Friday, October 20, 2017

Why Half-Life 2 is one of my favourite games


Transcript


Hey hey folks, and welcome to another installment of Dave’s Favourite Games. This time around, Half-life 2. This video will be an exploration of my history with the game, and the reasons I love it to this day. Hopefully it will inspire those who have not played the game to try it, and for those who have to find new appreciation of it. Let’s continue.

As these episodes usually begin with a story, let’s do that. Half-life 2 is the subject of one of the first pieces of critical game writing on my old blog. I’ll put a link in the description and as you can see, I’m showing the article itself onscreen. I must have changed the background to the blog at some point and the text didn’t change along with it. Black on deep blue? Yeesh. Anyways, the article was about how every chapter in game shifts the gameplay in distinct ways and you’re never quite doing the same thing twice. I thought about this piece of writing a lot during this play of Half-Life 2, and while I still kind of agree with it, the shifts in gameplay are even more nuanced than originally written. Also at the end of that article I mention, and I quote, “...the upcoming Episode 3…”. Ah, so naive.

So let’s dive into what I love so much about this game. Replaying it, I was struck by the fragility of Gordon Freeman. Just like my memories of playing through Half-life, I spent a lot of the game on low health and if I had any suit power left, it was a luxury. The combine’s weapons can quickly tear you to shreds, and while the headcrabs and the monsters they turn people into are less damaging, you don’t want one in your face wailing on you. This turned many firefights into an exhilarating experience as I tried to make use of cover, and the environment for tactical advantage.

Alongside changing the gameplay from chapter to chapter, Half-life 2 is full of set pieces. Those who have played it will likely remember the airboat (especially the sections with the helicopter chasing you), crossing the bridge, the shootout with the Striders on top of the ruined building, and of course making your way through the Citadel. The boat and the buggy are cases where Half-life 2 shows off the pros and cons of its physics engine. My guess is they were very proud of it, as so many sections of gameplay revolve around using it to get around the world, attack enemies, or solve rudimentary puzzles.

Oh, I have to talk about the sound design. The word iconic gets thrown around a lot today (thanks Ubisoft), but to me, so many of the sound effects of Half-life 2 are iconic. There’s the sound when you pick up a health pack. When you pick up a suit recharge. The flatline of killing a combine soldier. The dispensaries. The scream of a headcrab as it’s charging at you. The meaty thunk of the magnum. The foont of the crossbow. These sounds breed familiarity. You spend the game with them, and so many are tied to positive or negative emotions (such as my blood curdling when I heard the shuffling of the dreaded black headcrab).

And since I have already mentioned set pieces and the black headcrab, I think it’s time to talk about Ravenholm. Arguably the most memorable section of the entire game. Ravenholm is both playful and terrifying. It’s playful because it’s your first real testing ground for the what the gravity gun can do. The early sections of Ravenholm are littered with saw blades, oxygen containers and all sorts of debris that you can suck up and shoot at all the zombies shuffling aimlessly around the town. Father Gregory is playful too. One of the more enjoyable personalities you’ll meet in the game alongside Alyx. And then the new headcrabs get introduced.

My memories of Ravenholm were predominantly about the terror of the black headcrab and their neurotoxin, so when the spindly legged headcrabs are introduced, I thought they were the dreaded black monstrosities. They filled me with dread. It’s also the way the monkey ones move that is sufficiently creepier than a normal headcrab, and this plus the sound are what make the black ones unsettling on top of their ability to momentarily take away all your health. To reinforce how unnerving they are and how the game knows it, when you finally make it out of Ravenholm, you come across a hole leading to an underground area with walkways above it. On the floor of this cavern, dozens of all three types of headcrabs are skittering about. Just when I thought I was away from the terror of Ravenholm, the game throws this on me. It’s clever, because the few moments in the rest of my playthrough where I came across the black headcrab and the lumbering blobs that throw them, it was a reminder of how effectively the designers had taught me to fear this one particular enemy. The monkeys are just an annoyance in comparison.

And while it’s not technically a set piece, I have to mention the Antlions. In the initial section with the buggy they can be an annoyance. Then they become a real threat once you have to cross the sand. You have to play around with the physics to create bridges to cross long stretches without setting the hive off, and thumpers, the large machines sending vibrations into the ground are your friends as they keep the Antlions away. Then you fight and kill an Antlion guardian. You gain the ability to control the swarm. You assault Nova Prospekt, the combine prison with an army of Antlions in tow. It’s a marvelous change in dynamic, especially how thumpers are now the enemy, because they stop the Antlions following you. I was kind of put off by how many of them I sent to be slaughtered before I made my way back to City 17. It must have been in the hundreds at least. I wonder if a similar thought weighs on the mind of military generals.

After a lot of fighting in the streets, you make it to the Citadel. It’s a great way to end the game, not just because of how difficult it was to get there, and the sheer size of the structure, but your weapons get taken away, and the process turns your gravity gun into a superweapon. You also get extended suit power. You’re not invincible as two specific areas of the Citadel reminded me, but blasting your way through combine soldiers with the greatest of ease is a nice change of pace. There’s also two sections where you hop into a motorised restraint and spend some time just travelling through the mammoth structure, taking in the sights. It’s sort of like a callback to the train ride at the start of Half-life.

Now before I started this channel, if a game had difficulty selection, I would choose the easiest difficulty available. I wanted to experience games with the least frustration as possible. I actually appreciated games with no difficulty selection over this choice. When I started this channel, my thought was that I should play everything on the default difficulty as that’s the baseline experience the developers intended. This playthrough of Half-life 2 was my first on normal difficulty, and I think it soured my experience more than I would have liked. All the enemies were a lot more difficult to take down and ammo and health were of a greater concern. I mentioned Gordon Freeman’s fragility, and while that’s always been the case, even on easy, it was a lot more pronounced on this playthrough.

It led me to think that perhaps I should always play my favourite games the way I’ve always experienced them, but similar to how I finally played Doom properly last year, I think there’s also a benefit in revisiting a favourite in a new way. Yes the game was more frustrating, but as the majority of this video points out, there was still loads to love, and the game is still a favourite of mine for all these reasons. What are your thoughts? What sections of Half-life 2 do you remember fondly, or not so fondly? Do you regard it as a great game? Why or why not? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

Thanks for watching. If you enjoyed this video, please like, share, and subscribe, and I hope you’re having a wonderful day.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Dave Critiques - The Witcher: A game worth its troubles



Transcript

Hey hey folks, Dave here. Welcome to my critique of The Witcher. Just a friendly reminder that I will be discussing the game for those who have played it. If you haven’t and are worried about spoilers, please pause the video and go play the game before returning. For everyone else, let’s continue.

My time with The Witcher was plagued by technical difficulties. I have heard it said that The Witcher is a game barely held together, and I agree. It strains its engine so that even 10 years later, I can’t get it to run well on my modern system. And talk about glitches and crashes. The game crashed so much that I was almost ready to give it up at the end of chapter 3. I didn’t though. I looked up ways to mitigate the crashes. I overlooked the glitches. I grew to love everything the game was trying to do even when it was bursting at the seams. The question then, is “what kept me playing”? This video is going to explain that. How it ended up being a wonderful game, that I can easily see myself returning to in the future.

Let’s start off with Geralt. When I first tried playing The Witcher years ago, I played it in English, and I think Geralt’s gruff Christian Bale voice might have been one aspect that stopped me playing. This time around I played the game in Polish with English subtitles. This greatly enhanced my enjoyment of the voice acting. Part of that may be that when you don’t know another language, you don’t know if it’s a bad line delivery, but it helped immerse me in the fantasy world of The Witcher. It definitely made listening to Geralt more tolerable.

So what is a Witcher? A Witcher is a relic of the past. A group of specially trained mutants who are paid to slay monsters. Geralt is an infamous Witcher due to past exploits that he doesn’t remember, as he starts the game suffering from amnesia. I don’t know if I’d say that Geralt’s philosophising of a Witcher’s role in modern society is due to this amnesia or if it is part of his character. His friends like Zoltan Chivey certainly aren’t surprised when you engage them in meaningful dialogue of this nature, but it was one facet of Geralt’s character that endeared me to him.Regardless of the choices the player can make, you can see Geralt wrestling with what he is, what is the right thing to do, and if he has a place in what’s going on.

His friendships and the relationships you strengthen throughout your adventure are another highlight. Because of the amnesia, long time friends are still new to Geralt. The trust might not be there with some of them (Triss for example, due to her motivations as a member of the sorceresses), but I always loved spending time with Zoltan, Shani, and Dandelion, especially that one section of the game where you have a party with them, and just drink and reminisce. The Witcher is famous for its moral choices, but I’d say out of all the decisions in the game, the one that gave me the most pause was whether to hand Alvin over to Shani or Triss in chapter 3.

I spent the game making such decisions on the spur of the moment. Story decisions are made through the dialogue choices, so I’d always ask myself which reply made the most sense to me when it happened. This choice in particular was interesting because I made the decision to give Alvin to Shani before Salamandra got involved. After rescuing the boy, I needed to keep him safe, thinking that Triss would be able to protect him more than Shani. I loved how the game threw a curveball in there as if to say, “Yeah, this decision was tough, but was it really?”. I think it’s because it’s the most personal choice in the game. Siding with the Scoia'tael or the Order of the Flaming Rose is important plot wise, but Alvin, Triss, and Shani all have relationships with Geralt, and this choice can drastically affect those relationships.

Now let’s discuss the world of The Witcher. If you’ve played a fantasy RPG before, or read a fantasy novel, or watched a fantasy movie, you might know where I’m coming from when I say The Witcher is full of classic fantasy tropes, but things are just different enough to make it unique. It’s the enemies that are the best examples of this.Yes there are ghouls, spirits, rabid dogs and wyverns, classic fare, but there are also drowners, kikimores, giant centipedes, and the Vodyanoi. There’s the wild hunt too, the leader of which haunts Geralt for much of the game and ended up being the final boss in my playthrough.

This idea of “same but a little different” applies to a lot of the systems as well. You level up as you gain experience, but your upgrade menu is tiered and uses medallions, of which you only get a set amount. Alchemy may seem tedious for its collection aspect early on, but once you get a taste of the power of Witcher potions and oils, you’ll never want to enter an encounter without at least a Swallow on hand. There’s also the possibility for experimentation, and coming up with concoctions that you may not have found the recipe for yet.

Then there’s the combat. It’s like the world’s simplest rhythm game. Click when the icon changes and you’ll enter into the next stage of the combo. You might find yourself swapping stances, and throwing a few spells into the mix, but overall the repetitive nature can be tedious. What interested me is the difference between playing the game in isometric mode versus playing it over the shoulder. I played the entire game over the shoulder, but during my last attempt I played with the isometric view. Isometric gives you a more strategic overview of the battle. You’re able to position Geralt a lot better but you become more removed from the action. Over the shoulder puts you in the action, increasing use of the dodge to make sure enemies are in front of you. It’s more one at a time, changing to group style if there are others around.

Lastly it’s each individual chapter’s story that kept me going. Yes, walking around the outskirts or through Vizima for the upteenth time can be a chore, and yes, I did get distracted by much of the side content, but each chapter’s main story is highly engaging. Chapter 1 is a morality tale, about why the villagers are being haunted by a malevolent spirit and who is to blame. Chapter 2 is a whodunit that can end in different ways with different characters as allies, enemies or corpses depending on how closely you were paying attention. Chapter 3 is political intrigue with the tough Alvin decision I talked about earlier, plus payoff from earlier in the story. Chapter 4 is similar, dealing with a wedding gone wrong and the influence of an elder God and its worshippers. You also finally run into another Witcher. Then you have the finale.

Princess Adda has the Striga curse again, and the battle between the Scoia'tael and the Order of the Flaming Rose reaches its climax. You confront the one pulling Salamandra’s strings with the game suggesting that when Alvin disappeared at the end of chapter 4, he went back in time and grew up to be the man you just defeated: Jacques de Aldersberg. This places your interactions with Alvin in a new light, and colours not only the actions of Salamandra and the Order of the Flaming Rose, but Geralt as a father figure for the boy. Yet another instance of Geralt choosing actions that have unintended reverberations not only in the future, but in the past as well. You wonder if Geralt caused the events that took place, or if he was simply never able to prevent it no matter what choice the player makes.

And then the final cutscene plays starting another chapter of The Witcher. Yes it seems that it is linked to what Geralt and the player has just gone through, but it’s an inciting incident of its own story. Hopefully sometime soon I’ll get around to playing The Witcher 2. I have heard a lot of criticism towards that game, but then again I put up with consistent crashing, glitches, and a lot of tedium to play through The Witcher, and I don’t regret my time spent with it, faults and all. I’m looking forward to The Witcher 2 having similar qualities.

Thanks for watching.

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Dave Critiques - Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc - Immersion in narrative games



Transcript 

Hey hey folks, Dave here. Welcome to my critique of Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc. Just a friendly reminder that I will be discussing the game for those who have played it. If you haven’t and are worried about spoilers, please pause the video and go play the game before returning. For everyone else, let’s continue.

While thinking about the type of game Danganronpa is, my mind easily went to similar visual novels like the Ace Attorney and Zero Escape series. All three are murder mysteries (although Zero Escape is about the threat of murder). I wonder if a murder mystery is the best kind of story for a visual novel. I have heard it said that murder mysteries are kind of like games themselves, the reader trying to work out who the murderer is, how they commited the murder, and why, before these answers are revealed by the story.Certainly all these games have the player wanting to know the “why” behind everything.

In game design, Danganronpa is closest to Ace Attorney with the most entertaining parts of both games being the trial segments. The students of Hope’s Peak Academy are working out who committed the murders each time one occurs and how they did it (the why is stated from the outset. It frees them from the horror of their high school prison). The trials are more action orientated than Ace Attorney. You’ll mostly be going through testimony as your fellow classmates are discussing the case, disrupting a lie or an inconsistency with a truth bullet. It’s thematically clever. You’re blowing away falsehoods. This action is tense and exciting, not only gameplay wise, but narratively too as you’re slowly unravelling the murder in question.

Rather than increase the challenge of the cases and the logic used to solve them, it seems to me that Danganronpa keeps ramping up the difficulty of the gameplay itself. Well perhaps difficulty is the wrong word. The feeling I have is that the gameplay segments keep becoming more obtuse. Some of it makes sense like the ability to choose from multiple bullets to fire off at a false statement. That’s having the player use their head a little more. Then however you have comments blocking the statements you shoot that you have to clear out of the way first. Then you can suck up keywords from statements themselves in order to shoot them at another statement. And this is just the truth bullet segment. In the dual section, obstacles keep getting thrown in your path in a similar fashion.

This brings up the question of why. It seems that in the interest of servicing gameplay, Danganronpa interrupts the excitement and flow of its digital novel roots in order to have an increasing number of things for the player to do, an increase of the number of plates that they need to keep spinning. It makes me think of the criticisms that narrative heavy games face. How can it be called a game when there’s little to no gameplay, or if the gameplay itself seems superficial? Now I hear that criticism more towards games like Dear Esther or To the Moon than games like Ace Attorney, but I think the answer applies to all story driven videogames.

A narrative game features a different type of immersion than your typical videogame. The immersion is not in the connection the player has with the character they are controlling. There is little to no connection between the controller and the action on screen. These games, the successful ones, achieve their immersion through their writing. Strong characters, pacing, and revelations create a different kind of player engagement, a different type of immersion.The desire to see what happens next. Of course the problem with this type of immersion is that if the narrative isn’t engaging a player, there’s no gameplay to fall back on. It’s a testament to Danganronpa that its desire to try and increase its immersion through this escalation of gameplay isn’t enough of an overstep to destroy the immersion it creates through its characters and the mysterious and dangerous circumstances they find themselves in.

Thanks for watching.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Dave Critiques - Night in the Woods: The meaning of replayability



Transcript

Hey hey folks, Dave here. Welcome to my critique of Night in the Woods. Just a friendly reminder that I will be discussing the game for those who have played it. If you haven’t and are worried about spoilers, please pause the video and go play the game before returning. For everyone else, let’s continue.

One notable aspect of Night in the Woods is that during the day to day repetition, you choose which of Mae’s friends to spend time with. This means that based on the decisions of the player, you will miss content that reveals character and may help understanding of what the game is actually about. This gives the game ‘replayability’. This has often been a sought after selling point of videogames. Due to the nature of choice, an abundance of content, or simple secrets, games are praised for having new things to show the player on subsequent playthroughs. In narrative games, this is often done by asking the player to make decisions that impact the story in some way. Choosing which friend to hang out with may not seem like it matters all that much in the grand scheme of things, but Night in the Woods shows that such decisions can affect an overall understanding of what the game is about.

Viewing games as an artform, this presents an issue that paintings, films, or books don’t have to contend with. Yes just like these artforms, games can contain deeper meanings and thematic depth, but the difference is that those other artforms are static. A book has exactly the same words each time you read it and a film is exactly the same each time you view it. The only thing that changes is yourself as the audience, as you might uncover or make some aspect of the work more resonant than it was the last time you read or watched it. In fact, if a game is different each time it is played, it may be that it’s more difficult to engage with any deeper meaning or thematic depth as it’s quite possible that these aspects of the work are not experienced by each player on each playthrough.

The reason this idea struck me while playing Night in the Woods is because of how layered the game seems to be when trying to discern what it’s actually about. And I think that’s mainly because it’s not exactly just one thing. It’s many things, and these things overlap. For instance, Night in the Woods is a tale about the dangers of nostalgia. A manifestation of that idea that you can’t go home again because home isn’t the same as you left it, and you certainly can’t force it back to the way it was. It’s a coming of age story about early twenty somethings learning responsibility and understanding who they are and what they want their relationship to the world to be. It’s about mental illness and learning to live with that part of yourself. These seems to be the more grounded readings.

Night in the Woods is also about lovecraftian horror, about a malevolent elder god who might have descended from the stars and currently resides under the town of Possum Springs thirsting for blood. Whether this horror is legitimate or a metaphor for the more grounded aspects mentioned before is up to your interpretation. Having said that, the game is also about faith. Faith in people, faith in community, and faith in something larger than yourself. It’s about what faith means to different people, and what faith means to those who believe in the religious, including the possibility of the elder goat god. Lastly, It’s about small town America and the economic struggles of Possum Springs in the modern era.

All these aspects of the game I did not work out just by playing the game. I felt like I recieved the cliff notes versions of some of this while playing. The main path of the game will have you come into contact with the majority of these ideas, but my deeper understanding of the majority of them was coloured by the research into what other people have written about the game after playing.

Now if I were to play through a second time, I should be able to expand my understanding of the game’s meaning by making different choices in Mae’s day to day life.But let’s think of what this means for Night in the Woods as a piece of art with a definitive meaning. By definitive I mean what the people who made Night in the Woods had in mind when they created the work. I am not saying that an artist’s meaning is the “proper meaning” of a work or more important or “right” than the interpretations made by anyone who plays the game. It’s just that this game more than others has me thinking about what ‘replayability’ means in terms of artistic expression and interpretation.

The interpretations of Night in the Woods are based on repeated playthroughs and discussions between people who experienced different playthroughs. If you look at a game’s meaning as say a giant jigsaw puzzle, these playthroughs and discussions are clusters of pieces working to create a whole image. What does it mean however that a single playthrough of the game might only reveal small clusters of the jigsaw puzzle, and different ones each time? Does this mean that the meaning of the work is different each time? If so that adds a wrinkle to the idea of gaining new perspective from art when you return to it as the art itself may have changed. Then again, all this information present is actually a part of the game itself. It’s still been coded and animated even if the player never experiences it. I wonder if the ideas presented here hold merit.What’s your take?

Thanks for watching.

Sunday, July 9, 2017

Dave Critiques - Cave Story +: The positivity of games criticism



Transcript 

Hey hey folks, Dave here. Welcome to my critique of Cave Story. Just a friendly reminder that I will be discussing the game for those who have played it. If you haven’t and are worried about spoilers, please pause the video and go play the game before returning. For everyone else, let’s continue.

So this is not really going to be a critique about Cave Story specifically. Oh I will start off by talking about what I see as the pros and cons of the game, but in this video I will be using Cave Story as a springboard to discuss the benefits and importance of games criticism. In researching what people have written about this indie platformer from 2004, I was expecting to go through a large amount of critical writing, but surprisingly, there was very little (at least the way I normally search for critical writing on Critical Distance, Google, and Youtube). The pieces I found were of mostly a high quality, especially the Youtube videos, and that will come into play later on.

I think Cave Story biggest strength is as a cultural landmark in gaming. It’s the epitome of what has become the indie gaming scene, made over 5 years by one man, and then released for free online (before eventually being ported to every console in existence). Yes, a lot of the great games of the 70s and 80s were made by one person or a small team, but I think Cave Story brought that spirit back in a big way. Thanks to the internet, anyone with the time and passion can make something and have it resonate with a large audience. In that context, I think Cave Story excels.

I also love its interconnectedness. The story links to the level layout, to the weapon upgrades, and even to the secrets, including the secret ending. It’s all cohesive. That makes individual elements difficult to criticise because the whole of the game is like a finely tuned machine, and taking out one piece and describing the problems with it can have a knock on effect for every other aspect of the game. Maybe that’s why criticism of Cave Story is so scarce. Fans of any game seem to have difficulty with the idea that you can love something yet still describe the faults you find in it. Heck, in my experience doing so usually strengthens your love of it as you’ve admitted that it is not perfect, but in doing so, what it does right can shine even brighter.

On its surface, I love how unique the experience system is. Your character doesn’t level up, but your guns do. They reach a max level, but every level of every gun has its own benefit. As interesting as this system is though, it’s the other side of the coin that I loathe. When you get hit, you lose experience, so the game is punishing you for playing poorly. If you’re having trouble on a boss you’re taking lots of hits, and because of this, suddenly your weapon isn’t doing enough damage anymore, sliding victory further out of your reach. I get that such a system teaches the player to prioritise dodging over attacking, to learn boss patterns, and to experiment with weapons, but the message I got right to the end of the game was “You’re sucking, and we’re going to make you suck more because of it”.

I love the characters of Cave Story. They’re cute, and yet their motivations and what they go through can be quite tragic. I won’t say that I found myself caring about their plight past wanting to complete the game, but I could see how characters like Sue, Curly Brace, and Balrog have endeared themselves to fans. I would say I felt sorry for Misery at the end, but when she gets possessed for that final fight in the boss rush, the frustration involved over how many times it took me to finally complete it had me caring a lot less than I initially did.

And that boss rush brings me to my final issue with the game, the difficulty of so many of the game’s bosses, and the infrequent checkpointing. Now I realise I am saying this as a player in 2017 who no longer has the patience for games that require a prolonged test of skill between safe havens, so to complain about a lack of checkpointing in a 2004 game seems petty. I admit this is a personal bias. The difficulty of the bosses, especially that final gauntlet sapped all enthusiasm I had for the game. It’s one reason such a short game took me a few weeks to finish. I didn’t want to return to it. I actually considered ending my play session with the bad ending, fleeing the island with Kazuma, but the desire to finish the game properly so I could talk about it with greater understanding prevaled.

You might understand where I’m coming from now that we’re going to talk about games criticism. I saw the good in Cave Story, but I thought its weaknesses outweighed its strengths. Since I try to not just talk about my likes and dislikes in these critique videos, I needed to find another angle to write about, and that’s the main reason I read and watch all the criticism I can find on the games I critique.It tells me what angles other people have tackled and what resonated. With that knowledge I can usually come up with an original take on the game in question or at least an idea of what I want to write about.

Upon doing this with Cave Story (the many attempts required to beat the final boss rush still fresh in my mind), the overall impression I got was not only how beloved the game is, but deconstruction as to why. There was discussion about how the different endings and weapon upgrades play into the game’s central theme of not accepting power that is not yours (as that is the easy way out). There was analysis of the early level design and how it teaches the player through its layout instead of tutorials or cutscenes. And then there were videos just praising certain levels of the game in particular. I’ll link to a few of these videos in the comments.

What this did is make me see the game in a whole new light. I haven’t forgotten my frustrations, but I can see where the people that love this game are coming from. I have a more complete picture and appreciation of Cave Story, and if I ever was to play through the game again, I think I would be more forgiving of its faults as I would be focused on everything talked about in these videos. Seeing my reaction to Cave Story was more negative than positive, I have no idea if I ever will play the game again, but I will say the idea that I might is not completely ridiculous.

One reason anyone writes anything in response to a game, movie, book, or any other artform is to gain a clearer understanding of their reactions to the work in question, and perhaps uncover why the work made them feel this way. The more writing on any work you read, the more differing perspectives you come across, even if you start to see patterns emerge with opinions about certain aspects of the work. Cave Story helped me rediscover how positive an experience it can be to listen to those who feel differently about a work than you do, and why that is. I still don’t think fondly of my time with Cave Story, but I’m glad I played through it, if just to discover why it’s such a beloved classic.

Thanks for watching.