Finally back in Bozeman, and now I can play non-handheld games. I say this with only mingled relief; I’m pretty sure I’ve spent more time on Radiant Historia in the past week than I have a JRPG since Pokémon Black. Also, I got a chance to find out why so many pubs gave New Super Mario Bros. 2 such unenthusiastic scores—when I read that a game is "more of the same," I didn’t expect it to literally be more of the same, and this is coming from a guy who likes his Call of Duty an awful lot.
Anyway, now that I have access to my Xbox 360 again, I stopped by Hastings to pick up a new release to play in hopes of keeping up with the gaming conversation. To my surprise, both X-COM: Enemy Unknown and Dishonored were available, a situation I hadn’t counted on considering how fast Bozeman’s college student population snaps up new product. Maybe it’s mid-term tests.
What followed was a short, but intense deliberation about which game to rent. On one hand, X-COM: Enemy Unknown: a modern revival of a classic PC franchise that leans heavily on turn-based strategy and micromanaging resources between missions; on the other, Dishonored: the Bethesda game I’ve always wanted to play, with a wide array of options and gameplay choices while still containing sufficient linear focus. It’s like having to choose between Mad Max and Game of Thrones, which, coincidentally, I am also putting off deciding on even as we speak.
X-COM calls to my inner strategy addict, the same one that made Advance Wars on the Game Boy Advance arguably my most-played game for my entire middle school experience, or that kept me hooked on Final Fantasy Tactics Advance while my college roommate occupied our PlayStation 2. The half-hour demonstration I saw at PAX East hyped me up for XCOM, massaging my strategic inclinations and impressing me with it intuitive console mechanics though my enthusiasm has since cooled. Renting XCOM would mean playing it for an absurdly chunky amount of time, though I can think of worse punishments than "playing through an awesome game for a long time =(".
Games like Dishonored turn me off after a short amount of time, thanks to my unfortunate tendency to lock up when presented with too much choice—either that or I get flashbacks to the time I rented Grand Theft Auto IV, played it for two hours, accomplished nothing, then returned it for The Orange Box. I actually spent time with Dishonored at PAX Prime, though, and Arkane Studios nailed the balance between freeform gameplay and gameplay direction. Plus, I want to try completing Dishonored without murdering anyone, something the Bethesda rep assured me was not only possible but completely badass.
I ended up telling the sales associate about both games and realized I rhapsodized about XCOM for much longer than I did Dishonored, so I went with XCOM. I think it's those small vestiges of decision overload that I'm afraid of, or my general aversion from stealth games, that tilted me away from Dishonored, or if my time with the grid-heavy Radiant Historia is driving me to greater heights of turn-based micromanagement. Besides, Dishonored is far too close in narrative presentation to Mass Effect 2; too many dialog trees make Jack a dull boy, or at least a boy who stares woodenly at you while trying to pick the option that leads to "knock you over the head and drag you to the basement."
Had I more time, or the desire to spend more than $8 at a time renting games, but grown-up decisions dictated that I had to make a tough choice. The problem of choosing between two stellar games is hardly a problem at all, though, and either one would have satisfied my gamerly cravings to top-tier software. Just, don't make me decide which of my children is my favorite again until November, okay?
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Monday, October 8, 2012
The daily grind: Peace of mind through JRPGs
Fifteen hours is a hell of a long time to stay in a car.
I’ve been on a car trip to Missouri with my family since last Wednesday, giving me ample opportunity to stare out the window at passing countryside, and equal opportunity to be bored out of my skull. I prepared before we departed, though, and purchased a 3DS specifically for the journey, along with New Super Mario Bros. 2 and Mario Kart 7. In light of my new software acquisitions, though, I’m surprised that I’m spending the most time with Radiant Historia, a game I bought nearly six months ago and rarely played before last week. It’s been therapeutic in ways I’ve totally forgotten about in the years since I’ve played a top-tier JRPG. In particular, grinding.
Though quality storytelling is generally high on the list of why gamers love JRPGs, I feel like combat—turn-based, active-time, whatever—is a huge draw for me. There’s something about JRPG battles that feel much more deliberate and methodical than traditional console action games, and that same change of pace brings me to a Zen-like state when I’m on a roll. Unwanted grinding can be one of the most tedious experiences in gaming, but deliberate, chosen grinding makes me feel like a well-oiled experience-gaining machine.
Gaining experience feels good. Most modern games have adopted some sort of progression system as a result; look at this year’s Madden and Call of Duty, both of which feature extensive experience and customization options. JRPGs handle it the best, though, because of how their gameplay is already driven by numbers. If I spend round after round hammering at dudes with 45s and 68s, being rewarded with a big, fat 174 feels not just satisfying, but appropriate. It feeds into the videogame power fantasy, but in a math-y way that feels really damn cool.
Progressing in life can be an uncertainty. Who knows if anything I do will positively benefit me, whether it’s trying to lift weights at the gym or spending time playing videogames. JRPGs tell stories in their own right, but their play mechanics tell another, more alluring one: if you spend time doing something, you’ll get good at it, no matter what. If I can fill up my experience bar, I can improve myself. Bar none. This direct feedback loop of effort and progression rewards hard work, appealing to the Puritanical side of the American psyche.
Plus, it’s just good fun to over-level your party and wreak all kinds of havoc on previously-challenging mobs, you know?
When time allows, the grind-happy side of JRPGs can soothe my jangled gaming nerves. Number-driven power fantasies and decisive ass-kickings are a great way to pass the time—that’s how Pokémon did it, that’s how America does it, and it’s worked out pretty well so far.
I’ve been on a car trip to Missouri with my family since last Wednesday, giving me ample opportunity to stare out the window at passing countryside, and equal opportunity to be bored out of my skull. I prepared before we departed, though, and purchased a 3DS specifically for the journey, along with New Super Mario Bros. 2 and Mario Kart 7. In light of my new software acquisitions, though, I’m surprised that I’m spending the most time with Radiant Historia, a game I bought nearly six months ago and rarely played before last week. It’s been therapeutic in ways I’ve totally forgotten about in the years since I’ve played a top-tier JRPG. In particular, grinding.
Though quality storytelling is generally high on the list of why gamers love JRPGs, I feel like combat—turn-based, active-time, whatever—is a huge draw for me. There’s something about JRPG battles that feel much more deliberate and methodical than traditional console action games, and that same change of pace brings me to a Zen-like state when I’m on a roll. Unwanted grinding can be one of the most tedious experiences in gaming, but deliberate, chosen grinding makes me feel like a well-oiled experience-gaining machine.
Gaining experience feels good. Most modern games have adopted some sort of progression system as a result; look at this year’s Madden and Call of Duty, both of which feature extensive experience and customization options. JRPGs handle it the best, though, because of how their gameplay is already driven by numbers. If I spend round after round hammering at dudes with 45s and 68s, being rewarded with a big, fat 174 feels not just satisfying, but appropriate. It feeds into the videogame power fantasy, but in a math-y way that feels really damn cool.
Progressing in life can be an uncertainty. Who knows if anything I do will positively benefit me, whether it’s trying to lift weights at the gym or spending time playing videogames. JRPGs tell stories in their own right, but their play mechanics tell another, more alluring one: if you spend time doing something, you’ll get good at it, no matter what. If I can fill up my experience bar, I can improve myself. Bar none. This direct feedback loop of effort and progression rewards hard work, appealing to the Puritanical side of the American psyche.
Plus, it’s just good fun to over-level your party and wreak all kinds of havoc on previously-challenging mobs, you know?
When time allows, the grind-happy side of JRPGs can soothe my jangled gaming nerves. Number-driven power fantasies and decisive ass-kickings are a great way to pass the time—that’s how Pokémon did it, that’s how America does it, and it’s worked out pretty well so far.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Shop talk: Writing about games is hard
I’ve been on my path to becoming a gaming journalist for close to a year and a half now, meeting challenges seen and unforeseen, but one I haven’t expected is how tough it is to write about videogames. Specifically, how to write about videogames without sounding like an undistinguished fan site. I do my best to read high-quality sites like Polygon and Penny Arcade Report, but I still have a ways to go before I can stack my works alongside more established genres of writing.
I have high standards. It’s not just wanting to write like imaginary “real” writers; I have a very specific goal in mind. I want to command my words with authority like Roger Ebert, and I want to display my personality while keeping my writing informed like Tim Brayton. My problem, so far, is that I lack good writing habits and a sufficient vocabulary for discussing games. I can write about movies till the cows come home; a steady diet of Ebert and Antagony & Ecstasy have blessed my with a greater understanding of how to discuss movies and, as a result, appreciate them as craft. Yet, despite consistently trying to read gaming articles online, I feel that I lack an academic way to discuss games. Invariably, I feel like I’m spouting off marketing lingo when I launch into a discussion about a game’s features; I blame my years of reading Nintendo Power. Granted, I haven’t given my Game Informers a decent read in a while; I have a mental block on reading print journalism/books/anything on paper, and I feel like I might improve my craft if I can actually sit down and learn by example. Still, gaming journalism lacks a generally-accepted model for discussing games in a scholarly manner—either that, or I’ve sorely missed it so far.
I would much prefer to attempt to write about videogames for a living (cripes! If I think there’s a ton of would-be game journos, there must be way more when an actual precedent for Pulitzer-winning writing exists), but like I said, I have a few hurdles to overcome. Fortunately, most of them are mental blocks I need to push past, but if I want to push my way to the top of the journalistic stack, I’m going to have to find a way to assert myself as a better writer than the average Mario fansite, and without an established model for how to improve writing about games outside of general writing tips, I’m going to have to act like an even more creative schmo than usual.
Still, it’s not like I’m unwilling to meet the challenge. I’m just saying it’ll be a bit of a struggle; we’re still in the days where discourse about games writing is still evolving and improving, and my generation—aka, the guys who grew up reading Nintendo Power and EGM2—are on the spearhead of trying new styles. It’s even more fortunate for someone like me: a new, unique style would be worth its weight in page views, and even help push discussions in reviews, editorials, etc. Writers like Jenn Frank and Patricia Fernandez are continuing to advance the field of New Games Journalism, Simon Parkin and his crew crank out kickass long form features, and Patrick Klepek and Jason Schreier hold it down for hard journalism amongst so much fan writing. The future is more crowded than ever, but now’s the time to try something different and become noticed. I’m just going to have to try harder, you know?
I have high standards. It’s not just wanting to write like imaginary “real” writers; I have a very specific goal in mind. I want to command my words with authority like Roger Ebert, and I want to display my personality while keeping my writing informed like Tim Brayton. My problem, so far, is that I lack good writing habits and a sufficient vocabulary for discussing games. I can write about movies till the cows come home; a steady diet of Ebert and Antagony & Ecstasy have blessed my with a greater understanding of how to discuss movies and, as a result, appreciate them as craft. Yet, despite consistently trying to read gaming articles online, I feel that I lack an academic way to discuss games. Invariably, I feel like I’m spouting off marketing lingo when I launch into a discussion about a game’s features; I blame my years of reading Nintendo Power. Granted, I haven’t given my Game Informers a decent read in a while; I have a mental block on reading print journalism/books/anything on paper, and I feel like I might improve my craft if I can actually sit down and learn by example. Still, gaming journalism lacks a generally-accepted model for discussing games in a scholarly manner—either that, or I’ve sorely missed it so far.
I would much prefer to attempt to write about videogames for a living (cripes! If I think there’s a ton of would-be game journos, there must be way more when an actual precedent for Pulitzer-winning writing exists), but like I said, I have a few hurdles to overcome. Fortunately, most of them are mental blocks I need to push past, but if I want to push my way to the top of the journalistic stack, I’m going to have to find a way to assert myself as a better writer than the average Mario fansite, and without an established model for how to improve writing about games outside of general writing tips, I’m going to have to act like an even more creative schmo than usual.
Still, it’s not like I’m unwilling to meet the challenge. I’m just saying it’ll be a bit of a struggle; we’re still in the days where discourse about games writing is still evolving and improving, and my generation—aka, the guys who grew up reading Nintendo Power and EGM2—are on the spearhead of trying new styles. It’s even more fortunate for someone like me: a new, unique style would be worth its weight in page views, and even help push discussions in reviews, editorials, etc. Writers like Jenn Frank and Patricia Fernandez are continuing to advance the field of New Games Journalism, Simon Parkin and his crew crank out kickass long form features, and Patrick Klepek and Jason Schreier hold it down for hard journalism amongst so much fan writing. The future is more crowded than ever, but now’s the time to try something different and become noticed. I’m just going to have to try harder, you know?
Horror Game Scare-athon (*projectile vomit*): ZombiU
Very few stays constant during game console launches, events fraught with uncertainty and excitement that culminates in a big messaging mishmash, but regardless of who makes the hardware, Ubisoft will be there to try to capitalize on the hype, particularly with Nintendo. Ubisoft has had at least one high-profile launch title for Nintendo’s last home release, the high-concept low-execution Red Steel, and poises to deliver another with ZombiU. The urge to make Red Steel comparisons is tempting—a Nintendo-exclusive launch shooter based on hardware-defining gimmicks, huh?—but Ubisoft’s latest entry in the zombie-shootin’ sweepstakes is actually pretty fun.
ZombiU’s drops players in the middle of London after an unspecified plague morphs everyone into craven, flesh-munching zombies. Players take control one of the plague’s survivors and must find their way to safety through the wreckage of merry old England, killing zombies with whatever weaponry can be fashioned or found. Unlike other zombie shooting games like Left 4 Dead or Contagion, guns are scarce and ammo even more so, and conserving bullets is paramount to staying alive; think Condemned: Criminal Origins but with more undead shuffling. Also unlike other zombie shooters, ZombiU’s characters are quite squishy, only taking a low number of hits or one good bite before keeling over. After death, players take control of another survivor in a different portion of the map, and must track down and kill their previous character in order to regain their supplies.
ZombiU’s other big gameplay hook stems from the Wii U GamePad. ZombiU displays a map of the environment on the GamePad screen, letting players scan for zombies a la radar. Item management is handled on the second screen as well, ranging from backpack item placement to which weapon is equipped, and all of it happens in real time, leaving players potentially caught off-guard for impromptu zombie attacks.
My playthrough started me in an enormous mansion, replete with ornate carpets and fancy wall decorations, reminding me of Buckingham Palace gone to hell. I foraged around the study where I woke up until I found a cricket bat lying under an end table, turning my thoughts to Shaun of the Dead. The Ubisoft representative directed my attention to yet another function of the GamePad: a scanner that reveals potential clues or hidden areas. The scanner lead up to a well-camouflaged maintenance closet and up a ladder, where a totally-not-sketchy air duct stood between me and hidden goodies. My good faith was misplaced, however, as a surprise zombie popped out, screaming and dragging me in helplessly. I beat the sucker down, but not before leaping with surprise.
After climbing down my hiding place, newly stocked with bullets and a shiny new shotgun, I came to an expansive ballroom crawling with zombies dressed as the British guard. They lurched toward me and I grabbed my pistol, not wanting to waste my precious shotgun shells. To my surprise, my undead aggressors than I anticipated, taking multiple headshots before hitting the ground. Not wanting to run out of ammo, I switched to my cricket bat and started swinging like Duke Ellington. A few zombies caught me unprepared, though, and a few stray scratches sent me to the Game Over screen.
I selected to respawn, and I was treated to a short cutscene of a female university student waking up in a different section of the mansion. I adjusted my bearings, found a new cricket bat, and cautiously made my way back to the ballroom where I died. The area was less populated with zombies, but I recognized a zombified version of my previous character sporting my backpack. In what must be one of the most peculiar forms of suicide conceived in a game, I put my dead corpse down and continued on my way, having found my old supplies.
In the next room, I noticed a new breed of zombie creeping in, reminiscent of the Boomer in Left 4 Dead, who wasted no time in sliming me. Not wanting to waste any time finding out what else they could do, I broke out my shotgun and was satisfied with how fast the creature went down. If nothing else, ZombiU does a great job of making the player feel helpless without the proper equipment.
ZombiU still isn’t quite my bag; the controls and shooting feel loose, and I never feel fully satisfied playing zombie shooters (this includes both Left 4 Dead and Call of Duty: Zombies). Still, ZombiU is a fun, survivalist take on gunning down zombies, and I’m still excited to find out more about it, regardless of my own personal biases. ZombiU drops with the launch of the Wii U on November 18, 2012.
ZombiU’s drops players in the middle of London after an unspecified plague morphs everyone into craven, flesh-munching zombies. Players take control one of the plague’s survivors and must find their way to safety through the wreckage of merry old England, killing zombies with whatever weaponry can be fashioned or found. Unlike other zombie shooting games like Left 4 Dead or Contagion, guns are scarce and ammo even more so, and conserving bullets is paramount to staying alive; think Condemned: Criminal Origins but with more undead shuffling. Also unlike other zombie shooters, ZombiU’s characters are quite squishy, only taking a low number of hits or one good bite before keeling over. After death, players take control of another survivor in a different portion of the map, and must track down and kill their previous character in order to regain their supplies.
ZombiU’s other big gameplay hook stems from the Wii U GamePad. ZombiU displays a map of the environment on the GamePad screen, letting players scan for zombies a la radar. Item management is handled on the second screen as well, ranging from backpack item placement to which weapon is equipped, and all of it happens in real time, leaving players potentially caught off-guard for impromptu zombie attacks.
My playthrough started me in an enormous mansion, replete with ornate carpets and fancy wall decorations, reminding me of Buckingham Palace gone to hell. I foraged around the study where I woke up until I found a cricket bat lying under an end table, turning my thoughts to Shaun of the Dead. The Ubisoft representative directed my attention to yet another function of the GamePad: a scanner that reveals potential clues or hidden areas. The scanner lead up to a well-camouflaged maintenance closet and up a ladder, where a totally-not-sketchy air duct stood between me and hidden goodies. My good faith was misplaced, however, as a surprise zombie popped out, screaming and dragging me in helplessly. I beat the sucker down, but not before leaping with surprise.
After climbing down my hiding place, newly stocked with bullets and a shiny new shotgun, I came to an expansive ballroom crawling with zombies dressed as the British guard. They lurched toward me and I grabbed my pistol, not wanting to waste my precious shotgun shells. To my surprise, my undead aggressors than I anticipated, taking multiple headshots before hitting the ground. Not wanting to run out of ammo, I switched to my cricket bat and started swinging like Duke Ellington. A few zombies caught me unprepared, though, and a few stray scratches sent me to the Game Over screen.
I selected to respawn, and I was treated to a short cutscene of a female university student waking up in a different section of the mansion. I adjusted my bearings, found a new cricket bat, and cautiously made my way back to the ballroom where I died. The area was less populated with zombies, but I recognized a zombified version of my previous character sporting my backpack. In what must be one of the most peculiar forms of suicide conceived in a game, I put my dead corpse down and continued on my way, having found my old supplies.
In the next room, I noticed a new breed of zombie creeping in, reminiscent of the Boomer in Left 4 Dead, who wasted no time in sliming me. Not wanting to waste any time finding out what else they could do, I broke out my shotgun and was satisfied with how fast the creature went down. If nothing else, ZombiU does a great job of making the player feel helpless without the proper equipment.
ZombiU still isn’t quite my bag; the controls and shooting feel loose, and I never feel fully satisfied playing zombie shooters (this includes both Left 4 Dead and Call of Duty: Zombies). Still, ZombiU is a fun, survivalist take on gunning down zombies, and I’m still excited to find out more about it, regardless of my own personal biases. ZombiU drops with the launch of the Wii U on November 18, 2012.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
October game scare-athon *projectile vomit*
My friend Abi and I were having coffee the other day when she announced plans to watch scary movies all through the month of October, culminating on Halloween night when she watches The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad. Presumably. The fact stands that, starting yesterday, she will watch horror films for an entire month leading up to Halloween.
She’s not the only one. Movie enthusiasts all over the internet are doubtlessly gearing up for Friday The 13th and Nightmare On Elm Street marathons even as we speak, if they haven’t done so already, and goodness knows how many film blogs are planning George Romero retrospectives. Being a gamer more than a film enthusiast, I haven’t much in the way of a horror fiend, but I am a gamer, and that’s why I’m taking my own Halloween horror pre-game.
Starting yesterday, I’ve taken an impetus to play one horror game a week from a different console generation until October 31. I’m starting with Super Castlevania IV on the Super Nintendo and making my way towards the Xbox 360 and PS3, likely resulting in a playthrough of Dead Space because I lack creativity. Also, Siren would be too expensive for a gimmicky blog-a-thon challenge, but that’s beside the point.
My hope is to play one game for each week and write about it, regardless of finishing status. Of course, if I finish a game early, I may end up starting another; Super Castlevania shouldn’t be too long, knock on wood, and my choice for the PlayStation 2/Xbox/Gamecube shouldn’t take terribly long to finish. I’m leaving on vacation tomorrow until next Tuesday, but I ought to have enough to write about until I return to Bozeman. I’ll kick off coverage tomorrow by recapping a new (new) survival horror game I played recently, so don’t worry about having to wait a whole week before we start discussion games that go bump in the night.
Truth be told, I’m excited; not only is this my first themed blog week, but also my first attempt at watching/playing/whatever a specific set of movies/games/whatever to coincide with a holiday or event. New and fun times for everyone! I anticipate growing more as a gamer, or at least a writer who oughtn’t try stuff like this ever again. Looking forward to the whole blundering process!
She’s not the only one. Movie enthusiasts all over the internet are doubtlessly gearing up for Friday The 13th and Nightmare On Elm Street marathons even as we speak, if they haven’t done so already, and goodness knows how many film blogs are planning George Romero retrospectives. Being a gamer more than a film enthusiast, I haven’t much in the way of a horror fiend, but I am a gamer, and that’s why I’m taking my own Halloween horror pre-game.
Starting yesterday, I’ve taken an impetus to play one horror game a week from a different console generation until October 31. I’m starting with Super Castlevania IV on the Super Nintendo and making my way towards the Xbox 360 and PS3, likely resulting in a playthrough of Dead Space because I lack creativity. Also, Siren would be too expensive for a gimmicky blog-a-thon challenge, but that’s beside the point.
My hope is to play one game for each week and write about it, regardless of finishing status. Of course, if I finish a game early, I may end up starting another; Super Castlevania shouldn’t be too long, knock on wood, and my choice for the PlayStation 2/Xbox/Gamecube shouldn’t take terribly long to finish. I’m leaving on vacation tomorrow until next Tuesday, but I ought to have enough to write about until I return to Bozeman. I’ll kick off coverage tomorrow by recapping a new (new) survival horror game I played recently, so don’t worry about having to wait a whole week before we start discussion games that go bump in the night.
Truth be told, I’m excited; not only is this my first themed blog week, but also my first attempt at watching/playing/whatever a specific set of movies/games/whatever to coincide with a holiday or event. New and fun times for everyone! I anticipate growing more as a gamer, or at least a writer who oughtn’t try stuff like this ever again. Looking forward to the whole blundering process!
Monday, October 1, 2012
My favorite shooter: Battlefield: Bad Company
This generation has been a banner one for shooters. Not that shooters have ever been unpopular in the past decade or so; Halo showed us that gamers will buy the ever-loving hell out of console FPS games if done correctly. Ever since 2007's Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, though, developers and publishers have been falling all over themselves trying to replicate Infinity Ward's kajillion-selling formula. If the 16-bit generation can be generalized as "the one with all of the mascot-themed platforming games," this one could readily, if over-simplistically, be summed up as "the one will all the military shooting games."
In light of so many FPS games being released even this month--EA's Medal of Honor: Warfighter is supposed to drop later in October--I thought it appropriate to talk about my favorite shooter from this generation, and one of my favorite games period: Battlefield: Bad Company.
Most modern shooters follow a very specific model, the one set my Call of Duty, in fact: follow one or more NPCs through a linear environment, encountering scripted sequences and waves of bad guys to shoot; reach a target zone where Something Happens, usually setting a bomb or defending a drop zone; follow the NPCs to another portion of the map and repeat; occasionally get into a moving vehicle for an on-rails turret sequence. The spectacle is the selling point in games like this, either kicking ass (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3) or boring completely (Battlefield 3) depending on execution, but the formula largely stays consistent from game to game. Think about the modern template for superhero movies started by Spider-Man and perfected by Iron Man; whether it's The Avengers or Green Lantern, chances are that, unless you're Chris Nolan and are making moody auteur films instead, superhero movies made after 2008 will follow a recognizable pattern in terms of tone and narrative content. So it is with post-Infinity Ward FPS games.
Battlefield: Bad Company was made before Jason West and Vince Zampella kicked console shooters in the teeth, releasing a good six or seven months after Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, and breaks from this formula in several distinct ways. Not that Bad Company is enjoyable only from an iconoclastic position; it's a fun game that I've grown to appreciate more as the method in which shooters are "supposed" to be made solidifies.
The most decisive way Battlefield: Bad Company breaks from other military shooters is its level design. Rather than leading players through a series of watersides, Bad Company put players in a swimming pool, and though it wasn't totally open--some parts of the map expanded as objectives were completed--it gave much more leeway to players on how they wanted to complete levels. Areas in Bad Company were huge, and usually presented several options for approaching critical points on the map. Granted, they were small do-you-take-this-road-or-that-road decisions, but they gave an illusion of choice that complemented Bad Company's wide open spaces and vehicles.
Ah, vehicles. Another feature distinct from Call of Duty and, ironically, later Battlefield games. Vehicles amp up Bad Company's feeling of freedom and increase its destructive potential. Hop in a jeep to quickly zip to the objective, or scour around for a tank and faceroll through the opposition. Vehicles add variety to the typical shooting experience, and Bad Company's sandbox levels make commandeering an armored truck an essential part of play, in addition to being a grand old time.
Perhaps the biggest, in my eyes most important way Bad Company breaks from other shooters is its respawn system. Rather than reloading the game from the last autosave, Bad Company revives players almost where they stand, retaining any destruction or downed enemies from before the player died similar to BioShock's Vita-Chambers. Bad Company never writes over player progress by resetting building destruction or enemy placement, turning it into the most casual lark ever given an M-16 and pressed on to a disc. Far from the tense, high-stress situations in Call of Duty and its brethren, Bad Company invites players to have a good time messing around.
Bad Company's respawn system also accentuates its light, casual tone. With the exception of Bulletstorm (and sometimes even then), shooters are often grim affairs, saddled with the burdens of war and destruction and the lives displaced by violence--a fine goal that is somewhat undermined by the hundreds and hundreds of ammunition rounds spent during even one mission. Bad Company feels tonally similar to goofy action films from the '80s, where even the highest stakes were offset by a light, amiable tone. Here's a quick plot squad to demonstrate: during an unspecified conflict with the Russians, your squad, comprised of Steve Buscimi, Jeff Foxworthy, and Agent Dillon from Predator, accidentally invades a neutral country in search of mercenary gold. Not glory, not honor, not a hankerin' for shooting Russians; gold bullion. Colorful characters, irreverent dialog, and the general sense that no one is ever quite in danger ("Aw, crap!" someone exclaims as a tank rolls into view not five feet away) all impart the feeling of a late afternoon action film on AMC, the sort you shrug and settle in to watch even though you've seen it twice already.
Bad Company had a few other quirks that helped it stand out from other shooters at the time. Bad Company's approach to health regeneration was unorthodox: players' health didn't recharge automatically, but they did have access to a healing syringe that instantly refilled their precious health bar. An unusual method, but one that altered the pacing from the Call of Duty template; rather than hunkering down behind a chest-high wall until my health came back, I would frantically charge enemies guns blazing, knowing that I could instantly recharge if I needed. Not very strategic. Super damn fun. I also appreciated Bad Company's "collectable" weapons, caches of rare guns stashed off the beaten path waiting to reward curious players--finding ways to tangibly reward players for exploration is always tricky, and new ways to shoot things up real good is always a great option.
I just realized I have talked exclusively about the single-player game, something precious little people actually purchase a Battlefield game for. Bad Company introduced me to one of my very favorite multiplayer modes: Gold Rush, simply called Rush in subsequent games because gold is too good a reason to shoot at people. Gold Rush puts players on two teams, one whose goal is to destroy every set of crates on the map, and another tasked with defending against the attacking forces. Teams change roles between matches, giving both sides an opportunity to plant charges and/or repelling invaders with heavy artillery. I am tremendously unskilled at Team Deathmatch, and Gold Rush's objective-based gameplay appeals more to my play style; terrible though I am at headshots, I can defend the hell out of a stationary crate. Gold Rush has since become as standard a mode as Capture The Flag and Battlefield's own Conquest, a development that makes me happy and slightly less prone at losing.
Admittedly, part of my enjoyment of Battlefield: Bad Company comes from a point of place: I first played it during the most relaxing break in school I've ever had, a cozy week during October when I had the time to lazily saunter through the campaign, occasionally pick up a pizza for lunch, and watch movies with my then-girlfriend unencumbered by homework or lengthy respawn times. Still, it was fun then and it's fun now, and I hope EA and DICE can look at Bad Company again as they take the Battlefield series forward.
In light of so many FPS games being released even this month--EA's Medal of Honor: Warfighter is supposed to drop later in October--I thought it appropriate to talk about my favorite shooter from this generation, and one of my favorite games period: Battlefield: Bad Company.
Most modern shooters follow a very specific model, the one set my Call of Duty, in fact: follow one or more NPCs through a linear environment, encountering scripted sequences and waves of bad guys to shoot; reach a target zone where Something Happens, usually setting a bomb or defending a drop zone; follow the NPCs to another portion of the map and repeat; occasionally get into a moving vehicle for an on-rails turret sequence. The spectacle is the selling point in games like this, either kicking ass (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3) or boring completely (Battlefield 3) depending on execution, but the formula largely stays consistent from game to game. Think about the modern template for superhero movies started by Spider-Man and perfected by Iron Man; whether it's The Avengers or Green Lantern, chances are that, unless you're Chris Nolan and are making moody auteur films instead, superhero movies made after 2008 will follow a recognizable pattern in terms of tone and narrative content. So it is with post-Infinity Ward FPS games.
Battlefield: Bad Company was made before Jason West and Vince Zampella kicked console shooters in the teeth, releasing a good six or seven months after Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, and breaks from this formula in several distinct ways. Not that Bad Company is enjoyable only from an iconoclastic position; it's a fun game that I've grown to appreciate more as the method in which shooters are "supposed" to be made solidifies.
The most decisive way Battlefield: Bad Company breaks from other military shooters is its level design. Rather than leading players through a series of watersides, Bad Company put players in a swimming pool, and though it wasn't totally open--some parts of the map expanded as objectives were completed--it gave much more leeway to players on how they wanted to complete levels. Areas in Bad Company were huge, and usually presented several options for approaching critical points on the map. Granted, they were small do-you-take-this-road-or-that-road decisions, but they gave an illusion of choice that complemented Bad Company's wide open spaces and vehicles.
Ah, vehicles. Another feature distinct from Call of Duty and, ironically, later Battlefield games. Vehicles amp up Bad Company's feeling of freedom and increase its destructive potential. Hop in a jeep to quickly zip to the objective, or scour around for a tank and faceroll through the opposition. Vehicles add variety to the typical shooting experience, and Bad Company's sandbox levels make commandeering an armored truck an essential part of play, in addition to being a grand old time.
Perhaps the biggest, in my eyes most important way Bad Company breaks from other shooters is its respawn system. Rather than reloading the game from the last autosave, Bad Company revives players almost where they stand, retaining any destruction or downed enemies from before the player died similar to BioShock's Vita-Chambers. Bad Company never writes over player progress by resetting building destruction or enemy placement, turning it into the most casual lark ever given an M-16 and pressed on to a disc. Far from the tense, high-stress situations in Call of Duty and its brethren, Bad Company invites players to have a good time messing around.
Bad Company's respawn system also accentuates its light, casual tone. With the exception of Bulletstorm (and sometimes even then), shooters are often grim affairs, saddled with the burdens of war and destruction and the lives displaced by violence--a fine goal that is somewhat undermined by the hundreds and hundreds of ammunition rounds spent during even one mission. Bad Company feels tonally similar to goofy action films from the '80s, where even the highest stakes were offset by a light, amiable tone. Here's a quick plot squad to demonstrate: during an unspecified conflict with the Russians, your squad, comprised of Steve Buscimi, Jeff Foxworthy, and Agent Dillon from Predator, accidentally invades a neutral country in search of mercenary gold. Not glory, not honor, not a hankerin' for shooting Russians; gold bullion. Colorful characters, irreverent dialog, and the general sense that no one is ever quite in danger ("Aw, crap!" someone exclaims as a tank rolls into view not five feet away) all impart the feeling of a late afternoon action film on AMC, the sort you shrug and settle in to watch even though you've seen it twice already.
Bad Company had a few other quirks that helped it stand out from other shooters at the time. Bad Company's approach to health regeneration was unorthodox: players' health didn't recharge automatically, but they did have access to a healing syringe that instantly refilled their precious health bar. An unusual method, but one that altered the pacing from the Call of Duty template; rather than hunkering down behind a chest-high wall until my health came back, I would frantically charge enemies guns blazing, knowing that I could instantly recharge if I needed. Not very strategic. Super damn fun. I also appreciated Bad Company's "collectable" weapons, caches of rare guns stashed off the beaten path waiting to reward curious players--finding ways to tangibly reward players for exploration is always tricky, and new ways to shoot things up real good is always a great option.
I just realized I have talked exclusively about the single-player game, something precious little people actually purchase a Battlefield game for. Bad Company introduced me to one of my very favorite multiplayer modes: Gold Rush, simply called Rush in subsequent games because gold is too good a reason to shoot at people. Gold Rush puts players on two teams, one whose goal is to destroy every set of crates on the map, and another tasked with defending against the attacking forces. Teams change roles between matches, giving both sides an opportunity to plant charges and/or repelling invaders with heavy artillery. I am tremendously unskilled at Team Deathmatch, and Gold Rush's objective-based gameplay appeals more to my play style; terrible though I am at headshots, I can defend the hell out of a stationary crate. Gold Rush has since become as standard a mode as Capture The Flag and Battlefield's own Conquest, a development that makes me happy and slightly less prone at losing.
Admittedly, part of my enjoyment of Battlefield: Bad Company comes from a point of place: I first played it during the most relaxing break in school I've ever had, a cozy week during October when I had the time to lazily saunter through the campaign, occasionally pick up a pizza for lunch, and watch movies with my then-girlfriend unencumbered by homework or lengthy respawn times. Still, it was fun then and it's fun now, and I hope EA and DICE can look at Bad Company again as they take the Battlefield series forward.
Why third party matters for the Wii U
Now that the Wii U’s launch games have been announced, we can start to pick apart the more esoteric, or at least anal-retentive aspects of the list. The most important one for me, and one I pointed out a few days ago: the presence of huge-name third-party games. Call of Duty: Black Ops II. Assassin’s Creed III. Darksiders II. All major triple-A games and, crucially, all gamers’ games. The message rings loud and clear: if you’re a core gamer, you’ll probably do alright owning the Wii U.
How perplexing, then, that some gamers are already scoffing at its third-party support. I noticed a few discussions on Twitter regarding the Wii U launch games to the effect that offering widespread third-party support on such an under-supported platform is pointless, like washing your car during a hailstorm. Why, the argument goes, does Nintendo promote playing Call of Duty: Black Ops II on the Wii U when so many are going to buy it on Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3? What’s the point of coming out with Darksiders II and Batman: Arkham City so long after their initial release? Who in their right mind is going to make the Wii U their lead platform for Assassin’s Creed III?
This kind of thinking boggles my mind for a number of reasons. I suppose this is just a case of gamers on the internet acting like gamers on the internet, but I suppose it hits me closer to home than other Wii U-related topics. You see, I exclusively owned a GameCube from 2001 to 2006, and perpetually felt the absence of other ambitious third-party games, especially after 2005 when developers started running into trouble fitting games onto the GameCube’s 1.8GB proprietary discs. Granted, most of the big ones made their way to the ‘Cube; all of the Maddens and Splinter Cells and, yes, Call of Dutys all got their due on Nintendo’s li’l lunchbox that could. What it lacked were the fun B-level games, the medium-profile games with more modest expectations—games like Project Snowblind, Darkwatch, and kill.switch, none of which are stone-cold masterpieces but added spice to the rest of the Xbox and PlayStation 2 library.
So when I see gamers decrying EA’s decision to release Mass Effect 3 on its newest piece of hardware, I want to get on a chair and shout, “Are you bloody serious?!” I get the mindset that gamers who haven’t played Mass Effect 3 yet are unlikely to suddenly start the series on the Wii U, or that the sort of gamer who would buy Batman: Arkham City will likely have already done so last year. I don’t agree, though, that it’s not worthwhile to have them available to Wii U gamers in general. A console is only as good as its games, and I think Nintendo getting one of this year’s biggest games, Call of Duty: Black Ops II, is a huge move and a necessary one.
Nintendo is starting to move into the present day with an online platform, widespread third-party support, and a controller that can actually support control schemes found on other consoles (the existence of the Wii U Classic Controller Pro completely eliminates the strain of porting games like on the Wii), and I’m super damn happy about every last acknowledgement towards modern gaming. Come November, I’m going to reward Nintendo’s move towards catching up by buying Darksiders II as one of my launch games. Some of this has to do with THQ’s recent announcement of Darksiders II U’s bonus content, but I want to show both Nintendo and THQ that core gamers will buy their core Wii U games. A small gesture, but one that makes me feel nice, and besides I haven’t played Darksiders II yet.
This period in gaming is one of the least exclusive-driven in recent memory, and if Nintendo wants to catch up, they can’t just rely exclusively on their stable of killer first-party games. Somewhere, someone who owns a Wii U will want a big-time multi-platform game, and it’s up to Nintendo to try to facilitate a Wii U version. I know, because I was once the person longing for a widely-present game for the other two consoles, and it burned me that I couldn’t play them. Nintendo can’t leave the Wii U feeling like a secondary machine, the Other Device occasionally brought out to play Mario and Zelda, and widespread third-party support will bury this notion faster than anything Nintendo could pull out of its trousers. Game consoles need games, and so far Nintendo has done a good job of showing that their new baby will actually get them.
How perplexing, then, that some gamers are already scoffing at its third-party support. I noticed a few discussions on Twitter regarding the Wii U launch games to the effect that offering widespread third-party support on such an under-supported platform is pointless, like washing your car during a hailstorm. Why, the argument goes, does Nintendo promote playing Call of Duty: Black Ops II on the Wii U when so many are going to buy it on Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3? What’s the point of coming out with Darksiders II and Batman: Arkham City so long after their initial release? Who in their right mind is going to make the Wii U their lead platform for Assassin’s Creed III?
This kind of thinking boggles my mind for a number of reasons. I suppose this is just a case of gamers on the internet acting like gamers on the internet, but I suppose it hits me closer to home than other Wii U-related topics. You see, I exclusively owned a GameCube from 2001 to 2006, and perpetually felt the absence of other ambitious third-party games, especially after 2005 when developers started running into trouble fitting games onto the GameCube’s 1.8GB proprietary discs. Granted, most of the big ones made their way to the ‘Cube; all of the Maddens and Splinter Cells and, yes, Call of Dutys all got their due on Nintendo’s li’l lunchbox that could. What it lacked were the fun B-level games, the medium-profile games with more modest expectations—games like Project Snowblind, Darkwatch, and kill.switch, none of which are stone-cold masterpieces but added spice to the rest of the Xbox and PlayStation 2 library.
So when I see gamers decrying EA’s decision to release Mass Effect 3 on its newest piece of hardware, I want to get on a chair and shout, “Are you bloody serious?!” I get the mindset that gamers who haven’t played Mass Effect 3 yet are unlikely to suddenly start the series on the Wii U, or that the sort of gamer who would buy Batman: Arkham City will likely have already done so last year. I don’t agree, though, that it’s not worthwhile to have them available to Wii U gamers in general. A console is only as good as its games, and I think Nintendo getting one of this year’s biggest games, Call of Duty: Black Ops II, is a huge move and a necessary one.
Nintendo is starting to move into the present day with an online platform, widespread third-party support, and a controller that can actually support control schemes found on other consoles (the existence of the Wii U Classic Controller Pro completely eliminates the strain of porting games like on the Wii), and I’m super damn happy about every last acknowledgement towards modern gaming. Come November, I’m going to reward Nintendo’s move towards catching up by buying Darksiders II as one of my launch games. Some of this has to do with THQ’s recent announcement of Darksiders II U’s bonus content, but I want to show both Nintendo and THQ that core gamers will buy their core Wii U games. A small gesture, but one that makes me feel nice, and besides I haven’t played Darksiders II yet.
This period in gaming is one of the least exclusive-driven in recent memory, and if Nintendo wants to catch up, they can’t just rely exclusively on their stable of killer first-party games. Somewhere, someone who owns a Wii U will want a big-time multi-platform game, and it’s up to Nintendo to try to facilitate a Wii U version. I know, because I was once the person longing for a widely-present game for the other two consoles, and it burned me that I couldn’t play them. Nintendo can’t leave the Wii U feeling like a secondary machine, the Other Device occasionally brought out to play Mario and Zelda, and widespread third-party support will bury this notion faster than anything Nintendo could pull out of its trousers. Game consoles need games, and so far Nintendo has done a good job of showing that their new baby will actually get them.
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