" or "Champagne Supernova," but considering that the game has been lacking in power ballads, it could have been a lot worse. "Wonderwall" is still a fantastic song. As for "Don't Look Back in Anger," it's one of my top five songs of all time -- maybe even number one.
I've been able to resist the siren call of Rock Band to this point for several reasons: the price, the lack of space in my game room, and my desire never to invite anybody to my apartment for any reason. Now, though, I don't see what choice I have. Ever the optimist, I have added the game to my wedding registry. I'd prefer that over, say, a salad spinner.
A New Taxonomy of Gamers: Tying It All Together
This is the tenth in an 11-part series. To start from the beginning, read part one: "What We Talk About When We Talk About Games." Or read the previous post, "Case Study: The Orange Box."
By now, we've developed two different ways to group gamers. First, we considered taste in gameplay. We differentiated between Skill Players and Tourists, and for good measure theorized that Skill Players can be further split into Completists and Perfectionists. Then, we talked about how the perception of value can vary from one person to another, and identified two possible types of consumers we called Wholesale Players and Premium Players. Both of these taxonomies suggest a way to talk about games that's based on a common understanding, and not the subjective nature of game characteristics like genre, storyline, or presentation.
What's still unclear is how to integrate them. It seems logical to assume that Tourists are more naturally going to be Premium Players. The Tourist is looking for dramatic gameplay sequences and narrative high points, and isn't terribly interested in finding hidden items or achieving a perfect rating. That seems to match up with the Premium Player, who is willing to pay more per hour of play in order to finish a game. Skill Players are more likely to also be Wholesale Players. Our Skill Players would seem to want the extended gameplay a Wholesale Player seeks; for the Completist, that means lots of things to find and the time necessary to find them, and for the Perfectionist, many challenges to conquer.
That doesn't necessarily hold true in every case. There's no reason a Skill Player can't also be a Premium Player, and no reason a Tourist can't be a Wholesale Player. And it's here that I want to go all the way back to the beginning -- to when we talked about "hardcore" versus "casual" gamers. We couldn't figure out what those terms meant, and now we can say why.
The reason "hardcore" and "casual" fail as classifications for gamers is because each of those classifications contains contradictory meanings.
Essentially, when you call someone a hardcore gamer, you are saying nothing about what type of games they like to play, or the manner in which they like to play those games. You are simply saying that this guy seems to really like games. Is that helpful to anybody? If anything, it leads to the sorts of pissing matches that inevitably overwhelm online game discussion. That designation becomes a badge of honor to be defended instead of what it should be -- a simple, objective term with no value judgments attached.
There's no reason a Tourist can't be "hardcore" -- no reason he can't be the sort to simply rip through one game after another in search of unique experiences. No reason a Perfectionist can't be "casual," and simply try to master, say, Wii Carnival Games. A Wholesale Player may still want linear, narrative games like Okami, and a Premium Player might be getting his money's worth with quick sessions of the latest Tetris. Who in that group is the casual player? Who is the hardcore player?
So if there is no easy or quick way to combine these questions of taste and value, maybe that's a blessing in disguise. Maybe that means we can stop stereotyping ourselves and broaden the conversation. We gamers contain multitudes. It's time we realized it.
Next: Know Thyself
By now, we've developed two different ways to group gamers. First, we considered taste in gameplay. We differentiated between Skill Players and Tourists, and for good measure theorized that Skill Players can be further split into Completists and Perfectionists. Then, we talked about how the perception of value can vary from one person to another, and identified two possible types of consumers we called Wholesale Players and Premium Players. Both of these taxonomies suggest a way to talk about games that's based on a common understanding, and not the subjective nature of game characteristics like genre, storyline, or presentation.
What's still unclear is how to integrate them. It seems logical to assume that Tourists are more naturally going to be Premium Players. The Tourist is looking for dramatic gameplay sequences and narrative high points, and isn't terribly interested in finding hidden items or achieving a perfect rating. That seems to match up with the Premium Player, who is willing to pay more per hour of play in order to finish a game. Skill Players are more likely to also be Wholesale Players. Our Skill Players would seem to want the extended gameplay a Wholesale Player seeks; for the Completist, that means lots of things to find and the time necessary to find them, and for the Perfectionist, many challenges to conquer.
That doesn't necessarily hold true in every case. There's no reason a Skill Player can't also be a Premium Player, and no reason a Tourist can't be a Wholesale Player. And it's here that I want to go all the way back to the beginning -- to when we talked about "hardcore" versus "casual" gamers. We couldn't figure out what those terms meant, and now we can say why.
The reason "hardcore" and "casual" fail as classifications for gamers is because each of those classifications contains contradictory meanings.
Essentially, when you call someone a hardcore gamer, you are saying nothing about what type of games they like to play, or the manner in which they like to play those games. You are simply saying that this guy seems to really like games. Is that helpful to anybody? If anything, it leads to the sorts of pissing matches that inevitably overwhelm online game discussion. That designation becomes a badge of honor to be defended instead of what it should be -- a simple, objective term with no value judgments attached.
There's no reason a Tourist can't be "hardcore" -- no reason he can't be the sort to simply rip through one game after another in search of unique experiences. No reason a Perfectionist can't be "casual," and simply try to master, say, Wii Carnival Games. A Wholesale Player may still want linear, narrative games like Okami, and a Premium Player might be getting his money's worth with quick sessions of the latest Tetris. Who in that group is the casual player? Who is the hardcore player?
So if there is no easy or quick way to combine these questions of taste and value, maybe that's a blessing in disguise. Maybe that means we can stop stereotyping ourselves and broaden the conversation. We gamers contain multitudes. It's time we realized it.
Next: Know Thyself
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The infinite idiocy feedback loop
So, first I said Kevin McCullough was not worth responding to, and then today Tycho of Penny Arcade said much the same thing. But not before writing a comic about him.
The point is well-taken that page views are the fuel that drives this man's infernal idiocy engine, and that we only encourage this sort of behavior by giving him more of them. Not to mention that finding himself besieged by a horde of frothing gamers will only serve to further convince Kevin McCullough that game players really are a bunch of trogs driven wholly by their baser impulses. It hardly matters that on the subject at hand, hot alien sex in Mass Effect, he is empirically wrong and we are right.
Still: Should we simply let these insults pass? I would agree that there is probably a better way to reach Mr. McCullough than the way most people chose, but I guarantee you that he also received a fair number of thoughtful and considered responses from people who showed him the respect he never afforded them. I further guarantee that McCullough disregarded the substance of these emails, except for his admission that, okay, you can't really make your character's boobs whatever size you want.
I tend to think that a hard truth is more valuable than a beautiful lie, and so while it would have been easy to let this moronic column die as McCullough himself one day will, alone and unloved, the fact is that the record needed to be corrected. That so many felt it necessary to stoop to his level does not undercut their essential rightness.
The point is well-taken that page views are the fuel that drives this man's infernal idiocy engine, and that we only encourage this sort of behavior by giving him more of them. Not to mention that finding himself besieged by a horde of frothing gamers will only serve to further convince Kevin McCullough that game players really are a bunch of trogs driven wholly by their baser impulses. It hardly matters that on the subject at hand, hot alien sex in Mass Effect, he is empirically wrong and we are right.
Still: Should we simply let these insults pass? I would agree that there is probably a better way to reach Mr. McCullough than the way most people chose, but I guarantee you that he also received a fair number of thoughtful and considered responses from people who showed him the respect he never afforded them. I further guarantee that McCullough disregarded the substance of these emails, except for his admission that, okay, you can't really make your character's boobs whatever size you want.
I tend to think that a hard truth is more valuable than a beautiful lie, and so while it would have been easy to let this moronic column die as McCullough himself one day will, alone and unloved, the fact is that the record needed to be corrected. That so many felt it necessary to stoop to his level does not undercut their essential rightness.
A New Taxonomy of Gamers: Case Study: The Orange Box
This is the ninth in an 11-part series. To start from the beginning, read part one: "What We Talk About When We Talk About Games." Or read the previous post, "Supply and Demand."
On the back of The Orange Box is a quote from IGN.com declaring it "the best deal in videogame history." They may not be wrong, but I'm not sure if they're right for the reasons they think. They're calling it a value because The Orange Box contains five games. The reason it is a value is because those five games have something to offer to Wholesale Players and Premium Players. If they offered only a low dollar-to-hour ratio, then it might be the best deal in game history for Wholesale Players, but Premium Players would get almost nothing for their money.
Any game with a multiplayer component could theoretically be said to offer unlimited playing time, making its dollar per hour value infinitesimal. Even a game like Disgaea isn't technically endless, but completing every aspect of it would probably cost fractions of a penny per hour. For the Wholesale Player, that's unbeatable.
By that standard, four-fifths of the contents of The Orange Box are essentially useless to the Wholesale Player. Portal is about three hours. Each of the Half-Life episodes takes four to six hours to complete. Half-Life 2 is a little longer, clocking in somewhere in the teens. Each game on its own represents a poor investment for the Wholesale Player, but together you could be talking about 30 hours or more for a $60 game. That's not bad, and we haven't even mentioned Team Fortress 2 yet -- the one game in The Orange Box that theoretically provides so much play time, it's almost free.
Because The Orange Box is split into those five separate chunks, it also provides an easier point of entry for the Premium Player. Take Portal: at three hours, it would make anybody feel like a Wholesale Player if it cost full price. Nevertheless, the Premium Player is likely to be the one to respond more positively to the game, because it better suits his natural instincts. "It was only three hours long" ceases to be a criticism, and becomes an accolade. It means Portal was short enough to beat! That's the litmus test for any Premium Player.
Just as a skillfully designed game such as Guitar Hero can appeal equally to Skill Players and Tourists, so too can it provide adequate value to Wholesale Players and Premium Players (in fact, I'd argue that Guitar Hero does this as well). Nowhere in The Orange Box is this more apparent than with Team Fortress 2. We've already discussed its value to the Wholesale Player: because the game doesn't really end in the traditional sense, as long as the Wholesale Player likes it he can get infinite value from it.
For the Premium Player, the match-based gameplay provides the appropriate value because each play session is broken into easily digestible chunks. There's are no cutscenes to slog through, or far-flung save points preventing him from quitting at his leisure. He can log in for a couple of rounds and have gotten a full, satisfying game session. A Wholesale Player might need to play for six hours to get his fix, but in both cases the players get what they want from the game -- and thus, what they paid for. That's the ultimate test of a game's value.
We can't pinpoint a specific dollar value as the line of demarcation between a Wholesale Player and a Premium Player, nor do we need to. It's probably different for everyone. What matters is understanding the opposing philosophies. Value can mean either spending as little money as possible per hour of gameplay, or getting the most bang for your buck. What matters is being able to identify Wholesale or Premium tendencies in a game, in other gamers, and in yourself.
Next: Tying It All Together
On the back of The Orange Box is a quote from IGN.com declaring it "the best deal in videogame history." They may not be wrong, but I'm not sure if they're right for the reasons they think. They're calling it a value because The Orange Box contains five games. The reason it is a value is because those five games have something to offer to Wholesale Players and Premium Players. If they offered only a low dollar-to-hour ratio, then it might be the best deal in game history for Wholesale Players, but Premium Players would get almost nothing for their money.
Any game with a multiplayer component could theoretically be said to offer unlimited playing time, making its dollar per hour value infinitesimal. Even a game like Disgaea isn't technically endless, but completing every aspect of it would probably cost fractions of a penny per hour. For the Wholesale Player, that's unbeatable.
By that standard, four-fifths of the contents of The Orange Box are essentially useless to the Wholesale Player. Portal is about three hours. Each of the Half-Life episodes takes four to six hours to complete. Half-Life 2 is a little longer, clocking in somewhere in the teens. Each game on its own represents a poor investment for the Wholesale Player, but together you could be talking about 30 hours or more for a $60 game. That's not bad, and we haven't even mentioned Team Fortress 2 yet -- the one game in The Orange Box that theoretically provides so much play time, it's almost free.
Because The Orange Box is split into those five separate chunks, it also provides an easier point of entry for the Premium Player. Take Portal: at three hours, it would make anybody feel like a Wholesale Player if it cost full price. Nevertheless, the Premium Player is likely to be the one to respond more positively to the game, because it better suits his natural instincts. "It was only three hours long" ceases to be a criticism, and becomes an accolade. It means Portal was short enough to beat! That's the litmus test for any Premium Player.
Just as a skillfully designed game such as Guitar Hero can appeal equally to Skill Players and Tourists, so too can it provide adequate value to Wholesale Players and Premium Players (in fact, I'd argue that Guitar Hero does this as well). Nowhere in The Orange Box is this more apparent than with Team Fortress 2. We've already discussed its value to the Wholesale Player: because the game doesn't really end in the traditional sense, as long as the Wholesale Player likes it he can get infinite value from it.
For the Premium Player, the match-based gameplay provides the appropriate value because each play session is broken into easily digestible chunks. There's are no cutscenes to slog through, or far-flung save points preventing him from quitting at his leisure. He can log in for a couple of rounds and have gotten a full, satisfying game session. A Wholesale Player might need to play for six hours to get his fix, but in both cases the players get what they want from the game -- and thus, what they paid for. That's the ultimate test of a game's value.
We can't pinpoint a specific dollar value as the line of demarcation between a Wholesale Player and a Premium Player, nor do we need to. It's probably different for everyone. What matters is understanding the opposing philosophies. Value can mean either spending as little money as possible per hour of gameplay, or getting the most bang for your buck. What matters is being able to identify Wholesale or Premium tendencies in a game, in other gamers, and in yourself.
Next: Tying It All Together
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