Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Listus Interruptus
Sorry to break the flow of this 00 retrospective, but I figured this would be of interest.
I've often communicated my enthusiasm for the PixelJunk brand of games on the PlayStation Network. Every since I bought a PS3 last year, I have found myself drawn towards their distinctive, addictive little games. When they finally released PixelJunk Shooter last week, their first completely original product of 2009, I was incredibly excited. I played through it as quickly as possible so I could write a review.
That review is on Bitmob right now, but after posting it last night I was stunned to see another writer had posted his own thoughts on the game and they were already splashed across the front page. It was an awkward moment for me, because while I was disappointed that someone else got the front-page treatment over me, I was really impressed by what he wrote. Bottom line: we both love the game, so you should consider buying it. Even though I've "finished" the game I've still got things to go back and collect.
Look for my list to continue very soon, although some year-end writing opportunities may cause additional delays. But hey, either way I'll be writing something, so be sure to stay tuned.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I've often communicated my enthusiasm for the PixelJunk brand of games on the PlayStation Network. Every since I bought a PS3 last year, I have found myself drawn towards their distinctive, addictive little games. When they finally released PixelJunk Shooter last week, their first completely original product of 2009, I was incredibly excited. I played through it as quickly as possible so I could write a review.
That review is on Bitmob right now, but after posting it last night I was stunned to see another writer had posted his own thoughts on the game and they were already splashed across the front page. It was an awkward moment for me, because while I was disappointed that someone else got the front-page treatment over me, I was really impressed by what he wrote. Bottom line: we both love the game, so you should consider buying it. Even though I've "finished" the game I've still got things to go back and collect.
Look for my list to continue very soon, although some year-end writing opportunities may cause additional delays. But hey, either way I'll be writing something, so be sure to stay tuned.
Labels: Bitmob, PixelJunk, PS3, video games, writing
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Demohazard
My friend Richard, bless his heart, lives alone in Japan. We talk a lot via Skype, typically while watching sumo or insane Japanese variety programs, but Richard is more of a gamer than he is a television fan. He has been encouraging me to find time to play games with him online and I've kind of been avoiding him, mostly because our Resistance 2 sessions earlier this year put my wife into a rather sour mood. However, since she has gone to her parents' house to prepare for the imminent delivery, Richard argued that this was my last chance to enjoy any kind of online gaming for a long time. After all, when she returns there will be a new human being living here who demands constant attention.
I knew Richard was right. It was time to return to the world of survival horror.
You may recall my excitement over Resident Evil 5 late last year when I used the Jedi mind trick to convince a retail clerk to give me a demo version of the game at a time when only new PS3 owners could play it. As much fun as it was to get my hands on something rare (at the time), when I actually sat down and played it I was sorely disappointed. The awkward control scheme, the confusing lack of objectives (fight or flight? stay or go?) and the weakness of the weapons really soured me on the game as a whole. It looked great, yes, but it was neither fun nor scary; it was just annoying. Once the game actually went on sale, I heard many people echo my own complaints, reassuring me that I had made the right call.
However, there were also a substantial number of people who proclaimed that Resident Evil 5 was much better than the demo had led on. While every game, no matter how bad, is bound to have its defenders, I found that my friends were among these voices of support. There developed an odd kind of peer pressure where different friends encouraged me to buy on the game on PS3 or Xbox so I could play with them. Normally I am my own worst enemy when it comes to impulse purchases, but now I was receiving near-demands from others to join the party. Still I held out, partly because I had other games to play but mostly because I felt I had already given the game its fair shake and rejected it.
With this new-found gaming time (because Mako has gone to her parents' house) and another generous loan from Alex (thanks again, sir), I finally played Resident Evil 5 for real on Sunday. Even though Richard had completed the game already, he was happy to play it again with me, both to seek out more hidden objects and for the sheer fun of it. He tried to share some of his upgraded weapons with me but the game, rather smartly, wouldn't allow it. Having a friend with both advanced items and knowledge of the game was advantage enough; anything more than that and our survival horror would become a survival cakewalk.
I don't know whether it was having more context to the bizarre situations or simply a matter of having played the demo a couple of times, but everything about Resident Evil 5 was better than I remembered. Playing alongside Richard and knowing where to go certainly helped cut down on frustration, but more than that, the entire game just seemed more accessible and entertaining than I had previously thought. The controls no longer felt like an obstacle, probably because the demo had already made them familiar to me. Most importantly, the combat was fun rather than being a chore.
The bigger issue here is not how fun Resident Evil 5 turned out to be but how wrong I was to have judged it as I did after playing an arbitrary piece of it as a demo. One could argue that my failed experience with the demo was in fact valuable preparation time for the real thing; that is, had I never played the demo and simply sat down with the game cold, I would have encountered all of the same problems, quirks and irritants as I did before. While that might be true, there's no way to know if I would have reacted to those things in the way that I did. Also, it doesn't hold up when contrasted with my other recent video game demo playthroughs.
I was rather down on the demo of Resistance 2 that I played at Tokyo Game Show but I ended up receiving that game as a gift and playing through the entire story mode. The demo was an accurate taste of the first stage, albeit a rushed one that followed a very long wait in line which presumably put me in a bad mood. I credit my eventual seduction by that game to the excellent online co-op mode which then led me to try the single-player mode once I had no time to play online anymore.
Conversely, I absolutely adored the demo of Mirror's Edge and bought it based solely on that initial positive experience, but the real game turned out to be much more frustrating than I had previously thought. Lowering the difficulty somewhat recaptured the fun I had remembered, but I have yet to fully return to the game and play anything beyond the prologue. Then again, I haven't gotten around to playing BioShock yet either and I can't blame that on anything besides my own state of mind. The demo I played in October was phenomenal and the real game wasn't any different. I just haven't convinced myself to explore that glorious underwater world.
Looking at these conflicting examples, there's no clear connection between a good demo or a bad demo and enjoying or not enjoying the full game. Of course, the entertainment value of a video game (or any media for that matter) is not a simple Boolean matter. I can't draw a line and sort out games which are Fun versus those which are Not Fun. Taste is subjective and constantly in flux. At first I liked PixelJunk Eden, then I grew bored of it, then I suddenly rediscovered it and felt compelled to finish it. There's still time for me to enjoy Mirror's Edge or BioShock just as there's still time for me to reject Resident Evil 5.
I still feel like playing demo versions of video games is the best way to determine whether I should buy the full version or not. No amount of screenshots or gameplay footage can equal the hands-on test that a demo offers. However, it is vital that I keep in mind that a lot can change between the release of a demo and the release of the finished product. More than the graphics or the controls or the difficulty or any other technological tweaks, I can change and that's something nobody can predict - least of all me.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I knew Richard was right. It was time to return to the world of survival horror.
You may recall my excitement over Resident Evil 5 late last year when I used the Jedi mind trick to convince a retail clerk to give me a demo version of the game at a time when only new PS3 owners could play it. As much fun as it was to get my hands on something rare (at the time), when I actually sat down and played it I was sorely disappointed. The awkward control scheme, the confusing lack of objectives (fight or flight? stay or go?) and the weakness of the weapons really soured me on the game as a whole. It looked great, yes, but it was neither fun nor scary; it was just annoying. Once the game actually went on sale, I heard many people echo my own complaints, reassuring me that I had made the right call.
However, there were also a substantial number of people who proclaimed that Resident Evil 5 was much better than the demo had led on. While every game, no matter how bad, is bound to have its defenders, I found that my friends were among these voices of support. There developed an odd kind of peer pressure where different friends encouraged me to buy on the game on PS3 or Xbox so I could play with them. Normally I am my own worst enemy when it comes to impulse purchases, but now I was receiving near-demands from others to join the party. Still I held out, partly because I had other games to play but mostly because I felt I had already given the game its fair shake and rejected it.
With this new-found gaming time (because Mako has gone to her parents' house) and another generous loan from Alex (thanks again, sir), I finally played Resident Evil 5 for real on Sunday. Even though Richard had completed the game already, he was happy to play it again with me, both to seek out more hidden objects and for the sheer fun of it. He tried to share some of his upgraded weapons with me but the game, rather smartly, wouldn't allow it. Having a friend with both advanced items and knowledge of the game was advantage enough; anything more than that and our survival horror would become a survival cakewalk.
I don't know whether it was having more context to the bizarre situations or simply a matter of having played the demo a couple of times, but everything about Resident Evil 5 was better than I remembered. Playing alongside Richard and knowing where to go certainly helped cut down on frustration, but more than that, the entire game just seemed more accessible and entertaining than I had previously thought. The controls no longer felt like an obstacle, probably because the demo had already made them familiar to me. Most importantly, the combat was fun rather than being a chore.
The bigger issue here is not how fun Resident Evil 5 turned out to be but how wrong I was to have judged it as I did after playing an arbitrary piece of it as a demo. One could argue that my failed experience with the demo was in fact valuable preparation time for the real thing; that is, had I never played the demo and simply sat down with the game cold, I would have encountered all of the same problems, quirks and irritants as I did before. While that might be true, there's no way to know if I would have reacted to those things in the way that I did. Also, it doesn't hold up when contrasted with my other recent video game demo playthroughs.
I was rather down on the demo of Resistance 2 that I played at Tokyo Game Show but I ended up receiving that game as a gift and playing through the entire story mode. The demo was an accurate taste of the first stage, albeit a rushed one that followed a very long wait in line which presumably put me in a bad mood. I credit my eventual seduction by that game to the excellent online co-op mode which then led me to try the single-player mode once I had no time to play online anymore.
Conversely, I absolutely adored the demo of Mirror's Edge and bought it based solely on that initial positive experience, but the real game turned out to be much more frustrating than I had previously thought. Lowering the difficulty somewhat recaptured the fun I had remembered, but I have yet to fully return to the game and play anything beyond the prologue. Then again, I haven't gotten around to playing BioShock yet either and I can't blame that on anything besides my own state of mind. The demo I played in October was phenomenal and the real game wasn't any different. I just haven't convinced myself to explore that glorious underwater world.
Looking at these conflicting examples, there's no clear connection between a good demo or a bad demo and enjoying or not enjoying the full game. Of course, the entertainment value of a video game (or any media for that matter) is not a simple Boolean matter. I can't draw a line and sort out games which are Fun versus those which are Not Fun. Taste is subjective and constantly in flux. At first I liked PixelJunk Eden, then I grew bored of it, then I suddenly rediscovered it and felt compelled to finish it. There's still time for me to enjoy Mirror's Edge or BioShock just as there's still time for me to reject Resident Evil 5.
I still feel like playing demo versions of video games is the best way to determine whether I should buy the full version or not. No amount of screenshots or gameplay footage can equal the hands-on test that a demo offers. However, it is vital that I keep in mind that a lot can change between the release of a demo and the release of the finished product. More than the graphics or the controls or the difficulty or any other technological tweaks, I can change and that's something nobody can predict - least of all me.
Labels: Alex, BioShock, friends, Mirror's Edge, PixelJunk, RE5, Resistance 2, Richard, TGS, video games
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, March 23, 2009
Feit SMASH!
Spring is just lurking around the corner here in Japan but after a lovely weekend of 60 degree weather, it seems to have taken a few steps backward. It looks to be a cold, cloudy week of unappealing weather. That's OK, I can take it, but I hope those cherry blossoms start poppin' soon. I want to see that beautiful side of Japan again!
I thought about expanding on my all too brief review of The Incredible Hulk today, but the more I think about the movie, the more I realize it's just not worth the effort. If they didn't really care about the final product, why should I bother elaborating on exactly why the movie isn't very good? In the end, the film obviously aspired to be nothing more than a mediocre replacement for the awful Hulk film from 2003. They reached for the middle ground and they got there. Mission accomplished: your movie isn't worth watching.
Movies are definitely on my mind because it's been a while since I hit the theaters. I missed Benjamin Button because Mako strung me along: she insisted she wanted to see it so I waited for her, but when it came time to go she said she wasn't that interested and she couldn't sit through a three hour film. I'm not mad, of course, but I'm a little disappointed that she didn't just admit to me earlier that she wasn't going to watch it. I can feel her pulling the same stunt with Valkyrie and Watchmen as we speak - when I ask her she says she wants to go, but when I suggest a time and a place she backs down. Does she just not want me going to the theater without her? It doesn't seem fair to wait for weeks/months for these films to come to Japan and then have Mako decide that I'm waiting another four months until they come out on DVD.
I guess I need to write more about the unborn baby because it's all people ask me about when they call or write. The baby hasn't gone anywhere folks, he's right where I left him. He continues to grow and physically abuse Mako's insides. At this point, when he kicks her I can feel it without actually touching her belly. Just lying in bed next to Mako is enough to pick up on the shockwaves. It looks like our baby is The Juggernaut. At least I know what to name him now: Cain.
That's a joke, of course, which reminds me: no, I'm not telling anyone what the baby's name is going to be. We've pretty much secured a single choice after culling so many options from a variety of cultures. Mako can be very stubborn and, whether she's kidding or not, she has been pushing for "Daniel" since the fall. For some reason, I was able to let go of my suggestions that she shot down ("sorry my boy, your mother wouldn't let me name you Akira") but she will not stop with "Daniel," "Junior," or worst of all "D.J." If my son wants to be a DJ when he grows up, he can spin all the records he wants. But I'll be damned if his birth certificate is going to have two initials where his name should be.
OK, I can feel this post getting nasty, so let's end on an upbeat note. Last night I successfully earned a trophy in PixelJunk Eden for completing an entire garden in less than ten minutes. I beat it with just five seconds to spare. I welcome any and all congratulatory comments, e-mails, telegrams, and chocolates.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
I thought about expanding on my all too brief review of The Incredible Hulk today, but the more I think about the movie, the more I realize it's just not worth the effort. If they didn't really care about the final product, why should I bother elaborating on exactly why the movie isn't very good? In the end, the film obviously aspired to be nothing more than a mediocre replacement for the awful Hulk film from 2003. They reached for the middle ground and they got there. Mission accomplished: your movie isn't worth watching.
Movies are definitely on my mind because it's been a while since I hit the theaters. I missed Benjamin Button because Mako strung me along: she insisted she wanted to see it so I waited for her, but when it came time to go she said she wasn't that interested and she couldn't sit through a three hour film. I'm not mad, of course, but I'm a little disappointed that she didn't just admit to me earlier that she wasn't going to watch it. I can feel her pulling the same stunt with Valkyrie and Watchmen as we speak - when I ask her she says she wants to go, but when I suggest a time and a place she backs down. Does she just not want me going to the theater without her? It doesn't seem fair to wait for weeks/months for these films to come to Japan and then have Mako decide that I'm waiting another four months until they come out on DVD.
I guess I need to write more about the unborn baby because it's all people ask me about when they call or write. The baby hasn't gone anywhere folks, he's right where I left him. He continues to grow and physically abuse Mako's insides. At this point, when he kicks her I can feel it without actually touching her belly. Just lying in bed next to Mako is enough to pick up on the shockwaves. It looks like our baby is The Juggernaut. At least I know what to name him now: Cain.
That's a joke, of course, which reminds me: no, I'm not telling anyone what the baby's name is going to be. We've pretty much secured a single choice after culling so many options from a variety of cultures. Mako can be very stubborn and, whether she's kidding or not, she has been pushing for "Daniel" since the fall. For some reason, I was able to let go of my suggestions that she shot down ("sorry my boy, your mother wouldn't let me name you Akira") but she will not stop with "Daniel," "Junior," or worst of all "D.J." If my son wants to be a DJ when he grows up, he can spin all the records he wants. But I'll be damned if his birth certificate is going to have two initials where his name should be.
OK, I can feel this post getting nasty, so let's end on an upbeat note. Last night I successfully earned a trophy in PixelJunk Eden for completing an entire garden in less than ten minutes. I beat it with just five seconds to spare. I welcome any and all congratulatory comments, e-mails, telegrams, and chocolates.
Labels: comic books, marriage, movies, PixelJunk, pregnancy, video games
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, March 16, 2009
Return to Eden
With so many video games on hand right now and such exciting ones looming on the horizon, the last thing I expected was to be drawn back into a game from last summer.
Maybe I should have known it was coming. Indeed, maybe I wanted this to happen. It's not like I finished PixelJunk Eden. Hell, I didn't even come close. It was the first PlayStation Network game that I bought and I played it a lot, drawn in by the stylish graphics and hip tunes. After a few weeks, though, I drifted away. I suppose it could have been the game's frustrating timer which seemed so out of place, but I suspect it was more about the call of other, newer games that pulled me away.
In late January they released a patch for the game, tweaking a bit of the rules in the player's favor. The timer is still there, sadly, but it has been greatly neutered. Falling down and catching up is no longer an impossibility, and even if the timer runs out there is now a continue option. I remember giving the game another go to see the changes and I came away impressed. But I still went away to shinier pastures.
I had a lot of gaming time this weekend, for which I am grateful, and I decided to fire up Eden again on a whim. Blame my laziness; it was easier to press play than it was to get up and put a disc into the machine. Having completely explored the first four gardens, I took a look at Garden 5 and I was immediately taken aback. The fragile, pollen-laden enemies were no longer pushovers that broke apart when they touched your thread. They demanded more precise leaps and swings to be cracked open and harvested. With a single change, the entire game felt new.
While I can recall reading about this development on message boards in the past (usually along the lines of "The game isn't fun anymore") for me it was just the opposite. By the end of Garden 4 I was getting tired of the pattern. With such plodding creatures the only challenge of the game was dealing with the timer and the ever-increasing height of the garden's fauna. Garden 5 offered something truly different and I was excited about playing again. I had to think more about when I jumped and how long I could swing around. Who knew I wanted the game to be harder?
It wasn't long before I found the first Spectra and left Garden 5 when I made another surprising decision. Rather than return to 5 and dig around for more Spectra, which had been my pattern for the first four gardens, I went ahead and took a peek at Garden 6. Again, things were immediately different. Instead of wide-open spaces and large plants, 6 is cramped and rocky. The twist is that "portals" are laid out in order to get through solid obstacles. I call them that rather then "teleporters" because, like Portal, the way you enter one affects how you exit the other. If you leap in from the right, you will come out on the other side retaining your previous heading. Again, having a new method of transport in game was enthralling.
After taking a Spectra from Garden 6, I decided to push myself ahead even further and look at Garden 7. Right away I was struck by the incredible visuals: the background has glowing dots that move like digital raindrops in slow-motion. I would compare it to The Matrix except the colors are totally different. The Matrix is black & green and feels cold. Garden 7 is an amber color which feels somehow inviting and intimidating at the same time.
A bit of exploration led me to discover the real secret of Garden 7. The "rain" isn't just for show. Creatures can change the direction of gravity in Garden 7 and the background flow indicates which way is "down." Needless to say, this was a huge change and it threw me for a loop. Again, much like Garden 5, I reacted to this challenge with enthusiasm rather than frustration. I was eager to figure out a way around these radical shifts in gameplay. I wanted to keep going to see what craziness might lay ahead. In other words, I was re-hooked on Eden after months of near indifference.
I put in about an hour into Eden before bed last night trying to finish Garden 5. While garden-hopping was great fun and showed me that the game has so much more to offer, the realities of the game itself demand that I go back and actually collect more Spectra before I unlock more space to explore. I haven't quite finished Garden 5 but I have opened up Garden 8. Whether I continue clean-up duty (more trophies, yay!) or keep pushing ahead for exploration's sake tonight, I can't say. But I know I am looking forward to getting home and leaping around the gardens of Eden again, and that's incredible in this current gaming atmosphere.
The giant gaming conversation on the Internet is always looking forward, not backward. Even new games aren't "new" for very long as trailers and developer previews entice players to start anticipating the next game rather than enjoy the ones they've got. I'm not pointing fingers here; from day one I have owned more PS3 games than I've known what to do with. Indeed, the first game I bought for it (Grand Theft Auto IV) is the one I've spent the least amount of time playing. The fact that Eden has pulled me back in after so long is a testament to how solid the game really is. If you've never tried it, you should. It's only $10, honestly. And if you played it last year and then moved on, give it another look.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Maybe I should have known it was coming. Indeed, maybe I wanted this to happen. It's not like I finished PixelJunk Eden. Hell, I didn't even come close. It was the first PlayStation Network game that I bought and I played it a lot, drawn in by the stylish graphics and hip tunes. After a few weeks, though, I drifted away. I suppose it could have been the game's frustrating timer which seemed so out of place, but I suspect it was more about the call of other, newer games that pulled me away.
In late January they released a patch for the game, tweaking a bit of the rules in the player's favor. The timer is still there, sadly, but it has been greatly neutered. Falling down and catching up is no longer an impossibility, and even if the timer runs out there is now a continue option. I remember giving the game another go to see the changes and I came away impressed. But I still went away to shinier pastures.
I had a lot of gaming time this weekend, for which I am grateful, and I decided to fire up Eden again on a whim. Blame my laziness; it was easier to press play than it was to get up and put a disc into the machine. Having completely explored the first four gardens, I took a look at Garden 5 and I was immediately taken aback. The fragile, pollen-laden enemies were no longer pushovers that broke apart when they touched your thread. They demanded more precise leaps and swings to be cracked open and harvested. With a single change, the entire game felt new.
While I can recall reading about this development on message boards in the past (usually along the lines of "The game isn't fun anymore") for me it was just the opposite. By the end of Garden 4 I was getting tired of the pattern. With such plodding creatures the only challenge of the game was dealing with the timer and the ever-increasing height of the garden's fauna. Garden 5 offered something truly different and I was excited about playing again. I had to think more about when I jumped and how long I could swing around. Who knew I wanted the game to be harder?
It wasn't long before I found the first Spectra and left Garden 5 when I made another surprising decision. Rather than return to 5 and dig around for more Spectra, which had been my pattern for the first four gardens, I went ahead and took a peek at Garden 6. Again, things were immediately different. Instead of wide-open spaces and large plants, 6 is cramped and rocky. The twist is that "portals" are laid out in order to get through solid obstacles. I call them that rather then "teleporters" because, like Portal, the way you enter one affects how you exit the other. If you leap in from the right, you will come out on the other side retaining your previous heading. Again, having a new method of transport in game was enthralling.
After taking a Spectra from Garden 6, I decided to push myself ahead even further and look at Garden 7. Right away I was struck by the incredible visuals: the background has glowing dots that move like digital raindrops in slow-motion. I would compare it to The Matrix except the colors are totally different. The Matrix is black & green and feels cold. Garden 7 is an amber color which feels somehow inviting and intimidating at the same time.
A bit of exploration led me to discover the real secret of Garden 7. The "rain" isn't just for show. Creatures can change the direction of gravity in Garden 7 and the background flow indicates which way is "down." Needless to say, this was a huge change and it threw me for a loop. Again, much like Garden 5, I reacted to this challenge with enthusiasm rather than frustration. I was eager to figure out a way around these radical shifts in gameplay. I wanted to keep going to see what craziness might lay ahead. In other words, I was re-hooked on Eden after months of near indifference.
I put in about an hour into Eden before bed last night trying to finish Garden 5. While garden-hopping was great fun and showed me that the game has so much more to offer, the realities of the game itself demand that I go back and actually collect more Spectra before I unlock more space to explore. I haven't quite finished Garden 5 but I have opened up Garden 8. Whether I continue clean-up duty (more trophies, yay!) or keep pushing ahead for exploration's sake tonight, I can't say. But I know I am looking forward to getting home and leaping around the gardens of Eden again, and that's incredible in this current gaming atmosphere.
The giant gaming conversation on the Internet is always looking forward, not backward. Even new games aren't "new" for very long as trailers and developer previews entice players to start anticipating the next game rather than enjoy the ones they've got. I'm not pointing fingers here; from day one I have owned more PS3 games than I've known what to do with. Indeed, the first game I bought for it (Grand Theft Auto IV) is the one I've spent the least amount of time playing. The fact that Eden has pulled me back in after so long is a testament to how solid the game really is. If you've never tried it, you should. It's only $10, honestly. And if you played it last year and then moved on, give it another look.
Labels: PixelJunk, PS3, video games
つづく...(Click here to read more)
Monday, March 09, 2009
What's in it for me?
Last night I found myself in quite a predicament. Facing off against a silver muscleman with a yin-yang for an abdomen, trapped inside a massive secret laboratory designed to test my abilities and improve my opponent's, I had no choice but to beat him to a pulp and ruin him and his experiment forever.
In other words, I was trying to beat Street Fighter IV.
The real predicament had nothing to do with a lab or or an opponent or fighting at all, of course. Everything that took place was between me and my PlayStation 3. But when playing a game like SFIV, I get very...what's the word...agitated. Excited, yes, but agitated. When things go right, there's a moment of pleasure, a feeling of a job well done. But when things go wrong and my opponent wins (be it human or computer controlled), there is the painful sting of failure. Worse, it hurts because I feel frustrated. I don't understand why I didn't win. Soon, I perceive victory as an impossibility. I couldn't have won because he/she/it was being unfair - "cheap" is the term used in fighting games all too liberally when we see tactics that we do not approve of. What's "cheap" can vary player to player and game to game, but rarely does it actually apply to cheaters. No, "cheap" simply labels a strategy or style of play as something that is inappropriate in the eyes of the defeated. In SFIV, this usually involves throwing.
Fighting games have long featured throwing as a close-combat tactic and it has always garnered the most anger from players, even though we couldn't play the game without it. Since fighting games require blocking to protect combatants from attacks, players could theoretically do nothing but defend and hold off an opponent forever (such a strategy is known as "turtling"). By using throws, which cannot be blocked, it forces players to keep moving and be alert. However, the ideal time to execute a throw is ambiguous, as there are many (including myself) who feel downright insulted or cheated when an opponent is aggressive with throws. There's no particular word to describe this strategy of attack, but players who throw a lot are often accused of being "cheap." As someone who is quick to throw that word out there, I honestly can't justify my angry use of it.
Yet I digress. The actual methods of playing Street Fighter IV are of little importance today. What I need to ask myself, and all of you out there reading this, is why do I play this game if it gets me so riled up? Why did I invest over a hundred dollars (if you include the joystick) in bringing this game into my home if turning it on takes me to such an ugly place?
Not all games do this to me, of course. This weekend, the critically-acclaimed World of Goo was offered on Steam for the insane price of five dollars. As Noby Noby Boy can attest to, I will play just about anything for five dollars, especially when it has such a glowing reputation. I put in about thirty minutes with this puzzle physics game that involves building rudimentary structures out of "goo." It's much more adorable and enjoyable than it sounds and I was quite taken in by the whole experience and look forward to playing it again. However, it paled in comparison to the feeling I got playing SFIV later that same night when I finally managed to smackdown that silver jerkoff Seth and beat the game, unlocking a new character in the process.
In answering my own question, I suspect the reason I keep coming back to games like SFIV over much more relaxing fare like World of Goo, PixelJunk Eden or any number of free web games over at Kongregate is that the peaks are very high, even when the gameplay takes me through some particularly low places. I get downright wicked when I play SFIV. I smack my hands onto things in anger, I raise my voice even though no one is listening, and I declare that the pile driver that just floored my on-screen avatar was "cheap." Who am I yelling at? Who cares about my complaints? No one; I just get so emotionally involved that I must let out the twisted, gnawing feelings inside me by any and all means available. If I lived alone in the woods I'm sure firing a weapon into the air would suffice.
So what is it about games like this that appeal to me? Is the brief, warm embrace of success worth all the aching failure that precedes it? I spent at least two hours playing SFIV on Friday night before I went to bed, facing a variety of opponents online and off, and I'm sure that I was in a foul mood for no less than three hours as a result: about 1:45 of the time I played the game and at least another hour after I quit in frustration. But those isolated moments when I pulled off that tricky combination of moves or beat some guy on the Internet in a close contest? Those were fifteen sensational minutes.
This may strike some of you as completely insane. Maybe you're starting to side with Mako in her quest to keep the Xbox out of our apartment and sell the PS3 while we're at it. I don't blame you for not understanding. But let me ask you this: don't we all have things that frustrate us again and again until we get it right? Isn't most of life about pursing X despite the problems that pursuit may bring? Aren't all successes, no matter how trivial, weighed against the struggles that were overcome en route?
Consider this radically different example: I know when I look back at my dating experiences of 2005, I remember an entire summer of being rejected and rejected and rejected again. Trying to meet someone on Craigslist is like a failure marathon. You have no choice but to repeatedly offer yourself to anonymous strangers in the hopes that they might write you back, and in the tantalizingly rare cases where they DO respond, there are a surprising number of people who will abruptly decline to reply to your follow-up email. Was it something you said? Was it the picture you submitted? You never know and it kills you inside trying to figure it all out. But I couldn't just stop and play "World of Goo" all summer instead, if you catch my meaning.
Because when it works...when you encounter someone who does think you're funny and clever...when you agree to meet in the real world and there's a silent acknowledgment that you like each other...when you first kiss each other in Hankyu Umeda station after watching a terrible movie but it didn't matter because the two of you were busy connecting on an emotional level...well, I need only to think about the brewing baby boy inside my wife's uterus to think about how great it was that I risked rejection and responded to her online personal ad in August of 2005. That was a "game" that I definitely beat, and the best part is there's no end in sight.
つづく...(Click here to read more)
In other words, I was trying to beat Street Fighter IV.
The real predicament had nothing to do with a lab or or an opponent or fighting at all, of course. Everything that took place was between me and my PlayStation 3. But when playing a game like SFIV, I get very...what's the word...agitated. Excited, yes, but agitated. When things go right, there's a moment of pleasure, a feeling of a job well done. But when things go wrong and my opponent wins (be it human or computer controlled), there is the painful sting of failure. Worse, it hurts because I feel frustrated. I don't understand why I didn't win. Soon, I perceive victory as an impossibility. I couldn't have won because he/she/it was being unfair - "cheap" is the term used in fighting games all too liberally when we see tactics that we do not approve of. What's "cheap" can vary player to player and game to game, but rarely does it actually apply to cheaters. No, "cheap" simply labels a strategy or style of play as something that is inappropriate in the eyes of the defeated. In SFIV, this usually involves throwing.
Fighting games have long featured throwing as a close-combat tactic and it has always garnered the most anger from players, even though we couldn't play the game without it. Since fighting games require blocking to protect combatants from attacks, players could theoretically do nothing but defend and hold off an opponent forever (such a strategy is known as "turtling"). By using throws, which cannot be blocked, it forces players to keep moving and be alert. However, the ideal time to execute a throw is ambiguous, as there are many (including myself) who feel downright insulted or cheated when an opponent is aggressive with throws. There's no particular word to describe this strategy of attack, but players who throw a lot are often accused of being "cheap." As someone who is quick to throw that word out there, I honestly can't justify my angry use of it.
Yet I digress. The actual methods of playing Street Fighter IV are of little importance today. What I need to ask myself, and all of you out there reading this, is why do I play this game if it gets me so riled up? Why did I invest over a hundred dollars (if you include the joystick) in bringing this game into my home if turning it on takes me to such an ugly place?
Not all games do this to me, of course. This weekend, the critically-acclaimed World of Goo was offered on Steam for the insane price of five dollars. As Noby Noby Boy can attest to, I will play just about anything for five dollars, especially when it has such a glowing reputation. I put in about thirty minutes with this puzzle physics game that involves building rudimentary structures out of "goo." It's much more adorable and enjoyable than it sounds and I was quite taken in by the whole experience and look forward to playing it again. However, it paled in comparison to the feeling I got playing SFIV later that same night when I finally managed to smackdown that silver jerkoff Seth and beat the game, unlocking a new character in the process.
In answering my own question, I suspect the reason I keep coming back to games like SFIV over much more relaxing fare like World of Goo, PixelJunk Eden or any number of free web games over at Kongregate is that the peaks are very high, even when the gameplay takes me through some particularly low places. I get downright wicked when I play SFIV. I smack my hands onto things in anger, I raise my voice even though no one is listening, and I declare that the pile driver that just floored my on-screen avatar was "cheap." Who am I yelling at? Who cares about my complaints? No one; I just get so emotionally involved that I must let out the twisted, gnawing feelings inside me by any and all means available. If I lived alone in the woods I'm sure firing a weapon into the air would suffice.
So what is it about games like this that appeal to me? Is the brief, warm embrace of success worth all the aching failure that precedes it? I spent at least two hours playing SFIV on Friday night before I went to bed, facing a variety of opponents online and off, and I'm sure that I was in a foul mood for no less than three hours as a result: about 1:45 of the time I played the game and at least another hour after I quit in frustration. But those isolated moments when I pulled off that tricky combination of moves or beat some guy on the Internet in a close contest? Those were fifteen sensational minutes.
This may strike some of you as completely insane. Maybe you're starting to side with Mako in her quest to keep the Xbox out of our apartment and sell the PS3 while we're at it. I don't blame you for not understanding. But let me ask you this: don't we all have things that frustrate us again and again until we get it right? Isn't most of life about pursing X despite the problems that pursuit may bring? Aren't all successes, no matter how trivial, weighed against the struggles that were overcome en route?
Consider this radically different example: I know when I look back at my dating experiences of 2005, I remember an entire summer of being rejected and rejected and rejected again. Trying to meet someone on Craigslist is like a failure marathon. You have no choice but to repeatedly offer yourself to anonymous strangers in the hopes that they might write you back, and in the tantalizingly rare cases where they DO respond, there are a surprising number of people who will abruptly decline to reply to your follow-up email. Was it something you said? Was it the picture you submitted? You never know and it kills you inside trying to figure it all out. But I couldn't just stop and play "World of Goo" all summer instead, if you catch my meaning.
Because when it works...when you encounter someone who does think you're funny and clever...when you agree to meet in the real world and there's a silent acknowledgment that you like each other...when you first kiss each other in Hankyu Umeda station after watching a terrible movie but it didn't matter because the two of you were busy connecting on an emotional level...well, I need only to think about the brewing baby boy inside my wife's uterus to think about how great it was that I risked rejection and responded to her online personal ad in August of 2005. That was a "game" that I definitely beat, and the best part is there's no end in sight.
Labels: Craigslist, dating, flash games, frustration, PixelJunk, PS3, Street Fighter IV, video games, World of Goo, Write or Die
つづく...(Click here to read more)
