tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47658911517865107472024-03-13T10:59:21.176-07:00Dave's Videogame JourneyA written outlet for gaming thoughts, with a possible academic / critical slant.Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.comBlogger179125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-66704258729513718722023-10-15T04:17:00.005-07:002023-10-15T04:17:43.892-07:00Why Is Vampire Survivors Still So Fun?<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PlHXUipwhh4?si=PpzFG3crKakpirRa" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">How did a game as simple as Vampire Survivors take the world by storm? It's a twin stick shooter without the shooting. Yes your character is attacking the onslaught of enemies marching towards you, but you have no direct control over their attacks. You can only move and choose what weapon or item to acquire or upgrade next. Its simplistic pixelated visuals and horror themed motif don't exactly scream "I must play this", and sure the music is great, but every indie game has great music these days. The price is affordable at around $5, and that's what made me give the game a chance when my friend Andrew recommended it to me back in early 2022. A couple weeks later, I was hooked, gifting the game to everyone on my friends list.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So what's the appeal? It's how difficult it is to survive 30 minutes. The hordes increase in size and ferocity as the seconds tick away. Through playing the game and hitting specific milestones, new weapons, characters, and stages are unlocked, as well as earning enough gold to buy upgrades in the power-up shop. Eventually through enough knowledge, and the act of attrition, survival is guaranteed, but what keeps a player going until they reach that point, or beyond?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Let's briefly sidestep to the question of beyond because that was a legitimate concern in approaching this game for a critique. When I first played Vampire Survivors in Early Access, it felt like a simple arcade game. How long can you last, and how much damage can you rack up? Nothing but survival to strive for. Since then the game has undergone a slew of updates, and one of those updates added a final boss and a credits screen. There we go, a definitive end point. A goal for the critique. Now we can return to the question of what keeps a player engaged enough to survive for 30 minutes, let alone take things all the way to the end.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That's the question this video will be trying to answer. I'll begin by narrating the journey from my first attempt at the game, to the first time I survived 30 minutes. After that I'll talk about the steps I needed to take to reach the final boss, with some thoughts on time, my favourite weapons, and the progression of player power sprinkled in, leading to a discussion of why I kept playing after I stopped recording footage, wondering if the compulsion to complete the games' list of unlocks was all that kept me going.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you haven't played Vampire Survivors and worry about spoilers, I will be showing footage, and discussing characters, bosses, levels, and weapons from later on in the game. Finally, a word of caution. If you have photosensitivity issues, a lot of my footage contains flashing lights and effects, so please be careful. With all that out of the way, it’s time to tell you a story about my journey through this little indie game you may have heard of called Vampire Survivors.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Trying to Survive</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My first goal was to survive for 30 minutes. This took close to 6 hours of play. When the game starts, the weapon and character selection is miniscule, and most importantly, you don't know what you're doing. For a game where the only gameplay is moving the character through the level and making decisions on upgrade screens, those first few games seem unfairly complex. Like the player is missing out on crucial information, or that the heart of the game is earning enough money to power up through the shop. I think that's partially true, but it's a loop that reinforces itself. The better you do in game, choosing the right weapons for your character and the stage you play, the further you'll get, the more weapons, characters, and stages you'll unlock, and the more upgrades you'll be able to purchase in the shop, which will lead to longer games, better decisions, and continuing this process.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I talked about a sense of progression in this version of the game that wasn't there when I played back in early access, I'm mainly talking about the relics. I unlocked the library after three attempts of the Mad Garden. Upon selecting it, I noticed there was a relic listed, and upon entering the stage, there was a green arrow enticing me to follow it. I ignored the swarming hordes, following the siren song of this green arrow. Eventually I found it, and it was a book of weapon evolution recipes. This blew open the game for me. Back in early access, I had heard about weapon evolutions when trying to work out how to get better at the game. If you level up a weapon to its maximum, and have the right item in your inventory, opening a chest dropped by a boss monster will trigger a weapon evolution. It felt that these were the trick to surviving 30 minutes, and now the game was giving me access to these important evolutionary secrets.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Of course it's still easier to look up what items you need for a weapon evolution online. When I first got the grimoire it revealed a few evolutions, but it was still up to me to experiment. I didn't mind this as it was fun filling my inventory with 6 items that I hadn't worked out an evolution for, and seeing if anything happened when I got to max level with a weapon. As the game went on, I started using the wikis for weapon evolutions to make sure I wasn't making an error and wasting a run. This wasn't until I started surviving the whole 30 minutes though, so I'm getting ahead of myself.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I unlocked level 3, the dairy, and the relics here were a bestiary and a map on the pause screen. This added another level of understanding, as I could see that each stage had items just hanging out in the game world. I wondered if this was a hint towards which weapons were best for each stage based off the items needed for weapon evolutions. I also noticed the giant question mark, but when I first made my way over, it was surrounded by enemies that were too high level for me. I figured I needed at least one or two weapon evolutions to make my way there, but the question I had was when, so let’s talk about the importance of time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In the Mad Garden, every 5 minutes, a ring of flowers will encircle the player, trapping them in an arena with some higher level creatures and a Mantis boss. I think it's best to think of the difficulty of a Vampire Survivors level in terms of time. Once I made it to minute 15, I found making it to minute 20 wasn't too difficult, but after minute 20, if I wasn’t set up to take things to the end of the game, I would get swarmed. This led to a theory that minute 15 is the best time to start making my way towards the question mark (and perhaps the relics, as future relics weren't as easy to beeline at the start of a run). Weapon evolutions unlock at level 10, so by 15 I felt I should at least have one evolution if not a couple. Basically the earlier I selected what weapons and items I wanted, and which evolutions to work towards, surviving to 30 minutes would be all but guaranteed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And eventually I got there, I survived my first 30 minutes, and then in the same session I did it again. Hold your applause please. Similar to how there's a point in any level when it seems like a win will be guaranteed, once the player works out how to survive the time limit, they can easily do it again. Part of my initial success was playing a new character, part of it was the amount of unlocked weapons and items I now had at my disposal, part of it was all the upgrades I'd purchased at the power-up shop, and part of it was the confidence I'd gained working out how the game worked. On the run I first survived, I had 5 weapon evolutions. It would take a while before I was able to activate all 6, because that requires some additional knowledge in regards to planning at the start of a run, but thanks to all these factors, I had survived, and I could do it more than once. So now, the question forming in my head was… "what now?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>When Does it End?</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yes in the intro I talked about how there’s a final boss, but I didn’t know that at the time. I wondered if I was done with Vampire Survivors. Was my only goal to survive 30 minutes? Was I now supposed to do it with every character on every level, slowly making my way through the remaining unlocks until there were no new secrets to uncover? Yes… and no. I looked it up online, and the internet told me that once a player collects all the relics, a special stage will unlock, leading to a credits screen. There’s my goal. I would reach that credits screen. I mean, that's how most games work right? The game is finished once you reach the credits. What I didn't understand was how many steps there would be between this moment and finally finishing the game. 14 more hours of gameplay, and more than once I thought "well surely that was the end right?", only to be wrong. This happened at least 3 times.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Step one: obtain all the relics. I could survive 30 minutes, and I had a better understanding of how to build my character during a run, not to mention having more characters to select from. Some of them having powerful special abilities, such as Pugnala gaining 1% might with each level. Might is basically damage output, so you can see how having that rise with each new trip to the level up screen can be of assistance. During this time I got to play with new weapons thanks to characters like Pugnala, Poppea, and Giovanna. Unlocking these weapons for use on the level up screen made future runs a lot easier, and by this point I had evolved most of the weapons available, gaining a greater idea of which weapons synergised well, and which I just liked.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ok. Dave's top 5 Vampire Survivors weapons. #5 Celestial Dusting. I like the idea of farting flowers of death. #4, Phiera Der Tuphello and Eight the Sparrow. Like their evolution, I can't have one of these pistols on my list without the other, and what can I say? I just like being a whirling dervish of bullets. #3, the Pentagram. Originally I thought this was an evil weapon, but when I finally got over myself and unlocked its evolution, I realised its greatness. Gem explosion baby! #2, King Bible. Alongside the garlic, this is an early favourite of most players, as it keeps enemies at bay. I'll usually save a weapon slot for it in most runs, unless I want to shake things up. And #1, Song of Mana. Even more of a barrier, and a must when playing the Library stage. Once it's always on, you're a vertical do not enter sign. Of course, there’s not really a weapon I dislike (not even Carréllo or La Romba), as they all have utility either in their normal or evolved forms, and besides, I don’t start every run looking for my top 5. The decisions are based on the character I’ve chosen, their starting weapon, the stage I’m playing, and what weapons show up on the level up screen. It helps keep each run at least a little fresh once I learned how to properly build my character.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Speaking of the right build, as I was making my way towards relic acquisition, I started to form ideas about the right way to play the game. How it might be best to only collect 3-4 weapons initially, supplement them with thier evolution items sure, but then make room for the items I feel greatly assist any run, like the duplicator or the empty tome. There's a bonus stage called Moongolow that has every item just sitting there, easily accessible. I made a mistake in one run of collecting everything. I wasn't able to level up my weapons because the level up screen was taken up by all the items in my inventory. That's why I like to keep my inital selection low. Not only does it allow me to level up what I already have, but it gives me more chances for the weapons and items I want to appear, as the more I unlock, the greater the selection the game's randomizer has to pull from, muddying my level up plans by not having that weapon or item I want ever show up. Thank goodness for the reroll, am I right?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Long Winding Endgame Road</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After collecting all the relics, it was onto Step 2, which is… uncovering more relics. A secret ending to the Moongolow stage leads to an angelic corridor, leading to yet another relic. This relic opened up a boss in the Cappella Magna stage where you defeat all the reapers, and then they Captain Planet into a super reaper. Beating this boss gave me, you guessed it, another relic! Limit breaks, the ability to level up weapons past their max level, which is an amazing addition if you just want to let loose and show off your power in endless mode. Speaking of endless mode, the two final relics are in yet another secret stage that beating the super reaper opened up, Eudaimonia. This was the level that the internet told me lead to the credits screen, and it did… I just had to play a game in both inverse and endless mode before the final boss showed itself.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But before the final boss, I want to talk about the reaper. The whole game this jackass has swooped in at the end of the time limit, ruining my fun. In the Cappella Magna stage you take out all the different coloured reapers, and wail on them when they team up. I thought the super reaper would be the end of it, but no, once you defeat it, a white reaper takes over slaughtering duty. It’s one of the appeals of endless mode, no reaper to contend with, the stage just resets with harder versions of the same swarms. It’d be great to finally have dominion over death, and that relic I found in the angelic corridor allowed me just this opportunity. It unlocks the silver and gold bracelet, and the left and right metaglio signs.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">These are the evolution items for the Laurel and the Clock Lancet, the weapons that I ignored even more than the pentagram for most of my play. The trick with the bracelets and signs is that both need to be levelled to max before the evolution takes place, and each has 9 levels. To top it off, one half of these items buffs you, and the other half buffs the enemies. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to contend with a power-up that powers up the enemies, as the evolution item for Song of Mana is the Curse-o-matic, and levels of curse are able to be purchased in the power-up shop. I ignored this for the longest time, because why would I want to make the game harder for myself?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Because increased enemy quantity means more enemies to kill, which means more experience, allowing quicker level ups. It allows weapons to gain the power they need even earlier, and once I realised that, I rationalised that since I already knew how to survive the game, this increase in enemy speed and health wasn’t going to hurt, and it didn’t. Sure it makes the start of each run more precarious depending on the character, but ultimately it’s a way for the player to gain more power, and this is why the evolution of the Clock Lancet and Laurel was left till the end of the game, it gives you the power to kill the reaper.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thanks to the Infinite Corridor and the Crimson Shroud evolutions, the reaper went down, but that white bastard reared its ugly head again. The white reaper showed up in the fight against the final boss as well. The first time it appeared and killed me, I was shocked, but as I had the power to revive, I was able to continue…as long as it didn’t appear again. And it appeared again. This time however, I gained a helping hand heh heh heh. At certain milestones through the game these disembodied hands have been applauding me, cheering me on. The final boss is called The Director, but based on the power of the hands, overwriting the power of the white reaper, and then showering me with riches once the boss fight is done, I’d say these hands are the true director of the game. The one who’s wanted me to succeed this whole time, and thanks to their help, I reached the credits screen. I beat Vampire Survivors.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Why Am I Still Playing?</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But I haven't stopped playing Vampire Survivors…and I'm wondering why. The game kind of got stale around halfway through my playtime. 30 minutes can be a long time to see a bunch of flashing effects and numbers popping off everywhere. I don't have photosensitivity issues and even I felt tired in my eyes and brain after each successful run. I was thankful for the level ups and treasure chest drops because they were always an audio/visual reprieve. Regardless of the overstimulation, the game itself is less exciting once "solved". I worked out how to survive around hour 6, and while there were many more hours of enjoyable experimentation with stages, weapons, characters, evolutions, and secrets, the gameplay itself became the most boring part. And the more I played, the better I got at making the right decisions to keep the enemies off me minute after minute, making the core gameplay even duller.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But I'm still playing. And despite what I just said, the game is still exciting. Why? Well I think there are two answers. The first is the randomizer I mentioned earlier. It's become known that the creator of Vampire Survivors Luca Galante worked as a developer for a gambling company. With the chests full of random unlocks, the gems to collect, and the joyous cacophany that accompanies each new increase in power, the influence is noticable. However, it's these random elements that keep each run exciting even when the challenge is gone. Each treasure chest will give one upgrade, but there is a small chance for it to give 3, and an even smaller chance to give 5. Each of these is accompanied by more bombast, and that's not even the most explosive and exciting random element. That honour goes to the red gems.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Red gems give more exp than turquoise or blue gems, and sometimes when I collect a red gem, I will recieve what I can only describe as a level explosion. Level after level after level after level. I swear I’ve had 10 in a row. Before writing this paragraph I wanted to understand how it worked, to see if like the chests, there was a small chance to hit a jackpot. It turns out that's not really the case. The following information is from the internet so may not be correct, but I'm going to mention it anyway. To prevent slowdown or crashing there's a limit of 400 gems allowed in the game at a time. Once that limit is hit, a red gem will appear, and all future gems will pool in this red gem, so depending what minute of the game the player is in, and when they collect the red gem, the xp they recieve can fluctuate wildly. Not as random as the chests, but boy does it feel that way when you strike it big.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And while these moments are full of excitement, and there’s still joy in watching my selection of weapons obliterate all who cross my path, the base game no longer holds the same pull. I mean I got more than my money's worth so I'm not sad about it, but yet I'm still playing. The treadmill of unlocks is exciting because new characters and weapons add much needed variety to the gameplay, but since I’ve beaten the game, unlocks are all it has left, and in the middle of finishing this script, I finally completed the unlock list, and the secrets to boot! All that’s left is to purchase the 2 pieces of DLC, opening up a new series of locks to un. I think I’ll purchase it once this video’s out.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now the pull of the unlocks is strange because I’ve never had much interest in achievements. A list of arbitrary tasks to complete once a game is done holds no sway over me, because I always have dozens of new games to move onto. Achievements have always felt like busy work. That’s what’s baffles me about Vampire Survivors. Even when the core loop of powering up in the shop is done, even after the game is over, I still found myself wanting to complete the list, and I did. Now a lot of the unlocks did feel like busy work, but despite saying that the gameplay wore out its welcome once I knew what I was doing, I think I’m still drawn to the joy and bombast of playing a round of Vampire Survivors. At this late stage, the enemy swarms surround me thick as carpet, and there’s still fun in selecting what weapons and items I want to try and wipe them all out with, especially using some of the late game characters like Red Death or Queen Sigma.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To put it another way, I still like making the numbers go up, and I still succumb to the thrill of a chest or red gem jackpot. When I started writing this script, I was planning on discussing when Vampire Survivors shifted from enjoyable gameplay into a treadmill of unlocks, but now that I reflect on my time playing the game, and that I’m still continuing to play it, I can see that the gameplay itself is still enjoyable. The reason I think I convinced myself it wasn’t is in order to complete all the unlocks, I was using game modes like hurry and endless to make my way through the list as quickly as possible. No longer engaging in said gameplay. Also, I bought into the idea that because the core gameplay is so simplistic, the shine had to wear off eventually. I think that the reason there are so many unlocks and additions, is because developer Luca Gallante realises that you can only push such a simple concept so far… but think how far the concept has been pushed! Even in its early stages, Vampire Survivors captured everyone’s imagination, and it’s still attracting new fans. It feels like the unlocks were the only way to make the game bigger, as adding more base mechanics, a story, or a straight-forward campaign would have ruined its simplicity, its mystery, and thus its charm. And I’ve come to the realisation that I wouldn’t be interested in completing these unlocks if it didn’t add something worthwhile to these same base mechanics that I still enjoy interacting with. It could have done with more vampires though. Thanks for watching.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-49325576482869719232023-08-20T04:10:00.004-07:002023-08-20T04:10:12.447-07:00How I Learned to Love Civilization VI<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6IX2irAvfqA" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">There’s a joke that I’ve heard about the 4x genre. It goes a little something like this. “I bought Europa Universalis IV last week and I’ve already put over 50 hours into it”. “Ah, so you’ve finally made it past the tutorial”? It says here to “cue laughter”, whatever that means. The Civilization series has always been a light entry into the genre, but this joke rings just as true when I think about my experience in both Civ VI and with previous entries. I’ve put around 65 hours into Civilization VI in preparation for this video. My idea was that I could play 3 full games of Civilization VI and hopefully that would be enough footage and familiarity with its systems to write a critique on it. Ha! Now that’s funny.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If you’re a seasoned player of Civ VI, you’ll understand why. If you’ve never played a Civilization or 4x game before, allow me to try and explain. A game like Civilization VI is mechanics stacked on mechanics sitting beside more mechanics. Yes the game is turn based, with its hexagonal tiles resembling a board game, and in theory that takes the pressure off, but each turn can essentially win or lose you the game. There are multiple win conditions each Civ leader is more attuned towards, and yet to neglect one aspect of your civilization to focus on pursuing such a victory condition can end in disaster. Now I do have to say that by my own admission at this point in my Civ VI journey I know next to nothing. I put about 100 hours into Civ V and by the time I stopped playing I only felt marginally capable. So if it takes so long to become knowledgable, you might be asking what I’m going to be talking about and what benefit if any this video holds.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I like to think of myself as a decent game critic. If I can’t find insight and points of interest in a game after playing it for over 50 hours, I should just go hang up my critic suspenders. We all get a pair you know. What this video covers is the knowledge I’ve accumulated from playing 3 full games of Civ VI, a smattering of my understanding from the games I’ve played afterwards, and my thoughts as to why it’s so difficult to learn all the connected systems needed to actually have fun with the game. I’ll start by laying out how I approached playing Civ VI (what options, leaders, and difficulties I played with), and take you through my 3 games and what I learned playing them, before moving onto the core of the video, which is why the early game is so important, why it’s so difficult to get right for a new player, and how mastering the early game can let players engage with what Civ VI is really all about. Let’s get started.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Hatching a Plan</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One would think that a good place to start with any complicated game is the tutorial. Civ VI’s tutorial is better than a lot of other 4x titles (I’m looking at you Paradox), but what it doesn’t impart is just how inter-connected every decision is from the first turn of the game, and how it all snowballs. After the basics of the tutorial, I decided to start a new game to learn on the fly. I clicked the play now button, which picks a random leader and throws the player into a small continents map (2 landmasses populated by 3 civilizations each) with standard turn speed on prince, the standard difficulty. I quickly realised that this meant I was playing the game with all the additional mechanics of the two expansions. Luckily in the ‘create game’ tab, you can choose to play the base game, which is what I decided to do in order to not complicate matters. I had a feeling learning the base game would be complicated enough, and boy was I right. If you’d like me to make a video on the expansions in the future, let me know in the comments. My first 3 attempts at game 1 were disasters mostly due to expanding too early, and not knowing how to protect against barbarians. It was after the third restart that I formed a idea of how I was going to tackle the game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I needed an advantage, and so I made two decisions. The first was that I was going to lower the game down to its easiest difficulty. I would play 3 full games, each game moving the difficulty up by one, so that by the time I was done with the third game, I’d be back at standard difficulty, and would hopefully have the knowledge and skill needed to tackle the game on its default setting. The second decision was searching online for leaders that were more geared towards beginners. I think it’s beneficial to at least summerise my three games as it will describe a lot of the issues I was having, which will make my insights in the following sections make more sense. I’ll also be explaining some of the mechanics as I understand them at this point in time, if I think they’re relevant to being able to follow my story. If you haven’t played Civ VI it should help to explain just how complex the game can be, and if you feel like trying Civ VI yourself, hopefully you can learn from my many, many mistakes. If you already know how the game works or aren’t interested in my tale, feel free to skip ahead.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Game 1: Romeing Around</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For my first game, I picked Trajan of Rome. He’s recommended as an easy civ to play for a couple reasons. Firstly each city settled gets a free building. At the start it’s a monument which increases culture production, allowing the player to research civics on the culture tree as well as expand the borders of each city. Secondly each city settled or captured near the capital gets a free road which makes it easier for units to travel to the borders of the empire, making for easier conquest. Each city also gets a free trading post which boosts trade routes. Trade routes are a great way to gain extra resources from the cities in your empire, or if trading with a city-state or another civ, to gain some favour alongside said resources. Each civ has a unique unit and building alongside their other bonuses. Rome’s is a powerful early military unit called the Legion which is stronger than its contemporaries, and can build forts, or repair pillaged tiles. Rome’s building is the Bath, which replaces the aqueduct, granting more housing, but to be honest, I’m still kind of fuzzy on how population and housing works. On a basic level, excess food in your city grows the population which allows more tiles to be worked for better yields, and these people need somewhere to live so adequate housing needs to be built, otherwise there are penalties. As you can see,Trajan is a powerful leader, and knowing what I know now, my first game should have been a slam dunk. Should have been.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Not really knowing what I was doing, or what kind of victory I should be working towards, all I did was follow the recommendations of the advisor. What to build, what to research, where to settle, all through the game. What resulted was a very boring game of Civilization. Rome is geared towards domination victories, but I didn’t want to experiment with the war mechanics yet. I built these strong units and kept them garrisoned in my cities, mostly keeping my neighbours at bay due to the strength of my forces. In the midgame, Japan was mad with me, so waged a war. I easily defeated his units and when he wanted peace, I agreed. I really should have retaliated and taken a city or two. Speaking of cities, I didn’t settle too many. I was in a Civ V way of thinking. In the previous installment players could build an empire either tall or wide. Tall is a small number of cities (even just one) that are heavily built up. They’re powerhouses. Wide play is throwing down a lot of small cities all over the map, each one giving small bonuses, often focusing on different things. Civ V was more geared towards tall play, and Civ VI is completely the opposite.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I don’t want to say tall play is impossible, but from my 2nd game onward I learned how important it is to build new cities quickly and often. For one, you want to grab the resources around your starting area before another civ moves in and takes them, and that’s doubly important as you make your way through the eras of the tech tree and new strategic resources appear on the map. The greater your stretch of civilization, the greater the chance you will have access to these new resources, and won’t have to wage war or barter with another civ or city-state to gain access to new technology. Cause that’s what I had to do, finding a civ who would sell me iron so I could upgrade my units. I even settled a city on a tiny island just to have access to Niter so I could continue said upgrading.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So while this game was boring (largely because I was playing without a goal), I was learning how Civ VI worked. For example, when Japan declared war on me, so did my neighbouring city-state. Sending envoys to city-states results in bonuses, but whichever civ has the most envoys in any city-state is its suzerain. You gain additional bonuses, you can levy their military for yourself, and they will declare war on anyone the suzerain is in conflict with. I played around with spies, mostly as a counter-measure as Japan kept sabotaging my industrial zones. I kept building up my science and culture, experimenting with the mechanics as they unveiled themselves, and since I was rolling in dough through so many commercial hubs, I thought I was a lock to at least win a score victory when turn 500 rolled around. I was not. My first full game of Civilization ended in a loss, but I was going to take what I learned right into game two.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Game 2: You Gotta Have Faith</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Seeing I had such trouble with him in my first game, it’s kind of funny that I chose Hojo Tokimune of Japan for my second game. Japan was recommended to me as another beginner friendly civ. Their main ability allows easier adjacency bonuses for city districts. Districts are one of the big changes from Civ V to Civ VI. Since I stopped recording footage, I’ve played a couple more games, and I think I’m starting to get a handle on how districts work. Instead of just putting down buildings on tiles that will help production, science, faith, or defense, for every 3 citizens in a city you can place a new district that houses all the buildings that improve specific yields, only sacrificing a single tile. Some districts have adjacency bonuses that improve yields. For instance, the Campus which is the science district will give 1 additional science for every mountain and every 2 rainforest tiles it’s placed next to. For these districts that give bonuses, they will also gain a bonus if placed next to 2 other districts. You want to plan out your district placement in a tight clump to take advantage of these bonuses, often considering the best placements when you first settle your city. Of course at this point in my play, I had no idea how districts really worked so just popped them down wherever I could get the best bonus.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But back to Japan. Instead of getting the adjacency bonus for putting a district next to 2 others, it gets it from being just next to 1, so if you build your districts the way you do with other leaders, you could double your adjacency bonus. Adding to this is Hojo’s Divine Wind ability. 3 particular districts, Encampments, Theatre Squares, and Holy Sites are built in half the time. This gives a nice boost to players wanting to win via domination, culture, or faith. It also gives a damage buff to any units that are fighting on a coastal tile. As for the unique unit and building, Japan has the Samurai, which is a more powerful version of the swordsman. The real benefit to this unit however is it does maximum damage when injured. Units only do maximum damage at full health, so this gives Japan a huge advantage in the medieval era. The unique building is the Electronics Factory, which gives culture as well as production, and will increase production for any city within 6 tiles.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In my Rome game, I founded a religion, but it wasn’t until the game was almost over that I figured out that religious units are bought with faith in cities that have a Holy Site. I decided that I wanted to experiment with how religion works, and without meaning to, choosing Japan as the civ to make this experiment with was fortuitous. Not only because Holy Sites can be built more quickly due to Divine Wind, but the adjacency bonus helped boost faith production. I ended up winning a religious victory in the end, and I want to explain a bit about how that works, alongside other observations from this game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What helped me experiment was that I wasn’t near any other civilization. I was kind of on a peninsula. Way to the north was Sumeria, but I never built close enough to them to have a problem, and there were city states buffering me from the mainland which Sumeria shared with Spain and Persia. After my first game I realised that it was important to build a lot of cities, so as I was continuing to build my empire, any time the advisor recommended building a settler, I would do that, and send them off to found a new city. I founded my religion early (Buddhism to be themetically appropriate), and started using faith to send my apostles and missionaries across the globe to spread the good word.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Religion spreads via religious pressure. If one of your cities practises a religion, that religion will start to exert pressure on that city’s close neighbours. If you have a trade route with other civs or city-states, your religion will travel along that route and start to exert pressure on that city. What missionaries and apostles do is travel like any other unit, and then use charges to explode a huge amount of faith on the city they’re standing next to. Now if another civ has religious units as well, you can trigger a faith war. Defeating a religious foe will drastically lower their faith in the surrounding cities as well as boost yours. That was what won me the game in the end, when I defeated Germany’s last apostle in holy combat. I had wasted so many turns trying to attack the gaggle of Gurus Germany had around its lands. Gurus are a unit that can heal your Missionaries and Apostles but can’t attack other units directly.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I was finishing up my faith war against the rest of the world, I decided to strike back against Persia who declared war on me a lot earlier in the game, but never encroached upon my territory. I built up some units, combining two of the same type to create corps, and then three to create armies. Back when Civ V was new, one of my favourite changes to the game was the idea that only one unit could occupy each tile. The previous games allowed multiple units of the same type to be stacked on top of each other creating the potential for ridiculous armies. I never liked it because I never knew when to stop stacking. The idea of planning the types of troops and their configuration on the board appealed to me greatly. That’s why when I heard that Civ VI was going to bring back stacking I was annoyed. I didn’t want to go back to the way things used to be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And thanks to corps and armies, I don’t have to. Not only are these two technologies a fair way down the tech tree, the hard cap of two units, and then three works quite well. The reason I think so is that earlier in the game, aside from support and siege units, it’s a reasonable strategy to have 2 - 3 of each unit type. Not only because of the power and manuverability, but because of a mechanic I’ve only learned about recently, which is if you surround a city with enough units, the city will be under siege and no longer heals damage each turn. It makes it far easier to take and damage cities if you have more units, and you can always sub out a damaged unit with a fresh attacker. Combining units into corps and armies means you need far less units to take a city, and if I knew about the siege mechanic during my Japan game, I might have been able to utilize it, having a melee army, a ranged army, and a siege army.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I took over all the cities on the west side of Persia, razing to the ground the cities I didn’t see value in, leading to every other civ in the game denouncing me as a warmonger. It turns out even though Persia declared war on me, according to the way the game handles war penalties, while I had a right to defend my borders, I did not have a right to invade their lands and take over their cities. Warmonger penalties and war weariness are mechanics that I’m still feeling out the more I play. If you don’t have a good reason to go to war with another Civ, the penalties will be more extreme, and other civs look down on you if you raze cities to the ground, take over another’s capital, and especially if you wipe a civilization from the game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It turns out that these penalties are much harsher as you make your way through the tech and civics tree. While you uncover more Cassus Belli, which are excuses for going to war that limit these negative penalities, the rest of the world looks upon you more harshly as everyone becomes more civilized. Fair enough. I mean war is terrible, and as we move towards the future, we tend to think less of countries that wage war on others, no matter what Cassus Belli they might have. I guess the trick is either to declare your wars during the early game where the penalties are minimal, or decide that you’re going to undertake a domination victory, not caring if the rest of the world calls you a warmonger. That was the plan for my third and final game, and things did not exactly go to… plan.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Game 3: A Cultured Domination</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I decided instead of trying another beginner civ, for my final recorded game I would let the computer choose for me. I ended up as Gorgo, Queen of Sparta, who was one of the civs that was recommended for beginners. Whaddaya know. Greece gains an additional wildcard policy slot. Depending on the government chosen (which are all researched in the civics tree), a player has access to policy cards under the categories of military, economic, diplomatic, and wildcard (the only section for cards that boost the accumulation of great people, which have great bonuses, and can be attracted to your civilization through great people points. Great). These policy cards are earned through each civic tech, and each grants boons and bonuses that can help at specific parts of the game depending on what the player is trying to accomplish. I’m sure you can see how important having an additional slot to place any policy card can be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s Gorgo’s unique ability that formed my strategy for this final game. Upon the death of any enemy whether it be barbarian, city-state, or civilization, the player receives a culture bonus equal to 50% of the unit’s melee strength. So by going around and killing things, I gain culture. My thought was that I’ll split the difference and pursue both a culture and a domination victory, whichever came first. Domination is achieved once you conquer the capitals of all other civs in the game. You don’t have to wipe them off the map. In fact, if you’re worried about the warmonger penalties I discussed before, it’s best to conquer their capital, leaving one city on the outskirts to allow them to wallow in obscurity for the rest of the game. I shared a continent with Brazil and Sumeria. I conquered them fairly early and it was funny to see them denounce me and make empty threats for the rest of my turns.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What aided me in these early wars was Greece’s unique unit, the Hoplite. It’s an anti-cavalry unit so not something I would usually build or take into battle as I usually take down horsemen with my ranged units, but the bonus was too good to pass up. If a Hoplite is standing next to another Hoplite, its strength is increased. I still don’t know when it’s a good idea to keep a unique unit with its bonuses around for an extra era, and when it should be upgraded to a stronger era’s unit as soon as possible. That seems like something that a player becomes familiar with the more they know about the game. It depends on circumstance, which is a topic I’ll be discussing a little later.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So while this conquest was boosting my culture, I learned that the cultural victory is all about tourism. By building wonders and housing works of art in the mid to late game, tourists will flock to your cities. There is religious tourism as well, where people will want to visit the birthplace of their faith, and visit your collection of religious relics, but seeing I spent the last game playing around with faith, I elected not to found a religion this game, which definitely would have made my culture victory a lot easier to obtain. Greece’s unique building helps with this. It’s the Acropolis which replaces the Theatre Square. It’s cheaper to build, gives more culture, and adds an additional adjacency bonus, as well as granting an extra envoy when built. The only downside is it has to be built on a hill, but Greece has a higher bias than other civs to have their game start with hills around, and I never had an issue placing down an Acropolis.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now here’s an issue I did have. Pursuing a domination victory on a small continents map hits a snag because of the two continents. The Hoplites are an early era unit, so while I conquered Brazil and Sumeria pretty quickly, laying dominion over my own continent, I had no cities on the coast, so I needed to build harbours to build ships in order to discover the rest of the world, as well as research the science to build said ships, and allow my units to embark into deeper waters. This wasn’t until after turn 150. Actually I had a similar issue happen even before I declared my first war. Once again I started the game sort of left to my own devices. My passage to the mainland was blocked by a city-state. A city-state Brazil was Suzerain of. I had to wait until I researched the ability for units to embark onto the water to be able to pass by. I could have conquered said city-state, but even when writing this, with more games under my belt, I like to leave city-states alone. Even if I don’t like their bonuses.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And my resolve for leaving city-states alone was tested once more. I had built a bunch of airstrips and had fighters and bombers at my disposal. If your game reaches the modern era, these units are what you use to wreak havoc. The only problem is they have to be close to a base of operations to refuel, so I couldn’t wage war with them across the sea. You can research an aircraft carrier, but even with all my conquered Brazillian and Sumerian cities, I had no access to oil, which is needed to build it. One of my neighouring city states had access to oil. I could have conquered it, and taken the oil for myself, but again, I didn’t want to attack a city-state cause I was still worried about warmonger penalties at this point in time. I was Suzerain of the city-state though, so I would have access to their oil… if they ever improved the damn tile. I sent one of my builders in to build an oil well, allowing the construction of a couple of aircraft carriers which allowed me to wage war on Nubia and Khmer from the coastline, as my other units marched through their land, taking their capitals.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">All the meanwhile I was rolling in culture. I was cultured as f*ck. The amount of great artists, writers, and musicians I attracted was staggering. I didn’t even have the buildings to house all their work. I uncovered artifacts with archeologists, and built wonders. As some of the civs I conquered had built holy sites, I even had access to some relics. No other civ could compare to my artistic output, and yet, tourism was barely trickling in. At this point I thought that I might complete my domination victory first. It was close. I had just finished taking over Khmer’s cities, and was positioning my naval units outside St. Petersburg, as Russia was the final civ I had to conquer. Then on turn 289, victory sneak attacked me. The game was over. I had won a culture victory, and so ended my time with Civilization VI.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Crossing the Rubicon…of Fun!</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But that was not the end of my time with Civilization VI. After I stopped recording I kept playing. In the evenings, on the weekends, and even in the mornings sometimes when I couldn’t help myself. Somewhere in the middle of my Japan game I crossed a rubicon. Where beforehand I was struggling to find the fun in Civ VI, and was dreading each new play session, now I can’t get enough. Civ VI is quickly becoming one of my favourite games in years, and I haven’t even touched the expansions yet. No joke, if you’d like me to make a video on the expansions, let me know so I can queue that up as quick as possible. Otherwise, I’ll start to explore them in my own time. Since that 3rd game with Greece I’ve also watched a lot of Civ VI on YouTube. Strategy videos, tips and tricks, and Let’s Plays of the game on the highest difficulty. Many of the additional mechanics I spoke of during my journey through the first 3 games have been informed and enhanced not only by these videos, but all the Civ VI I’ve played since.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So what caused this shift in my feelings towards the game? What changed in the middle of the Japan game that carried me not only through the Greece playthrough, but dozens of hours afterwards? I think it’s knowledge. Somewhere in the middle of that Japan game, I started to finally understand the multitude of systems the game was working with, that understanding brought joy with it, and I became interested in experimenting and exploring how these systems work. Since then, each new game, each new failed start, each new video watched, and each new decision made, increases the knowledge I have of how to play Civ VI, and it’s continued to be an enjoyable process.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The reason I spent all this time outlining my 3 games, and discussing aspects of Civ VI as I went through them is to give everyone an idea of just how much there is to learn about the game, and yet to also show that the game is accommodating to players who only grasp the basics of these mechanics. Game 1 failed because I didn’t have a goal in mind, and in games 2 and 3 I fumbled my way towards a faith victory, and then a domination and culture victory. Without a heavy dose of a helping hand, playing the way I did would not result in any level of success, but as I wasn’t receiving much resistance from the other civilizations (as well as starting games 2 and 3 far enough away from a civ who might declare war on me for the sake of territory), I was able to flourish. Not with complete understanding, but flourish nonetheless. And that success combined with pursuing a goal and gaining further understanding of how the game works, was a snowball rolling downhill that has turned into the avalanche of my new found obsession. So let me finish this off by imparting some wisdom about the most important lesson I’ve learned through all this, and how it links to how I found my enjoyment.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Why I Love the Early Game</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The most important thing I’ve learned in my short time with Civ VI is that if you don’t feel confident about your civilization’s progress by turn 50, you should restart the game. The early game is that snowball metaphor I made at the end of the last section. If you feel confident on turn 50, the other civs will not be able to touch you, at least on Prince difficulty. Watching a lot of Civ VI videos and reading forum and Reddit posts, some of the hottest debate among the community has to do with the early game. Do you found a city on the tile your settler is sitting on in turn 1, or do you move it to a more advantageous position, sacrificing a turn or two of production to start off? What should your early build order be? Should you build a scout for ease of movement, or for a little more production, and one less movement per turn, should you build a slinger or warrior, who could deal with barbarian threats they come across? Do you beeline the monument so your city’s borders will grow as quick as possible, starting off your journey on the culture tech tree? You can also choose to build a settler once you hit a population of 2 to quickly found a new city, or a builder to improve your surrounding tiles to increase food, production, gold, or access to nearby resources. I haven’t even touched on growing your city’s population to have access to more surrounding yields, and how you can manually assign them to certain tiles. Just one more mechanic to keep track of and slowly learn all the nuances of through each new game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And this idea also explains a feeling I’ve had since at least Civilization V, but I think it was there when I was playing the original Civilization back in the 90s. Sometimes you just need that final piece of the puzzle to articulate something that’s been gnawing at the edges of your brain for years. The early game was always my favourite part of any Civ game. Each new start always held such potential. Once the midgame took off, I was either focused on my goal or just making each decision as it came up, and by the late game I was just going through the motions of achieving a victory condition. I always felt somewhat bored or unfulfilled compared to the thrill of starting a new game with a new civ and seeing how everything played out. The first 50 - 100 turns just hold so much potential that Civ has always lost a bit of its spark once the dust settles and the shape of the game makes itself known.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is likely a larger issue with what I find exciting about games. I’ve said in other videos that before I started my channel, it was rare of me to finish a videogame. Somewhere along the way the gameplay wore out its welcome, or the story wasn’t strong enough to push me through. Heck until a couple years back a huge part of this channel was my impressions videos, where I played a game for a short amount of time and made a review based on that small first impression. I approach each new videogame with that impressions mindset, seeing if it sparks that feeling of potential and wonder that should hopefully push me through to the credits. Is it any wonder that the early game of Civ VI hits me the same? Well there is a significant difference. While I will often drop a game that has lost its spark to try another game, I have kept playing new games of Civ VI over and over again. Not only that, but I have pushed through to victory conditions on multiple occasions now. So why is that? I think it has to do with the very specific power fantasy that Civ VI and perhaps the rest of the 4x genre taps into.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Civ VI Power Fantasy</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In a new game of Civ VI, based off the leader you’ve chosen, you should have a victory condition that you want to strive for. An element of the first 50 turns is seeing if that’s feasible. Depending on your starting location, the resources at your disposal, and who your neighbours are (be they other civs or a host of barbarian encampments), these first turns may be smooth sailing, or absolute chaos. Now instead of having a plan from the outset, It’s recommended to formulate a plan based on these circumstances. To roll with the punches instead of trying to force your will on the game for a specific outcome. Most civs have at least 2 victory conditions that they’re decent in pursuing, and really any civ can achieve almost any victory condition even without a complete understanding of the game. At least on lower difficulties. As of this writing, I’ve completed two games on Prince difficulty. I don’t know if I want to keep moving up or if I’m happy to continue playing on the default setting. It was touched on before, but this ability to roll with the punches is linked to a deeper knowledge of the game’s systems. There seems to be a consensus that the AI doesn’t make good decisions and is not really a threat even on the highest difficulties, but those opinions come from people who are winning games on those higher difficulties. I would say they have the knowledge of Civ VI to be able to adapt on the fly no matter the circumstance, but in a way they’re still experiencing the same power fantasy that I am, having now started to feel comfortable on the default difficulty. The ability to shape your future, and control your own fate.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The reason I’m able to enjoy this power fantasy is due to the allowances the game gives me when I don’t have a perfect working knowledge of its systems. Maybe on Deity difficulty you have to have that to succeed, or maybe by the time one gets there, they just have so much Civ under their belt that the decisions come naturally. Either way Civ VI excels in starting the player off in a unique situation, and then allowing them to shape the course of the game to their own will. The story of my rise through the first 3 difficulties has run in parallel to my continual understanding of the game’s systems, and I have no doubt that if I were to tackle King difficulty, and even try and work my way to Deity, I would still be walking that path of knowledge acquisition. Even if I stay on Prince or decide to move back down, each game will add to that knowledge base, which in turn will make it more likely that those first 50 turns will leave me in a favourable position to shoot towards my preferred victory condition, which will lead to more knowledge and then an easier game and… hmm, maybe this is how the jump to the next difficulty occurs organically.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What I do know is that I’ll be playing Civ VI for a while. Every new thing I learn through pursuing a victory condition or even a failed first 50 turns, is knowledge that I can’t wait to refine and apply to a new attempt. The game is aiding me in this pursuit, because at least on the lower difficulties Civ VI allows success without a comprehensive understanding of its systems. Just as the first 50 turns is an indicator of success in the late game, so are all the more nuanced decisions that can be taken advantage of by those with the knowledge to do so. Citizen placement, what tiles to improve with a builder and when, ideal placement of districts, ideal placements of new cities, what to research, what policy cards to play, and the list goes on and on. Greater understanding of the game’s systems will allow a smoother game, resulting in easier and quicker victories, and I have no doubt this knowledge is required to win on the higher difficulties. Civilization VI contains multitudes. It took me at least two full games to understand that finding the fun means enjoying the journey of acquiring the knowledge needed to bend the game to my will, rather than just reaching a win condition like in other games. I am still a long ways from a comprehensive understanding of Civilization VI’s systems (if I ever get there) but since that revelation, I’ve been enjoying playing and learning about Civ VI through each new turn, and each new game created. Thanks for watching.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-26638552704259909542023-04-21T17:14:00.000-07:002023-04-21T17:14:14.881-07:00Breath of the Wild Critique - A World Worth Exploring<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/O_ESfh7qKZM" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was travelling to one of the stables on horseback. It wasn’t until this play session that I realised every stable had a shrine nearby to make it easier to access the sidequests and services on offer. As I was travelling back towards these stables from Rito Village the two shrines next to the two stables stuck out like sore thumbs. It was on the way to the second stable when I saw a pillar of blue light on a nearby mountain. As I was travelling on a road, I let my horse keep moving as I panned the camera towards the hill in question, observing a gentle incline that looked easily ridable. I continued riding towards the stable and continued playing the game, but that lone hill with its glowing blue marker kept invading my thoughts. Finally a couple play sessions later, I decided to go off on a little adventure. I took off from the stable at the crack of dawn, enjoying my leisurely stroll on horseback towards the mountain, easily riding up its incline. What I found at the end of that gentle slope and around a bend on the hill was a small pond, a small pond surrounded by cherry blossoms. It was such a serene and lovely little part of the world tucked away in the middle of nowhere. Further exploration found a few Korok seeds, a shrine, and then a cooking pot surrounded by skeletons as it was no longer light out (isn’t it amazing how much time can pass when you're in a shrine). At this point the adventure felt completed so I climbed upon my horse and headed back towards the stable I had departed from the previous morning. I spent over 50 hours with Breath of the Wild, and while I had many other such adventures, this one sticks out as my favourite moment of the entire game. It's odd right? Sure there were Korok seeds, and a shrine, but it's the pond itself, surrounded by cherry blossoms that sticks out most firmly in my mind. That pond was the reward for exploring what was on that hill.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Is the world better than the game?</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I think back on Breath of the Wild, what I loved the most were those small moments of connecting with the world. The serenity of running through the grass as the wind blows through it. The way sunsets reflect off the surface of a pool of water, or how the dirt and rocks gain a glossy reflective texture when it rains. The title Breath of the Wild is appropriate because the care that has gone into making this world feel alive and beautiful is without question. The first time I saw a dragon flying in the distance I was awestruck. When I entered Rito Village for the first time, how exiting the canyon allows the village to be framed in such a way to be wowed at the sheer verticality of it, or heck, let's go simple. Often the most reflective moments are riding on horseback through the expansive fields of Hyrule, listening to the sparse piano hint at something greater and more bombastic, but never delivering. Thematically appropriate considering how I regard the rest of the game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ok, that’s being a bit cheeky, but it's not ridiculous to say that any time I wasn't traversing the land on my own terms, riding, climbing, or gliding around, enjoying the scenery and the weather, I wasn't really enjoying myself. I think the phrase "on my own terms" is important here. Early on, on the Great Plateau, I keyed into the idea that if you were storming an enemy camp or fighting enemies face to face, you had failed in some way. This feeling was given some credence listening to the game’s GDC talk. How when designing each encounter, there was indeed a "correct solution", but the developers didn't want the players to search for it. The point of the physics and chemistry systems, of the runes, and the way all the effects of the world work in tandem allows experimentation and ingenuity on the part of the player. This strengthens that feeling I had that if you find yourself in a face to face fight with a foe, you have somehow failed. I mean yes, minibosses and the Ganon fights are an exception, but are they? Even these fights seem to delight in the idea of the player thinking up fun ways to break the encounter or make it trivial, or the player should be so adept at the tools available that they have fun showcasing their mastery.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sadly I don't have much experimentation or ingenuity in me. As for mastery of the tools available, ha! I really want to blame the controls too. I was using the joy cons hooked together in puppy dog mode, and even in the final fight with Calamity Ganon, instead of running in the direction I wanted Link to go in, he would crouch, and this would result in damage. I never felt like I knew when or how to trigger a flurry rush, but watching a lot of critique videos after I had finished the game let me know I'm not alone there. The window and trigger for the rush seems arbitrary, which is regrettable for such a useful combat tool. To say something positive, gyro aiming for the bow is the best thing ever, especially when combined with bullet time in the air. I just wish bows didn't break so easily, or at all. And since I mentioned bows breaking, I guess now is a good a time as any to inject my opinions on weapon durability into the discourse.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>My opinions on weapon durability and degradation</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Even late in my playthrough, I never felt that my weapons were as powerful as they needed to be. It did make me feel better about my difficulties dodging attacks and activating Flurry Rush, because what use is masterful play when your weapons are doing jack all to an enemy's health? There is enemy scaling as one plays through the game which increases the weapons you can obtain from downed foes, but the joy of having a strong weapon makes little difference when it's going to break after a few hits. I've mentioned in other vidoes how I love power scaling in RPGs. The arc of starting out weak, and by the end of the game being able to tackle any challenge the thrown your way due to experience. Of course in most games this experience is numerical. You level up enough, or your gear is strong enough that nothing poses a challenge anymore. Your health and strength overwhelm any encounter you come across, and I love that. The slow climb is sweet, because you’re the one who climbed that mountain. You're at the summit now, and you deserve this feeling of mastery.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now as I said, there is power scaling in Breath of the Wild. Stronger enemies drop stronger gear, and more dangerous areas of the map hide greater rewards. There's also improving armour at the fairy shrines, and gaining more heart pieces and stamina as the player collects more spirit orbs, but even at the end I felt very similar to how I felt at the start. Like I had to use everything at my disposal to get through a combat encounter, and if I was fighting one on one, I had somehow failed. I think the durability system is the reason behind this. If the player was able to keep an arsenal of increasingly powerful weapons and shields as they made their way through the game, earlier encounters would feel trivial. Those red bokoblins and base-level Moblins require very little effort, but they're usually mixed with the tougher variants. Would those tougher variants be as imposing if I didn't have to worry about "wasting weapons"? Cause even with late-game weapons, that they break makes me not want to use them, and this is counter to how I felt about the durability system during my time on the Great Plateau.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Great Plateau versus the open world</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Great Plateau nails the idea of power scaling because you start with nothing. Seeing the area is meant to teach how the game works to the player, every discovery is monumental as you piece together just what Breath of the Wild can do. Every new weapon, shield, and bow picked up is a triumph. Every enemy camp cleared a milestone. You acquire the tools of your trade (the runes in the shrines) and the game keeps opening up with possibilities. Before this playthrough I attempted playing Breath of the Wild 2 times, and on this third attempt my pathway through the Great Plateau was vastly different to the other two, and just as enjoyable. Joseph Anderson said in his critique that the Great Plateau is a miniaturized version of the entire game. I disagree. I think it's the best part of the game. That's not only because of the aforementioned power scaling with each new discovery, but the discoveries themselves. Once the player leaves The Great Plateau, it's not that their experience plateaus (after all, the story I told earlier about my favourite part of the game was hours later), but the enjoyability of the power scaling sure does. It's because as a tutorial section, everything in the Great Plateau is as handcrafted as the rest of the vast world on offer, but all its secrets and its beauty is manageable. The game is able to guide the player's experience due to the Plateau's lack of scope.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And isn't that the problem with all open world games? They're too fucking big and they’re not worth exploring? Despite its size, I think Breath of the Wild succeeds in having a world worth exploring. How even if it's a Korok seed, there's something to discover in every nook and cranny on the map. How getting to these places is often more exciting than the reward itself, reinforcing the idea that it’s the exploration and traversal that truly lie at the heart of the game. As delightful as I found the townspeople of Hyrule, I only completed a handful of their sidequests because the rewards were often so poor, and I felt the time investment was not worth it. Shrine quests are a different story because a spirit orb feels like a worthwhile reward for the trial presented, but ok let me give a stronger example for how I felt the sidequests were wasting my time, Terry Town. I love the idea. Creating a new village in the middle of Akkala which is a fairly tumultuous and dangerous part of the world. After I found the Goron and they opened up shop, I looked at the prospect of spending 10-15 minutes chopping down trees (as well as having to find other axes since of course my axe wouldn't last the entire time.), and I just went and did something else, leaving Terry Town unfinished for the rest of my playthrough.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Extrinsically intrinsic motivation</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So now it's that time in the critique where we discuss intrinsic and extrinsic motivation. Every gaming video's got to have it! A primer on how I understand the terms is that extrinsic motivation is when the reward we get for doing something is why we do it. Intrinsic motivation is when the act itself is the reward regardless of what happens at the end. Breath of the Wild shines when the player is intrinsically motivated. When I finished The Great Plateau, I followed the game’s extrinsic motivation. I went to Kakariko Village and met Impa, I went to Hateno and visited the lab, and then I spent many hours tracking down and freeing the four Divine Beasts. It was only then that intrinsic motivation took over my playthrough. I wanted to activate every tower, and explore the roads of every uncovered zone. I knew the Lost Woods and Master Sword existed, so I wanted to find them, and I wanted to uncover all of Link's lost memories. During this time I found shrines, met people, uncovered fairy fountains, and generally had a fun time unveiling the vastness of the land before me, but even then it wasn't too long after accomplishing these goals that I felt that it was time to fight Ganon and end my playthrough. So what happened?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I can't speak for everyone, but I think I need both intrinsic and extrinsic motivation when playing a game. When uncovering the towers and exploring these new areas I often stopped to go on little adventures, like when I reached the stable in Faron and the people there talked about something magical at the top of the waterfalls. Well, I decided to climb those waterfalls. It was rough because of all the lightning and the enemies every step of the way. When I got to the top, all I found was 3 Durian trees, but that was ok, because like the cherry blossom pond, it was the adventure itself that was the important part, even if the adventure happened because I wanted to reach a specific destination for a specific reason.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So the things I wanted to do in the game eventually ran dry. I've already spoken of most of the sidequests not seeming worth my time, and eventually the only prospect I had remaining was to search out more shrines and korok seeds. I mean part of me wanted to make sure I had at least one row of hearts in order to take on Calamity Ganon, but then the prospect of uncovering all those shrines just bummed me out. Heck, the most interesting shrine I came across, Eventide island ended up being a disappointment because the Hinox killed me and it sent me back to the stable I had taken off from at the start of that particular adventure. And while I would have liked to find the final Great Fairy Fountain, or purchase the ancient armour and weapons from the Akkala Lab, the amount of adventuring needed to procure the cash and materials needed for these flights of fancy made me balk at the prospect of spending more time aimlessly wandering this game world that I felt I had uncovered enough of. Basically by this point, my intrinsic motivation was tapped dry, so there was only one final goal to complete, Defeat Ganon.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Mark Brown over at Game Maker's Toolkit says that everything you do in Breath of the Wild is to prepare you for your fight with Ganon. That's why I defeated all the Divine Beasts. It's why I searched out the Master Sword. It's why I made sure to buy as many Ancient arrows as I could, and it's why I climbed the waterfalls of Hyrule Castle, as I didn't want to waste any of my weapons, bows, or shields making my way to this final encounter. And while the fight got pretty thorny in sections, I was adequately prepared. I beat the fucker! And just like that, my time with Breath of the Wild was over. The game ended with Link and Zelda being able to travel the lands together again, and I felt happy to have my preparation for the Ganon fight pay off, but saddened to have to leave behind this world with so much unexplored and so much unaccomplished.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Maybe the intrinsic motivation to explore this version of Hyrule wasn't extinguished after all, it just took completing the game for the flame to rekindle. That seems to be what I consider a great game these days, that when it's finished I want to play it again immediately. I think it's because I wonder how much different the game would be if I ignored the Divine Beasts and just started exploring the world after leaving the Great Plateau. If a 4th playthrough of The Great Plateau would be different than the previous 3, and if left to my own devices the game would share more of its secrets, but most importantly more of its majesty and beauty. That's what I'm left thinking about most of all after the game is done, how great it is to just exist in this world. The strength of Breath of the Wild is its sense of solitude and its picturesque moments. The combat, and the game's systems I find to be detriments rather than positives, which is weird to say. The game part of the game is the part that is the problem, but I think existing in this open world more than makes up for it. That's what's pulling me back in. This is going to sound super corny, but when I decide to replay this game, it will be to experience the breath of the wild. Thanks for watching.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-22528015816771635302023-02-06T22:40:00.000-08:002023-02-06T22:40:05.849-08:00Why Do People Love Nier: Automata?<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/H1Sxhjeo4Ns" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Intro</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hey hey folks, and welcome to my critique of Nier: Automata. I want to start this off by telling you a story of the first time I took a class in film criticism. It's 2002, I'm 20 years old, and I'm studying animation at the Art Institute of Seattle. As an elective, I take a class in film. All the classes at the institute were in 4 hour blocks with a break in the middle, so for this class we'd watch a film, break, and then come back and discuss it. In the class’ first weeks we watched Mulholland Drive by David Lynch. I’d never seen anything like it before. When the credits rolled, I was angry. I think I yelled, "What? That's it?". I had no idea what was going on. After break we discussed the film. Not only the teacher, but some classmates who were more accustomed to this type of storytelling explained their theories. My world opened. I had no idea films could be like this. I got my hands on Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, and Lost Highway. Not only did I become a fan of David Lynch through discussing one of his films, it further opened my eyes to what cinema could be. I gained a greater appreciation of the artform through the thoughts of others.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It's why to this day, no matter what I think of a film, I'll read reviews, online discussion, and ask friends their opinions. It always leads to a deeper appreciation. I do the same thing with videogames. As I play I take notes after each session, but once a game is finished, I'll watch and read a lot of criticism to see what others thought about it. Part of it is the academic idea of finding gaps in the literature. What aren't people talking about, and is there anything in my notes that can further discussion on the game by approaching it in this way? But mostly it’s to further my own understanding. I'm a lot more confident in my opinions these days, and I want to see how they fare against everyone else's. If anything I think it leads to a more interesting piece of criticism when I finally start writing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So now we come to Nier: Automata. Bluntly, I don't see what the fuss is about. I'd heard so much praise over the years, and especially after playing Nier, I was looking forward to this. The earnestness, emotion, and spectacle of that game combined with the budget and gameplay of a Platinum Games action title? It sounded too good to be true, and after playing through it, it was. Maybe my expectations were too high. Aside from two particular instances in the game (which I'll talk about in more detail later), I spent my time in Nier: Automata confused as to what is happening, and why I should care. I didn't have emotional attachment to any of the characters (except for Pascal), and the nods and references to philosophy, philosophers, and what it means to be human rang hollow to me. It all seemed like a wink and a nod rather than using the ideas to accomplish something unique.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s why I was looking forward to the writings of others. To find out what I was missing. Do you ever feel like something may be too smart for you? That's how I felt when Mulholland Drive ended, and like the movie, when Automata was done, I looked to others to explain it to me. I also wanted to see if I was alone in regards to the game doing nothing for me. And it turns out that aside from one exception, I was alone. Everybody loves this game. Not only that, they think it's a masterpiece of literature. That its themes resonate deeply. That it's a treatise on how to find meaning in life, how to reject nihilism, and how to endure through suffering. And yeah, all that is in there. I could see it as I played, but almost none of it affected me emotionally. In this video I’ll be exploring my thoughts and feelings about the game. What I found interesting and resonant, and why I wasn't able to come away from Nier: Automata with the reverence that so many others seem to have for it. Enjoy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>“We’re not so different, you and I.”</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Nier: Automata is about robots imitating humanity. Imitating our mistakes, and due to their programming, not learning from them. The machines think that if they imitate humanity, they can find the answers they're seeking. We fascinate them because we’re a contradiction. In the second fight with Adam, we find out that the machines that came to Earth as part of an alien invasion killed their masters long ago. The machines saw nothing worthwhile in those that created them, but humanity is somehow different. Adam poses a question that fascinates him about human beings. How can a creature be so full of love yet kill its own kind so easily? Now to find his answer he wants to dissect the brains of the humans on the moon, but still, it's a fascination nonetheless.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now the humans are dead. I don't want to act like I was oh so clever for figuring this out pretty much once I learned that the androids on the moon were trying to liberate Earth from the machines for the mysterious council of humanity, but it seemed like an obvious revelation. Nier was full of sadness and I thought to myself, "What would crush the spirit of the androids we're controlling? Hmm. What if the humans they fight for were wiped out long ago?" And this revelation is so understated too. A lot of Nier: Automata's most important moments are. To return to the idea of the robots imitating humanity, there's a revelation late in Playthrough C where 9S discovers that the black box that is the core of the androids, what makes them them, is built out of machine parts. The androids may be made in the image of humans, they may be more complex, but what was the question Adam posed? How can a creature be so full of love yet kill its own kind so easily? It's cause the other kind look different right?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This was a source of constant irritation as I played through the game. 2B is supposed to be the stoic assassin, but as we keep playing, we encounter not only machines talking, but Pascal's pacifist village, with 9S constantly repeating the mantra of machines having no thought or reason behind anything they do. While playing 2B I felt she was amiable to the idea of the machines being more than they appear to be, which seems ironic seeing that we learn her true purpose is to kill 9S when he becomes too self-aware. Of course by the time 9S reaches these revelations that everything the androids were fighting for is a lie, he's so consumed by rage over the death of 2B that he's become immune to reason. Funnily enough when Adam had captured 9S in playthrough B he mentions how machines can only focus on one thing at a time, and for Adam, the guiding principle that consumes him is hatred. I don't think Adam actually corrupted 9S (well no more than learning a new idea can corrupt an existing belief), but I do wonder what the point of 9S flooding the network with his own consciousness in the ending of playthrough B meant, when in playthrough C everything crumbles as it seemed it was ordained to. Nevertheless, the important point is that for most of playthrough C, 9S is consumed by hatred and vengeance. His guiding principle echoes Adam’s. After all, machines can only focus on one thing at a time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Pascal’s Wager</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The machine that changes the way our androids view the machines themselves is Pascal. Pascal’s guiding principle is pacifism. He’s created a safe-haven for machines that want to live a peaceful existence. Like the machines of the forest, or the cult in the abandoned factory, Pascal's followers don't seem to possess the same sense of self as their leaders. One thing all these groups share is that they’ve disconnected themselves from the machine network, and at least from the events of the game, this seems to be where everything goes wrong. The leader of the cult is dead by the time we arrive, and without their figurehead the followers devolve into zealous murder and suicide. The forest machines sacrifice themselves for a king that can no longer lead them, and while Pascal's village seems like it's working well enough, these disconnections from the network with the machines emulating various facets of human civilization was all part of the machine network's plan. I still don't know why the machines decided to cannibalize the village, and why they were so hell bent on attacking the village's children, but in the end it doesn't matter. Trying to protect his village leads to one of the only aforementioned 2 times where I actually cared about the characters of this game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Pascal taught the children fear, and it was that guiding principle of fear that caused them to commit suicide. Of course by this point their death seems moot since in choosing to protect them, Pascal sacrifices his ideals of pacifism, what made him who he is. I can see why he asks A2 to either destroy his memories or kill him. Not only did he sacrifice his ideals, but it didn’t help. He blames himself for teaching the children the wrong thing. I sympathized. I had grown to like Pascal's idealism and didn't want to leave him suffering or kill him, so I wiped his memories. The final cutscene of Ending E warns of the risk of making the same mistakes all over again if 2B and 9S are allowed to live. Based on their programming, there’s a good chance for them to not learn from what has happened, and to repeat the suffering and anguish we’ve played through. I have no evidence for it, but felt that with the idea that androids could live for hundreds if not thousands of years, and that there were differences in the A and B playthroughs, that everything in the game has played out repeatedly in countless cycles over the centuries. It could easily play out the same way again, but the pods believe that as long as there's free will, there's the possibility that things may turn out differently. I felt the same regarding Pascal. He deserved a second chance.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>We can’t do anything alone</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But even though I cared about Pascal, and found the moment poignant due to his anguish and what he asks of A2, I still had no idea why any of it was happening. That's the biggest hurdle I have yet to clear when thinking back on my time with the game. I just didn't understand any of it. So little is told to the player as they proceed through the playthroughs. Yoko Taro has gone on record saying he prefers to write scenes based around emotion, and I appreciate that, except I didn't care about any of the characters. For the first playthrough I was playing a buddy cop duo of emotionless androids. Ok, 9S definitely has his own personality, but it makes no sense. Heck, by the time they sacrifice themselves at the end of the intro, they act like good friends. I had no idea where that came from, and spending more time with these characters didn't do much to warm me to them. I never understood a reason for 2B to care about 9S, and really, I never got a read on either of their personalities. I mean this could be by design. I did argue earlier that the androids are nothing more than fancier machines, and maybe they can't have a personality apart from a guiding principle, but there is emotion there, for how little effect it had on me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think Pascal's anguish affected me mostly due to the gravity of the choice on offer, or at least the spectacle of the fight, and all the melodrama beforehand giving the choice weight. Not only did I witness Pascal's ideals fail him, but then I had a decision to make in regards to their agency and whether or not it was right to relieve their suffering, and in which way. I think the immense struggle of the fight beforehand helped in making this moment resonate. Videogames are uniquely equipped to depict struggle, and to use that struggle to make a point. It's why despite my problems with Nier: Automata, I thought that what the game accomplishes with Ending E almost makes up for the rest of it. Almost.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ending E is playing with a few ideas. The first is that in order to save the characters that we have supposedly grown to cherish over the length of our multiple playthroughs, the final boss is to fight the game itself. To kill its gods, to fire upon its creators. As the credits continue, this bullet hell shooter becomes an insurmountable obstacle. I love that the moment where this occurs is when the credits for Square Enix and its Business Division appear. Everytime we fail the game asks if we want to give up, and finally after multiple attempts, as the messages of encouragement from other players have become more and more prominent, and that song that I've been humming for 2 weeks reaches its crescendo, we're asked if we want help. Accepting it allows us to succeed. The firepower and protection of other players adds to our own, and the names of those evil businessmen crumble before our might as the chorus swells. It's a powerful, effective moment, and after all the games' misery and nihilism, to end with this is stirring. The idea that our strength comes from other people. That we can't truly do anything alone. The game ends with hope. I haven't come across any piece of writing that didn't have positive things to say about Ending E and I agree wholeheartedly. So why couldn't the rest of the game have been this strong?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Plenty of folks think the rest of Nier: Automata is this strong. While I found the references to philosophers surface level (Oh, the robot is called Jean-Paul and he's a dick), others seemed to love the nods to prolific thinkers. While I never knew what was going on and why, scrambling for answers, others were finding meaning in the journey and its revelations. While I couldn't care less about 2B, 9S, or A2 as characters, others connected to them and my guess is it made all the difference. I'm in the minority here. Aside from the beauty of Ending E, I just can't see what others see in Nier: Automata. Did I expect too much after playing Nier? Is it just that the ideas of finding purpose and empathy instead of killing are so foreign to the medium of videogames that Nier: Automata feels like a breath of fresh air? I'm trying not to be a dick here but I didn't find the ideas the game plays with that unique or revelatory, even after listening to what everyone else had to say. Ah well, at least the music's great. Thanks for watching.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-73744093541261279022022-12-19T19:12:00.002-08:002022-12-19T19:12:15.330-08:00Yakuza Kiwami Has the Best Final Boss<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/C279rKgeJc0" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hey hey folks and welcome to my critique of Yakuza Kiwami. It was great to play this remake of the first game in the Yakuza series after enjoying Yakuza 0 so much. I tried to keep my expectations in check, knowing that the writing of this game would not be as strong, but I still found myself engaged with the drama of the main story. This video is about learning to love the boss fights of the game, and why the fight against Nishiki is an encounter I’ll always remember. Enjoy!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Nishiki’s Importance</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">How often is the final boss of a videogame its best moment? It feels like I shouldn't have to ask that question. Like it should be a given that a game is always leading mechanically and dramatically towards its climax, ending with a challenge that leaves the player accomplished but also feeling a sense of catharsis. Thinking back on a lifetime of playing videogames, I can't recall too many instances where the final boss satisfied me on both a mechanical and dramatic level. Often by the time I reach a boss I'm wanting the game to be over, and let's be real, how many games have stories that affect the player during that final encounter, or at all. It reminds me how in many Japanese role playing games, there will be the mechanically difficult final boss often followed by a dramatically unsatisfying story boss.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Yakuza Kiwami is different. Fighting Nishiki at the end of Yakuza Kiwami might be my favourite final boss in all of videogaming. In terms of a JRPG he’s the story boss, as we just went through the Jingu fight which was mechanically annoying and exhausting (and I'll get to why later), only to come face to face with Kiryu's yakuza brother. Both have been traveling their own path the entire game, despite Nishiki throwing obstacles in Kiryu's way for his own selfish reasons. By the time this fight happens, the two are equals. They don't want to fight each other, but they must, and the fight itself reflects this. Not only are the two on equal footing, but through the special event cutscenes and all the flashbacks during this encounter, I felt bittersweet. Kiryu doesn't want this, and neither do I as a player, but we both can't let Nishiki have his way.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What makes it even more tragic is that even though the game portrays the two on equal footing in this encounter, Nishiki is no match for Kiryu. At this point after a game’s worth of leveling up, and after struggling with every significant boss encounter up to this point, I finally gleaned an understanding of the push and pull of boss combat. I was finally enjoying the mechanics of the fighting system while simultaneously being emotionally affected by the gravity of the situation Kiryu and I find ourselves in. And because I'm engaged mechanically as well as dramatically, Nishiki didn't stand a chance. It's too easy to build up heat attacks, too easy to counter a move, and even though I didn't understand what the game wanted from me during the Kiwami charges (only learning about them during my research), the recharged health bar wasn't a concern considering how outclassed Nishiki was in this scenario.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Of course the impact of this boss fight is in part due to the Kiwami remake itself. The fall of Nishiki, how he changed from Kiryu's brother into a ruthless psychopath over the period of 10 years is told in cutscenes parallel to the main story. These cutscenes are an addition to the remake. The original version on the PS2 didn't have them, and they are everything in terms of feeling sympathy towards Nishiki during his boss fight. We see him struggle, get disrespected, lose everybody, and then when he was about to take his own life, a chance encounter with his subordinate, the wrong words spoken, and Nishiki is set down a new path. A dark path. I found these scenes more compelling than Kiryu trying to find Mizuki, Yumi, and dealing with Haruka. So much so, this game feels like Nishiki's story more than Kiryu's. He even gets a moment of redemption at the end.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Learning to Fight</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But returning to this idea of mechanics and drama being seperate (With how good the storytelling is in this game, it's different in my mind than just talking about gameplay vs story), while the core of the drama in Yakuza Kiwami is Nishiki's downfall, the core of the mechanics are Kiryu regaining his fighting prowess and rebecoming the Dragon of Dojima. And when I say that, I'm talking more about leveling up, then the sub-quest of fighting Majima over and over again to unlock abilities in the Dragon fighting style. Early on in the game, Majima hid himself somewhere in Kamurocho and I could never find him (not that I looked that hard), so while that part of the game was left on the backburner, the experience I earned by playing through the main story and a significant chunk of the side stories was more than enough to fill in all but the outer wheels on all three skill trees.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But that idea of starting small, out of my depth, and gaining mastery and power as I played through the game (one of my favourite things about playing any RPG) was most evident throughout the games' boss fights. If I hadn't stocked up on health drinks early on, I might not have been able to get through that first fight with Shimano in chapter 3. This fight is indicative of other tough battles I had, like with the Omi Yakuza in Ares, against Majima in the batting cage, or against Nishiki's men in the alley behind Serena. I just never found a good way to break defense. It seems at least in the early game the idea is to chip away at damage and hope you don't get caught in a counter-attack. If evades aren't perfect you end up taking damage, if an enemy brushes you with an attack you end up taking damage, and during this supposed push and pull, it's far too easy to get stunlocked. I theorised early on that if I had access to more heat actions and maybe some weapons things would be easier, and for the most part, that turned out to be true.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Part of it is what I see as a clash of styles. No, not just the ability to switch fighting styles with the press of a button, but it feels like the combat during random encounters and the combat during a boss fight are two different things. With the different sized yellow health bars on screen, the ability to pick up weapons, and the boss health bars changing colour, it's easy to see the Yakuza games as an evolution of the beat'em up genre so popular in the 90s. Games like Final Fight, where you'd walk into a crowd of tough baddies and mash the attack buttons with wild abandon. In a way the bosses are similar too. In those games they would have a lot of health, block attacks, knock you down, and hit for major damage. Of course back then the purpose was to get you to spend more money in the arcades by artificially inflating the difficulty, while in Yakuza I see these tactics as roadblocks to learn more about how the combat works, and to make sure one is adequately leveled up.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Once the player gets used to switching styles in combat, has access to more ways to generate heat, as well as stronger heat actions, the fights become a lot easier, but also more fun. By the finale of the game, I was enjoying the boss battles. The Majima fight in the soapland was a great push and pull between our styles, as was the fight soon after against Shimano (which I took as revenge for how infuriating I found the fight back in chapter 3). These fights can become annoying if flunkies are around, but there's always the Beast style's heat attack where you swing an enemy into his buddies, and knock everyone down like bowling pins. Of course that's if everyone is in melee range and you're not having to deal with a foe half a screen away firing a pistol at you.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That's what made the fight against Jingu and his subordinates so annoying. It was very similar to the fight on the rooftop against Arase when Kiryu was trying to save Reina and Shinji. When multiple foes have guns, and one of those foes is a boss, the game becomes exponentially more frustrating and that's because getting shot sucks. I mean, duh, but it's not as easy as just losing a chunk of health and focusing on the foe with the weapon. Getting shot is a stark gameplay interruption. The player drops, the sound and colour cuts out, and a button needs to be mashed to get back up. It brings the intensity of combat to a grinding halt. Now on the other hand, if you defeat an enemy with a gun and pick it up, it's a great way to clear the room. I just don't think the cons outweigh the pros regarding firearms.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jingu and his bodyguards all have guns. Once you put the bodyguards down, they get back up, this time with knives, which is marginally better. If you add the gauntlet Kiryu needed to fight through to reach Jingu in the first place, this whole sequence is exhausting, and it's mainly for the same reasons the Nishiki fight is so great. We've spent the game seeing Nishiki's downfall. We're emotionally invested in him as a character, and we feel bad about having to put him down in the end. The finale of the game is the first time we meet Jingu. He's been talked about before, but not until we learn what was going on with Yumi. And once we learn about him, who is he? Some corrupt politician who is willing to kill a woman and her child in order to further his goals. Compared to Nishiki he's like the villain of a Saturday morning cartoon. Although the reason I hate Jingu so much has nothing to do with him as a character, it's because while trying to reach and fight him, Kiryu has had more holes put in him than a piece of swiss cheese. My hatred of Jingu is mechanical. It's how frustrating the combat is regarding him and his flunkies. Even though the fight with Nishiki was not easy, I was enjoying the back and forth because I respected him as a character and I was emotionally invested. I just wanted Jingu to go away.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So while joking about how so many JRPGs have the final boss and then the story boss, Yakuza Kiwami follows the same formula, and I love it. Because the final boss was not a fun fight, or a cool fight. It was not emotionally satisfying. That was all saved for Nishiki, the story boss. While I thought Yakuza 0 had better writing overall, I can't even remember the final boss of that game, but I think I'll always remember my fight with Nishiki. I wonder if the future Yakuza titles will have a final fight this strong. Thanks for watching.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-66591557504006601222022-11-08T03:46:00.003-08:002022-11-08T03:46:31.107-08:00Do I Care About Control?<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/E4b46gplJzw" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hey hey folks, Dave here. Welcome to my critique on Control. I’ve been excited to play this game since its release in 2019. I grew up watching the X-Files, so the idea of exploring a government agency dedicated to understanding what’s beyond our understanding, spoke to me on a fundamental level. Now that I’ve played the game and both pieces of DLC, I’ve made a video. What I loved about the game, what I didn’t, and why I ultimately had trouble connecting with it. Enjoy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>My Favourite Moment in Control</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Ashtray Maze is supposed to be the visual climax of Control. For the entire game The Oldest House, the facility that Jessie Faden finds herself trapped in has been shifting and changing. The Oldest House is full of impossible spaces. It captures the imagination, and as we're nearing the end of the base game, we are treated to a spectacle. The Ashtray maze. It warps and shifts more than any other part of the house. It's backed by a metal soundtrack. It's high octane, and definitely impressive, but for me it was far from the most visually arresting part of the game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That's because Control is full of visually arresting moments. As I played I was continually dumbstruck by how good the game looked. The use of colour and framing in each new location was jawdropping. It felt like everytime I paused the game I was treated to a wallpaper worthy composition. So what was my favourite visual moment in the game? Well it occurs right before the Ashtray Maze. To be able to work her way through the maze, Jessie has to go find Ahti, the janitor, who has left on vacation. We follow the images of tropical beaches until we find ourselves in the Foundation of The Oldest House.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now the Foundation itself is imposing. A series of concrete columns that span out from here to eternity, bathed in the glow of the great beyond. The gondola ride over to this area was impressive enough, allowing the player to gawk at the grandiosity of the space, at the scope of The Oldest House. Does it stretch on forever? With these thoughts fueling my imagination, I make my way through the pillars. As I do, visions of forests overlay the concrete structures. The relaxing vibes of nature and holiday floating over this stark, drab series of columns. Eventually Ahti appears, gives Jessie the walkman to get through the Ashtray Maze and we make our way out of this area, only returning briefly to access the DLC post-game. It felt like after this moment, the Ashtray Maze just couldn't compare. Heck, I have fonder memories of battling the TV to acquire the levitation power, as I think that sequence utilised twisting the shape of the Oldest House to greater effect. I dunno, maybe I found the metal song playing during the Ashtray Maze too corny.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Great Setup, Little Payoff</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But I do think the Ashtray Maze is the core of what Control is as a game. Spectacle, engaging encounter design, fun, but little more. Now I've been playing Remedy titles since Max Payne. Man did I play a lot of Max Payne. I liked the sequel, but then I started to sour a bit on Remedy’s output. I didn't like Alan Wake. There's a video on this channel about it. It's far from my best work, but it should communicate my feelings about the game. Then I tried Quantum Break, and didn't find that worth continuing with. Now I play Control and it really feels like this is two decades of a studio who knows what they're doing, crafting something they're passionate about to the best of their abilities. But I listed out my history with Remedy's games for a reason. Max Payne was the only character I cared about out of Remedy’s entire output because his motivations were so well laid out at the beginning of that game. It was easy to empathise with losing his family and his path of vegeance. If we look at Alan Wake, yes he's searching for his wife in this strange new town full of shadow monsters, but I never connected with that plight, and it felt more like as the player I was caught in the whirlwind of a mystery without being attached to the character I was helping survive. Which brings us to Control and Jessie Faden.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Jessie is searching for her brother. This search brings her to a non-descript building in the middle of New York. The Federal Bureau of Control. Unbeknowst to her, the building is on lockdown due to a resonance contagion from another reality, The Hiss. Despite this, she not only makes her way in, but to the director's office, only to find him dead. We pick up the service revolver and create a pact with the enigmatic board from the astral plane. Jessie is the new director. She has to help the surviving members of the Bureau push back the Hiss, and hopefully find her brother. As as setup, I think it's great. Not that we know a lot about Jessie, but there's sufficient mystery to keep us invested. Well at least there was for me. Of course after a few hours I thought about how I was enjoying the rollercoaster ride of combat and the visual design more than I cared about Jessie or anything happening plot wise. I earmarked that as a possible problem, but was confident that eventually this mystery box of a videogame would start providing satisfactory answers, and would hopefully get me emotionally invested. Spoilers, but that never happened.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Setting the Table</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When Bioshock Infinite came out, there was some writing by critics on how they felt the world of Columbia was done a disservice by being the backdrop for a generic first person shooter. The more I played of Control, the more I thought about that. The Federal Bureau of Control is such a great concept. I love the weirdness of the setting. I love the Oceanview Motel, the Quarry, the giant tree growing in the middle of research, and how it feels like the Oldest House can contain anything, and can be anything. Not only does the house not play by the rules of physics as we know them, but so many of the objects of power are from alternate realities, alternate dimensions. Not only are The Hiss pushing through from someplace else, but the entity that led Jessie to the Bureau in the first place, and is the reason we ultimately succeed by the end of the game is also from someplace else. I have no complaints about the setting, and yet my thoughts towards Control aren't in line with the idea I just put forth about Bioshock Infinite. I love the combat in Control. Tearing chunks out of the concrete with the launch power and flinging desks at floating Hiss soldiers never got old. It's just with the strangeness of the setting, I would have appreciated more focus on the Bureau, and especially the characters, then the game being primarily about the combat.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Thinking back on it, that's one of the main reasons I didn't like Alan Wake. Bright Falls, and what's happening with Alan, Thomas Zane, and the shadows is intriguing. It's a great location that wears its inspiration on its sleeve, but then the game spends its runtime interfacing with combat I despised. Now if I had enjoyed the combat maybe things would be different because I have as little attachment to Jessie Faden as I do to Alan Wake. I think it has to do with genre. Alan Wake is a horror game so the combat needs to feel tense and stressful, whereas Control is an action game, so the combat needs to feel visceral and exciting. That's why I found the horror elements of the Alan Wake DLC in Control so annoying. After a whole game of feeling powerful, the game tries to take it away during the multiple encounters with the Hartmann creature, but it just doesn't work. Jessie is still as powerful, we just need to keep her in the light. The tension of these sequences was borne out of annoyance rather than fear, and I doubt that's the emotion the developers were trying to evoke.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Bureau Needs More Character</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I kept playing Control, I kept hoping that the answers to my questions would be as satisfying as the gameplay. Considering how much I love the idea of a government agency dealing with things we don't understand, I was expecting to care just as much about the characters. After all, that's what keeps me invested in a game, at least for a game where we're actually playing a character. For games where the player character is supposed to be a stand-in for the player, things are different. Often the gameplay and setting is the story in those circumstances, but if I'm playing a game where I'm put into the body of a character with their own motivations, emotions, wants and needs, I need to form an attachement with them, especially if I'm going to be spending hours controlling their actions. Early on, I thought perhaps Control was trying to split the difference. Jessie has a being in her head she calls Polaris. In dialogue sequences, the camera will zoom in on Jessie's eyes as she speaks to it. The being never answers. I wondered if we as the player were supposed to be Polaris. As the one in control of Jessie, whether she lives or dies in every combat sequence, it's not too far-fetched to say that we are indeed her guiding star.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But neat idea aside, it doesn't work in getting me to care about Jessie. To care about Dylan. About Emily, or Marshall, or Arish. It feels like Control is a game of neat ideas but that’s all. A Bureau shrouded in mystery. Like the Oldest House, the story is in flux. We have impressions of what the Bureau does, of what the Hiss is, of the importance of Jessie, Dylan, and Polaris in this conflict, and of the failures of the previous directors and heads of research. I feel strung along because I can’t sense the connective tissue behind these ideas. How they link, and what’s holding everything together. Like the many members of the Bureau overtaken by the Hiss, everything is floating in the air. I understand all the pieces, but I don't care about the whole. It means that even when a moment is well executed, it falls flat. A good example of that is Marshall.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We meet her in the earlier parts of the game, in the research sector. She's leading a team to try and acquire more HRAs which the members of the Bureau need to wear to protect themselves from being taken over by the Hiss. After getting production running again, she’s called away on another assignment, and we never see her again, that is until The Foundation DLC. She appears on The Hotline, which leads Jessie to believe she's already dead, but we keep seeing glimpses of her throughout our time in the Foundation. She ends up being the final boss of the DLC. She's been taken over by the Hiss and we have to put her down. Now the lead up to this fight was well executed. The cutscene before the fight was well executed. It's my investment that was lacking. I didn't know Marshall. She doesn't have a relationship to Jessie. I got an outline of her character through our brief time together in the base game. She's no nonsense and takes her duty seriously. She seems to have sacrificed herself for the good of the Bureau. I just never became emotionally invested in the character. Instead of actually caring about her downfall and that Jessie has to fight a previous member of her team, I said to myself "well, that sucks", and proceeded to chuck hunks of rock at this boss encounter.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And that's why when thinking back on Control, only the combat and visuals stick with me. They're the only part of the game that has any weight to it. There's no mystery to how beautiful the game looks or how engaging the combat is. The Oldest House is a great location. Its odd, foreboding, and adds texture to a world you could make many games about. I just wish I had been able to connect with the characters. For being in Jessie's head I don't know that much about her. I get wanting to save her brother, and then taking on the responsibility of looking after the Bureau, but it feels surface level. The closest I got to something I could latch onto is the playful banter between Jessie and Emily at the end of the Foundation DLC, as they're both settling into their new roles and what feels like a budding friendship. I've enjoyed my time enough in Control to be interested in playing another game in this world, but I hope that alongside a game that looks and plays great, the sequel gives me a reason to care. Thanks for watching.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-55767079627813642732022-09-09T21:07:00.004-07:002022-11-08T20:10:20.284-08:00Is Zero Time Dilemma a Good Send-Off?<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NIZglNGIfK8" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I wanted to like Zero Time Dilemma. My friends do not. One couldn't wait for me to play the game so he'd have someone to complain to about it. Another couldn't stand the art style and darker tone, giving up after a few hours. The vibe I got from my friends (and the internet at large) is that Zero Time Dilemma is a bad game, and a poor send-off to the Zero Escape Trilogy. That the good will built up through the excellent 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors, and Virtue's Last Reward was squandered. This negativity awakened a contrarianism in me. If people hated this game, I was going to do my best to love it. I was going to write about how Zero Time Dilemma is good actually...but I can't do it. There was a lot about Zero Time Dilemma that I liked, but there was also a lot that I didn’t, and I feel that ZTD’s weaknesses both overshadow and undercut its strengths. This video will be an exploration of my experience playing Zero Time Dilemma, what I find to be its strengths and weaknesses, and my overall thoughts on it as not only a stand-alone game, but the capper to the Zero Escape Trilogy. Enjoy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>ZTD’s flowchart is lacking polish</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I want to start this off by discussing the first criticism folks have about the game, the art and animation style. I'm not a fan. I don't think the 3d models look good, or move well. I think using models instead of portrait art makes it more difficult for the characters to be expressive, and even though the unique camera angles for every line of dialogue are engaging, I prefer the character art of the previous two games. I think lack of polish has a lot to do with it. I noticed many scenes where a character’s mouth wasn’t moving while delivering a line of dialogue. After a couple of hours I was used to the new look of the game, but I never got over the lack of polish.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If I was stretching myself, I could say that this lack of polish is thematic, but I'm not doing that. The way the game is structured is thematic enough without inventing explanations for what I assume is a troubled development. In Zero Time Dilemma we're playing the Decision Game instead of the Nonary Game, and it works differently. A team will wake up in a room. Their watches will tell them what time it is, but they'll have no memories of what has happened previously. There’ll be a puzzle room followed by a decision (which always has the threat of death behind it), there will be a small story segment, and then Zero will activate the team’s bracelets sending them back to sleep and wiping their memories. The sequence will appear on the flowchart where it fits in the overall story, and the player will pick a new sequence for one of the three teams, repeating this process..</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Initially I loved the concept. It made me feel like the characters. I never knew where I'd be sent and since I wasn’t being injected with memory drugs, I could start to piece together the timelines in my head over the hours. The problem is this formula is used over and over again with little variation, and by about 8 hours in I was starting to tire of it. By hour 12 I was mad, because by this point there had been no story revelation. No narrative payoff for playing through over half the game, and looking back on the game as a whole, and how the other two games worked, I've pinned down why this frustrated me so much. 999 didn't have a flowchart in its initial release, but even without it, we were following a story down a path until we reached an ending. Then we got to restart and take another route. In Virtue's Last Reward we saw the shape of the flowchart. We could follow a path to its conclusion. True many paths were locked off until we found the keys, but it was easy to follow a story from start to finish and to uncover a revelation or two before the bigger narrative bombshells started to drop. Zero Time Dilemma is unmoored. We never know where in the flowchart a new gameplay chapter will take us. We're no longer following one pathway to its ending and then choosing a new one. We have to keep multiple story strains in our head as we play the game, so when a revelation does happen, we have the necessary groundwork for it to hit properly. Yes in Virtue's Last Reward the different paths of the flowchart symbolised different timelines, and the same is true for Zero Time Dilemma, but at least VLR's flowchart had some god damned flow to it!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The ethics of time travel</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That leads me to my favourite part of Zero Time Dilemma. Virtue's Last Reward was about Sigma's power to shift betwen universes in order to find the one in which everyone lives. That's how Akane managed to survive as a child back in 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors. In ZTD almost every character can shift, and one of the purposes of the Decision Game is to awaken this power within all its participants. The death games have cleverly played with this. There's a game where you have to not push a button. If the button is pressed, the whole complex explodes. Of course I pushed the button, then reloaded the flowchart, and withheld my desire to push it. There's a dice game where if a 1 is not rolled on all 3 die, Carlos, Junpei, and Akane will...er...die. Statisicially there's a 1 in 216 chance of rolling this. The first time, they all died. The second time they all died, and then the game forces the right roll on the 3rd attempt. As a final example, Phi is stuck in an incinerator. Sigma is clamped to a chair with a revolver aimed at his head. Diana has to pull the trigger. If she doesn't, Phi will be burnt to a crisp. There's one bullet in the gun so Sigma has a 5 in 6 chance to survive. This decision has 3 different outcomes, one of which leads to the games' best revelation. Often we need to see every outcome of each decision game in order to gain the right information to move forward and reach the good ending in which everyone survives just like in 999 and VLR… but does everyone survive?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There's a sequence near the end of the game where Junpei and Carlos are forced to play the AB Game from Virtue's Last Reward. No matter which choice we make, one side picks betray and the other side is outraged before they die. Then a new path opens up on the flowchart. Before the game even begins Carlos has memories of being betrayed in the AB Game. We've already learned that as a firefighter, Carlos has relied on his intuition in order to rescue people and avoid death. It's how he was able to rescue his sister in the fire that claimed their parents’ lives. Carlos has always been able to shift, but not voluntarily. It is here that Akane explains their power and what it means...using the example of Back to the Future.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Akane says there are two types of time travel stories: the ones where any action taken resets the timeline as if it was always meant to happen, and those where every action or choice plays out in a different universe. Both are unethical because both involve murder. In the first type of story, which Back to the Future is, Marty changes the timeline and his Dad becomes a successful sci-fi author. Marty’s family is wealthy when he returns to the present, but he's retained the memories of his life before. So what happened to the Marty who grew up in that wealthy household? Well either that consciousness was erased when Marty came back to the present, or it was swapped with the original Marty's history, and since there's only one timeline in this type of story, that branch ceases to exist.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what of the other type of story? The one that uses multiple universes? Well that's the type of story that the Zero Escape Trilogy is telling, and its no less unethical. It's far worse actually. In the previous type of time travel, only one consciousness was being erased. With a multi-verse, there are countless versions of these characters, countless histories for their consciousnesses to jump to. Each time our characters jump, they swap with the consciousness of the bodies they're jumping into, and seeing that it often takes life threatening danger to induce a shift, those poor other versions of them are being thrust into a different body in an unfamiliar situation, likely to die shortly after arriving. To survive the events of 999, Akane would have sent many different Akanes to their death. Similarly with Sigma in VLR. Zero Time Dilemma is compounded by the player controlling multiple characters with the power to shift. Heck, once Carlos realises that shifting is possible, C team subjects multiple versions of themselves to horrorific fates just to be able to escape. Yes the "good ending" is the one in which no characters die, but reaching that ending necessitates the murder of countless versions of the core cast in a multitude of other universes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>A problem with multiversal storytelling</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A couple years back I made a video on a game that features the multiverse as a plot device. In the comments a friend of mine gave his opinions on multiverse theory, but more importantly, how it impacts the storytelling of any tales that use it as a device. Basically the multiverse removes the stakes of a story. If a character makes a decision and dies, there's another universe in which they survived. If that’s the case, why should we care? Now in my mind the idea around this is simple, the story should make us care about this version of the characters and the fate of their particular universe. Of course that got me thinking why that would be the case. Just because we were introduced to this version of the characters first, they're more important than all the others? Well yes. We are more inclined to empathise with the versions of the characters we were first introduced to, especially if the story shows us stark differences between them and the versions of them from other universes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In Zero Time Dilemma however there's little difference between how the characters behave in the different histories, at least on a personality level, and I think that's because the Decision Game is a closed system. For these characters to be trapped in this death game, they had to make certain choices to get to this facility. In all the histories the player encounters in ZTD, we're getting roughly the same Carlos, the same Akane, the same Sigma...you get the picture. Yes there are bad endings where a character loses their mind and goes on a rampage, but that's always in response to something else that happened. For example we don't get to see a universe where Akane is evil, just one where Junpei was butchered, and she thinks Carlos is responsible. And because all these characters are roughly the same from universe to universe, we don’t care about all the versions that end up dying as we try and reach the universe where everyone escapes the facility. If all the characters share the same goal throughout all these universes, why does it matter which version of them gets there in the end?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But that’s the problem. The use of shifting into other histories as a plot device lowers the stakes because it makes death so meaningless, even though this revelation of how shifting works changes the way we perceive the use of the narrative flowchart. On a mechanical level the narrative flowcharts in VLR and Zero Time Dilemma are an abstraction for the benefit of the player. A way for us to see which threads are left to explore and which is the best way forward. In Virtue's Last Reward I loved that Sigma was shifting his consciousness between realities because it created a narrative explanation for the actions the player is taking when they hop to a new node on the flowchart. After the ethics in shifting revelation in Zero Time Dilemma, it makes me look at Virtue’s Last Reward differently. In VLR Sigma was swapping consciousnesses with the Sigmas in those timelines, and I feel bad about how many versions of him had to suffer to reach the ending of that game. And the reason I feel bad about all the other Sigmas in VLR when I don't feel bad about all the other dead versions of the characters in Zero Time Dilemma is due to the context in which the games are presented.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In VLR we follow Sigma from start to finish. The narrative flowchart starts at the top and then branches out as decisions are made. This is technically true in ZTD as well. Both games have an initial decision that branches off into all the other timelines of the game. The difference is in VLR this is straightforward, and in Zero Time Dilemma it is not. The first Decision Game in ZTD is to choose which team of 3 characters to sacrifice. If a team is picked by both other teams, they die. Seeing the final door of the Decision Game only opens once 6 players are dead, killing the other players is heavily incentivised. I made my choices, and it resulted in a team dying, but then when choosing the first vignette to play through, the characters who were killed shifted into an alternate timeline in which they lived. This first Decision Game taught me two things: one, that no choice is permanent because when picking a vignette from any team, I’ll be travelling to a universe where they survived the first decision, and two, I would never have any idea where in the story I actually was.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is why even though the revelation of killing an alternate consciousness upon shifting is impactful because it makes me think differently about the two previous games, the way those games are structured allows us to connect to the main characters (as those games have a main character). And when it comes to killing off alternate versions of these characters in ZTD, once again I ask why we should care? Zero Time Dilemma doesn't make me feel the effect of such a revelation because it doesn't matter to the characters, and it has little impact on the story. Yes the final decision of the Decision Game centres around the ethics of this revelation, but it's a false decision.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Why I didn’t like the reveal of Zero, or the ending</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The complex is going to explode. All the characters have a choice. They can either shift to the start of the game, thereby saving their own lives and subjecting those versions of themselves to an unwarranted death, or they can stay in this history and be blown up. Choosing to stay leads to a game over. It’s a false choice. The only way to see the ending is to shift. I thought it odd that the first choice the player makes in ZTD results in Zero freeing everyone without having played the Decision Game. Now so close to the end, we see this happened so our characters have unblemished bodies to shift into. In this timeline, no one has died. The Decision Game never happened, but we see the consciousnesses of these characters get overwritten as the new versions shift into them. Those poor souls are about to be blown up without knowing why. Again, the ethics of shifting and how these characters are murdering other versions of themselves is a great moral quandary, especially as its the final choice of the game, but ultimately it doesn't mean anything because only shifting leads to the good ending. That, and our characters have already murdered countless other versions of themselves before reaching this point.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But before I can talk about the ending, I have to talk about the reveal of Zero. Half of my dislike of this revelation is due to my expectations based on the previous two games. The other half is what I feel is poor execution. In 999 and VLR, Zero is one of the participants of the Nonary Game. In both games, finding out Zero's identity is shocking, and well executed. The reasons for why they put together the Nonary Game are compelling, and the revelation puts the entire game in a new context. I'm a firm believer in a narrative revelation or twist being successful if it makes you think about the story so far in a new context. Zero Time Dilemma does not do this. Zero is not one of the partipants. Well, he is, but in a way that I find to be cheating. During the research phase of this video I came across all the supposed hints that lead up to this reveal, but even though seeing the seeds planted is cool, it just never worked for me. Zero is Delta, the other child of Sigma and Diana in the history where they're trapped inside the game, sleep together, and use alien transporters to send their children back in time. This revelation of Phi being the other child is great. It's my favourite part of the story, and it foreshadowed the Zero reveal. Zero had to be the other child, but which member could it be, and what was their motivation? Seeing I didn't think it was one of the characters from the previous games, I thought it was either Carlos or Eric. Yeah, that wouldn't have made much sense, but it's better than what we got.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Phi and Delta were sent back to the early 1900s, but the scientists who extracted them from the transporter sent Phi forward in time as part of another experiment. Meanwhile Delta spent all this time using his mind hacking abilities (yes, you heard that right) to learn that some people had the ability to shift realities, and that a great calamity was coming. Not Radical-6, but something that would wipe humanity completely off the map. So it may be obvious, but none of the participants of the Decision Game are an old man. At least none that we can see. We thought the boy with the Yoko Taro head was named Q, but he was actually Sean. Q is Delta, who has been there the whole time as the head of Q Team. He was in the Dcom facility with them, but the player doesn't get to see him until he appears for the reveal. It's basically a "Ta-da! I've been here all along." moment, and boy howdy is it some bullshit.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But let’s move past how infuriating the reveal is. So what is Delta's motivation for putting together the Decision Game? Well one reason was the game had to exist for him and Phi to be born. That's the same logic that Akane had to follow to survive her Nonary Game as a child. Delta also wanted to strengthen the ability of a team of shifters. That was one of the motivations behind the Nonary Game in VLR, but Delta’s greatest motivation was to get everyone to a point where they were determined to make a difference. Yes, this is how the game ends. As you might imagine, the characters are incensed once they make their final shift and Delta appears. The thing is, in this reality, Delta has done nothing wrong. No one has died and there's no longer any evidence of the Decision Game. Also by thwarting the creation of Radical-6, instead of leading humanity down a path where only 2 billion survive, the history they are in now leads to the annhilation of everyone. But our characters don't buy that. Because of what they went through, they have the drive to change the future. There's a "We'll make our own future" speech, before Delta hands Carlos a gun saying that the final Decision Game is if they want to kill him for all he did in the other histories. And then credits. That's how the game ends. No sir, I don't like it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I don’t like it because the motivation of Delta to send them through such horrors to strengthen their resolve followed by what I felt was such a weak rallying cry of "We'll stop what's to come!" didn't work at all. I found it purile. They're ok with doing what it takes to save humanity because they were put in a situation where they chose to murder alternate versions of themselves to survive? How does that work? Not to mention that one of the characters Mira is an actual serial killer who undergoes no arc of growth during the game. I think that's my problem. Because the story is told out of order, even if I felt that these characters underwent a significant change in their personality and outlook (which I don’t), I wasn’t able to follow their journey. Then instead of anything definitive in the game’s final moments, instead of a resolution to not only this game’s story but the story of the three games that have been leading up to this moment, Zero Time Dilemma kicks the can down the road. The events of this game were a precursor to a future calamity that needs to be stopped. And despite the intended positivity of a rallying cry, It actually ends things on a down note. Virtue’s Last Reward was about creating a good timeline by travelling back to the Mars testing site to save humanity, and now when Zero Time Dilemma ends we find out that this “good timeline” is even worse. All we’re left with is the resolve of our characters to stop it from happening, whatever it is. No wonder I feel like my time was wasted.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So despite enjoying elements of Zero Time Dilemma such as the ethics of shifting, some of the Decision Games, and the revelation of who Phi is, it was overshadowed and undercut by the Zero reveal, the weak rallying cry, and the non-ending. Luckily it doesn’t lower the love I have for 999 and VLR. Heck the revelation of what happens when a character shifts adds texture to those games, which will make me think differently about them in the future. As a game I found Zero Time Dilemma disappointing. As a send-off to the Zero Escape Trilogy I am ambivalent. As its the final game, a player can just play 999 or VLR and still enjoy the highs of what Zero Escape has to offer, but even as disappointing as I found ZTD, I think its a worthwhile inclusion to the series due to how it links to the previous games. And looking forward, it’s feasible that creator Kotaro Uchikoshi could make a 4th game based around the calamity that’s to come, but I don’t know if I’d want to play it. After revisiting this series, I think all of these characters deserve a break, and some peace. As do I. Thanks for watching.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-49611360610994961242022-07-12T21:04:00.003-07:002022-11-08T20:06:56.129-08:00How Playing Persona 4 on ‘Very Easy’ Made It Better<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Aggcmv5Rkf8" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Hi, my name's Dave and I play games on their easiest difficulty setting". "Hi Dave"! Heh, well I used to, and Persona 4 is the game to get back to that headspace. You see, ever since I started the current incarnation of this channel 6 years ago (I've been doing this for 6 years?!) I made the decision to play games on either normal or the default setting, so I could get the "intended developer experience". I thought this was needed to be able to purposefully talk about the game. Before the channel I would play games on their easiest difficulty setting because I wanted the least friction in getting through them. I rarely completed video games because too many of them outstayed their welcome. Even with cheat codes and walkthroughs I felt too many games outstayed their welcome. Heck, part of the reason for starting to critique games on my channel instead of just my impressions videos is I thought it would force me to actually complete some god damned video games. And it has. In the past year I've completed Dark Souls, Planescape: Torment, The Witcher 3 with its DLC, and Deus Ex among others. Some of these games I've been playing the first hours of over and over again for years. Funnily enough, one of the games I did complete back in 2011 was Persona 4. On the Ps2. There was something about this game that had me returning to it daily, and even if I only spent 20 minutes to grind up some levels so I could get through the next boss, I kept going. Despite how obvious it actually may be, when the game asked me who I thought the killer was and then after thinking about it for a hot minute, I came up with a suspect, picked them, and turned out to be right, well I will forever cherish that memory. Persona 4 was a special game, and even though I wanted to initially play through and write about Persona 5, Atlus is dragging their feet on a PC port if such a thing will ever happen, so I decided to play my PC copy of Persona 4: Golden, and make a video on that instead. Persona 4: Golden. The game that taught me that difficulty is only an impediment to a game's experience. Let me tell you about it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Why I chose to play on ‘very easy’</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I started my playthrough of Persona 4: Golden like any other game on my channel. I picked the normal difficulty option, and started playing. It was a little ways after the first dungeon, when Kanji was about to get thrown into the TV, that I started rethinking what I was doing. Now a quick recap for how time is structured in Persona 4. Once a dungeon opens up, you can enter it to rescue the person thrown in. If you're strong enough, you can even do it in one day of game time, but that's not the experience most first-time players will have. After a few floors or less, you'll run out of SP, won't be able to heal anymore, and it's time to exit the TV and rest. You can always come back tomorrow. But can you? Suddenly the game is asking you to join a sports club and a culture club. The friends you're making want to hang out after school, and it's important to dedicate time to all of this because by increasing your social links, you'll be able to fuse stronger personas which makes surviving the dungeons easier (such as your party members gaining bonus abilities that can trigger during combat). I found myself torn between wanting to rescue Yukiko from the dungeon, and maxing my social links. Now this is by design, but in the end I had to ask myself if I was enjoying this push and pull, in a game that's steeped in the fear of missing out.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Part of this fear is not knowing the right way forward. Each fight needs experimentation to find the enemy's weakness, and mistakes can be costly (in terms of healing items, SP, and just your patience). Meanwhile there is an optimal path in each social link scenario to gain the most points for unlocking the next social link. Often this will have to do with telling the person what they want to hear, but not always. It's never easy to know the right thing to say in the moment, and saying the wrong thing can waste multiple days of hanging out with the person in question instead of being able to level up the social link optimally. If you really stuff up, you can move back down the social link scale, and then with the female characters, there's the added minefield of dancing around the romance options which often branch off to their own scenarios. There's a year of in-game days to solve the game’s mystery and to max as many social links as possible. Here I was in month 2 and I already felt like I was playing suboptimally. I wasted far too much time in the dungeon (let alone having to fight the boss more than once), and it felt like I was constantly saying the wrong thing while trying to max my social links. I was playing sub-optimally, and because I didn't feel adequately rewarded in my time with the game thus far, the knowledge that things were just going to get harder as time went on (because that's how games work), caused me to despair.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So because I was playing the Golden version of the game, I had a radical notion. Why don't I start over on 'very easy'? I'm only 8 hours in, and if I follow a day by day guide, I can attack the dreaded ‘fear of missing out’ on two fronts (damn FOMO). I was hoping I'd be able to curbstomp the enemies in the dungeons, while perfectly navigating not only the social links, but the ways to boost my stats (as it turns out many of the social links use stats as gates for progression). So did it work? I mean I did end up beating the game on this difficulty, so it must have right? Well I know none of you are in suspense so I have to throw a curveball at you. Yes it worked, but not in the way you might expect. The game's design rebels against the notion of a perfect playthrough, so I had to contend with that, but most importantly, playing the game on 'very easy' made me love what Persona 4 has to offer as a game even more.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>An aside on the annoyance of levelling social links</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You know how I mentioned that some of the social links are gated through stats? Well the levelling of stats features a degree of randomness. Eating at the Chinese diner, reading a book, studying, folding origami cranes...this all will level up a stat, but sometimes the game will throw a bonus in there, and in the case of the diner, the stats that are levelled up are random as well. To get around this the guide that I was following recommended saving before any stat boosting activity, and to reload the save until the maximum stat boost is achieved. Fuck that. I mean yes, later in the game I kept reloading a save so I could catch the Sea King without wasting more than one day on it, but that's different! What this means is that for some of the social links, I was behind where the guide needed me to be, and then things just kept snowballing from there. It didn't help that once Nanako gets taken, the ability to increase the social links of Nanako and Dojima are taken away until right near the end of the game. I was able to max them after that point, but for the longest time I had thought my window for finishing their stories was over and I would have to complete the game not knowing how they ended.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Keeping on the social links for a moment, I was not able to max out every social link. I got close. I only left two on the table, Ai, and Maree. I was close with Ai too. I didn't prioritise Maree because during December in-game, I didn't know I got January to wrap up loose ends. I thought I needed to rush all the social links before the final dungeon. At that time I had Naoto, Maree and Ai left (with Nanako and Dojima out of commission). I thought that if I couldn't finish any one of these, I might as well get as far along with all of them as I could. I had no idea Maree left in early January. Yet another thing the game doesn't tell you. I at least got Naoto's story done. I like the character and was never able to max out the social link on my original playthrough (largely due to how anyone is meant to solve those riddles without a guide). Yes I even maxed out the Fox, Margaret, and uncovered the Hunger arcana. I was able to focus so much on the social links (my favourite part of the game), because now everything else was a cake walk.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>How ‘very easy’ makes combat exciting</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now returning to choosing the 'very easy' difficulty, how did that impact my experience playing the game? Well for starters, the dungeons were now fun. One of my favourite elements of any RPG is returning to an early area late in the game, and rolling over everything with how powerful my party is. I could now experience this all the time. For the first dungeon I clicked the rush button and my team would just hit the enemies until they died. Resistences to physical attacks be damned! Later on when the enemies reflected physical attacks I relied on strong magic (usually the wind spell from Yosuke as he often went first or the almighty damage spell), because by that point with the money I was making it was easy to pay the Fox to regain any spent SP, and then when Rise started revigorating HP and SP after every battle, I didn't even have to worry about that. The only time when I actually had to plan out my attacks was in the final dungeon and then the secret dungeon, and even then it was more of a "this is the best way to get the fight over quickly" rather than a "This is how you survive to fight another day". The best part of all of this was getting to a dungeon miniboss, reading the guide on all its attacks and the best way to survive, and then just punking it with high-grade physical attacks for a round or two until it fell. Even though I think the power fantasy of Persona 4 isn't in its battle system, playing on ‘very easy’ made me feel powerful. Seeing a levelling up screen after almost every fight during the first couple of dungeons felt great.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And along with all that added experience comes added money. I never had to worry about summoning personas from Margaret, I never had to worry about buying new weapon and armour upgrades, and I could buy as many books as I wanted, alongside healing items from the shop. The only time that money was a concern was during the couple of game sessions I devoted to maxing Margaret's social links, and even then I was never in danger of running out, I just didn’t have as much in my wallet as I was used to having.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So I bet some of you are now asking, "Well, you've made the game part of the game 'very easy'. The dungeons aren't a challenge, you have more than enough money to deck out your party and summon the strongest personas. Since you're following a guide, you know how to spend your time, and what to say to further social links, so how does this all make the game even better than playing it "properly" on normal? It's because the gameplay of Persona 4 is its most tedious aspect. Half the reason the game is so long is due to how much time it takes fighting monsters and grinding out levels in the dungeons. Especially if you take more than one day to either rescue the person trapped, or if you're spending time going back to a dungeon to grind, or collect items for side quests. I've also spoken about how much time can be wasted if you don't know how to navigate the social links, or if your stats aren't high enough. Playing the game on 'very easy' and following a guide made the most tedious aspects of the game trivial, which allowed me to revel in and enjoy what I found so compelling about the game originally, and on this replay.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The power fantasy of Persona 4</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">See, the power fantasy of Persona 4 isn't in its combat system. Oh I've already mentioned how cool it can feel to steamroll enemies and recieve a new level after almost every fight, but that's not what made me feel powerful. No, the power fantasy of Persona 4 is 3-fold: having a positive high school experience, helping those around you grow and become better people, and having mastery over one's time. Now I know what you're saying, "Dave, you're so suave, handsome, articulate and amazing in these videos on the internet where you talk about video games. Are you telling me you didn't have a good time in high school"? Yes dear viewer, as hard as it may be to believe, I did not have a positive high school experience. There are many reasons for it, but one of the greatest is culture shock. Moving from the US to Australia hurt me in such a way that I wasn't even in a place to accept the difference of the Australian people until I was in university. Add to that the general attitude of teenagers to those who seem like oddball outcasts, and who aren't especially academically or physically gifted, and yes, I would say my high school days sucked pretty hard.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But in Persona 4 that's not the case. Having the special power of the Fool Arcana, Yu attracts people to him (and we'll touch on this more when we discuss the personal growth aspect of the power fantasy). Spend enough time studying, and your peers will marvel at your test scores. Sure most of your friends in the game are only attached to you through the Midnight Channel case but by the end these same people are literally willing to die for you, and the game takes many occasions to just have the group hang out and enjoy each others company in a series of vignettes. Some folks dislike these moments. They find them quote "too anime", and yeah, quite a lot of the humour doesn't hit for me, but some of it does. The game can be really funny, but most importantly, the game keeps reinforcing the bonds of friendship and how great your high school days can be, filled up with sports, culture, a part-time job, and spending time around those you care about. My dearest teenage memories are also linked to fun times with friends and family, and Persona 4 is able to make high school a comforting and positive experience.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The friends you spend time with, and the people you meet at your part-time jobs are how the social links start. There are 28 social links total. Not every link is a story where Yu helps someone grow past their trauma or what's holding them in place, but most of them are. People open up when they're around Yu, and as long as you say the right thing to them (mostly telling them what they want to hear), you'll be the sounding board that will help them grow. I've been trying to work on my listening skills for years now. I used to be a serial interruptor (and still am to some extent), but I want to work on my listening skills because I want to be able to allow people to open up when they're around me. I want to be able to react to what they say rather than try to give advice or immediately launch into a story of mine similar to what they just said (another thing I've been working hard to overcome). It was empowering to be that character in Persona 4. To be silent for the majority of conversations, and to only talk when my advice was wanted, and then to be able to say the right thing that strengthened our relationship and help them take the next step on their journey of personal growth. This is why social links are my favourite part of Persona 4.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well almost. Taking one step back to the macro level, Persona 4 is about using one's time wisely. As we're playing a high school student, each day is mostly like the last, with the familiarity of classes and then plenty of time afterschool, in the evenings, and then on weekends. The game is in how the player uses this time. Without the guide I once again will say that I feared using my time suboptimally, because that's how I use my time in real life. When writing this paragraph, it's been about 2 weeks since I wrote the last part of this script. Sure, I was sick for a week inbetween, but I've often let weeks go by without working on a video project. That’s why these come out so infrequently. Time is not my ally, and most of my life I’ve been trying to find ways to wrangle it in order to dedicate daily practise to things I want to get better at, with often poor results. In Persona 4, if I want to max a social link, I can keep spending time with that person every day that they're free. If I want to increase a stat, I can dedicate a block of time to that until it levels up. Due to the segmented nature of the game systems, and that each block of time offers the choice of how to use it, even without a guide it’s easy to further the parts of the game the player is interested in. It won't be as efficient, but you'll always be making progress. I mean you can go straight home and go to bed, effectively wasting your blocks of time, but at least how Yu is spending that time has to be better than I am, whittling hours away on Reddit, Twitter, and YouTube.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And so through bypassing the aspects of the game I was disliking through the difficulty options, I was able to engage more thoughtfully and reflectively on the aspects of the game I love. I was able to hangout in Inaba, living an idyllic highschool life with friends, a part-time job, and lots of wacky adventures. All this while uncovering a dark tale of a shadow realm threatening our existence and the murderer that was using the realm for their own sick entertainment. When I did have to engage with the combat and levelling up systems, I was able to breeze through them effortlessly and go right back to what I enjoyed. When I played the PS2 version I often had to force myself to play because there'd be whole evenings where I would have to grind to get past a difficult boss, and I knew if I put the game down for a few days I would never pick it back up. This is a game I wanted to finish, and so I knuckled down and got it done. Such discipline was not required for this playthrough. It was all too easy to keep returning to Inaba day after day and I look forward to returning in the future, and yes it will be on 'very easy' again. Thanks for watching.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-31997164538658870832022-02-07T20:11:00.011-08:002022-02-07T20:12:51.818-08:00Virtue's Last Reward (2017) Answered My Questions<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/86fy76xJIz0" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">When I played Virtue’s Last Reward back in 2013, I was left unsatisfied. Yes I had just spent an amazing time playing through a visual novel / puzzle hybrid with an engaging premise, intriguing characters, mostly enjoyable puzzle rooms, and an embarrassment of plot revelations, but in the eyes of my younger self, the game had committed a sin. It posed questions that it had not answered. Not everything was wrapped up. Sure the same thing had happened with 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors, but 999’s unanswered questions are about its future. What happened to its characters after the game ends. Virtue’s Last Reward’s unanswered questions, are about its past. Replaying Virtue’s Last Reward, that memory weighs on my mind. What questions did the game pose, which did it answer, which were left unanswered, and most importantly, were the unanswered questions as big a deal as I made them out to be almost a decade ago. That’s what this video is about, and if you haven’t played VLR, don’t worry, except for one section which can be skipped, this video only contains mild spoilers. Let’s begin.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Dramatic Questions</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After every gaming session I take notes. Notes on what happened, my feelings about what happened, and any ideas I have regarding what happened. Rereading my notes for Virtue’s Last Reward, it paints a picture of speculation. As the reveals started revealing themselves I made predictions. Most of these predictions turned out to be wrong, but the fun is in seeing where my mind was at that point in time. Even better is that early on in my playthrough I wrote down a series of questions that I wanted answered. They are as follows: Why is this Nonary Game taking place, and why were these 9 participants chosen? Why is K in the suit? Who do Clover and Alice work for? Who is Zero? Why does Phi know things she shouldn’t? Who is the old woman, and why was she murdered? And finally, What day or year is it when the game takes place?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s a lot of questions isn’t it? I like that VLR bombards the player with mystery. Even though I want these questions answered, they end up floating into the background due to the drama of the moment. It feels like the longer one plays, the more logs are added to the drama fire. The old woman’s body being found is an example of this, but then the characters find bombs planted through the facility, and Quark and Alice are infected with a virus known as Radical-6. And though these logs do increase the drama fire, VLR’s most potent fuel is the fallout from each round of the AB game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The AB game is the Prisoner’s Dilemma. In this rendition the 9 participants are split into 3 groups of 3, a solo playing against a pair. Everyone starts the game with 3 points. Each side enters an AB room and chooses whether to ally with or betray the person they’re playing against. If both sides ally, everyone gets 2 points. If one side allies and the other betrays, the side who betrayed will get 3 points, and the side who allied will lose 2. If both sides betray, nothing happens. The scores stay the same. The game is won when a player reaches 9 points. They’re able to open the number 9 door and escape, but the door will only open once. If any player’s points hit 0 or below, they die.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In an ideal situation, each team would pick ally. They’d only need to play the AB game for 3 rounds, and then all 9 can leave. However, the best strategy is to pick betray. If you can’t trust the person you’re playing against, the only way to protect yourself is to betray. In the best case scenario you gain 3 points. If you’re able to do that twice, you could open the number 9 door in 2 rounds instead of 3. Betraying works defenisvely too. Staying at your current score is preferable to losing 2 points, especially when it can kill you. So while picking ally is the best communal strategy, the best individual strategy is to pick betray. I think you can see how such a game could result in conflict, especially when people’s lives are on the line and everyone’s motives are not always clear.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>An Example</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another benefit of the heightened stakes making me forget about the questions I had, is that the narrative reveals are all the stronger. I’d like to use one particular string of reveals as an example. These reveals have nothing to do with the questions I asked earlier in the video but it’s also the reveal that hit me the strongest. Consider this a warning. If you don’t want to be spoiled, skip to the start of the next chapter. Ok, let’s do this.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There’s a Gaulem in the Gaulem Bay. Who’d have thought? He mentions that thanks to the advancement of ABT (which is artificial tissue indistinguishable from skin), one of the 9 participants is a Gaulem, a robot, and no one would be able to tell just by looking at them. “Oh this is going to be interesting” I thought. I had completely forgotten that one of the characters was a robot and I had no idea who it could be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And then a lot of time passed. I entered the Gaulum Room on my first path about 6 hours in, but the payoff for the seed that the Gaulem planted didn’t bud until 22 hours later. In this timeline Sigma catches up with Alice as she’s about to commit suicide. Those infected with Radical-6 have their brain processing slowed down by the root of one sixth. A side effect of having the world appear as if everything is fast forwarding is the urge to kill oneself. Sigma finds Alice in time and wrestles the scalpel away from her, having his palm cut open in the process. Later when in the AB room with Luna, Sigma finally looks at his cut palm. A white liquid is oozing out of the wound. That’s not blood! With all the different timelines I jumped to in my 22 hours, I had forgotten about one of the characters being a robot, and never would I have guessed it was Sigma.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Except that it’s not! In order to learn the truth, Sigma agrees to have himself scanned by Luna. It turns out Sigma isn’t a robot, he just has cybernetic arms. This is a surprise to Sigma as he has no memory of ever needing to get replacements, and even remembers breaking his arm as a child. Still, what a fake-out. There wasn’t a robot in the group. It was just Sigma and his cybernetic arms. Boy I fell for that one. I thought the matter was resolved. I guess it’s because the next reveal didn’t hit until 7 hours later that I was able to put it out of mind.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One of the participants is a Gaulem after all. It’s Luna. The one who scanned me. The one who told Sigma about Asimov’s 3 laws of robotics. In retrospect I should have seen a lot of these reveals coming, but all I remembered going into this playthrough was who K is, and the truth behind Tenmyouji and Sigma. Now did the reveal hit me so strongly because I had forgotten about it from my first playthrough, or was it due to the time between the initiation of the mystery and its pay-off? Or did I just luck out and choose the paths that led to the gaulem reveal having its greatest impact?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Intended Path</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As I played, I kept coming back to the idea of the intended path. Which choices on the branching narrative chart would lead to the ideal storytelling experience? Which path would impart the right information at the right time? I marvelled at the work that would have gone into creating such a story. Making sure the right combination of characters go with Sigma in the right puzzle rooms to reveal the right pieces of knowledge needed to move the story forward, and how each round of the AB game would play out based on these combinations. The thing is, through the reveal I just told you about, I’ve learned that the order of things truly doesn’t matter. In fact, coming across a piece of information early on and then not having it pay off until almost 30 hours later can result in a stronger effect. In the end the player is going to travel down each path regardless, frantically searching for the keys to all the locked gates that start appearing in their way.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">During a GDC talk, Kotaro Uchikoshi mentioned that VLR was inspired in part by a visual novel from the mid 90s called Komaitachi no Yoru. It’s a murder mystery. The player has the ability to name the killer right at the start, but if they cannot, the game continues, their choices leading to any number of bad endings. The information the player gains in these bad endings are clues. Clues that should lead a player eventually to be able to name the killer and get the good ending. The issue that Uchikoshi saw with Komaitachi no Yoru is that the information used to get to the good ending is not known by the main character, it’s only known by the player.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Hence why the player and main character are able to jump to different realities in VLR. Naming the killer in Komaitachi no Yoru is what we could call an invisible gate, but in VLR the gates are visible. The player will be working their way down a narrative path, a crisis will occur, and ‘To be continued’ will flash on the screen. Just like naming the killer, the player doesn’t have the information they need to continue, but because Sigma and the player can jump timelines due to the narrative flow chart, we can pursue another path, and once we have the knowledge we need, the black lock symbol will be replaced by a green book symbol, and we can continue down that path.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And since most of the character endings with their revelations are behind one of these locked gates, it doesn’t really matter the order the player goes through them, because the important reveals are meted out at the appropriate time. This explains why so many of the answers the game has to its questions are backloaded in the last few hours. Oh, and despite the entire design of VLR being a response to the way Komaitachi no Yoru works, there are invisible gates as well. Luna’s ending is behind one, as is Phi’s. Seeing the player has to write down codes to access these final two endings, my guess is that Uchikoshi wanted to test that the player was paying attention, and not just relying on Sigma’s gift to remember what happened in alternate timelines.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But despite the visible and invisible gates, when I hit credits, I was more than satisfied with Virtue’s Last Reward. After my first playthrough VLR felt like a setup for a larger story, and that too many questions were left unanswered. Replaying it, I do not find that to be the case at all. All the questions I wrote down near the start of my playthrough, the ones I listed earlier, were answered. The only questions I have left are “Who is Phi”, and “Just what happened in the Mars Mission Simulation test facility”, and I am confident that the final game in the series, Zero Time Dilemma will provide me with those answers. VLR didn’t pack the emotional punch that the DS version of 9 Persons, 9 Hours, 9 Doors did, but it shines just as brightly through the care it puts into its narrative flow chart, and how its many many reveals are portioned out over its lengthy runtime. Although I might be more forgiving of the lingering plot threads now as I know there’s another game in the series to answer all of my questions. Thanks for watching.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what do you think? Were you satisfied with your path through Virtue’s Last Reward? Which reveal hit you the hardest? Let me know down in the comments. I would now like to thank the interviews and analysis that helped inform this video: Narrative Design in Virtue's Last Reward by GDC, and I Love Zero Escape by Hoeyboey. Links to both are in the description. So, what’s next? Well, just like with my 999 video, I don’t want to jump right into Zero Time Dilemma, so I thought I’d play a shorter game in the interim. The next video will be on Persona 4: Golden. That was a joke, I say, a joke. About the game being short. The next video will be on Persona 4: Golden. I started playing the game last year and while I haven’t returned for a few months, I was a ways into it, so I don’t think it’ll take too long to complete seeing how quickly I got through the 30+ hours of VLR. I hope you’ll join me for that one. Finally, if you enjoyed the video, I’d appreciate a like, a comment, and sharing it with your friends, and until next time, I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-64284467143696136582021-12-09T00:04:00.003-08:002021-12-09T00:04:48.554-08:00Deus Ex (2000): The Importance of Quick Save<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tEeUSLf3_kI" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Older PC games were wild. Developers had all these ideas, and down there on the keyboard were as many buttons as one needed to be able to translate those ideas into gameplay. As time went on a standard control scheme for most genres emerged, but to move to that standardisation, there were growing pains. Take Deus Ex for example. It uses what now is the classic WSAD to move. It even uses Q and E to lean, space to jump, and X to crouch… but then things get weird. Reloading your weapon is semi-colon. Zooming in with a sniper scope is left square bracket, and the most important button in the game, quick save, is the plus key on the numpad. Because this is a PC game, buttons can be remapped, but there’s something compelling about a strange control scheme, especially when you get used to it. What starts off as nonsensical or unconventional morphs into a sense of uniqueness and identity over time. Deus Ex is like that. It seems to take itself rather seriously, but the plot is pulpy nonsense, bringing in elements of the Illuminati, AI constructs, and Area 51. The gameplay is infiltration and violence, but the immersive sim nature of the game allows for unexpected outcomes while playing. It’s that unexpected nature of the game that interests me. Exploring the immersive sim aspect of Deus Ex, in conjunction with how much I used the quick save and quick load keys. That’s the crux of what this video is about. It’s just going to take a little while to get there. Enjoy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>My Experience Playing Deus Ex</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Deus Ex is a game of choices. Even in the year 2000, that was not revolutionary. All games are technically games of choice. The player is making decision after decision, often split-second decisions. Success or failure is mostly decided by the merit of these decisions. So how is Deus Ex different? It’s in how it was created. In an interview developer Warren Spector talks about how he played an early build of Thief: The Dark Project, a game designed around stealth. He came across a section he could not defeat by sneaking. He wished that he had some combat options to get past this hurdle, and then be able to return to the playstyle required. Obviously since Thief is built around stealth, the development team were adamant in not giving the players combat options because they feared that most players would not choose to play stealthily. Even though Warren Spector had been mulling over the idea for Deus Ex in his head for years, this feels like the genesis of what made the game so unique when it was released.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And yet it’s not as simple as Deus Ex being a merging of stealth and FPS gameplay. There’s RPG elements in there too. When the game starts, the player is asked to spend experience points to mold the protagonist JC Denton into the kind of super soldier they’d like him to be. Such an upfront decision is why I’ve played a lot of RPGs with walkthroughs over the years. I have this fear of spending my points poorly. Considering how long most RPGs are, it’s always weighed on me that I could get 30 hours into a game and find out that not only have I stopped myself from progressing further, but I just had a sub-optimal 30 hours. I started Deus Ex with a walkthrough for this reason. I wanted to set myself up right and understand how the game worked. I stopped following it just after JC returns from Hong Kong, thinking that I understood the game by this point, and that I’d be able to enjoy the rest of it on my own. It certainly helped me build my character successfully. See, the RPG elements are not only in the choices the player makes to specialise their Denton, but throughout the game, the player discovers aug canisters (augmentation upgrades giving Denton’s nano-infused body additional powers). Each canister allows the player to choose from two augmentations, and then similarly to JC’s skills, these augs can be upgraded throughout the game to become more effective. Augs don’t enter the game until after the first level, Liberty Island, which while imposing as an introduction to Deus Ex, is there to give the player an idea of the type of playstyles they can choose from. Do they want to play lethally, or non-lethally?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is the appeal of Deus Ex. Does the player want to play Cyberpunk Thief, or Cyberpunk Half-life? I find non-lethal play more rewarding, so I decided that was what I would go with. The thing about Deus Ex though is you don’t have to “stay in your lane”. While I started my game trying my best to play non-lethally, as the game kept going I found myself in situations where violence felt like the appropriate response. Whether I was becoming tired of playing stealthily, whether it was who I was up against, or whether it was how the game just kept going, I soon played Deus Ex in a hybrid style, and I have a feeling most players (at least most first-time players) adopt this approach.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Even using lethal force, I never became comfortable with how Deus Ex plays. It always felt like the plan I had to overcome the obstacle in front of me was wrong. There were multiple times that I thought the story was moving towards a climax only for the game to continue. This happened when I went to Hong Kong, at the New York shipyards, in the Paris Cathedral, and then at Area 51. At least in Area 51 I was right in it being the final level. Then there are the endings. When the player first enters the bunkers of the base, there are two options for end game, either plunge the world back into darkness Snake Pliskin style, or kill Bob Page and let the Illuminati take over the world again. Both sounded like terrible ideas and I was afraid all the time I spent in this game world was going to end unsatisfyingly.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And it kind of did. There is a third ending once the player reaches the final areas. Helios, the AI that was inadvertently created by the player wants JC to merge with it, giving a dispassionate machine that cares not for power the job of guiding mankind forward. Now this idea didn’t sound all too great either, but at this point it seemed the lesser of 3 evils, and as this is a cyberpunk game, the science fiction of an AI taking over the world felt the most interesting to me. Warren Spector said he wanted the final boss of Deus Ex to be a choice about the fate of the world rather than a boss fight, and he wanted the choice to say more about the player than it did about JC Denton. I don’t know if I’d call it successful, but after hours of playing through level after level wanting the game to finally end, such a choice was the narrative motivation I needed as a player to be excited enough to see the game through (you know, if I wasn’t going to complete it anyway for this critique).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Quick Save and Choice</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before I get into why that is, I want to mention one other positive that I marvelled at while playing through Deus Ex. Even as a person who makes mental allowances for old graphics technology in older games (mainly cause I was there to see it happen), Deus Ex does not look good. It’s not able to populate its spaces, and as large as some areas are, they are made smaller by having to carve them out into separate sections separated by load screens. Despite that I always marvelled at the vibe of the game. Through the sound design and architecture, I was able to feel immersed in the areas I was playing through. Whether it was the bar at Hell’s Kitchen, the streets of Hong Kong, or the Paris Cathedral. Facilities like The Ocean Lab or the Vandenberg Air Force Base felt large and foreboding despite that not being the case. Heck the first level, Liberty Island is a great showcase for just how large and imposing these levels can be until you start exploring them. Deus Ex’s scale is an illusion, with the game’s staggering amount of levels adding to its length more than the actual size of any of them.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And of course the frequent load screens serve to make the levels feel larger than they actually are. That and how the internal architecture is often spatially different compared to what the level looks like from the outside. Yes the levels are cut into smaller chunks in order for the game to be able to handle them, but the most frequent load screens the player will see will be self inflicted. I’m talking about quick saving and quick loading. We’re finally getting to what the title of this video promised. So why use the quick save and quick load so much? Ideally it’s used in a safe space so that if the next section of gameplay goes wrong, a player doesn’t have to restart the level. It’s a self-created checkpoint. Since the player has control over it, it has other uses as well. Late in the game with dwindling resources, I would quick save before using a lockpick or multi-tool to see whether or not the rewards behind the locked door or alarm system were worth using the resource. If not I quick loaded and moved on. I would also use this trick to avoid rooms full of enemies that featured rewards I wasn’t interested in. Why waste the bullets if I didn’t need to? For a game that allows the player to approach each problem in a multitude of ways, the quick save / quick load keys allow for experimentation, to see what approach serves the moment best.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This was a shock to the development team during testing. They were hoping that players would pick a playstyle early on and stick to that, but found instead that before each choice the player would save the game, try something, load, try something else, load, maybe try a third thing, then load and pick the best path forward. I guess you shouldn’t be shocked if you give a player an overabundance of choice and then they decide to sample everything before making a decision. It also differs from how I’ve used quick save and quick load in many other games. In Half-life or Thief, it’s because I have to keep trying to get past a difficult challenge in the game. I haven’t worked out the optimal way through (or in the worst case, I quick saved in a bad position, and might need to restart the level). In Deus Ex, it’s because there are multiple ways to approach every problem, so while I could keep attacking the obstacle in one particular way until I make it through (which I had to do on occasion due to an ill-timed quick save), it’s often more adventagous to try and approach the problem with a different mindset altogether.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Inconsistency of the Immersive Sim</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The whole point of stealth is that the player engages on their own terms. So I have a question. Aside from the high stakes tension of reloading a dangerous save, does the ability to quick save remove tension from gameplay? If stealth is all about choosing the right moment, is that undercut by the player having a safety net to fall back on if things don’t go the way they planned? If the levels are giant puzzles to solve with multiple pathways, guard patrols, and thanks to the immersive sim aspect of the game, a score of unconventional solutions, does the quick save diminish the enjoyment of the simulation?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before I answer I would like to point out that this thought exercise has nothing to do with difficulty or accessibility. People should be able to play games however they want, with all the allowances that let them enjoy their experience. Now let’s talk about the immersive sim aspect of Deus Ex. Instead of the levels being a clockwork mechanism that the player can work out a perfect pathway though, Deus Ex is more complicated. Yes the levels are giant puzzles to solve, but each giant puzzle is filled up with small puzzles. Small puzzles with multiple solutions. Gaining access to any room or getting rid of enemy resistance can be accomplished multiple ways, but it goes further than just sneaking through or going in guns blazing. The point of the immersive sim is to build in a bunch of systems that simulate realism. There’s a joke that you know the game is an immersive sim if you can go into the bathroom, turn on all the taps and flush the toilet. These systems can interact and react to each other in unpredictable and fascinating ways. I think this is the joy at the heart of the genre and why so many people love playing these games, the unpredictability of playing around with such systems. It’s also at the heart of my frustration with Deus Ex.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If a level is a giant puzzle box filled with smaller puzzles, what does that say about the game and the genre when all of the solutions are inconsistent? Yes I used quick save and quick load to see if using a resource was a net positive, or if it was worth exploring a room full of enemies, but the majority of my saving and loading was in trying to execute an idea. I never had any issue working my brain around a solution to any problem in front in me. What I came up against time and time again is that the unpredictability of the systems in this Immersive Sim meant that no matter how good my idea was, no matter how long I had played the game for, I could never be positive that my plan would be executed without error. I think that would be fine if I wanted to try something unconventional, but no, this was every single time I wanted to take a step forward. Now perhaps that’s not nearly the problem I’m making it out to be because I was consistently moving forward. I finished the game after all. I was able to make this video, but when I think back on my experience with Deus Ex, yes I can recall the vibe, the sound design, particular levels and that choice at the end, but mostly I think about quick saving and quick loading.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A couple of years ago I read Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace. The book plays with time, and it’s one of those stories where you only have the full picture of the narrative after you finish reading it, so it almost requires a second readthrough to understand what’s going on. I feel similarly about Deus Ex on a mechanical level. I felt that way about The Witcher 3 as well. “Now that I’ve played through this and know how the game works, a second playthrough would be a lot more enjoyable because I now know what I’m doing”. Sadly, if I were to play Deus Ex again, I doubt things would be different. Yes I know more about how I’d want to build JC Denton up from the start, with which skills and augs to choose. Yes I know how I’d approach each level, where to go to complete my objectives and the best way to do so. I might even play around with the game a bit and see if I can change some of the narrative outcomes. The point is, I’d be better equipped to play the game and have a better time playing the game, but I think my core experience would be exactly the same. Thanks to the unpredictability of the simulation, I’d still be quick saving before each step forward, and quick loading when my attempts to put my plan into action enivitalby fail. Plus Deus Ex was just too damn long. I’ll say this, now that I’ve completed the original, I’m more excited to play through all the other games in the series. Yeah, even Invisible war, even Mankind Divided. Maybe sometime in the next couple of years. Thanks for watching.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Questions, thank yous, and what’s next</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what are your thoughts? If you’re one of the many folks who love Deus Ex, how do you get past the inconsistency of execution? What ending did you pick, and what is your reasoning behind it? What is your preferred playstyle? Let me know down in the comments. I’d like to take a moment to thank the developer interviews and game analysis that helped inform this video. Let's Play Deus Ex with Warren Spector, Sheldon Pacotti and Chris Norden, GDC’s Deus Ex Port Mortem, I’ve Played Deus Ex. She Hasn’t. Now We’re Playing It Together by Kirk Hamilton and Leigh Alexander, and Deus Ex - An Entire Series Retrospective and Analysis by NeverKnowsBest. Links to these works are in the description. At the end of my last video I said I wanted to take a break before I tackled Virtue’s Last Reward. I have now taken that break. Coming up next will be the continuation of my playthrough of the Zero Escape series. I’m looking forward to revisiting this one, so I hope you will all join me for it. Finally, if you enjoyed the video, I’d appreciate a like, a comment, and sharing it with your friends, and until next time, I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-38306961041386365612021-09-24T03:47:00.001-07:002021-09-24T03:47:01.752-07:009 hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors (2017) is not what it once was<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wLQnDa7vf58" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’m going to start this video on the first game in the Zero Escape trilogy by telling you a story about playing No More Heroes on the Nintendo Wii. Before the first boss, Player character Travis Touchdown is walking down a long hallway when he receives a phone call from the girl he’s after, Sylvia Crystal. I could only just make out her voice. It didn’t take me long to comprehend that she was talking to me through the Wiimote speaker. I smiled as I lifted the controller to my ear like a cellphone. Then she started yelling and I had to pull it away. The rest of the conversation took place and I continued playing the game with a huge grin. It was such a small interaction with the Wiimote but to this day I think fondly of that interaction, and remember No More Heroes as a great experience largely because of it. So much so, that when I saw it was ported to the PS3, and then heard about it coming to Steam this year I shook my head. I said to myself, “It’s great that more people are going to be able to play it, but without the Wii, they won’t be able to have the same memorable experience I had”. Now, if such a small interaction affected the way I consider ports of No More Hereos, what about a game like 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors, where the emotional climax is built around the hardware of the Nintendo DS? That’s what I’m going to be talking about in this video. I’ll start by explaining why my initial playthough of 999 on the DS in 2012 was so impactful, and what I think of the changes that had to be made to the 2017 remake in order for it to work on a single screen. Let’s get to it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Why 999 made such an impression</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You know, I cannot remember what made me pick up 999. It might have been one of those listacles. “5 games with excellent stories that you have to play on the Nintendo DS”. Something like that. All I know is I got a copy of the game on a whim, and I was hooked. I mean I’m already predisposed to liking a good story in a videogame, and I will put up with a lot of tedious gameplay if I find the story, and more importantly, the characters and themes engaging. As 999 is a visual novel, I used a walkthrough to make sure I was making the right choices and going down the right path, and the guide I was following covered every ending, spacing them out in a way that the writer thought was narratively intriguing. It worked. I made my way through the bad endings, the normal ending, and then the true ending. Before writing this paragraph I went back and had a look at the guide to see if I replicated the order of endings it laid out this time around. I thought it would be cool if 9 years after originally playing the game on the DS, I subconsciously picked the same path. It would make it more intriguing when I finally start talking about morphogenetic fields. Sadly in this replay not only did I play the bad endings in a different order, but I even got the dummy ending before unlocking the normal ending and then the true ending. Sheesh.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Let’s talk about morphogenetic fields. Honestly, they’re the heart of the game. It’s a theory by a biologist named Rupert Sheldrake. It’s similar to the ideas of the collective unconscious or that humans can share information through fields similar magnetism. Here’s a simplistic example. I’ve only recently started solving the New York Times crossword. According to the idea of the morphogenetic field I should be solving the crossword as late in the day as possible. The more people who solve the crossword, the more the answers to the crossword will be spread through the morphogenetic field, allowing those who haven’t solved it yet to have an easier time of it. The answers are out there in the field, and are able to be plucked out of the air by those staring at the clues. Now, imagine if a person with a lot of money wanted to prove the morphogenetic field existed, and he wanted to do it because of the power and control one could have if they could influence what was broadcasted or received through such a field.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Gentarou Hongou is the CEO of Cradle Pharmecuticals. In his younger days he was a participant in the Nonary Game, a sick escapade run by a billionaire and his cohorts to have people that were deep in debt solve their way out of an escape room in order to save their lives. Hongou wanted to prove the existence of the morphogenetic field theory in part to cure his prosopagnosia, a condition where the afflicted are not able to recognise human faces. Cradle kidnapped 18 child siblings, and held a Nonary Game at two locations, the idea being that through the threat of death, the kids in one location would be insprired to solve the puzzles and free themselves, and then transmit that knowledge to their siblings in the second location through the morphogenetic field. The game was interrupted by a detective, but while he was able to rescue the other children, one girl was left behind, forced to solve a puzzle in an incinerator or be burned to death. She didn’t make it. That girl’s name was Akane Kurashiki.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">9 years later the player finds themselves in a new Nonary game as Junpei. One of the participants is a young woman named Akane Kurashiki, who Junpei recognises as a childhood friend. Through the Nonary Game, the player chooses what doors to go in as well as which characters to travel with as they try and find door 9 to escape the game with their lives. If the player chooses certain doors, Akane will feel feverish and have to rest. These pathways result in most of the characters being murdered and Junpei suffering an untimely demise. In the DS version of 999, the bad ending is saved to the player’s file, and the game begins again. By the end of my final playthrough, I knew most of the solutions to the puzzles off by heart (especially the code to the door in the room Junpei wakes up in). Repetition breeds familiarity. Having to replay the game multiple times was a criticism of 999, and in the sequel Virtue’s Last Reward, a narrative flow chart was introduced, so that at any time a player could teleport to an earlier node and follow a different path. For the remake of 999, this flow chart was added, removing the tedium of having to replay puzzle rooms over and over again. Here’s the thing though, in Virtue’s Last Reward, the ability to hop around the timeline is baked into the narrative, and in the DS version of 999, having to replay the game over and over again is the same.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At this point I need to explain how 999 was designed with the Nintendo DS in mind. In fact, the game’s twist is built around it. It has to do with the morphogenetic field, and how the text is divvied up between the top and bottom screens of the DS. For the whole game dialogue from all the characters is displayed on the top screen while Junpei’s inner thoughts, reading like the narration of a novel is displayed on the bottom screen. It’s only right before the final puzzle of the true ending do we learn that the bottom screen has not been Junpei at all. The original Nonary game was successful at proving the ability to manipulate others through the morphogenetic field, only not across space, but across time. As Akane made her way through the Nonary game as a child she linked up with Junpei 9 years in the future. Everything the player has read about Junpei’s thoughts were actually Akane’s as she’s guiding Junpei safely through the Nonary game. Since Akane is the bottom screen, that means that every puzzle Junpei solved is actually Akane showing him the solution. All except for the final puzzle, she was never able to solve that on her own, and that’s why she died.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is why when the player accompanies Akane down a path that results in a bad end, she becomes feverish. Junpei is heading down a pathway that results in Akane not being able to solve the final puzzle and so in this timeline, she no longer exists. Without her guidance, the Nonary game goes awry and Junpei and many of the others die too. That’s why restarting the game is so important. Every bad end results in Akane retracing her steps after her projection didn’t work out, and following another path. That’s why the player is able to so easily solve the puzzles they’ve been through many times before, because Akane has also been through them many times before. When this was revealed I was floored at 999 using the two screens of the DS in such a thematic manner. It’s an effective twist because it changed the way I had perceived the whole game up to that point, and yet, 999 wasn’t finished with using its two screens in service of emotional impact.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Akane has been helping Junpei solve every puzzle up to this point but she was never able to solve the final puzzle. Now with the player at that same puzzle, it’s time for Junpei to return the favour. The final puzzle, appearing on the bottom screen is upside down. On the top screen is an image of young Akane crying her eyes out. The player needs to turn their DS upside down in order to solve the puzzle. Suddenly Junpei on the top screen is able to help Akane on the bottom screen. The player solves the puzzle, Akane lives, and her and her brother Aoi are able to live their lives planning out the Nonary game that must take place 9 years in the future for Akane to live. This use of the hardware of the Nintendo DS to aid the storytelling of 999, to give its ending such impact is why the game made such an impression on me, and why I knew I had to play Virtue’s Last Reward. I did. It was excellent and it became one of my favourite games, but that’s for another video. When Zero Time Dilemma finally came out in 2016 I felt I needed to replay the first two games to prime me for the final game in the trilogy, and wouldn’t you know it, The Nonary Game collection came out the next year. By this point I knew I had to make videos on every game, so I’ve held out until now to play them all. All this time I was worried about how a game that built its twist around the hardware of the DS was going to fare on other systems, and now having played the remake, I see I was right to worry.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>How does the remake compare?</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Let’s start with the positives of the remake. The art is upscaled, and it felt like more animations were added to the characters. There’s voice acting, and it’s pretty good. I think it added appropriate weight to certain moments and I like the casting choices. The flowchart is a trickier addition to praise. It’s true it made the game a lot easier to play. I appreciated only having to play the first puzzle room the one time. I appreciated seeing which lanes of the chart I still had to explore, and when I realised how to interpret the lock and key images, I appreciated how easy it was to enter a puzzle room, experience the new dialogue options, and then leave for the next room, but looking back on my playthrough now I can see how thematically unfulfilling it is. Having to replay everything for new information was part of the point. It makes the ending have more resonance. It’s one of those quality of life vs thematic importance decisions, and I can only assume that the ease of play was more important to the dev team than forcing the player back through the game multiple times in order to give greater weight to the twist. I can understand that. It could be rewritten to make sense too. Instead of going back to the start each time there’s a bad end, Akane could just jump to a choice point, but to my knowledge, this change wasn’t acknowledged. The bigger problem is that the lack of two screens robs the climactic moment of meaning.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The remake does try to accommodate the original’s layout with two modes the player can switch through, adventure mode (which is the default) and novel mode. Adventure mode is Junpei’s top screen, novel mode are Akane’s thoughts. The player can switch between them with the press of a button but I never did because I didn’t realise what was going on with the two modes as I was playing. The game started me off in adventure mode so I just assumed that they had changed the twist to work within one screen. I actually thought that everytime the wavy blue lines appeared and Junpei’s voice went through a filter, it was alluding to Akane’s influence from the past. Oh how wrong I was. Seeing that the novel mode is Akane’s thoughts, and we only get to hear Junpei when he’s talking, the solution reached is that more dialogue would be added to Junpei voicing his thoughts as the player makes their way through the game. A lot of players found this solution cumbersome and quite unnatural. I find it odd that I didn’t. At the time I did think that certain sections of the game were longwinded but I just put that down to my inexperience with visual novels, and that there would be an overabundance of what I found to be obvious exposition. Also, I talk to myself all the time. Like all the time, so if this is considered unnatural, I certainly did not pick up on it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Because most players would not be checking out novel mode as they wouldn’t see a reason to (until the game forces it, which it does very infrequently until the ending), and that Junpei voices a lot of what would be covered through Akane’s eyes in the original game, it’s obvious to me now that the blue wavy lines are the few times when Junpei is able to think to himself without Akane’s influence. So in this remake here’s what we have. The player is able to switch between the two screens of the game, but because it rarely forces this perspective shift, most players won’t spend time in novel mode. To counteract this Junpei is going to voice his thoughts a lot more, and using a voice filter and wavy blue lines will note when Junpei is actually thinking on his own. Here’s the issues I see with this solution. Having Junpei voice many of the observations made on the bottom screen through Akane’s eyes, dampens the shock of the twist when the player finds out Akane has been solving the puzzles for the player all this time. Although we have been playing as Akane influencing Junpei, this isn’t as easily made aware to us. Even knowing the twist I was questioning just what the significance of the wavy blue lines were because often Junpei’s thoughts didn’t seem to be that important or revelatory. Now imagine if I hadn’t originally played the game on the DS. I feel I’d have no idea what was going on.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Eventually the difference between the two modes and the two screens is made explicit. In the ending of the game, adventure mode is changed to ‘Junpei vision’ and novel mode is changed to ‘Akane vision’. The game can’t pull the same trick it did with the final puzzle either. Player’s can’t rotate their monitors or televisions 180 degrees, nor would they need to with only one screen available. I understand that the final puzzle was not going to be as emotionally resonant due to this change, but I have no idea why they changed the puzzle itself. In the DS version, it was a Sudoku. Thematically brilliant. A puzzle with 9 rows, 9 columns, 9 squares to cap off 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors. So what do we have instead? A puzzle where each surrounding square needs to equal the digital root of 9. I haven’t explained digital roots yet, but they’re a big deal in this game. Basically a number will be broken down into its separate digits and added together until we reach one digit. For instance the number 39 would be broken into 3+9, which equals 12, and then 1 + 2, which equals 3, so the digital root of 39, is 3. But the digital root isn’t the only point of the final puzzle. The player also has to spell out a word with the tiles at the bottom of the screen. The word it spells is “password”, and then once the puzzle is solved, the player is asked to enter a password. I took a random shot in the dark, and entered 9. It turned out to be correct. Compared to the beautiful simplicity of the Sudoku, this new puzzle just let me cold during the game’s climax, and there was no image of a young frightened Akane to remind me of what I was solving the puzzle for in the first place.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And without that emotional resonance, I think the ending of the game, in which Junpei, Clover, Snake, and Lotus are driving off in order to catch up with Santa and Akane bothered me more than it did back on the DS. I wanted closure, and instead all I got was a tease for a new story. That’s how I feel about this replay. Unsatisfied. I enjoyed my time playing it. I like the puzzles, I like all the discussions about interesting yet odd topics, but the remake felt like I was kept at arm’s length, and I wonder if my prior experience is to blame. If I had not played the DS version 9 years ago, would I think more highly of this remake, or would I think less of it? Just like any port of No More Heroes will be compared to my original experience playing it on the Wii, any playthrough of 999 will be compared to that original playthrough on the DS. I can’t say this remake is bad, because I still enjoyed my time with it, but I will say that The Nonary Games remake of 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 doors, is not what it once was. Thanks for watching.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Questions, thank yous, and what’s next</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what are your thoughts? If you’ve played both versions, how do you regard the remake? If you’ve only played the remake, how did the story, and the twist affect you? Should games that are built around unique hardware just never be remade? I’d love to hear all about it down in the comments. As always I would like to thank everyone whose work inspired this video. Famitsu’s interview with Kotaro Uchikoshi translated by Sceneryrecalled, Kayjulers’ “999 - The pinnacle of immersive storytelling”, and ItsyourpalJacob’s “999 Port - Lost in translation”. Links to these works are down in the description. So, what’s next? Well I’m not going to jump right into Virtue’s Last Reward. Because not everyone watching will be interested in my thoughts on the Zero Escape games, I thought it best to break up the series with other critiques inbetween. So earlier in the year I played through Planescape: Torment and was happy to have finally completed such a classic. I aim to do that again. Another game I’ve attempted so many times over the years. A touchstone for so much of modern game design that it feels ridiculous that I haven’t made a video on it yet. I’m going to be playing 2000s Deus Ex. The original. I hope you join me for that one, and then we’ll get to Virtue’s Last Reward. Finally, if you enjoyed the video, I would appreciate a like, a comment, or sharing it with your friends, and until next time, I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-32844768519721609742021-08-27T08:33:00.003-07:002021-08-27T08:33:32.386-07:00Why I Didn’t Enjoy Playing Outer Wilds (2019)<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gz7b0DMCcII" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Even though the player in Outer Wilds is trapped in a time loop, they are not trapped in a clockwork solar system. This solar system is messy. Planets morph and change, and while one would expect everything to act the same each time through, it doesn’t. Oh the end result is always the same 22 minutes in with the sun going supernova, but there are always slight differences each loop. Upon waking, the probe seen overhead will shoot in a new direction and that’s just the beginning. Whether or not a player will enjoy their time with Outer Wilds is dependent on how curious they are about the extent of micro changes within a macro framework, and whether that level of curiosity and adventure is enough to propel them to find the answers to all of the games’ secrets and to sustain them as they work towards those goals. Based off the title of this video, you would be correct in assuming that my curiosity and sense of adventure was lacking as I made my way to the end of the game, and exploring the reasons behind this lack is what I’ll be addressing. I’ll begin by making some critical observations about Outer Wilds based on my time playing through it, and then in the second half of the video I’ll be examining my feelings of the entire experience more closely. Let’s get started.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>My experience playing Outer Wilds</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">All progress in Outer Wilds is self-motivated. There are no markers to follow except the ones the player enables themselves. Every problem has a solution, and my mistake early on was thinking that I would find upgrades as I played. I mean developer Alex Beachum has talked about being inspired by The Legend of Zelda series (and I did just play through Bloodstained). I thought that my suit or ship would be enhanced, allowing me to walk through ghost matter, to withstand the electricity of Giants Deep, and to survive the Anglerfish of Dark Bramble. What I came to understand over many gruelling hours of trial and error, was that this is not the case. There is no upgrade hidden on a planet that the player will take back with them through the time loop. Well ok, there is, but it’s an abstraction. The upgrade is knowledge. The more the player explores, the more they follow the rumours on their ship’s computer, and the more Nomai writing they decipher, the more the world starts to make sense. The Nomai’s notes hint toward solutions that may require a leap in logic, but everything the player needs to complete the game is there from their first voyage out among the stars. For most of us, and for me especially, it’s just going to take dozens upon dozens of time loops before that knowledge seeps in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Part of this learning is because of time. The Hourglass Twins and Brittle Hollow, the two planets that require the greatest exploration (as these are the planets that the Nomai built cities on) are changing over the course of each time loop. Sand from the Ash Twin is being sucked up over to Ember Twin, burying the planet’s secrets inch by inch. Meanwhile over on Brittle Hollow the volcanic moon is pelting down fire rocks on the planet’s surface, causing chunks to break apart and be sucked through the black hole at the planet’s core. While exploration of Ember Twin is time based due to the rising sands, Brittle Hollow’s destruction is random each time loop, meaning it can be a matter of luck whether or not the areas the player wants to explore will be accessible this time around. It took me a long time to learn that the greatest sense of accomplishment in Outer Wilds is achieved by setting a goal at the start of a time loop (often by reviewing the ship’s computer), and then working towards completing that goal. While the changing nature of some of the planets impeded such goals, slowly chipping away at what I wanted to accomplish until it was done was always possible, even when it felt like the simulation didn’t want to co-oporate.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Eventually I learned about the nature of the Ash Twin Project and what the time loop actually is. By linking with the Nomai statue at the start of the game all my space farer’s memories are being transmitted to the project, and when the sun goes supernova, the energy of the blast powers the project and sends all those memories back in time 22 minutes into the heads of those who are linked. My head kind of hurts wondering just how this works, because it doesn’t feel like actual time travel. I understand it as a straight line of consequence. Each new loop of the game, all the memories, all the knowledge gained is sent back, so my character wakes up at the campfire knowing everything that their previous incarnations went through, but that’s what confuses me. The final time my Hearthian wakes up, all the knowledge of the previous lives is dumped all at once. This would happen everytime of course, because it’s a linear process. It just feels like such a dump would send someone mad, especially taking into consideration all the memories of painful and horrific death. Perhaps Hearthians are just made of sterner stuff than us humans. They certainly have a flair for adventure and scientific exploration that I know I lack.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That’s a lesson that the game slowly taught me. A lot more slowly than it should have, but what can I say? I’m stubborn and it takes me a while to understand concepts. Seeing that my character can die and just start again, there’s no point whatsoever in being safe. The spirit of the Hearthians is that of adventure, and I needed to rise to meet that challenge. I can’t let a little thing like death stand in my way. Arguably this was a lot easier about two thirds through my playthrough when Gabbro taught me to meditate. It’s a lot less stressful to be able to peacefully reset the time loop then look for ways to end it violently. That spirit of adventure is what allowed me to access the Quantum Tower on Brittle Hollow, to reach the High Energy Lab, and to find my way to the core of The Interloper. I needed to boldly go where no Hearthian has gone before, and if that didn’t work, I could always just die, adjust my trajectory, and try again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The goal I thought I was ultimately working towards the whole game was to either stop the sun from going supernova, or to leave the solar system with all the Hearthians on board. I later learned that the only way out was to use the crashed Nomai vessel in Dark Bramble, and that I would be leaving all the others behind. This did not sit right with me. What I only learned later is that rescuing the others wouldn’t have made a difference. It’s not just this solar system’s sun that’s going supernova, it’s everything. Outer Wilds takes place at the end of the universe, and there isn’t a restaurant in sight. The only move forward is to use the warp core from the Ash Twin Project, power up the Nomai vessel in Dark Bramble, and use the coordinates from the probe to travel to the eye of the universe. This is where things got strange.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Nomai theorised that something special might happen if a consciousness was ever to come in contact with the eye. I got the feeling that my character suddenly existed outside of time and space, outside the universe that was about to blink out of existence. Using the consciousness within it, all the Hearthian astronauts, and the last remaining Nomai were either transported to this place, or recreated. Whichever it is, they are here, and it’s time for a song. It’s time to create something beautiful out of nothing, and in this place, this communal act of creation not only results in music, but in a new universe. The credits roll after our character is obliterated by the big bang. After the credits, 14.3 billion years later, we see the beginnings of a new solar system, with signs of new life. The cycle continues.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Ultimately the game felt hopeful in spite of catastrophic calamity. The Nomai were wiped out by an errant comet containing the deadly substance ghost matter. Years later the Hearthians were able to use the Nomai’s research and technology to further their own understanding, allowing one Hearthian to flee the heat death of the universe. In this new space, with help from those who came before, the player succeeds in creating something new, something they will never live to see. The reason this touched me is that I’m feeling an overwhelming despair these days about the state of our world, and our future. I don’t see good times ahead, mainly because I don’t see us doing enough to solve the problems we’re facing as a species. I feel like we’re on a similar precipice as the character we’re playing. Like we don’t have long left. Maybe like a sun going supernova, our problems can’t be fixed. It’s little solace knowing that if we do not survive, perhaps in the future what we’ve accomplished as a species might help others create something new, but a little solace is better than nothing. Maybe that’s enough.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>What I didn’t like about Outer Wilds</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I’ve heard it said that the strength of a story is reliant on its ending, and for me the ending of Outer Wilds redeemed the frustration it took to reach it. Seeing how beloved the game has ended up being, that might be an odd statement, but I know that a lot of you clicked on this video to understand why I didn’t enjoy this masterpiece, and it’s time for me to get into my reasoning. To begin with, I am not scientifically minded. I can appreciate math in the abstract. I can understand the joy of problem solving, and I also share a curiosity for the unknown, but the concepts of math and science have never come easily for me. I think that I was not able to fully appreciate what Outer Wilds is and what it accomplishes because I was not understanding the level of accuracy that went into this solar system simulation.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A lot of the video essays on Outer Wilds gush about the physics of the game. How the orbits work, how gravity works, and how the game tracks and handles the quirks of all the planets no matter where the player is in the system. There’s the pocket dimensions of Dark Bramble, the random bombardment of Brittle Hollow, and then there’s the Quantum Moon (an off-shoot of the eye, where all the quantum rocks come from in the first place). Some concepts were more easily understood than others. For instance, landing on the Quantum Moon and travelling to its secret sixth location was a highlight of the game for me. I felt like I had understood the lessons taught about this scientific principle in a way that never really clicked with flying around the planets in my lander or with my jetpack. Luckily in those cases, hours upon hours interacting with thrust, orientation, and gravity taught me a lot about how such systems operate through game feel rather than understanding the science.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In my Witcher 3 video, I talked about how in order to not become overwhelmed by the scope of that game’s open world, focusing on one quest or one goal at a time, and enjoying the moment became the path to success. That is also true in Outer Wilds. Earlier I talked about self-motivation. When I decided on a course of action, I would often leave a gaming session with a happy feeling, like I had made significant progress. There were times when I had the wrong idea or had no idea how to proceed next, but as long as I had a question I wanted answered, and remembered to look at the rumour wall and map of the solar system to find out where I could find such answers, I was able to move forward. However, Outer Wilds doesn’t make this as easy as it could be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I take responsibility for having to be pushed to be adventurous. It’s a personal problem. While I enjoy exploration in games, and I am curious about the world, I’m also scared of the unknown, of leaving my comfort zone and trying new things. You would think that after a lifetime of playing games, of understanding how easy it is to try again through lives, continues, or checkpoints (especially in a game with a time loop), that I’d be more disposed to throwing caution to the wind and trying something just to see if it works. That is not the case. Failure still terrifies me. It’s one of life’s hurdles that I have to keep working on overcoming, and yes, it easily seeps its way into playing videogames. I think part of Outer Wilds’ appeal is the mixture of self-motivated discovery and exploration paired with how easy it is to start again. How the little victories of discovering a new Nomai wall to translate can be just as satisfying as answering the big questions the game poses.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But accessing the answers to these big questions was often beyond my comprehension. I made it to the Quantum Moon by myself. I reached its sixth location by myself, but every other significant answer I had to Google. Sometimes I felt silly, like understanding how to warp to the sun station. The answer is so easy, and yet, I never would have thought to travel to the sun tower on Ash Twin before it’s excavated. Can you believe earlier on, I thought I might have to master jetpacking and fly through the cactuses? My attempts did not go well. Or how about how to get to the core of Ash Twin? The roof is broken so if the player walks onto the warp panel while the sandstorm in overhead, they get sucked up onto Ember Twin. I don’t think I would have ever figured out that all I needed to do was hold down the reverse thrusters on my jetpack to counteract the pull of the sand. Finally there was the Anglerfish on Dark Bramble. I thought I would have to do something special to get past them, and while that’s technically true, watching folks on YouTube speed through the mazes of the Bramble without issue was something that took many tries and far too much swearing to accomplish.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What this experience reminds me of is getting stuck while playing adventure games. Often upon looking up the solution to a puzzle, I will have a binary response. I’ll either say “oh, of course, it’s so simple. I’m an idiot” or, “I would have never figured that out”. Outer Wilds had me combining the two. I don’t think I would have worked out these solutions on my own (although who can say? Given enough time my brain might have stumbled upon what I needed to do), but when I found out what I had to do, I did feel like an idiot. Talking about adventure games, Outer Wilds made more sense to me when thinking about it as an adventure game, specifically the games of Cyan Worlds such as Myst, Riven, or Obduction. Those games are set in alien worlds with odd technology that the player needs to decipher over time. Usually the people who have come before have left notes, cluing the player in on how everything is supposed to work, and as the player explores, there’s puzzles that the player needs to understand how to solve before getting to the work of solving them. They’re also games where I love the worlds created, but don’t feel smart enough to make my way through them on my own. And while these games are static, the player moving slowly through them, Outer Wilds has the player dealing with its science first hand through space travel. It makes things more exciting but it also makes them more complicated.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Conclusion</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Through its ending, and my research into the game afterwards, I have grown an appreciation of Outer Wilds that I did not have when I was in the midst of playing it. Not only do I feel that I lacked the sense of adventure required to interface with the game, but my understanding and appreciation of its science and simulation was absent. Throw in having to look up the solutions to two of its puzzles, and taking far too much time to work out everything else, and I walk away from Outer Wilds with it in that nebulous wishy-washy category of “this game is “not-for-me””. Despite what I said just before, even thinking of it as an adventure game doesn’t really work. When I’m stuck and frustrated in an adventure game, I consult a walkthrough and enjoy the narrative pacing. In Outer Wilds, discovery and understanding is the core of the game. Even when I looked up the solutions that were eluding me, I was close, only missing one piece of the puzzle, and I think that’s why I felt so foolish. If I had gotten to the ending with a guide, I think the power of said ending would have been dampened. It’s only through the hours of my fumbling, that the realisation that I wasn’t going to be able to save everyone, and the despair that resulted in, slowly built up, giving the emotional power of the finale signifigance. I just wish I could have had that sense of significance for my entire playthrough. Thanks for watching.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Questions, thank yous, and what’s next</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what do you think? Did you enjoy your time with Outer Wilds? What are your thoughts about the ending? Was I able to adequately explain my position? Let me know down in the comments. As usual, I would like to thank all the critics and journalists who helped inform this video. Noclip’s ‘The Making of Outer Wilds’, Gameskinny’s interview with Mobius Games, Thomas Jenkins’, ‘Why I can’t stop thinking about Outer Wilds’, Bryn Gelbert’s ‘Outer Wilds Helped Me Understand the Relationship Between Progress and Purpose’, Superbunnyhops’ ‘The Wild Astrophysics that Outer Wilds simulates’, Jacob Geller’s ‘Outer Wilds: Death, Inevitability, and Ray Bradbury’, and Errant Signal’s ‘How the heck do we talk about Outer Wilds?’. Links to all these works are in the description. So, what’s next? Well it’s time to start a project that will span over 3 videos, I’m starting a series on the Zero Escape trilogy, so the next video will be on the first game, Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors. I hope you’ll join me for that one. Finally, if you enjoyed the video, I’d appreciate a like, a comment, or sharing it with your friends, and until next time, I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-44564208883579739802021-07-27T21:00:00.001-07:002021-07-27T21:00:00.173-07:00Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night (2019) - Playing It Safe<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/OVQuushAJl0" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On its surface, the genre of the Metroidvania seems obvious. It’s a combination of the Metroid series, and the Castlevania series. Specifically, Super Metroid and Symphony of the night. Take the map based exploration of Super Metroid, with its hidden secrets, ability upgrades, and backtracking, and combine it with an RPG system. The character levels up, and has a huge array of weapons, equipment, and spells to choose from. This allows the player to express themselves in how they wish to tackle the many enemies and bosses as they explore the Metroid space. The genre has gained a resurgence in popularity over the last decade, especially in the indie scene, but as the more astute of you may have noticed while thinking about the two games that inspired the naming of this genre, and thinking about the titles that have gained popularity in the genre (Hollow Knight, Axiom Verge, and Guacamelee for instance), that most of the genre doesn’t actually qualify as a Metroidvania. They’re just Metroid-likes, specifically Super Metroid-likes. Without the RPG mechanics, without the levelling up and the choice in weapons, equipment, and spell usage, these games are building their identity on the foundation of Super Metroid, just like Symphony of the Night did back in 1997.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Which brings us to 2019, and Bloodstained: Ritual of the night. A spiritual successor to not only Symphony of the Night, but the games developer Koji Igarashi made afterwards (as these titles took Symphony of the night as a foundation rather than Super Metroid). Bloodstained is a Kickstarter success story, crowdfunding over 5 million dollars from players who wanted Igarashi to make the type of game he hadn’t been able to make for years. A Symphony of the Night-like in everything but name. Yes, a Metroidvania. The term applies. Let’s talk about it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The player controls Miriam, a shardbinder, one who is able to absorb the powers of demons. Her good friend Gebel, the only other Shardbinder left in the world has gone rogue. He has summoned a castle full of demons with the goal of destroying the world as revenge for the horrors inflicted upon him by the guild of alchemists. In the town outside the castle, and within its walls, Miriam meets other characters that help and hinder her in her quest to stop Gebel. The player spends their time charting the castle as they explore its halls, collecting shards from defeated demons, and acquiring and crafting all manner of weapons, armour, and accessories. Certain sections of the castle are blocked off until the player finds a specific shard to progress, and like Symphony of the Night, fighting the person you came into the castle for can be the end of the game, but if you have a specific item equipped, you can open up more of the castle and reach the true ending.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Symphony of the Night isn’t the only game Igarashi has taken inspiration from however. Well, calling it inspiration is a bit tongue-in-cheek as Igarashi was producer on most of the side-scrolling Castlevania games after Symphony. Aria of Sorrow has the Tactical Soul system where enemies have a chance to drop their souls when defeated, allowing the player to use their special powers. Hello shardbinder. Order of Ecclesia meanwhile displays glyphs on the main character’s arms and back like tattoos. Both ideas inform the lore of Bloodstained, what Miriam is, and she how interacts with the game. I should also mention that each weapon type in Bloodstained has special techniques that be can accessed through fighting game inputs. These reminded me of the spells Alucard was able to use in Symphony. I remember them being a great help in that game, but rarely used any of them in Bloodstained.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And all this influence ends up leaving Bloodstained with little of its own identity. It’s odd to say that as it has nothing to do with Dracula, Belmonts, or that long-standing world of gothic horror, but even though the lore has been changed, any player who’s played any of the Metroidvania titles in the Castlevania series will feel right at home. This is by design too. Igarashi has said, quote: “I was figuring out how to approach a game for fans who wanted to play another exploration-based action game. This is also the first game I would be making after becoming independent, so I made it my motif to create a traditional game that would meet their expectations”. Endquote. It sounds like Bloodstained was made to directly appeal to the fans of his previous Castlevania titles, and to ensure that such fans got what they wanted, Igarashi didn’t want to reinvent the wheel. That’s why Bloodstained borrows heavily from those other games, and why it felt to me like it lacked its own identity.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what of the future? Seeing how Bloodstained feels like a “greatest hits” from the Castlevania days, I initially thought that Bloodstained might be Igarashi’s swan song, one last Metroidvania for the fans before riding off into the sunset wearing his cowboy hat. From the interview quoted, it sounds more like Igarashi wanted to make what he was sure would be a success based on past successes before venturing off in a new direction. Does this mean there will be another Bloodstained? If so, will Igarashi move in that new direction? How will the fans react? Igarashi’s feelings were correct because I think the success of the initial Kickstarter was the fans wanting a game like the ones they remembered loving from the past. Reactions to Bloodstained are mostly positive (excluding the Nintendo Switch version), with criticism either being levelled at bugs and performance instability, or that it adheres too much to the design of the past and doesn’t do anything new.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I echo that sentiment. Bloodstained felt like I was playing a spiritual sequel to Symphony of the Night. I loved the variety in shard and weapon choice, and how tense the game became when I was low on health in a new area desparetly searching for a save room. Sadly the story and characters made little impact, and I had to google the way forward on more than one occasion. It sounds like fans got exactly what they wanted, an old school Castlevania game on modern systems. It was fun to play. Good, not great. What I’m interested in now is what’s next. What can Igarashi do when he’s no longer looking at past successes. I’m looking forward to finding out. Thanks for watching.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what are your thoughts? Was Bloodstained what you were hoping it would be? How do you feel it holds up next to other Castlevania games? What are your favourite Metroidvanias? I’d love to hear all about it down in the comments. I would like to take the time to thank the sources that helped inform this video. There are two. Kris Graft’s interview with Igarashi over at Gamastura, and the video ‘How Bloodstained kept its promise’ by The Sphere Hunter. Links for both are in the description. So what’s next? Well we’re continuing to focus on exploration, but with the next game it’s more about uncovering an understanding of the game world than filling in a map. I’m going to be playing Outer Wilds (not The Outer Worlds). I hope you join me for that one. If you’ve made it this far, thank you for your time and interest. If you enjoyed the video, I’d appreciate a like, a comment, or sharing it with your friends, and as always, I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-2947256751821862752021-07-13T17:10:00.002-07:002021-07-13T17:10:35.694-07:00Roleplaying as Geralt: The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (2015) and the fantasy of its open world<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EaCDfIY0AEQ" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Intro</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Witcher 3 is the best open world game I’ve ever played. What’s funny is the reasons that make it great have almost nothing to do with the open world itself, but rather how the strongest parts of the game clash with the scale of the open world. This tension is everywhere. Geralt himself is a great example of it. A witcher travels from town to town, looking at notice boards to find work slaying monsters. Often the rewards for such a dangerous task are meagre, and the townsfolk treat Witchers with suspicion or outright malice. These contracts, treasure hunts and all manner of sidequests are in opposition to the larger conflict of Geralt searching for his adoptive daughter Ciri. Even that small scale of a man searching for his daughter is juxtaposed against the threat the Wild Hunt pose to the world itself. They wish to use Ciri’s power for an invasion, and as if they weren’t a large enough threat on their own, the cataclysmic event known as The White Frost is the reason they had to flee their own world, and are causing havoc in the first place. Despite an attempt to stay small, and enjoy his life in relative peace, Geralt finds himself getting dragged into conflicts much larger than himself, and due to the open world nature of The Witcher 3, the player finds themselves in this same situation.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This is why I’ve read about so many people leaving The Witcher 3 in the middle of a playthrough. It becomes too overwhelming. Yes the writing is strong, the characters are fun, and the world looks beautiful as the player rides through it on Roach, but choice paralysis sets in. Which sidequest do I attempt next? What about the notice board in that town over there? Do I want to complete the armour set I’m working on? Do I want to uncover the question marks on the map near my location, or do I want to put blinders on and just plough through the main story? You’re kidding right? In the end it may be easier to just find some other way to spend one’s time. I admit if I wasn’t playing this for a video, it might have been like many other large RPGs I’ve played in the past. For whatever reason I stop playing it, I leave for a week or two, I come back to it one day, I forget how it controls and what was happening in the story, and then it feels like I need to start over or move onto another game... so I move onto another game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So the question is, besides playing through Witcher 3 for a video, what kept me going? Simply put, Geralt. This is a game where the player character is the foundation. The core of the game, and the glue that holds it together. In the tutorial at Kaer Morhen, we see Geralt act as lover to Yennifer, son to Vezemir, and Father to Ciri. These familial connections humanise him. The core conflict of the game (Geralt searching for his daughter) is easily understood motivation. Despite the complications of the plot and how big the stakes end up becoming (the literal end of the world), Geralt is just trying to help those he cares for. And they say a Witcher’s mutagens strip away their emotion. Similarly on this small scale, each quest in the game is Witcher 3 in microcosm, often utilising dialogue, witcher senses, some preparation if the player desires it, combat, and often things not being as simple as they seemed when the quest began.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The routine of the gameplay loop</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Starting off, the overwhelming nature of the open world is tapered. White Orchard is a smaller area where completing every sidequest and uncovering each question mark seems manageable alongside the main conflict of hunting down and slaying a Griffin (which is a rather modest quest in and of itself). This is why I enjoyed the final piece of DLC, Blood & Wine so much. It was much larger than White Orchard, but it too seemed self contained and manageable compared to the vast landscapes of the main game. I didn’t start reading the notice boards until about halfway through my playthrough, and the amount of question marks that littered the landscape was dizzying. I’m not a completionist by nature, but even I felt the urge to clear out as many as I could, especially on the way to other quests (or when I needed cash, since no matter what happened in the game, I always felt short on money, which helped reinforce the fantasy of playing as a Witcher).</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And that’s why each quest feels generally the same. Being a Witcher is a trade. Geralt is a professional monster slayer. Some monsters we come across are rare, or in the investigation phase of each quest, it could be any number of creatures responsible, but by and large, each day is just like the last. Even the most dangerous work can become routine, but routine can be calming, and it’s the ‘quest to quest’, ‘question mark to question mark’, or ‘contract to contract’ nature of The Witcher 3 that helps stave off the anxiety about the sheer vastness of the open world on offer. The small and familiar helps ground us in the face of the large and unknown. Once the player leaves White Orchard, they’re familiar with pretty much everything the game has to throw at them. All that remains are the twists and turns of all the narratives. The short one-offs, the multi-stage sidequests, and the main story. All are given a similar level of care, and influence each other, so it ends up being the writing itself that is the guiding force for the player during their time in this world. At least it was for me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Witcher 3 as an RPG</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I want to take some time here to talk about The Witcher 3 as a roleplaying game. Genre definitions are a contentious topic, especially when it comes to what constitutes or does not constitute an RPG. It’s been argued that The Witcher 3 is more of a third person action game than an RPG, and the open world design of it does lean more towards an Assassin’s Creed than a Baldur’s Gate, but at least according to how I define an RPG, the Witcher 3 definitely qualifies. My definition is simple. Does the character gain experience as they play which results in levelling up? Then it’s an RPG, but over the last decade, even my definition has been put through the wringer as more games add level up progression systems to keep players engaged. Witcher 3’s level up and progression systems are cumbersome to me because Geralt only has enough room to equip 12 enhancements with mutagen modifiers in the base game, so no matter how many different skills the player puts points into, they have to pick and choose their build. I much prefer a linear sort of levelling, where the overall power of the character strengthens as the game goes on (or the choices when levelling create a cumulative effect). This is somewhat handled by the Diablo 3-esque gear system, where the player is constantly equipping new swords and armour with stat increases (and augmented with runes), but I imagine most players didn’t pay this system too much attention, instead just choosing to upgrade one of the Witcher armour sets at the appropriate levels.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But that term roleplaying, that’s one of the reasons why genre definitions for RPGs in particular are messy. In most games, the player is playing a role, whether that be an omniscient overseer or the character they’re controlling. The characters can be a blank slate, or already well defined, and that’s the case here with Geralt. One reason the writing is so strong, is that Geralt and all his friends and colleagues are well defined, and well written. This seems to fly in the face of the fact that players are presented with narrative choices to allow them agency, but we can’t make Geralt go against his own nature. What we can do is choose the shade or flavour of Geralt we want to play. This means no matter how benevolent or selfish the player wants to be, the choices are only going to reflect that so far. This adds to the believability of Geralt as a character, and the fantasy of playing a Witcher. Keeping the player grounded in a character that isn’t the most important person in the world helps sell this Witcher fantasy, and the scope of the open world reinforces it. The open world itself is also a fantasy because roaming the landscape in the service of completing the checklist of question marks is the least interesting aspect of the game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>What matters most</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before writing this video I went back and watched the videos I made on The Witcher and The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings (you should check them out too). I wanted to see if what I loved about those games was in any way similar to what I love about The Witcher 3, and if the open world helps or hinders what that is. It may sound cliche, but the most important aspects of those games to me were the narrative choices, and the choices that really mattered to me are those that felt the most meaningful to Geralt. Out of all the political intrigue of the first game, the most meaningful choice is whether to send Alvin to Triss or Shani. In The Witcher 2, (well it’s funny because that video was all about choices, I had no idea what else to write about), the most important choice from that game was with Letho at the end. In both games, it wasn’t the political factions and the fate of the world that mattered, but Geralt’s relationships with those around him.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Witcher 3 is very much the same. Even with the Wild Hunt and the White Frost, what matters the most to Geralt is Ciri. I think this is exemplified by mentioning that one of the quests with the greatest impact to the world (assassinating Mad King Radovid) is a sidequest that can be ignored. The heaviest emotional moments are when Geralt first finds Ciri, the aftermath of the battle of Kaer Morhen, and the ending of the game when I wasn’t sure what happened to Ciri after she went to stop the White Frost. Even in Blood & Wine, I cared more about Geralt’s friendship to Regis then I did about Detlaff or Anna Henrietta, and the best part of Hearts of Stone is the Wedding, when Olgeird’s brother Vlodimir possesses Geralt for the evening, and you get to see how he interacts with Shani and the rest of the wedding guests.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The ending of Witcher 3 is influenced by what kind of a father figure Geralt is to Ciri, but the triggers themselves seem inconsequential while playing through the game. The greatest example of this is in Blood & Wine. When rescuing Syanna from her fairy tale prison, you can purchase Syanna’s childhood ribbon off a little girl. I thought it was a nice gesture for a character who had a rough upbringing that led to some terrible choices. Little did I know that the ribbon would save her life and lead to the death of Detlaff (who I wanted to save as well). Once again the small cascades into the big, and the most important decisions are all related to how Geralt relates to those around him. The roleplaying on offer is whether the player is resentful for how Geralt is treated with suspicion, whether they decide to just perform their duty as a Witcher and ignore everything else, or whether they treat those around them with kindness and empathy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Why the open world is important</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So it’s not to say that the open world doesn’t matter, but there’s a push and pull between small and large at play in The Witcher 3, a balancing act so deft that it works. It’s the moment to moment that’s the most important. Travelling along the roads at sunrise with Roach, taking up a new contract in a small town. Helping the people who need it, and the satisfaction of a job well done alongside their gratitude. Having a goal in mind, and helping those closest to Geralt, but always the larger world, and its larger implications looming in the distance. The player cannot help but be aware of them, and then be dragged into their vortex. It’s very similar to how a lot of self-help literature advises that the true source of peace and contentment is the ability to live in the present moment, but the difficulty of this “simple advice” is that we can’t help seeing not only the bigger picture of everything terrible going on in the world, but the suffering that could be in our own future every step along the way. It can be overwhelming and debilitate our ability to take action or interface with the world at large, and that’s definitely what’s happened to some with The Witcher 3.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The scope of the open world can be too much. It can be difficult to just focus on the current quest when you are aware of 20 other quests that need completing, let alone all the question marks on the map, and all the unexplored towns (their yellow notice boards mocking you everytime you open up the map screen). I want to say that if you can just focus on Geralt and the immediate goal in front of you at any given time, you’ll get into a rhythm of enjoying the moment while systematically making your way through the open world, but if it was that easy to be in the moment, I wouldn’t be making this comparison. To take it further, we never know what tiny interaction is going to cascade through the world and have the potential to reshape the planet. We could be the butterfly flapping its wings that causes the hurricane on the other side of the globe at any moment and we would never know it. Geralt at least has the knowledge that he’s dealing with dangerous people and forces, and he has the skills to help him survive anything that gets thrown his way, but he still has no idea how his choices are going to play out. The best he can do is the best we can do. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best, and to be there for those we care about. Being able to control someone with that knowledge and power as they make their way through an overwhelming and dangerous world may be able to give us some perspective in our own lives. It at least shows that if we just focus on what’s in front of us and make choices to the best of our ability, we can make it through, and hopefully do some good along the way. The Witcher 3’s success is due to its small scale of Geralt, his job as a Witcher, and those he forges relationships with, but without the juxtaposition of the large open world and its seismic events our own relationship with the game would not be as strong. Thanks for watching.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Questions, thank yous, and what’s next</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what are your thoughts? Did you find the open world of The Witcher 3 a positive or a negative? How did your choices shape who Geralt is? What are your thoughts about The Witcher 3 as a roleplaying game? I’d love to hear all about it down in the comments. As usual, many of the ideas that led to this video were from the writing of others. Critical Distance helped with their Witcher 3 compilation. It, and all the pieces of writing and video that shaped what this ended up becoming are linked in the description. So, what’s next? Well we’re staying in the RPG genre, kind of (hey, there’s levelling up so it counts). I’m going to be playing the closest thing we’ll probably get to a new Castlevania game, Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night. I hope you join me for that one. Thank you for your time and interest. If you enjoyed this video, I’d appreciate a like, a comment, or sharing it with your friends, and as always, I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-46411097894622546492021-05-20T06:32:00.004-07:002021-05-20T06:33:33.176-07:00Dave Recommends: Super Mega Baseball 3 (2020)<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/476FbxEsZBE" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was never an athletic child, but I have fond memories playing Little League Baseball. So much so that as I grew into an adult, I relied on those memories as my sole opinion about the sport. I would tell people that "it's a game that I had fun playing, but I found it boring otherwise". I don't know how true this is, but it felt like a smart thing to say. I did enjoy my time playing Baseball as a child, but I've never really given it the time of day as an adult. I've never really given Baseball videogames the time of day either.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Oh I've played RBI Baseball on the NES, Baseball Stars on the Neo-geo, and have fond memories of Super Baseball Simulator 1000 on the SNES (which had cyborg players and special moves for both pitcher and batter), but like Little League, that's before I reached adulthood. Super Mega Baseball 3 is the first Baseball videogame I've played since becoming an adult. I should mention that my preference for sports videogames has always leaned away from simulation. I like when the realism is sanded off. I already mentioned Super Baseball Simulator 1000, and it wouldn't surprise anyone to know I spent hours playing both NBA Jam and NFL Blitz, and I love those games dearly. Super Mega Baseball 3 made me think I would like it from its first moments due to its cast of cartoon character players.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It seems like such a small detail. It seems like it shouldn't matter at all, but for some reason having the teams in Super Mega Baseball 3 contain both male and female players struck a positive chord with me. It added a dimension to the game, an extra joy alongside the tension in the showdown between pitcher and batter. As I got a couple games under my belt, I started caring about the player gradings, to see whether or not I should use special pitches or simply try for a tricky fastball. I started learning the ridiculous names of not only my own team, but when specific players of the opposing team came up to bat I would say to myself "Ah, you return. I know how to deal with you", and then I would swear as they hit a line drive and got on base after I fucked up the controls and failed the dive to catch the ball. I feel like as I played through a season or a franchise, or even if I made my own team, I would become more strongly attached to these misfits with each successive game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And while the characters are cartoony, the controls are easy to learn, and the game is sufficiently arcadey enough for my liking, I feel like there's a lot more complexity beneath the surface. I think the game is far from a baseball simulation, but I could feel the gulf between what I was doing with the game, and what high level play would be, either against the computer on a higher difficulty, or against a human opponent. I wonder if I would be able to work out the more complex plays and nuances of play on my own, or if I'd have to go searching for tips among the game's community. Both options feel like they're worth pursuing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The reason I'm recommending Super Mega Baseball 3 is it got me to care about the sport of Baseball again. If you enjoy the arcadey side of sports videogames, or are a lapsed Baseball fan, I think there's something here for you. I've only hit one home run in the game so far, but it was as euphoric a moment as any I can remember in a videogame over the last year. I mean for once the joy of hitting the ball wasn't replaced with the crushing disappointment of it landing in an outfielder's mitt. The highs and lows of Super Mega Baseball 3 in a microcosm.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-26032309947857452442021-04-08T19:39:00.003-07:002021-04-08T19:39:34.455-07:00Planescape: Torment (1999) is asking the wrong question<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TSxk7AQHry8" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You tell em Dracula. You know, Dracule has a point. Yeah, I didn’t just reference Symphony of the Night because it’s fun, but because there’s a tenuous link to Planescape: Torment which is what I want to talk about today. Like The Nameless One, Dracula is immortal. He’s lived countless lives, and through his time has amassed a lot of knowledge and power. As his nature is evil, he’s also done a lot of harm. How long does one have to live before one starts to forget what they’ve done in the past? Does Dracula remember each atrocity and triumph, and if not, how far back does his memory go? In Planescape: Torment, The Nameless One wakes up on a slab in the mortuary with amnesia. Throughout the game we learn who this character is. How he has lived maybe even longer than Dracula, and all the good and bad he has done in that time. We run into characters who know The Nameless One from a past incarnation, and treat him as though he was that same person, or if they are aware of his nature, they tread cautiously wondering who The Nameless One is this time around. It’s only near the end of the game that we learn from Ravel Puzzlewell the exact nature of The Nameless One, and the question at the heart of the game is asked, “What can change the nature of a man?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The Nameless One has lived many lives, and done many things within those lifetimes. In some lifetimes he has been lawful good, in others chaotic evil, and every alignment in between. It seems that The Nameless One has lived as many different types of lives as there are planes in the Planescape setting. Everytime he dies, he loses his memory so upon waking and circumstance, he gets the chance to be someone else. Ravel asks “what can change the nature of a man?” because she is the one who originally separated The Nameless One from his mortality. She wonders what can cause the same man to walk so many different paths, and if the change is due to any one power in the multiverse. She desires The Nameless One’s answer to this question, and when people talk about Planescape: Torment, it is this question that is given the most weight. It’s certainly an interesting question, at least philosophically. Do you believe we are capable of change, and if so, are any of the answers available sufficient enough to satisfy you? They’re certainly enough to satisfy Ravel, because she isn’t really interested in the truth, she just wants to know what The Nameless One believes.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now the title of this video may lead you to believe that I don’t think this is the right question, and I don’t, but it doesn’t mean I don’t think this is a good question. I think it’s a very important question. I think so because of the revelation of who The Nameless One is and how this question magnificently undercuts the player’s actions up to this point. Most players (myself included) will be playing the game in a morally good manner. We’ll be completing quests for random people who need help, and we’ll be polite while talking to everyone, especially our party members. It’s not that the urge to do bad isn’t there. Planescape: Torment allows the player to indulge in evil if they so wish. You can be mean, spiteful, ruthless, callous towards the feelings and lives of others, and you can even choose to kill those who follow you to increase your own power. I believe most players will try and be a good person. While this game is more nuanced in its morality than say Mass Effect, the revelation that a very low percentage of players chose the renegade path in that game does not surprise me. I truly believe that most of us are trying to be the best we know how to be, and that’s reflected in how we play characters in role playing games. It can be fun to let loose and be nasty in a virtual setting every once in a while, but it does make me feel uncomfortable. The point is that for the majority of Planescape: Torment the player has been playing a good person. There have been instances where we learn that the past incarnations were different, but it isn’t until Ravel that we learn just how bad The Nameless One’s past is. That’s why the question has weight. If we’re so bad, why are we playing a good character now? What can change the nature of a man?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At the very end of the game we come across 3 past incarnations of The Nameless One. 4 if we count The Nameless One’s mortality, but we’ll talk about him a little later. There’s the good incarnation, the original. He lived a life of power, and was responsible for so heinous an act that he sought out Ravel so he could escape his fate in the lower planes upon his death. There’s the paranoid incarnation, who upon waking up, finding his body covered with scars, and seeing the ghost of Deionarra lost his mind, and spent his lifetimes causing untold chaos, undoing a lot of the clues previous incarnations had left for his future selves. Finally there’s the practical incarnation, and what a bastard this one is. All of the torment your companions have gone through, the awful acts The Nameless One learns about himself throughout the game, this was the doing of the practical incarnation. Practical indeed. Through the game, the player can choose to run parallel to the personalities of these three, but I think most players by following their own path will be different to all of them. This is where the question that Ravel poses rings hollow for me. The Nameless One has changed a lot in his countless lives, but if he loses his memory upon each death, is he really changing at all?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s a question of semantics, but I think it’s an important one. If The Nameless One loses his memory upon each death, is he responsible for the actions of his previous selves? It’s not as simple as being a blank slate. The scars are still on his body, and the consequences of his past actions are still out there in the world. The question then becomes when does The Nameless One start becoming responsible for the actions of his past selves? When he remembers? When he merges with his mortality, or was he always responsible, and being ignorant of his past is no excuse? I just don’t see how The Nameless One could change his nature without choosing to change his nature. I think forgetting who you are and becoming someone else is entirely different.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So why does Ravel ask what can change the nature of a man? I think she asks this question for herself. The Nameless One understands that Ravel only cared about his answer, and that’s because Ravel only cares about him. She is in love with him, or at least the incarnation that first came to her asking to be removed from his mortality. To accomplish this task, the good incarnation used flattery. He spoke the words Ravel longed to hear, as can the player during this encounter with her. Ravel knows the words are honeyed lies but she wants to believe they’re real. She wants to believe The Nameless One can love her. I think that’s why she asks the question. If The Nameless One’s nature can change, then perhaps he can change into someone who loves her for real. Perhaps realising that he cannot is one of the reasons she chooses to die by his hand no matter how the conversation plays out.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But the game doesn’t end there. The Nameless One still has to find out who he is, and in doing so we might find an answer to the questions about responsibility posed before. The final location of the game is the Fortress of Regret, a sanctuary made into a home of The Transcendent One, The Nameless One’s mortality made manifest. The Transcendent One has been going around killing everyone who can point The Nameless One in his direction, either through sending out shadows (the ghosts of the innocents who have to die so The Nameless One can live again), or by doing the deed himself. There are many ways to end this encounter with The Transcendent one. The one I chose was by threatening annihilation. Earlier in the game I had a blacksmith make a weapon that could even kill an immortal. The Nameless One threatens The Transcendent One with suicide. Despite being torn from each other, the two share a link, and if one were to disappear, the other would follow. This forces The Transcendent One to merge with The Nameless One, but there is an option for The Nameless One to use the weapon on himself. This is after merging with the other incarnations, so perhaps at this point, annihilation is a fitting end for the character.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am glad I decided to merge. While I think annihilation is more fitting for The Nameless One, all of his companions would stay dead if I were to take that option. Upon merging with his mortality, The Nameless One remembers everything. He uses his magic to bring all his companions back to life. They are allowed to move on. Now being whole, The Nameless One has to answer for his lifetimes of torment by fighting in the Blood War. This is a punishment he is at peace with. Now, it seems that even after merging with his previous incarnations and understanding some of the horrors he had wrought throughout lifetimes, the true scope of The Nameless One’s knowledge and power did not manifest until he was reunited with his mortality. It wasn’t until the final merging, that The Nameless One was held accountable for his actions, despite all the torment inflicted by the practical and paranoid incarnations. But was he a different being once he had merged with these previous incarnations?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">What I’m getting at is that from my perspective, the only thing that changes the nature of this man is memory. By not knowing his past he is free to pursue a new present and future for good or for ill. It does get a bit thorny when you bring The Transcendent One into it, and if you think of it as The Nameless One’s soul, and/or the source of his true power. Funnily enough, back when Ravel asks the infamous question, “memory” is not a possible answer. Maybe because it seems so binary. You either know your past, or you don’t. That’s why so many memories in the game are akin to levelling up, and the biggest experience boost is when The Nameless One finally discovers his own name. It’s only when this jigsaw of identity is complete, that everyone is able to move onto something new.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what are your thoughts? What do you think can change the nature of a man? Do you think The Nameless One should be held responsible for his past? How do you view The Transcendent One? I’d love to hear all about it down in the comments. Last time I said I bet there’d be a lot of great writing on Planescape: Torment and boy was I right. Links to all of the great pieces of work that helped inform this video are in the description. So, what’s next? Well it’s time to tackle a behemoth. It’s one of the first games I made an impressions video out of in 2016, and I’ve been looking forward to playing it ever since. That’s right, it’s The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. I’m finally doing it. Now as you might imagine, it’s going to take me a while just to play through it, let alone make a video, but rest assured, I’ll be working to complete it as fast as I can. If you enjoyed this video, I would love anything you can do to get it in front of more eyeballs. Thanks for watching, and I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-50759560600156490812021-03-04T19:04:00.004-08:002021-03-04T19:04:33.579-08:00 The Futility of Playing Prince of Persia<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FmLUjNT6pus" width="560"></iframe></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Prince of Persia (2008) starts off like a tale out of Arabian Nights. A rogue wanders the desert, loses himself in a sandstorm and falls into a story. A princess is being chased by palace guards, her father having made a pact with a dark god, and the rogue decides to help the girl by bringing life back to the desolate land. Then we play the game and come to the ending. Spoilers from here on out.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Elika has been using her lifeforce to heal the fertile grounds. The final healing, the one that takes place after the final boss fight, it kills her, but this is not the end of the game. In videogames, we always save the girl, so it's no surprise that the player is still in control of the Prince as he carries Elika’s body out of the temple. Each of the four sprawling areas of the game are now represented by 4 trees, and the player has to take his sword to each of them. It’s up to us to undo everything we’ve spent the entire game accomplishing, leading to an ending where Elika and the Prince are running from the unleashed dark god Ahriman. Sure if you’re playing the game on console, there’s DLC to right this wrong, but as a PC player playing the original release, having to end the game exactly where it started made me wonder why I spent all those hours playing it. This video’s purpose is to explore whether or not there was any actual point in playing Prince of Persia, and why. Enjoy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Elika</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">You know that saying that the destination is not the point, it’s the journey that matters? For most games I would agree. The joy of them comes in the act of playing. Often a strong or even satisfying ending feels like a bonus. That such endings seem to be rare we’ll overlook. It can be overlooked because the act of playing the game itself is the memorable and enjoyable part of the experience. I did not find that to be the case with Prince of Persia. I think that’s why I was so mad when the game kept going after the initial credits. “Wait, I’ve beaten the final boss and saved the day, and you want me to play more of this? Ugh.” So why am I so down on the gameplay? Why did I find the act of playing Prince of Persia so tedious and frustrating? A good place to start is Elika and her utility to the player.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Move over Elizabeth, move over Ellie, because Elika was the birth of the unobtrusive helpful AI companion (why do they all have names that start with E?). If the player wants to, they can talk to Elika to learn more about the areas they’re exploring, but that’s something I rarely did. During platforming, pressing the Elika button will engage a double jump, and during combat the same button will fling Elika into the foe as a magic attack. Her most important role however is savior. Prince of Persia has no lives. If the player fails a platforming challenge or gets outclassed in a fight, rather than dying and having to suffer through a loading screen, Elika reaches out her hand and rescues the Prince. Within seconds we’re either back at the last piece of solid ground, or back in the fight, the enemy having regained a chunk of their health. It’s Elika’s ability to rescue the Prince that I feel is at the heart of the problems plaguing Prince of Persia, and it’s likely not for the reasons you think.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Inconsistency</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My biggest problem with Prince of Persia is the inconsistency of the platforming. Let’s start with the double jump. Sometimes it’s obvious that the upcoming gap is too wide for the Prince to jump across and that the Elika button needs to be pressed. More often than not, I would only know a gap was too wide because the screen started to grey, letting me know that if I didn’t press that button immediately Elika would reach out her hand and I’d have to try again. Next let’s talk about the blobs. Part way through the game, blobs are introduced as a platforming obstacle. They crawl up and down the wall, the idea being to wall run around them when they’re out of the way. The issue is that by this point, the game is throwing large platforming sequences at the player. Often the player will have to circumvent the blobs on multiple occasions during a sequence, and the blobs at the end won’t be visible when the player chooses to start the run. I can line up my wall-run to avoid the blobs at the start, but by the time I get to the final wall-run, there’s no way to avoid the blobs and I get sent back to the beginning. Also, depending on where the player hits the wall to start a wall-run, the wall might run out before the animation is finished, or you finish too early, and it’s time for Elika to rescue the Prince once more.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think rather than finetuning the platforming and level design to account for these inconsistencies, the fact that the player couldn’t die, that if they fell an animation would play and Elika would save them, was used as a band-aid to cover up the problem. I failed a lot during my time with Prince of Persia. I saw that Elika animation again and again. I swore more during the 10 hour runtime of Prince of Persia than the 37 hours I spent playing Dark Souls. There was a clear distinction too. It was very obvious when I was at fault. During these instances when the animation played, I knew what I had done wrong and I prepared to try again. Most of the time however, I felt the game was at fault. That’s when the swears would come out. After a string of such failures (often related to the blobs) I would blurt out “Just tell me what you want me to do.” Yes there’s no loading screens, and being rescued by Elika only takes a couple of seconds, but when the player feels that the game is at fault for wasting those couple of seconds, not only does that time add up, but the player’s enjoyment and tolerance built up from the parts that do work is ground down, and that was my experience.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Rhythm and Flow</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now the main criticism against the deathless mechanic has been it removes the stakes from the game. Never mind that we’re still having ridiculous arguments about difficulty in games in 2021, but back in 2008, the idea that a game would remove death altogether felt different, and many were not happy about it. They felt that it removed all tension from the game. It removed any stakes, and it removed the challenge because there was no penalty for failure. Now this removal of challenge I kind of agree with, but that’s because the game has an open world nature, so there’s no steady progression of difficulty. It’s all kind of flat. Anyway, would it surprise you that my thoughts about why the deathless mechanic is a bad idea come at it from the other side? I’ve mentioned that the deathless mechanic feels like a band-aid, but what it’s covering up is also going against the aims of the developers.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In an interview with Joystiq (hey remember Joystiq?) Prince of Persia producer Ben Mattes had this to say. “In many ways, we actually consider Prince of Persia to be a rhythm game in its platforming sequences, because when it works well, you get into the same sort of Zen-like state when you're platforming that you have in Guitar Hero. The world just shuts down and it just washes over you; you're completely lost in the experience. You're not picking out things like, "I have to press 'A' to do this," or "I have to press 'B' to do that" – just like you're not thinking, "I have to use this finger to hit the green key." Anyone who's played Guitar Hero for a couple of weeks ... they're not even thinking anymore about what their fingers are doing.” Now does this sense of rhythm and flow, and not having to think about your next button press sound like the experience of the game I’ve painted so far? No. Elika is supposed to be part of that. Did you just fall down? Well get back up and return to that non-thinking state. Be the platforming. Unfortunately instead, the lack of death is covering up a lack of platforming polish. When the platforming is inconsistent, and the inconsistency is in part because it’s so easy to just try again, needless to say the times I fell into this flow state Mattes describes were few and far between.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The Best Moment</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Having mentioned that I thought an escalation of challenge was lacking due to the open world nature of the game, it may not surprise you to discover that the one time I felt both a sense of challenge and a sense of flow was during the final battle with Ahriman. The battle has long sequences of platforming. There was tension, there was reading the landscape in front of me and there was a thrill with wondering if I could get through the encounter unscathed. In this fight, I feel I experienced the game the way it was meant to be. I saw the game at its best, and it’s a shame that it only happened during the final boss. I was about to leave the game happy, not only because of what I had just played through but because I found the revelation that Elika had been using her life to revitalise the fertile grounds genuinely shocking. I thought it bold. Right at the end, the game course corrected and I felt like all the frustration I experienced to get to this point was worth it… and then I had to undo it all.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Destroying the four trees to bring Elika back to life contained more frustration with the game’s platforming inconsistency, but I also felt anger that the game was making me do this. You can argue that I could have walked away during the credits, but if there’s still game to play, I’m going to play it. It’s like those games that make the player commit horrific violence and then chastise them for it. It rings hollow. I resented Prince of Persia for not ending on its strongest moment, and undercutting everything that I had struggled to accomplish. Prince of Persia fought me every step of the way and with its final moments metaphorically flipped me the bird. I don’t care if there’s a DLC epilogue. After this experience, I wouldn’t want to play it. This is why I think playing Prince of Persia was ultimately a futile experience.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Questions, thank yous, and what’s next</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what are your thoughts? Did you enjoy your time with Prince of Persia? What do you think of the deathless mechanic? Did you play the Epilogue DLC, and if so, did it change your view of the game? I’d love to hear all about it down in the comments. Well that was fun. I often don’t play games I dislike all the way through, but it can be a positive. It helps strengthen my critical muscles to find out what wasn’t working for me. I hope you enjoyed it. There were a few pieces of criticism that helped inform my view on the game and links to them are in the description. That’s another critique down, and not long after the last one. Wow. Unfortunately I don’t think the turnaround for the next critique will be as speedy. I’m playing Planescape: Torment. It’s about time. I’ve wanted to play through it for years, and I bet there’s a lot of great criticism already written on it too. I hope you stick around for that one. I have a feeling it’s going to be good. If you enjoyed this video I’d appreciate anything you can do that helps get it in front of more eyeballs. Thanks for watching, and I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-7599700012670805952021-02-07T17:22:00.001-08:002021-02-07T17:22:22.329-08:00The Tension of Exploring Dark Souls<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gkAM9-HlvoQ" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Intro</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In Dark Souls the environment is everything. It’s the secret to the game’s success. Its interconnected world, the tension and reward of exploration, and yes, even its famed difficulty. To demonstrate, let me relay to you the story of how I dealt with the Black Knights throughout my playthrough. I have attempted to play Dark Souls a couple times over the years, and have had little success in defeating the first knight in the Undead Burg. You meet him down a cramped hallway. The easiest way to deal with most enemies early on is to circle around them and attempt a backstab. This first encounter provides no opportunity. The second encounter is little better, being a tiny circular rampart at the top of a staircase. I avoided both knights. The first one I defeated was in the Darkroot Basin. Yes the cliffside I fought him on isn’t that spacious, but it was enough room. I was able to backstab and the knight fell. That’s why I found the Darkroot knight easier than the one guarding the player’s cell in the Undead Asylum. To come out of these tight encounters unscathed the player has to be confident in their ability to parry, and I was too scared to learn until I reached Anor Londo.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s not that Anor Londo is cramped like those first encounters. There’s plenty of room to circle around the knights and backstab, but there’s so many knights, and it felt like to get through the area with as little headache as possible, I would need to learn to parry. I did so. Not gracefully, and even towards the end of the game, I would still feel a tightness in my shoulders before hitting the button, but when I hit the parry successfully, I gained confidence to try again, and I think I got pretty decent at it. At the Kiln of the First Flame, the final area, the player is given a wide open space to fight the knights on the path to Gwyn. Because of Gwyn’s susceptibility to parrying, it’s in the player’s best interest to practise it on the knights despite the room given to circle strafe around them. But what about enemies that can’t be parried? How does the environment affect them? Well, what makes the Taurus and Capra demons so difficult when first encountered are the cramped environments they reside in. When the player comes across these fools out in the open, aside from the sheer amount of them, they’re far less imposing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So is the only reason the knights and demons are difficult related to the environment the player first encounters them in? I think so. In my story I mentioned the tighter spaces forcing me to learn to parry. In my Demon’s Souls impressions from a few years back, I talked about how the blue-eye knight in the tutorial forced me to learn how to parry, and I think the placement of the Black Knights in the Undead Burg are there for a similar reason. The problem is that removed from the tutorial, the thought of parrying these imposing figures when the player has little confidence in their skills is too much to ask. Part of the difficulty of Dark Souls is that it explains so little to the player. It drops them in Lordran, tells them the bare minimum they need to get going, and then doesn’t even say “good luck”. What I’m interested in exploring in this video is just what is it about Dark Souls that keeps players going? To tug on that thread of the difficulty being related to its environment and see where it leads, and finally to address the notoriety of the game’s difficulty, and how that relates to its fandom. Let’s begin by talking about Lordran.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Exploring new spaces</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I like exploring new spaces. It’s why so much of my channel is videos where I play new games for a short amount of time. I am compelled by novelty. Its why exploration is my favourite thing about videogames, and Lordran excels in facilitating exploration. How it does so is fascinating because I think it’s at the heart of why so many people bounce off the game, and yet also at the heart of why those that persevere regard Dark Souls as one of their favourite gaming experiences. Exploration in Dark Souls is oppressive. As a new player, anything can kill you if you’re not careful. As an experienced player, this is true as well, but less likely due to the player’s knowledge and the confidence that knowledge provides. If a new player explores too much when they reach Firelink Shrine, they might find themselves in the Graveyard or down in the New Londo Ruins where they’ll be unceremoniously destroyed. If they don’t give up after those deaths and find their way to the Undead Burg, two lessons will have been imparted by this slaughter. 1) exploring will lead to exciting treasure, and 2) if you don’t explore cautiously, you’re going to die.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But it’s not just the treasure itself that’s exciting. It’s the offshoots that lead to the treasure. I remember in Bioshock Infinite when I found out I could press a button to have an arrow show me which way was the path the game wanted me to take, I would push it, and I would then run in the opposite direction. I feel the fog gates in Dark Souls are a little like that. I’d come across one and think to myself, “Did I fully explore this area yet? What about that offshoot back there? Let’s check that out.” While the treasure is exciting, the player has to really desire the spoils if they’re going to access them, as they’re often guarded by tougher enemies, making the act of exploration itself special. When the player doesn’t know what’s around the next corner. When they haven’t yet made a mental map of the area they’re exploring, when everything is new. That’s when I was having the most fun with the game. Coming across a bonfire, or opening a shortcut is a huge rush, but only because it cements a further understanding of the area. The player is filling in their mental map. That’s why crossing a fog door is terrifying. It’s a further venturing into the unknown, but it’s exhilarating because it’s an opportunity to update the player’s understanding of the game’s environment. And if it’s a boss, well defeating it will result in forward progress, and like in Demon’s Souls, progress is the most important treasure of all.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Lordran doesn’t care about you</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Another element that makes exploration so tense is how the game regards the player. Lordran is a dead world. Enemies have gone hollow, hanging around where they spent their lives, attacking anyone who comes near. Territorial monsters have taken over, and the gods, who made this world what it is, are shambling around as husks of their former selves. In other games, the player would be the righteous hero, valiantly restoring order by disposing of those who keep the world oppressed, but the goal of the player on their first playthrough of Dark Souls is to rekindle the flame, a sacrifice to keep this world alive a little longer... if alive is even a good word for what Lordran has become. No matter what choice the player makes though, it’s futile. Lordran is not changed. It resets. All the killing, the soul collectiong, the levelling up, it ultimately doesn’t matter. The player may retain their skills and equipment, but the world is how it was before they arrived. Lordran doesn’t care about the player. The world is openly hostile to them. Even the characters you talk to can lose their humanity and attack the player on sight. When we play Dark Souls, when we engage in the joy of exploration, in search of treasure and adventure, we are trespassing. The denizens of Lordran treat us like an intruder. I think that’s why I felt a lack of accomplishment when I finally defeated a boss that was giving me a lot of trouble.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Earlier I stated the importance of progress in Dark Souls. I learned the lesson in Demon’s Souls that while losing souls out in the world never feels good, it’s ultimately not that big a deal considering the amount a player receives when they defeat a boss. Sure I might get an extra level, or the ability to buy some more titanite, but since the bosses usually act as a capstone for the exploration of an area, the large soul reward signals that the area has been bested. It’s a finality, signalling the end of successful exploration until the process begins anew. With that being said, and combined with the accomplishment that is supposed to accompany defeating a tough foe, why did beating a boss never make me happy? At the most I was relieved that I had broken through the wall that stood in my way, but the accomplishment was dampened by the knowledge that behind the wall I just broke through stood another wall. A thicker wall. Sure there’s a reprieve where I get to engage in the joy of exploration before reaching each new wall, but that I would eventually reach a new wall always loomed in my mind.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>The purpose of Dark Souls</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">These feelings I have run in opposition to the purpose of Dark Souls. The game’s director Hidetaka Miyazaki has gone on record stating that the difficulty of Dark Souls is not an end in itself. The difficulty is not the point. The purpose of the game’s difficulty is to allow the player a feeling of accomplishment when they persevere and eventually overcome the game’s challenges. It’s meant to facilitate a moment of catharsis in the player. “Sure I might have thrown myself at the meat grinder of Manus almost a dozen times, but you know what? I eventually won. I feel great! What’s next?” I feel like that’s the thought process that Miyazaki wants the player to experience. My experience is more along the lines of “I threw myself at Manus almost a dozen times, and it’s over. I finally fucking beat the fucker. Holy shit, now I can move onto Gwyn. The game’s almost fucking over. Hooray!” Needless to say the bosses never gave me that feeling of accomplishment that Miyazaki talked about and that so many other players seem to experience, so of course I started questioning why that is.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I think there are a few reasons. Firstly is one of the reasons I was praising not too long ago, that Lordran doesn’t care about the player. That the player feels like an intruder. Most of the enemies, including the bosses are undead. They’re attacking out of reflex. They’ve lost their minds. Where is the triumph when it feels like most boss fights have ended with me putting my opponent out of their misery? It’s like how everyone always brings up the fight with Sif. How sad it is that the poor dog starts limping near the end of the battle. That Sif doesn’t want to kill the player (especially if you rescue it in Oolacile), but they’re duty bound to, to try and stop what happened to their master from happening to anyone else. Delving into the backstories of the characters in Dark Souls reveals similar sad tales, but they’re not all communicated as well as Sif. Miyazaki in the Design Works interview states that he wanted to convey the sense of pain and torment in the design of the boss Ceaseless Discharge, but most players saw little more than a flaming giant. Similarly, the general tone of the game was never one of power fantasy and triumph for me. I saw a deadly world of beauty and sadness. It feels like the reasons I found Lordran so enthralling to explore worked against any sense of accomplishment I felt after defeating the bosses. It makes me wonder if I’m even the target audience for the game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Miyazaki said that the game’s difficulty is meant to impart a great sense of accomplishment. If that’s the case, then what kind of player is Dark Souls best suited towards? I would say the type of player that sees overcoming a difficult challenge as a badge of honour. They feel that triumph when they overcome the bosses of Dark Souls, and then can use that feeling to propel themselves forward. I think it’s this internal motivation of overcoming challenge that leads some to look for external validations by boasting about their accomplishments. After all, what good is the feeling of overcoming a great challenge if you have no one to share it with? But we’re passing over an unanswered question as we move from Dark Souls’ famed difficulty into discussing its intended audience. Is Dark Souls actually that difficult? Does it warrant the praise of an audience who is seeking to overcome its challenges for these badges of honour? I would say no.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It’s a strange assertion to make too. I got stuck on many of the bosses. I felt frustration. Some of the bosses caused me to not want to play the game for days at a time. Dark Souls certainly felt difficult as I was playing it, but I think that’s mainly because like I said before, Dark Souls doesn’t explain itself to the player. Working out what the game wanted from me required experimentation, a willingness to explore, or to check online for a solution. A lot of the games’ lessons I had already learned in Demon’s Souls and from my previous attempt at Dark Souls back in 2014, but now having completed the game, I couldn’t tell you how to craft a good weapon, how the magic system works, or what happened to most of the folks hanging around Firelink Shrine. Sure I reached the game’s credits, but I don’t feel like I gained a mastery or understanding over the game itself, and because of that, I feel like I might have wasted my time.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Perseverance and time</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In an impressions video of Dark Souls 3 I talked about difficulty being an internal factor rather than an external factor. The difficulty of Dark Souls isn’t in the game itself but rather in how the player responds to the game. Perseverance and time. For a player to continue to play this game, they have to have the perseverance to continue to keep pushing ahead after repeated failure. They have to dedicate the time to keep coming back to Lordran in order to maintain that push. How much time are you willing to spend to overcome a challenge in a videogame? I’ve talked before how each player has to have that conversation with themselves for each game they attempt, because some games won’t be worth the time commitment in order to be able to push through the game’s barriers. Even then, depending on how obtuse the game is or how much fun the player is having will determine if they come back each time they turn the game off. Dark Souls was difficult to keep returning to, especially when I was stuck on a boss and I didn’t have any of the exploration I adored so much to placate me as I repeatedly threw myself into the meat grinder. If I hadn’t chosen to write a critique on the game, I honestly believe I would have never beaten it. I would have given up. To me, Dark Souls was not worth the time commitment, and I think that’s why I found it to be such a difficult game.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And this is me as a player using all the tricks at my disposal to get through it (well, except magic. I played a magic user in Demon’s Souls, and wanted to tackle Dark Souls with a melee build for a different perspective). I gotta tell you though. There were so many times that I thought about restarting my playthrough with a Pyromancer and following a guide through the rest of the game. Anyways, I’m saying this because when I was stuck on bosses, I used summoning, I looked up tactics online, and if a weapon, shield, or ring could give me an advantage, I’d take that advantage, and still, I found the game difficult. Now let’s move back to the community. Watching others play the game, it’s remarkable how many self-imposed rules these players abide by. They don’t summon, they don’t use magic, they don’t use items. Some challenge themselves by not healing during boss encounters. This feels like a continuation of the idea that overcoming the challenge of Dark Souls is meant to be taken as a badge of honour. If the game as is no longer presents a sufficient level of difficulty to overcome, why not up the ante? It’s like those players that spice up their Zelda runs by collecting as few heart containers as possible.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Scratching that itch</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So let’s return to the start of the critique when I told my tale of learning to parry. Defeating Gwyn by parrying his attacks was insultingly simple. After the pain and frustration of pushing through the DLC content, the final boss was less final than I would have liked. I appreciated that Gwyn was not as hard as Manus (because fuck that), but the end of the game felt anti-climactic. Perhaps that’s why when the credits rolled and I found the game restarting in the Undead Asylum, I decided to at least play the tutorial. Maybe I could defeat the Asylum Demon when it first jumped down from the rooftops. I did. It felt great. I flew to Firelink and left the game there, for now. Just like after I completed Demon’s Souls, the pull to return to Dark Souls is strong. Not just to do another loop of the game with my character in New Game Plus, but to follow that guide with the Pyromancer, to see what I missed, and to have a feeling of conquering the game, because even with how easy I found Gwyn, There’s an itch left that I haven’t been able to scratch.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Part of that itch is the design itself. Dark Souls always restarts. It becomes exponentially tougher in New Game Plus each time through. The player is never the most powerful being in Lordran. It makes me feel like I always have unfinished business. There’s always a new challenge waiting for me, and alongside that new challenge is the same enjoyment of exploration that captivated me the first time through. I think that’s why other players impose these restrictions on themselves. Even if the base game holds little challenge for them, they’re still drawn to the world, and they find ways to make it worth their while. If beating Ornstein & Smough no longer warrants a badge of honour, beating them with no summons, or with an underlevelled weapon might do the trick. Remember that difficulty is just perseverance and time. If a player can justify the time to themselves, then they should feel that sense of accomplishment Miyazaki was wanting to instill, no matter the challenge.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">So while I didn’t enjoy my time in Dark Souls, I’m glad I was able to play through it. I think at the end of this project, I have a better understanding of the type of player this game was made for. I’m not that type of player, but even I experienced sprinklings of their motivation. My favourite moments in Dark Souls were exploring Lordran. Not knowing what was around each new corner, and the tension and thrill that came with discovering what lay at the end of each new path. It’s also where I experienced frustration as cramped boss arenas and blind corners made many fights more infuriating than I wanted them to be. For good or ill, it’s the layout of Lordran, far beyond its interconnectedness that lies at the heart of Dark Souls. Where the enemies are placed, where the treasure is placed, and what is beyond each fog door. It’s this layout that keeps those that love the game coming back, and its what can frustrate new players enough to never load up the game again. I think it can also convert the former to the latter given enough time and perseverance. Funny that.</div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Questions, thank yous, and what’s next</b></div></b><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now I’d love to hear from you. What are your thoughts on the difficulty of Dark Souls? Do you agree or disagree with my conclusion that it’s the world the keeps people away while also pulling experienced players back? What is the most memorable experience of your time in Lordran? I’d love to hear all about it down in the comments. This video took some time to research. As you can imagine, a lot has been written on the Souls series over the years, and I’d like to thank Critical Distance for archiving some of the best articles, vidoes, and essays in their critical compilation of the game. It helped me out a lot. Links to the compilation and to all the works that informed my understanding of Dark Souls are in the description. And there we go. Dark Souls done. I’m changing gears for the next critique. I’ve always wanted to play through Prince of Persia. The 2008 reboot. The one with the cel shading. So I’m going to do that and write a critique on it. Hopefully that won’t take as long to come out. We’ll see. For everyone still watching, thank you for your interest and your patience, and I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div></div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-42273702832685571182020-10-08T00:28:00.002-07:002020-10-08T00:28:09.624-07:00Unbreaking the circle of Bioshock (A critique of Burial at sea)<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jRp8mBIc0zA" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>[Introduction]</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There’s a scene that struck me as out of place in Bioshock Infinite. On the way to retrieve Chen Lin’s tools, Booker and Elizabeth visit a saloon in Shantytown. Upon entering its basement, Elizabeth notices a guitar. Booker picks it up and begins to strum, and Elizabeth sings a verse from the hymn ‘Will the circle be unbroken’. I wondered why Booker would start strumming the chords to a hymn, when he refused his baptism, but the importance of this moment is in the name of the song. Will the circle be unbroken? The hymn is about leaving the broken circle of pain and suffering on the earthly realm for something better in the sky. It’s a nice allegory to the purpose of Columbia itself (at least what its creators see it as) but here’s the problem. Before a circle can be unbroken, there has to exist a circle in the first place. After completing Burial at sea, the two final episodes of downloadable content for Bioshock Infinite, I wondered the point of what I had just played. Having written the video you are watching now, I have an answer. Irrational Games were trying to unbreak a circle, not just for Bioshock Infinite, but the franchise itself, and to do so, they needed to create a circle encapsulating their two games. The following video contains my thoughts and feelings regarding Burial at sea, and how I interpreted it. Enjoy.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>[Story recap]</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We’ll begin by going over what happens during Burial at sea. If you’d like to skip the story recap, you can head onto the next chapter of the video. Episode 1 starts in the office of Booker Dewitt during the heyday of Rapture. He is a private investigator. Elizabeth enters the office. Booker does not recognize her. She wants Mr. Dewitt to find a young girl named Sally who has gone missing. Booker was looking after her and lost her during a regular bout of drinking and gambling. To get a lead on Sally’s wearabouts, Booker and Elizabeth gain access to Sander Cohen’s party. Cohen agrees to share his information if Booker and Elizabeth will dance for him. Elizabeth is cagey about this, and Cohen picks up on her lack of honesty regarding her dance partner. He electrocutes them both, and sends them to where the young girl was taken, Frank Fontaine’s Department Store that Andrew Ryan sent to the bottom of the ocean.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Booker and Elizabeth find out Sally is in the vents, hiding from Fontaine’s mad splicer army. In order to coax the little girl out, they close the vents. The plan is to turn the heat up, causing Sally to exit through the final vent where they’ll be waiting for her. Booker is against this as it might hurt the girl, and Elizabeth responds that she will turn up the heat herself if he does not. Booker goes through with the plan. When trying to grab Sally, Booker realises she is now a Little Sister, as her screams call forth a Big Daddy. We help Booker put down her protector, but when he goes to grab Sally again, his memories return.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We are not playing as Booker Dewitt. We are playing as Zachary Comstock. This is a Comstock who when trying to pull baby Anna through the portal, had the portal close around her neck, decapitating the child. Disgusted with himself, he had the Luteces send him to Rapture, forgetting his sins through alcoholism, just like the Booker from Bioshock Infinite. One of the Elizabeths travelled to this universe and sought Comstock’s help in order to make him realise what he had done, and to then punish him for it. We find out the Big Daddy was not killed. As Elizabeth is admonishing Comstock, it gets up, and rams a drill right through Comstock’s torso, splattering Elizabeth with blood as she watches with satisfaction. This ends episode 1.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Episode 2 begins in Paris. We are playing as Elizabeth. She is enjoying the idyllic scenery and friendly atmosphere. This dream turns into a nightmare when Elizabeth comes across Sally. As she chases the small girl, the streets grow ever darker. Elizabeth chases Sally to Booker Dewitt’s office, opening onto the furnace where she insisted they turn up the heat to oust the little girl from the vents. Elizabeth wakes up next to Comstock’s corpse as Atlas and his splicers are searching it. The voice of Booker tells Elizabeth what she needs to say to Atlas in order to save her life. Elizabeth tells Atlas she knows Suchong, and can get Atlas and his army back up to Rapture, but only if he gives her Sally in return. Atlas agrees to these terms.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When leaving the scene of Comstock’s death, Elizabeth comes across her own corpse. Her memory returns. The Big Daddy that had killed Comstock killed her as well, but she wanted to come back to this universe. Maybe it was the guilt of using an innocent girl to get revenge. It would explain why she agrees to help Atlas if it will keep Sally safe. Regardless, her memory includes a warning from the Luteces. If she returns to this reality, one in which she died, it will erase her powers. She won’t be able to open tears, and she will have no more access to, or knowledge of the multiverse. Elizabeth understood these terms and chose to return anyway. As Elizabeth had the power to see all potential outcomes, she has to trust her past self that this trip was made for the right reasons.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Entering Suchong’s restaurant, Elizabeth discovers a Lutece machine. She repairs it and finds that it leads to Columbia. Jeremiah Fink and Yi Suchong were sharing technology through the tears. It’s how they developed both Plasmids and Vigors. Songbird was built from the technology of the Big Daddys. Elizabeth travels to Columbia to obtain the device enabling the buildings to float. This is what will allow Atlas to return to Rapture. Before she can return however, Suchong wants her to obtain a DNA sample from Fink’s private lab.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The tear in Columbia opens up on Fink’s headquarters, after the Vox Populi have overtaken it. While crawling through a vent Elizabeth comes across Daisy Fitzroy. She has captured Fink and his son. The Luteces are there too. They are asking Daisy to threaten Fink’s child in front of Booker and Elizabeth. To force Elizabeth to take action, kill Daisy, and harden her for the future they desire to bring about. Daisy is reluctant. The Luteces ask “What is more important? Your part in the play, or the play itself”? Keep this question in mind. It has greater relevance later.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On her way to find the DNA sample, Elizabeth learns more about Songbird. How Suchong and Fink could not get either Songbird nor the Big Daddys to imprint and protect their charges. Songbird’s devotion to Elizabeth was almost a fluke. Songbird injured itself when Elizabeth came upon it as a small child. She showed it kindness, and in turn it showed her protection and devotion. Around this time Elizabeth also comes to terms with the Booker in her head being her own subconscious. The path forward being dictated by the echoes of future memory before she cut herself off from infinity. Having obtained the DNA sample (a lock of her own hair, of course), Elizabeth returns to Rapture.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Making her way to Atlas’s office, Elizabeth installs the flotation device and is knocked unconscious by Atlas’ goons. Tied to a chair, a doctor asks her where the “ace in the hole” is. Atlas was never going to keep his end of the bargain, but he does want more from Elizabeth. The doctor overdoses her with truth serum. Elizabeth wakes up 2 weeks later, with the Rapture civil war in full swing. The war isn’t going as well as he’d hoped and Atlas wants his secret weapon. He thinks Elizabeth must know what it is. He starts to administer a transorbital lobotomy. The icepick pierces her above the eye, and it’s only going to take a few taps to crack through the skull and into her brain. Elizabeth welcomes oblivion, as she knows Atlas will never get what he wants if he destroys her mind. Enraged, Atlas then threatens Sally with the same procedure. This spurs Elizabeth to action. She tells Atlas the “ace” is in Suchong’s office, and she’ll get it for him if he lets Sally go. Atlas agrees, but we know just like the first time, he’s not going to honour the deal. Elizabeth knows this too.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In Suchong’s office, an injured Big Daddy is blocking the doorway. The Little Sisters are scared of it. Remembering how Songbird was imprinted on her, Elizabeth coaxes the little girls to show the monster kindness. They do, and both form an attachment with each other. Now if you’ve played Bioshock, perhaps you remember the audiolog in which Suchong is killed by a Big Daddy. He was lamenting not being able to get the Big Daddys and Little Sisters to imprint on each other. Two Little Sisters start clamoring for his attention. Distracted, he smacks one to get her to go away. An enraged Big Daddy bursts into the room and disembowels him with a drill. The Big Daddy the two Little Sisters just saved.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The “ace in the hole” turns out to be a simple phrase on a piece of paper. It’s encoded, and unlike the previous moments where Elizabeth looked at Suchong’s ciphers, this one is not translated for the benefit of the player. Don’t worry, if you didn’t realise what it was yet, like me, it becomes all too obvious soon. Elizabeth returns to Atlas. She hands him the piece of paper saying they both know how this is going to go down, so just get it over with. Atlas obliges and hits Elizabeth in the head with a wrench. Before her dying breath, she tells Atlas what the message says. It says, “Would you kindly?”. It’s a trigger word for Atlas’ secret weapon. For Jack. The man who is going to come back to Rapture, and lead to Atlas’ downfall. Elizabeth saw all this, including her own death going in. Atlas does keep his end of the bargain this time. He leaves Sally with Elizabeth. Soon Jack will rescue Sally along with the other Little Sisters and they will all have a good life on the surface. This is the reason behind Elizabeth’s sacrifice, to put into effect the events of the first Bioshock, in order for Sally to be saved.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>[Changes to Bioshock Infinite]</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Burial at sea spent most of its time in Rapture with the player controlling Infinite’s main characters. Irrational Games wanted to link the two together. Like a circle perhaps. Let’s begin our analysis by looking at how Burial at sea changes what we know about this universe after playing Bioshock Infinite. The tricky part of a story involving multiverse theory, is every permutation of said story is possible. This means anything is possible. A question I still have is, if the entire plot of Burial at sea (and thus the entire plot of Bioshock) is a result of Elizabeth’s guilt at having mistreated an innocent girl for the purpose of her own vengeance, where did the Elizabeth the player controls in Burial at sea come from? Multiverse theory says many Elizabeths could have been killed in Rapture by the Big Daddy, but also, many Elizabeths could have travelled back to Paris celebrating a job well done until the guilt gnawed away at them, leading to the events of episode 2. But what about Comstock?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In my Infinite video, I said that in a multiverse, Elizabeth’s solution of drowning Booker to erase the possibility of Comstock seemed too easy. There would have been plenty of Booker Dewitt’s who survived, or became Comstock in another way. The problem with the multiverse is if anything is possible, then nothing is permanent. Every possibility has to be accounted for. The ending of Infinite works as a sacrifice on the part of the Booker Dewitt we were playing to atone for his sins, but only for that Dewitt. Sure his sacrifice would have prevented a score of Comstocks from inflicting their horrors on the world, but there still would be plenty out there, just like there are other Elizabeths out there as well when all this is said and done. It’s the versions we are playing that are important, this Booker, this Comstock, and this Elizabeth, which I feel is the one we spent the most time with in Infinite.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A change to Bioshock Infinite that sparked discussion is the retconning of Daisy Fitzroy. No longer is she an example of the oppressed becoming an oppressor, but she is instead a pawn in the Lutece’s game. It is felt this removes agency from the character, while she didn’t have much to begin with based on her behaviour in Infinite. I feel this humanises Daisy a bit more, that she was willing to become a martyr for her cause when it came down to it, even if the road taken was one she could never have foreseen. I also like it as a parallel to Elizabeth’s sacrifice, and the reason for the whole story in the first place. As the Luteces said to Daisy, “What’s more important? The play itself, or your part in it?”</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">With Elizabeth being able to see all potential futures, she chose this one for herself, with all the torture, the suffering, and finally her own death. It is a painful, unglamourous way to end one’s own story. It reminds me of the end of Marvel’s Infinity War, where Doctor Strange looks through millions of possible futures before he finds the one in which they achieve victory, even if victory comes at a high cost (and geez, I can’t believe I made a flipping Marvel movie reference in one of my videos). Why did Elizabeth choose this path? For the same reasons her father went to Columbia in the first place, guilt over the treatment of a little girl. Using Sally for her own vengeance ate at Elizabeth, who chose to walk down the one path in which not only Sally, but other exploited innocents got the chance for a happy ending, even if she wouldn’t be there to see it. Elizabeth wanted to unbreak the circle of exploitation rampant in the objectivist utopia of Rapture. She felt that the play was more important, than her part in it.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>[Changes to Bioshock]</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While Burial at sea changed how we perceive aspects of Bioshock Infinite, what about our perception of the original game? Elizabeth’s actions set in motion the events of Bioshock. It was Elizabeth who allowed Atlas and his forces to attack Rapture, and it was Elizabeth who retrieved the “ace in the hole” for Atlas, sealing his own fate at the hands of Jack. In my video on Bioshock, I called the “bad ending” of the game, where Jack leads a splicer army to wage war on the surface more resonant to its themes, but because of Burial at sea, we know the “good ending” of Bioshock is the canon ending. Aside from making Atlas out to be an even bigger piece of garbage, all Burial at sea does to our perception of Bioshock is how it intertwines with Bioshock Infinite. Both games are now not just linked by a franchise name, but one couldn’t have happened without the other.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>[The reason for linking the games]</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Why link the two games like this? In the DLC no less? When Elizabeth took Booker and Songbird to Rapture, it was a nod to the lineage of the series, a shocking moment emphasizing that Bioshock was one possible story that could happen in this multi-verse of stories. Burial at sea changed this. No longer can we say “It was cool how Elizabeth opened a portal to Rapture”. Instead it’s “Columbia couldn’t have happened without Rapture, and vice versa”. What is the point in doing this? The answer I have may sound cynical. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Linking the end of Bioshock Infinite to the beginning of Bioshock unbreaks yet another circle. Even though Infinite alludes to unlimited possibilities for new stories and games within the Bioshock franchise, this is Irrational Games lowering the curtain on their involvement with it. The stories of Rapture and Columbia are complete. Zachary Comstock, Andrew Ryan, Frank Fontaine, Booker Dewitt, and Elizabeth are dead, or at least the versions we care about. Jack and the Little Sisters got to grow old and have a life. Sure the cities can house new stories (like Bioshock 2), but it won’t feel the same.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In December 2019, 2K games announced the development of Bioshock 4. When the announcement happened, I had little excitement for the prospect of a new Bioshock game. Even before playing Burial at sea, what the Bioshock series was felt concluded. Now after Burial at sea, the announcement seems even sillier. If the game connects itself to Rapture and Columbia, it will feel like Bioshock 2 trying to connect itself to the first game, and if it takes place in a new location, with no connection whatsoever, why call it Bioshock? I know, I know, branding, but they could always do what Ken Levine did when he took the “shock” from System Shock for his spiritual successor. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It feels like the point of Burial at sea was to end the Bioshock franchise for good, and considering my feelings regarding a new game in this multiverse, I’d say it was successful. Elizabeth was able to unbreak - to transcend - the circle of the exploitation of innocents, atoning for her own actions, just like her father at the end of Infinite. Irrational games created a circle between Infinite and Bioshock, unbreaking their involvement with the series as a whole, finally being able to move onto something else. The circle Irrational created in Burial at sea to link the two games still remains, and we’ll have to wait to see what is done with it as the series continues.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>[Thoughts and sources]</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what are your thoughts? What are your feelings about the changes Burial at sea made to your understanding of Bioshock and Bioshock Infinite? Do you feel it’s a fitting end for these characters? What happened to the Luteces? They’re still out there you know. I wonder if they’ll appear in the new game. I’d love to hear all about these ideas and more down in the comments. While Bioshock Infinite had too much research to thank everyone individually, I found only 2 pieces written on Burial at sea to be of use. I’d like to thank Stephanie over at Ludogabble for her commentary on Burial at sea episode 2, and Noah Caldwell-Gervais for his video on all of Infinite’s DLC. Links to both these pieces are in the description. And look at that, I’ve finished my series on all of the Bioshock games. Thank you for watching not only this video, but the others in the series as well. I put a lot of work into these. I like to think I’m getting better at this whole videogame critique thing, and I appreciate your time and feedback. The next critique is a milestone. It’s number 50. I alluded to having something special lined up in the last video. Let me tell you what it is. I’m going to be covering Dark Souls. I don’t want to give a timeframe, because I have no idea how long it will take me to play through the game, let alone research and write about it, but I’m aiming for by the end of the year. I hope to see you all then, and I hope you’re all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-6850516760737898032020-09-06T19:21:00.004-07:002020-09-06T19:23:17.264-07:00Understanding Bioshock Infinite (Game critique)<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dvZ_jmsZLDQ" width="560"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I eagerly awaited the release of Bioshock Infinite. I've talked before about how I passed over Bioshock 2 when it came out because it wasn't being made by Ken Levine. I loved Bioshock, and wanted to see what the man with the vision behind Rapture had in store for players next. Then details were released. A city in the clouds instead of under the sea. A companion character who could tear holes in reality, and a focus on the American myth of manifest destiny. The gameplay is reminiscent of Bioshock with vigors instead of plasmids, and skyhooks instead of bathyspheres. It felt like it was familiar enough, yet different enough, which is what us video game fans tend to want in our sequels. It reviewed and sold well too, before us critics began writing about it. After all this time, in 2020, the critical consensus is the game is a failure. It was pulled in too many directions, and everything it tried to do, it did not do well. After my recent playthrough to acquire this footage and refamiliarise myself with the game, I find myself agreeing. I enjoyed moments of Bioshock Infinite, but it did feel conflicted, and ultimately unsatisfying. Because of this feeling, I would like to ask the question of what Bioshock Infinite as a work is trying to say, and then maybe we can come to an understanding if it was successful or not.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Before we can understand what Bioshock Infinite is trying to say, we need to know what happens during a playthrough of it. If you haven't played the game before, I am about to go through the plot. Now would be a good time to back out of the video if you still wish to play the game for yourself without knowing what happens. For those of you have played the game, think of this as a refresher so we're all on the same page. Good? Good. We play Booker Dewitt. At the start of the game, a man and a woman are rowing him towards a lighthouse. Booker has made a deal to enter the city of Columbia to retrieve a girl named Elizabeth. "Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt". He takes a rocket up to a city in the clouds and finds himself in the middle of a festival. After taking in the sights and sounds, Booker is chosen in a raffle to throw a baseball at an inter-racial couple as part of the festivities, but before we as the player can make a choice about who to throw the ball at, a guard recognises Booker's tattoo as the mark of what they call "the false shepard". It seems the city has been warned about Booker's arrival. Guards try to stop him, Booker murders them, and the game begins in earnest.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Fighting his way to Elizabeth's tower, Booker finds the girl is being kept locked up because she possesses the ability to open up tears in reality. She's also missing her pinky finger on one hand. Remember this. It’s important for later. The two escape from not only the tower, but the giant metallic songbird guarding Elizabeth as well. When they reach an airship, Booker sets the destination to New York. He lied to Elizabeth, telling her they were going to Paris. She knocks Booker out and runs away. When Booker comes to, the airship has been taken over by the Vox Populi, a resistance movement looking to overthrow the power structure of Columbia. Its leader Daisy Fitzroy makes a deal with Booker. If he can arm the Vox with weapons, she'll let Booker and Elizabeth have the airship and escape Columbia.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Booker chases down Elizabeth and makes a deal to take her to Paris if they can get the weapons. She does not trust him, but realises he is her best chance out of here. The two need to head into Finkton and find a man by the name of Chen Lin to get the weapons. They chase him down but they're too late. Jeremiah Fink is the wealthiest man of industry in Rapture, and his flunkies have captured and tortured Chen Lin to death. The Luttice Twins show up. They've been making constant appearances. They were the two rowing Booker to the lighthouse at the start of the game, and they gave Elizabeth a choice of what pendant she would like to wear around her neck. They appear, spout cryptic bickering nonsense, and then disappear. Mysterious. In their current appearance, they say life and death is all a matter of perspective. Chen Lin may be dead here and now, but in other times, and other realities he is alive. It's all about how you look at it. Elizabeth uses her power to open a tear to a reality in which Chen Lin is alive, and the two head through to find their weapons.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Booker and Elizabeth come across Chen Lin, but all is not right with the man. His death in another reality seems to have had a drastic effect on him in this one. Chen Lin’s wife thinks if her husband got his tools back he would be ok, causing Booker and Elizabeth to go find them. The tools are not in this reality. It's time for another jump, but oh what a reality they find themselves in. The Vox Populi have begun their uprising. In this reality, Booker fought for the resistance and led them to overthrow Columbia. As Booker and Elizabeth run around, the game takes great lengths to point out that the way the Vox are treating the captured citizens of Columbia is just as, or more cruel than they were treated. Booker and Elizabeth come across Daisy Fitzroy. In this reality, Booker died fighting for the Vox. The fact there's a Booker alive and well doesn't go along with the narrative. This one has to die. After surviving everything Daisy throws at the player, she threatens to kill a child. Distracted by Booker, Elizabeth sneaks up behind Daisy and stabs her.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Despite the reality hopping, and the bodies left alone the way, Booker and Elizabeth have their airship, but there's still Songbird to deal with. There's no way to escape Columbia without disabling the mechanical monster. While pursuing this goal, we find out the Luttice twins we've been seeing pop in and out all around the place are not twins, they are the same person from two different realities. They found each other through experimentation. Most of the technology of Columbia was made from their experiments. It's how Comstock was able to fulfill his prophecies and how Fink was able to make his fortune. Songbird catches up with Booker and Elizabeth, and to spare Booker's life, Elizabeth agrees to be put into custody again.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">To rescue Elizabeth, Booker enters yet another reality. One where Comstock tortured Elizabeth for years, until she became his successor, waging war on what she saw as a corrupt surface world. This elderly Elizabeth still has her wits about her. She gives Booker the means to stop Songbird, and sends him back to save her, before it's too late. Booker is able to rescue Elizabeth, but now she has a score to settle with Comstock. Her time with Booker has hardened her. It's time to assault Comstock’s airship. The two fight their way aboard and confront the false prophet. Comstock appears genial at first. He asks Booker to tell Elizabeth what happened to her finger. Comstock becomes excited in his anger and starts to shake Elizabeth. This triggers a violent reaction in Booker who assaults and then drowns the old man. Booker swears he has no idea about Elizabeth's finger, but Elizabeth doesn't believe him. She thinks Booker knows, but can't remember. The next step is to destroy the siphon and free Elizabeth's true power. Booker thinks the answer to their questions must be waiting behind another tear.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Booker uses Songbird to destroy the siphon, which was the tower Elizabeth was being kept in. The power bursts forth, turning Elizabeth's hair white. Booker loses control of Songbird but before it can attack, Elizabeth opens a tear and takes them all to Rapture. Underneath the pressure of the water, Songbird is destroyed. Booker wonders where the heck they are and Elizabeth leads him up to the first lighthouse, where Bioshock began. They open the door onto a scene of infinite lighthouses. Elizabeth now has access to the multiverse. Reality is different in each one, but there are constants too. “There is always a lighthouse, there is always a man, there is always a city” Elizabeth takes Booker to a baptism. Booker remembers this moment of his past. After the atrocities he committed in the army, he thought to be born again, to wash away his sins, but he chickened out at the last moment. He felt a dunk in the water wasn't enough to make up for what he'd done. How right he turned out to be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt". The start of the game, and the inciting incident for the player did not come from travelling to Columbia to rescue Elizabeth for the Lutices. We find out Booker had given up his own daughter while she was still a baby to Robert Lutece in order to pay off his debts. Booker was wracked with guilt over this decision, chasing Lutece down a side alley where Comstock was taking the baby back to his own reality. Booker failed to save his daughter, but the struggle caused his Anna to have her pinky still in his reality when the portal closed, severing it off. Yes, Elizabeth is Booker's daughter Anna. The years she spent growing up as a prisoner in the tower, Booker spent descending further into alcoholism. It made it easy for the Luteces to pull him through into Elizabeth's reality, and fabricate memories causing Booker to think he was there to perform a job for them. "Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt".</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Booker is aghast at this revelation. Not only because of the guilt cause by giving up his daughter, but anger at Comstock for offering to buy her in the first place. Elizabeth tells Booker it's not enough that he killed Comstock. He only killed Comstock in one reality. Comstock lives in countless more. The only way to remove a man as heinous as Comstock from them all is to go back to before he was created and remove him then. A question is raised by the Luteces. How would you ever know how far back to go? This is a question to which Elizabeth knows the answer.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Elizabeth brings Booker back to the site of the baptism. On this day Booker walked away from being born again...in this reality. In others, he accepted the baptism and was reborn as Zachary Comstock. The hero and villain of this tale are the same person. Before the baptism the anger and guilt fueling Booker was also in Comstock, but the baptism added a self-righteousness leading us all to where we are now. The trick is to kill Comstock before he was ever created. The trick is to kill Booker before the baptism, before he was able to make the choice. Perhaps because Booker sees this as a path to redemption, a sacrifice to serve as penance for his actions, he accepts. The game ends as Elizabeths from multiple realities drown their father and their tormentor. Well except for after the credits, when Booker wakes up back in his office, and thinks he can hear his daughter, but we don't get to see if she’s there.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now this explanation of Bioshock Infinite's plot took longer than the entire script to most of my videos, but it was necessary to lay it all out not only to make the events more clear in my mind, but in yours as well. There are a lot of threads, and it leads me to ask next what the themes of the game are. Will the themes tell us what Bioshock Infinite is about? Let’s find out. First and foremost it's a science-fiction story. The plot of Booker and Elizabeth as our main characters revolves around multiple realities. The ability to open tears to new worlds, and how it affects relationships and power. There's the meta concept of the constants and variables of the multiple realities relating to the Bioshock franchise. “There's always a lighthouse, there's always a man, there's always a city”. Bioshock Infinite was criticised for recycling a lot of Bioshock's systems. Systems that seemed to only be in Infinite because they were in Bioshock. Vigors instead of Plasmids, and scrounging around for resources for example. Next, there's the idea of redemption. How our protagonist is a violent man whose guilt and anger consumed him no matter which way the baptism played out, but in the end, a sacrifice was made to try and make amends.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There's the reflection of American culture in Columbia. The deification of the founding fathers, the wrapping itself in religion and commerce. A squeaky clean beacon on the hill to wow all who gaze upon its presence, but what happens when you scratch the surface? Racism and classism. Those deemed as lesser are what keep the city running, while being treated like dirt, and paid even worse. Is it any wonder there was a violent uprising? And in most games, the rising of the Vox would have been as simple as what leads to the downfall of Columbia, but Infinite wants to revisit a theme explored in Bioshock. How the oppressed become oppressors when they gain power. Finally there’s closing the circle on the multiple realities. There's a sense through the Lutece's dialogue that despite the variables, the end result in this story is always a constant. No matter the choices made, everything ends up in the same place. And here we thought Bioshock Infinite was missing the meta-commentary on the videogame medium Bioshock became lauded for.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But are any of these ideas what Bioshock Infinite is about? Are any of these themes more important to understanding what it's trying to say than others? The problem is they're all tied together. Columbia is impossible without the Lutice's research into multiple realities. Columbia couldn't exist without its underclass. It wouldn't exist without Booker Dewitt. The Booker who committed so many atrocities for the US that he sought redemption, was reborn, and created a new America in the sky, continuing a cycle of atrocity. Elizabeth wouldn't exist without Comstock, and Anna wouldn't exist without Booker, even though they were once the same. The villain of Bioshock Infinite, Zachary Comstock is responsible for the creation of Columbia, and our hero Booker Dewitt is responsible for its destruction.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Booker is the lynch-pin of Bioshock Infinite. Take him out and it all falls apart. The Lutices set this tale in motion but without Comstock, there would only ever be one Lutece. Once again it comes back to Booker. Everything happening for good or ill in this story is his fault. This is why Elizabeth wants to stop this story from happening in the first place, but not until she gets Booker's blessing to go through with what must be done. And I'm unsure drowning Dewitt solved anything. There's the post-credits stinger for one. Booker exists in another timeline, and it seemed ridiculous to me you could remove someone from the million-million worlds Elizabeth was talking about earlier. If true, the act of drowning Booker was solely for Elizabeth. The consequences of Columbia caused such suffering that even if it's impossible to remove it from the timeline, Elizabeth needed to try. I think however, she drowned Booker for his own sake. Elizabeth didn’t want to kill her father, and it won't do any good, but for this one version of the character, it will allow him to make a sacrifice. To try and balance the scales, thinking his death has done at least a small amount of good in a multi-verse he enacted such harm in.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Bring us the meaning, and wipe away the game". It's easy to be cynical about the post-credits stinger as a window for future games in this multiverse. The circle was meant to close with the death of Booker, even if it was futile to try, and it's time to move on. Well, after the DLC of course. As of this writing I have not played Burial at sea. I will be doing so after this video is out, and we'll see if it changes any of my ideas about what Bioshock Infinite is. While the multiverse alludes to many other Bioshock games that could be made, it also alludes to how many other games this team could have made. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Coming full circle myself, a lot of the criticism of Bioshock Infinite is how inadequately it handles the topics it brings up. From the mythologising of America, to its addressing of classism and racism, to the idea of infinite worlds and the tears they provide being under utilized. Plenty has been written on how disappointing to play Bioshock Infinite is as a shooter, how many would have preferred to walk through the streets of Columbia without any killing whatsoever, but of course that's not the game they were trying to make or the story they were trying to tell. A game with Booker Dewitt, much like America, is going to have violence baked into it. A game about Booker Dewitt is going to have little else.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Bioshock Infinite feels like a game pulled in too many directions. It has too much it wanted to be and thus cannot comment on or execute any of its ideas well. About the only success is its presentation, and just like Columbia, it's surface level. It's not that there's rot underneath the veneer of Bioshock Infinite, but there is chaos. Nothing cohesive at least. Ironic, because a game wanting to be about so much ended up saying nothing at all, or at least not to anyone's satisfaction.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But what are your thoughts? Do you think Booker's sacrifice was enough? What is your perspective on the multiverse theory and how Bioshock Infinite uses it? What do you think has happened to the Luteces? I'd love to hear about it all in the comments. If you've made it this far, thank you for watching. I would like to give a special shout-out to all the critical writing I looked through before beginning this project. Before any critique I research what other people have said about the game, and the sheer amount of opinions and perspectives on Bioshock Infinite eclipse anything I've encountered before. This project's been going on for months and I can't recall which articles and videos I took ideas from anymore, but I do make lists of every piece that caused me to write down notes. Those links are below in the description along with a link to the Critical Compilation on Bioshock Infinite which made researching the game far easier than it would have been otherwise. If you'd like further perspectives on this game, any of these links would be a good place to start. And with this said, it's time to go. The next critique will be on the Burial at Sea DLC, and then I have something special planned for my 50th critique. I hope you’ll all stick around until next time, and I hope you're all having a wonderful day.</div>Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-70269870177587715162020-07-23T20:13:00.002-07:002020-07-23T20:23:32.492-07:00Scattered thoughts on Kentucky Route Zero<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>The following is a scrapped script for my YouTube channel. I played through Kentucky Route Zero and wrote and recorded this lengthy collection of notes and thoughts on the game. Something wasn't sitting right however. The more I thought about it, and the more I procrastinated on making the video, I came to the conclusion that I wasn't happy with the overall result. Not wanting to waste all that effort, I have decided to post the script here. Enjoy.</i></div>
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- Introduction -</h4>
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I've been waiting years to play Kentucky Route Zero. I made an impressions video back in 2016, waiting for the games' final act to be released. 4 years later I sat down to play Kentucky Route Zero in its entirety and had the most unique and enjoyable gaming experience in years. The reason being I have a favourable disposition to the adventure game genre. Kentucky Route Zero is built with the bones of the adventure genre, as the computer Xanadu in the Hall of the Mountain King is a homage to Colossal Cave Adventure, the first adventure game, inspired by Mammoth Cave in Kentucky, but Kentucky Route Zero uses the adventure genre staples of dialogue and moving through spaces more for mood than narrative. All that's missing are the puzzles. The following video is a collection of thoughts I had after playing the game, separated by topic. if you haven't played the game and are worried about spoilers, I will be discussing the plot turns, but the plot itself is not as important as one might think. I loved this game, and I hope you enjoy what I have to say about it.</div>
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There are no dialogue trees in Kentucky Route Zero. In adventure games we as the player are used to picking a topic of conversation, and then when it is exhausted, looping back to the original conversation choices. In Kentucky Route Zero there is no looping back. Similar to the way Telltale implemented the dialogue in their games, once we choose what we want the characters to say, we're locked in. We continue these choices until the conversation is over, and then we move on. Time moves forward. At first I had a fear of missing out in regards to not being able to explore the dialogue trees, but I discovered this method of conversation is freeing. It means there is no wrong answer. Sure we might ask ourselves "what if", but we do that in life as well, and at least with Kentucky Route Zero we can always play the game again if we want to make different choices. It means instead of dialogue acting as an information gathering tool for the player, or just as entertainment, it allows us to dictate who the characters are. We shade their backstories and how they respond to these situations. Instead of controlling Conway, we are influencing who Conway is, and what he means to us, as well as his relationship to all the other characters. It's why who Conway turned out to be was distressing. Influence is not control, and these characters are who they are despite our decisions as players. Our choices can’t save Conway from what is destined to happen to him.</div>
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There are intermissions between each act of Kentucky Route Zero. They are experimental. The intermission before Act 3 was made for Virtual Reality and the intermission before Act 4 features a real phone number you can call and explore like the one in the game. The first intermission, the one before Act 2 is an interactive art installation. Bob, Ben, and Emily, three characters the player finds in different places through the game are looking at the art of Lula Chamberlain. The art is surreal, and in the case of the tapes, interactive. The audience is a participant. Commentary on Kentucky Route Zero itself, and the role of the player. The assets are here, and they cannot be changed, but the way we navigate through them, the parts we see, the parts we miss, and the parts we ignore, they create an individualised experience.</div>
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Kentucky Route Zero features unanswered questions. Earlier this year I watched an analysis of David Lynch's Twin Peaks which posited that by not answering the questions of an audience, it keeps them thinking and engaged with the work. The instant an audience has their answers, they move on. Here are a few elements of Kentucky Route Zero I still question even after all of my research. Perhaps the answers to these questions are in the game, but I did not find them.</div>
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Who or what is Weaver? She's Shannon's cousin, yes, but she also instigates both Conway and Shannon’s journey to find the Zero, the magical road leading to the final destination of the game. We see her hand in taking over the TV station in the intermission before Act 5. She's like a ghost who shows up and causes havoc. Other characters refer to her as such. She worked on Xanadu, she was at the Bureau of Unclaimed Spaces, her fingerprints are all over the journey, but I never got a sense of who she was and what her goals were. </div>
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Junebug and Johnny are robots, or cyborgs, or they have implants. They create mechanical noise when they move. Johnny talks about not needing food. They worked for the Consolidated Power Company in a mine and then left to become musicians. I read they were built by the company, but I never came across such an answer in my gametime. They're wanderers, and it feels right in my game that they chose not to stick around the community in Act 5. I wonder if they took Ezra with them.</div>
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Route Zero is a loop. It appears to be made from static, and reacts to radio waves. It may be a fluctuation in energy, a tear in reality. The Bureau of Unclaimed Spaces resides there. It's where Xanadu lives, and it's where our group finds the Echo River which leads them to the fabled 5 Dogwood Drive. There's lots to see on Route Zero, just like there are many side attractions in Act 1 before Conway and Shannon find the fabled road, but I was more interested in the destination over the journey. I did not want to stay on the Zero for long. It unsettled me. How it's just a loop changing based on when and where the player turns clockwise and counter-clockwise. It's the idea that such small shifts can lead to such divergent destinations and how such information relates to my own life, that creates tension when thinking about the Zero.</div>
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On the Zero, but also in all aspects of this world, nothing lasts forever and people need to find peace and joy where they can. The town which houses 5 Dogwood Drive is flooded when our characters reach it. Destroyed because the Consolidated Power Company never finished the irrigation before moving out. It wasn't cost effective. We see this all through the game. Everyone is drowning. People are living the best they can, but all it takes is one sudden change and all is swept away. We are all at the mercy of forces greater than us, and because of this it can be easy to feel small, it can be easy to despair. Nevertheless, in the face of this harsh reality, we find beauty. Community, remembrance, art, music, a sense of purpose. People ply their trade where they can. They help others, and form connections, bonds. The world may be cold. It may not care about us, but we can care about each other, and huddle together to make the present moment just a little bit warmer.</div>
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It's not difficult to see the influence of Theatre on Kentucky Route Zero. The game is in five acts, each section of the game is a scene, and the locations are designed like theatre sets. Walls move as the camera zooms in, and while the game takes advantage of being a computer game to pull off visual feats that could not be replicated on stage, it still feels staged. Because the locations are detailed, and the characters are without facial expressions, being mere ideas of people, abstractions of humanity, the places seem more real than those inhabiting them.</div>
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In Shakespeare's plays, Act 3 is where the greatest change to the story takes place, like the death of an important character. In film, this is referred to as the midpoint. In Kentucky Route Zero, Act 3 is where Conway signs himself into slavery. He was already in debt due to the doctor patching up his leg in Act 2, but their tour of the local brewery and the drink he takes to commemorate his taking of the job seals the deal. This is after the most discussed part of the game, Junebug's song at the bar. It's a sombre tale of lost love, remembrance, and regret, well depending on which verses the player picks. Like the dialogue options discussed before, the details may change, but the song remains the same.</div>
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The lack of agency the player has on the story of Kentucky Route Zero is most evident in how I chose to play Conway. When Conway is poured the drink at the brewery, there is nothing else the player can do. The mouse is pulled towards the drink, and Conway has to drink, because it is who he is. Before this moment, the game alluded to a possible drinking problem and a troubled past, but as a player I always took other options. My Conway was someone who was working to overcome the past haunting him. If this last delivery is an act of penance, I was going to make it count. Act 3 removed any allusion of control over these characters I felt I had. In Act 4, Conway is drinking away his sorrows, and I leaned into it. A director doesn't have control over the script, an actor doesn't have control over the script. Both can portray the characters how they think is best, how they interpret the material, but the beats of the story have to remain the same, and as the way I chose to play the game up to this point was not in line with Conway taking the drink, it left a sour impression on me that lingered. It was like I was forced into a future I didn't want for Conway or myself as the player. Maybe that's the intention.</div>
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Conway is taken near the end of Act 4. The debt skeletons come for him and Shannon returns to the rest of the party alone. I panicked and pressed the skull button over Homer's head, resigning the poor pooch to stay underground with the rest of the telephone operators. Shannon, Junebug, Johnny, Clara, and Ezra decide to finish Conway's delivery to 5 Dogwood Drive leading us into Act 5.</div>
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Act 5 is different from the rest of the game. It's in one location. The player controls a cat and as the cat runs in a circle around the town, the day passes. The day after a hellish flood. A flood that killed the commune's horses, named The Neighbours. The whole day is not only our characters deciding if they want to stay in this town or move on now that the delivery is finished, but the people who live there are making a similar choice. It feels like whatever this place was, it's now ended, and there's either the choice to move on, or make something new where it stood, and everybody has to decide for themselves. Before they can move on however, the community holds a funeral for The Neighbours. A song is sung. It's of a similar haunting quality to Junebug's song in Act 3, but the haunting is literal this time. The ghosts of this place appear and join in. This funeral is for them too, for the living as well. The commune is putting to rest the sorrow of everyone left behind by the Consolidated Power Company, and the cruelty of modern life. Little did I know it at the time (as the game ends not long after the song does), but this is a eulogy for Kentucky Route Zero too. A game almost a decade in the making, and now complete. Can the developers now move on? Can the player?</div>
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The majority of the games writing on Kentucky Route Zero has been about the Consolidated Power Company and debt. Most characters in the game have been touched by the movings and shakings of this looming monolith the player never comes into contact with. Conway sells his soul to the brewery which is owned by the power company, but we only see the result. We hear about the power company’s misdeeds from the memorial to the miners, the programmers working on Xanadu, or the townsfolk cursing the company for pulling out before they finished their irrigation system. One might think this is a commentary on progress, on the old vs new. How everyone was doing fine before the company came along. How this one corporation kept growing and swallowed up all in its path, trading in human misery for a larger slice of profit. I do not.</div>
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For as desperate and destitute as many of the folks in this fictitious Kentucky seem to be, and for all the hostility levied with good cause at the Consolidated Power Company, I don't get the feeling anyone wants to go back to a time before them. It doesn't seem like many people remember or discuss a time before them. Maybe they have always been here consolidating power, but the focus of Kentucky Route Zero is in people choosing to make something new. Either making the best of whatever situation they find themselves in, or working to create a better tomorrow. It doesn't always work out however. Debt consumes Conway whole by the end of Act 4. He never got to see 5 Dogwood Drive and get a chance at a better tomorrow. We don't know if Shannon or Ezra will either, and who knows how many countless others were swallowed up by being tied down with debt. Similar to the miner’s memorial and what was lost due to the Consolidated Power Company's negligence, we should not forget. Not everyone is going to make it through the storm and the flooding. Not everyone will see the new tomorrow, but it doesn't mean it's not worth striving for, and it doesn't mean it isn't real. Once again, you have to find your happiness where you can. The alternative is to succumb.</div>
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The Mucky Mammoth is pushed along the echo river. It goes where the river dictates, Will & Cate keeping it afloat and helping all who need passage. I enjoyed this act because it reminds me of the book Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. Late in the tale, Sidhdhartha stays with a man named Vasudeva tending the river. Siddhartha learns to listen to the river. The running water can impart wisdom to those who take the time to listen. Our time as players on the Echo felt the same. it's because the Echo is part of the Zero thus granting it a supernatural quality, but talking to Will & Cate, listening to their stories of all the folks they've encountered, not only on the river, but in their lives, and what led them to this place, feels like an answer to the questions Kentucky Route Zero is asking.</div>
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Act 5 is an anomaly because the player spends the entire act in one location. Every other act has the characters visiting a new place, finding out what they need to, and then moving on. All these spaces, even the reclaimed ones, are just areas to pass through. This is made explicit in Act 4 because of the Echo river. As the river is flowing, it's taking our characters from place to place. Each stop is temporary by nature. When Conway and Shannon take the small motorboat, they travel into the screen, it looks like they are going upriver, against the current. Could this be why Conway is taken? Instead of letting events play out as they should, instead of going with the flow of the Echo, Shannon and Conway are fighting it, and it causes the brewery to act.</div>
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Those still reading might have unanswered questions. To emulate my playthrough of Kentucky Route Zero in my writing was not my intention. I had hoped through the act of writing to come to a greater understanding about the game I could then share with you. It’s how it worked with all my other critiques. With this project, I found myself grasping at straws as I typed. Sure I came up with clever prose, sentences sounding good when read aloud, and maybe even ideas sparking discussion, but I don't think this writing has an anchor point. There's nothing to hold onto, no ready made conclusion or final point to make about the game to leave you all satisfied with your time spent. Instead I will say Kentucky Route Zero is now a favourite of mine. I plan to play through it a second time, and can see myself revisiting it in the future. Now that I have an idea of who the characters are and what happens, I can navigate the game with greater confidence and perhaps gain greater insight. The comparison to theatre is apt because I'll make different decisions while playing. Like seeing a play with a different cast, Conway, Shannon, Junebug, Ezra, and the rest will not act the way I remember them. I will be picking different dialogue options and I will have a different experience. I’m under no allusion I can change the story, but perhaps I can create a happier ending for everyone.</div>
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And now I'd love to hear your thoughts on Kentucky Route Zero. What about the game impacted you the most? Do you have unanswered questions or were you satisfied when the game ended? How did you choose to play Conway and the others? Please let me know in the comments. Until next time, I hope you're all having a wonderful day.</div>
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Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-40410818439814390422020-07-12T17:12:00.002-07:002020-07-12T17:12:32.401-07:00Is Transistor confusing on purpose? (Game critique)<div style="text-align: center;">
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In my impressions video on Pyre I mentioned I'd like to check out the other games by developer Supergiant. I picked up Transistor in the Steam Summer Sale, downloaded it and was going to limit the session to 30 minutes for an impressions video, when I found myself not being able to stop playing. A couple days later I'd finished the game and said to myself, "well, I guess I need to write a critique on it now". Usually a critique is written to answer a question the writer wants to ask about the game. In this case, I had just played an entire videogame with no clue about what the heck was happening. I enjoyed my time with Transistor, but was at a loss as to what the world was, what had happened to Red, and the influence of her actions for the rest of the game. I was confused the whole time. This video will talk about why I found Transistor confusing, and if the developers made it this way on purpose. Enjoy.</div>
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Why is Transistor confusing? The game opens with the main character pulling a strange sword out of a dead body. The sword is always talking to Red. It never shuts up. Naively because of this constant narration, I felt everything I needed to know as a player would be divulged through the Transistor's dialogue. When looking at the bios of the people the Transistor has absorbed, the voice lets us know his thoughts of them. Everything was telling me that all I needed to know about the world, and the important characters in it would be explained through the voice of the Transistor. This was not the case. The most important elements of the characters absorbed into the Transistor are only unlocked once the player experiments with their unique abilities in the three different slots available (as a main attack, as an upgrade to an existing attack, or as a passive skill). This encourages experimentation with all the abilities to unlock narrative information, but the information I unlocked wasn’t successful at clueing me into what was happening.</div>
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And just what is happening? Here's my understanding. Red is a lounge singer in a digital world known as Cloudbank. Everything in the city can be changed by popular vote, from the food available to the colour of the sky. This is undertaken by code called the Process. A group of higher ups in Cloudbank decide they want something more. They call themselves the Camerata. Their motto is "When everything changes, nothing changes". They want to make something lasting. The Camerata in their investigation into the Process find a way to control it though the Transistor. They develop it into a weapon and start using it to absorb the most influential people of Cloudbank for reasons I'm unsure of. When they come for Red, she is nicked by the Transistor, causing her to lose her voice. The man she is in love with, takes the fatal blow and gets transferred into the sword. It is his voice we are hearing throughout the game. This act unleashes the Process on Cloudbank, allowing them to change the world according to their own whims. Red is set on revenge. She wants to take down the Camerata for what they've done, to see if she can get her voice back, and to see if she can save her love.</div>
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Even if I don't understand the Camerata's motivations, the summary was rather succinct and easy to follow, yes? The problem is I came up with none of this by playing the game. It was from a collection of YouTube videos either summarising the story, or engaging in literary analysis. This isn’t definitive information either. There are parts of the "lore" contested among fans. There are wikis dedicated to the game. I'm all for finer details and motivations being discussed and called into question. It keeps the world of a game alive, but having to resort to analysis just to understand what's going on in the first place left a sour taste in my mouth.</div>
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The main reason I kept pushing ahead was how enjoyable I found the gameplay. It's a turn based battle system in real time. Not "real time with pause" such as Pillars of Eternity. More, "real time with planning". Listening to how others played Transistor, I get the feeling the turn function where the player is able to stop time and plan out all their attacks is meant to be used in specific situations, the majority of the game played with real time offense, but I relied on it exclusively. Due to this I needed to keep running and jaunting away from enemies during the recharge downtime when Red can no longer use her abilities. I was surprised by the amount of abilities and the variety of their offense. In these types of games, I’ll find a combination early on that works well, and use it for the rest of my play, but here I kept experimenting with new abilities as I acquired them. While I kept playing Transistor to uncover a narrative understanding, I stayed engaged because of my ever increasing mechanical understanding.</div>
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The fun I was having might have been the primary motivator to push me through Transistor, but it wasn't the only emotion I was feeling. Yes I was confused about the world the characters find themselves in. No I did not understand what happened to Red at the start of the game and what the deal with the talking sword is, and no, I didn't understand the Camerata or their motivations, but I understood the emotion of the characters. I understood Red was fighting for her life. This group took something from her and she wanted revenge. I understood there was a special connection between Red and the Transistor, and I understood the decision Red makes at the end of the game. I would have been fine not knowing the details if I understood the beginning and didn't feel like I was playing catch-up for the remainder of my playtime, as now that I know the story and have reflected on my experience, it resonates all the stronger.</div>
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I’m now left asking whether Transistor is confusing on purpose. There's such a high level of care given to the art & animation, the audio, and the mechanics, that it feels silly to me to think the story wasn't given the same attention. Perhaps the same way the citizens of Cloudbank vote on what reality is, Supergiant wanted the players to discuss and debate about what the story is. This would be why they locked a lot of the lore behind the player experimenting with each ability. And as I understood the larger brush strokes of character emotion and motivation, Supergiant might have felt this was enough to push the player through alongside how fun the game is to play. Seeing I only cared about Red and the Transistor after my research, I can't say the story told is successful. My conclusion is Transistor was meant to be confusing, or at least vague, but not to this degree.</div>
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But what are your thoughts on Transistor? Were you as in the dark as I was? If so, did you continue for the same reasons? What is your overall impression of the story Transistor is trying to tell? I'd love to know in the comments. I'd like to give a shoutout to the videos that helped me understand the game. A story discussion by Superbunnyhop, An analysis by Foxcade, and a literary analysis by Games as Literature. If you'd like to know more, I recommend giving them a watch. Links are in the description, as well as the link to my Ko-fi page! If you enjoyed this video, I'd love for you to buy me a coffee. If you'd like to help in other ways, please give the video a like, or subscribe to the channel if you haven't already. Until next time, I hope you're all having a wonderful day.</div>
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Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-23851000970247508722020-05-05T22:46:00.000-07:002020-05-05T22:46:08.773-07:00Minerva's Den: How pacing affects quality (game critique)<div style="text-align: center;">
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Minerva's Den is Rapture's central computing. There is a machine called The Thinker which has been responsible for running the city, even through its downfall and decay. The Thinker was created by Charles Milton Porter, and Reid Wahl. The player controls the Big Daddy Sigma who has been sent to Minerva's Den by Dr. Tenenbaum because Porter has access to a bathysphere, which she can use to escape to the surface. Porter agrees to take her if they can use Sigma to rescue the code of The Thinker and take it away from Rapture. Reid Wahl is the antagonist of this tale, going mad through splicing, and wanting to use The Thinker's predictive capabilities for his own benefit. Minerva’s Den is the game I wished Bioshock 2 was. At 4 hours its pacing is lightning fast. It's a Bioshock game condensed, and this video explores whether the quickness of its pacing makes Minerva's Den a masterpiece or a mistake.</div>
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One reason for a quicker pace is railroaded level design. Each zone is compact. A joy of the Bioshock games is the exploration of a space, looting everything not nailed down, and scrounging up resources. Minerva's Den accommodates this in a straight-forward manner. The player is sent to each wing of a zone, and while there are optional side-rooms full of goodies and enemies, the player is never far from where they need to be. The player is always moving forward, even when they're taking time to explore. This is made more obvious due to the placement of the audiologs. It felt like every room had a new log to listen to. I might have missed one or two in my travels, but it felt like each tape was placed to make sure the player would have the full story before the finale (using the final audiolog of the game as a bittersweet coda). </div>
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Due to railroading the player, there's an increased emphasis on combat encounters. Brutes are everywhere, and the new Big Daddy varieties can be disastrous if you're not prepared for them. Spider and Houdini splicers litter each room, and the game gives the player new weapons and plasmids to use against the increased onslaught: the Laser and the Gravity Well plasmid being the most memorable. I loved using Gravity Well on the Brutes, firing Phosporous buckshot or rocket spears into them as they flailed around the mini-black hole keeping them incapacitated. The laser was great for cutting down normal splicers, coupled with a well placed plasmid shot. My new found power meant I never felt overwhelmed by the combat encounters until the final fight, when my resources were at their lowest, and I was throwing everything I had up against Wahl and the Big Daddy onslaught. It was exhilarating.</div>
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The intensity of the combat, and the speed of how I was being guided through each area got me thinking about if the pace of the original game wasn't required. I think the majority of games outstay their welcome. When it feels like everything should be moving to a climax, there's hours more of the same gameplay I'm already bored with. Since there is no climax, the game loses the narrative weight keeping me going. Before starting my channel, finishing a game was a rare occurance. Most just wore out their welcome. However, while the shortened gametime of Minerva's Den allows the story the developers are trying to tell make a greater impact, I do think the gameplay needed more room to breathe.</div>
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One benefit of stretching out any game with combat is it gives the player ample time to become comfortable with the ebb and flow of the combat encounters. It allows the player to get good at the game. Each new encounter is an opportunity to make decisions, and increase the player's efficiency. In Bioshock 2, I knew what weapons and plasmids I enjoyed the most, and felt confident using them. In Minerva's Den I became attached to the Laser and Gravity Well. They were new toys so I relied on them over a lot of the other weapons and plasmids I had spent my time in Bioshock 2 using, but maybe that's why the final fight was so exhilarating; it forced me to search through my arsenal for whatever would work. I could no longer rely on the reliable.</div>
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The pace at which Minerva's Den throws new weapons, upgrades, and plasmids at the player is too fast for the player to become comfortable with before something new is introduced. This is why it felt like there was an increase in combat encounters, to allow mastery to take place (and of course, this is downloadable content for Bioshock 2, so the player should be familiar with a lot of these weapons and plasmids from the base game). This is the only reason I could think of in favour of the length of Bioshock 2 over Minerva's Den. However, I have no problem trading confidence with the game's systems for narrative impact, because this is where Minerva's Den shines.</div>
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Minerva's Den brings back the twist Bioshock 2 was lacking. All through the game we hear about Andrew Ryan being displeased with Porter and his creation. Porter talks about Ryan's guards coming and taking him to Persephone Prison, and how there's no escape. Wahl talks about wanting to steal The Thinker from Porter, pushing Ryan in the direction of imprisoning his colleague. As this goes on, I never thought about where Porter is now, and what the ending of the game will be. I thought nothing of Porter feeding The Thinker audio diaries of his dead wife trying to recreate her personality in the machine. I just felt for his loss. This is why the twist was so effective. I didn't see it coming, but in retrospect, it made everything before it make sense. If you haven’t played Minerva’s Den and don’t want to be spoiled, this is your last chance to back out. </div>
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It turns out the player is controlling Porter. Sigma is Porter who had been turned into a Big Daddy at Persephone. Tenanbaum's research is about removing Adam from a subject without killing them, and she wants to help save Porter. She wants to help the player. The Porter we've been speaking to is The Thinker's personality re-creation matrix. It was tasked by Porter before his arrest to work out a way to survive and get to the surface. It calculated the best way to achieve this task was by emulating the man who had already been changed into a monster, in order to guide that same now-changed man to victory.</div>
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The final audiolog in the game is Porter activating his wife's personality within The Thinker. It's too much for him to bear. He tells the machine to switch it off. He knows it's not his wife, and it reminds him of how much he misses her. While Wahl wanted to use The Thinker for his own ends, Porter came to understand how what he was doing was not in his own best interest. In the end he made the right decision, but it still cost him, and as the player, we try to give him a second chance.</div>
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Minerva's Den is what I wanted Bioshock 2 to be. It's a wonderful coda for a game lacking its own identity. Minerva's Den has a stronger sense of self. Rather than getting bogged down in the themes of the collective or objectivism, it's about people. Their struggles, their shortcomings, and the mistakes they make. It's about loss, and dealing with loss. It's about healing. It's about making the player care about Porter, and it’s successful. Its success is due to its length. It tells its story, and because no part drags, the emotional impact is felt at full force. If the player wants to become more comfortable with the game's systems, that's what replays and higher difficulties are for.</div>
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But what do you think? Did you feel Minerva's Den was the right length for what it wanted to do, or did you feel it was too rushed? Did the twist and emotional impact of the story affect you in any way? Please let me know in the comments. If you enjoyed the video, why not buy me a coffee? There's a link in the description. If you'd like to help me out in other ways, please like the video, share it on your favourite social media sites, or subscribe if you haven't already. Until next time, I hope you're all having a wonderful day.</div>
Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-40615075475069389342020-03-25T15:36:00.000-07:002020-03-25T15:36:02.274-07:00Bioshock 2: A Lamb in sheep's clothing (game critique)<div style="text-align: center;">
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Late during Bioshock, Jack changes himself into a Big Daddy in order to stop Frank Fontaine. In a moment which should have been impactful because of a self-sacrifice on the part of the player-character, the transformation changed nothing aside from a reduced field of view. By the time the fight with Fontaine happens, the player isn't even looking through a fishbowl anymore. The idea of playing a Big Daddy had merit, it’s just in its execution where it stumbles. We find ourselves playing as Delta (a Big Daddy) in Bioshock 2 for this reason. Much of the sequel consists of addressing the criticisms from the first game, but does improving upon Bioshock allow the game to have its own sense of identity?</div>
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Playing a Big Daddy recontexualises the relationship the player has with the Little Sisters. Instead of rescuing them, you adopt them, and help them fulfill their Adam collection duties, guarding them from Splicers until they're ready to be cured of their affliction. The player still murders the Big Daddies protecting the Little Sisters, before adopting them. Let's hope there’s little trauma as the girls cry over their dead protector. Aside from the rescue / harvest duality, there’s an additional morality system at play in Bioshock 2. Each level is run by a person connected to Sophia Lamb. They act as an end goal, and an antagonist. To move on, you need to confront them, and the player chooses if they live or die. I always try for the good endings in games with morality systems, and in Bioshock 2, the "good choices" become trickier as the game went on.</div>
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Bioshock 2 doesn't punish the player with the bad ending for a single transgression like the first game. Pushing the Little Sisters aside, there are 3 life or death choices the player must make: Grace, Stanley, and Gil. Who deserves to live, and who deserves to die? Let’s go through all three. The reason Grace hates Delta is due to a misunderstanding. Grace projects the pain of her lot in Rapture and the injustices she faced onto Delta, who broke her jaw back when he obeyed his programming, protecting Elanor as a Little Sister. I found it easy to leave her be. Mercy makes Grace realise she’s wrong, and she goes out of her way to aid the player. I waited for such a response from Stanley but it never came. Through my time in Dionysus Park, I learned about Stanley's past. How he manipulated Lamb's followers in her absence and sold Elanor to the Little Sisters Orphanage. It would be easy to say such actions deserved death, but I thought to myself, "who am I to decide who deserves to live or die?” I left him alive. Afterwards, I thought about the silliness of such a question, what with the hundreds of Splicers I've murdered over the course of the game already, but I stick by my decision to let Stanley live.</div>
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Gil is where I made a quote "bad" choice. My rationale for letting Stanley live reflects the way the Bioshock 2 team coded the morality system. Who is Delta to decide whether anyone deserves to live or die? Elanor watches after all. She's always watching her father. During my travels through Fontaine Futuristics, Gil left messages addressing his slipping sanity. He begs whoever listens to end his life when they find him. When we come across Gil, he’s a tank-bound pulsating monstrosity. It would be a stretch to call him human, and even more of one to call him sane. Seeing what Gil has become, I thought the humane and quote "right" moral action was to grant the request he made while of sound mind and body. The game takes this as the wrong action. Gil may no longer be human, but we're still not allowed to take a life. I don’t disagree with this stance, but seeing I’m allowed to make a mistake and still achieve the "good ending", I had no idea this was the wrong course of action until researching this video. Perhaps the clouds of blood and agonised screams coming from the tank should have clued me in, but echoing my thoughts on considering the murder of Stanley, what's one more gruesome death when my primary action as a player is to use all manner of joyous plasmid violence on any who stand in my way?</div>
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As Bioshock 2 is a refinement of Bioshock, I expected a similar narrative structure as well. I didn't get it. The pivotal moment of Bioshock, (the Andrew Ryan scene) is not at the climax of the game, though it feels like it should be. One reason the last few hours of Bioshock were lacking. Playing through Bioshock 2, I waited for Lamb to have her "Andrew Ryan moment" and I expected it at Dionysus Park. Imagine my surprise hours later when I still hadn't encountered her. I remember saying to myself, "Oh of course, they've addressed many criticisms about the first game, perhaps the climax is at the end where it belongs". There’s a similar moment to the Andrew Ryan scene when the player first encounters Lamb and Elanor face to face, but it’s understated compared to what I expected. It’s just not as memorable. There’s no twist in Bioshock 2 putting everything the player has gone through in a new context. No “Would you kindly” moment. When the player comes face to face with Ryan, he champions his free will by ordering his conditioned slave of a son to kill him. Meeting Lamb contains no traces of her supposed philosophy. She suffocates Elanor to sever her link with Delta, all to complete her plan. Nothing more. Sophia Lamb is no Andrew Ryan.</div>
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By this point, I had already checked out because the events of Bioshock 2 are reverse engineered to run alongside the timeline of the first game. Sophia Lamb is meant to be an important citizen of Rapture. There's audiologs of her public debate with Andrew Ryan, how as a psychologist she influenced the downtrodden of the city into forming a religion around her and her daughter. The problem I have? None of it works. It's asking too much of my suspension of disbelief. I've played Bioshock, and yes, the game's explanation is Lamb’s imprisonment during the events of it, but to have not even heard her name until the sequel, and yet she's supposed to be this central a figure? No sir, I don't buy it.</div>
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When it comes to Lamb as an antagonist, the question I kept asking is does she believe her own bullshit? The audiologs are full of her philosophy. The power of collective, how Rapture betrays its people, how Andrew Ryan's vision is foolish, and how the current system needs to be torn down for a new utopia to flourish. It sounds persuasive on its surface, but as I heard more from her, Lamb’s message felt hollow and contradictory. It’s accepted among many players that Lamb is running a con. She's amassing power. She's a narcissist who put herself and her daughter at the centre of a religion. One who took advantage of Rapture's vulnerable citizens in order to amass power and influence. While Lamb’s role in the story sets her up as Bioshock 2's Andrew Ryan, if she is manipulating the poor for her own ends, and it is all an act, she's not Andrew Ryan, she’s Frank Fontaine.</div>
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I have trouble believing Lamb's rhetoric is all an act because of her plan for Elanor; to use Adam to put all the minds of Rapture into one person. To have this person be whoever Rapture needs them to be moving forward. To be an altruistic messiah to lead the masses to a new utopia. Let's put aside the horror of what happened to Gil for a moment, Lamb planning to do the same to her own daughter (despite the assumption being a Little Sister protects Elanor from Gil’s fate). What’s the purpose of the plan? Even with the combined memories of the brightest minds of Rapture, one person is not a collective. Everyone is not melding and co-existing as one being. The dead are going to live on in one person, and send her insane, causing more harm in the process. Is this just another empty piece of philosophising meant to maintain Lamb's control over her Splicer collective? Is this a power play, maintaining a frightening level of agency over her daughter? It’s possible, because the role of the player is to save Elanor. Are these just the ravings of a madwoman? Has Lamb always had delusions of grandeur? Is what she wants to do to Elanor the latest bad idea from Rapture’s new leader? Is Lamb just a tyrant no one dared say “no” to?</div>
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Delusional or a manipulator, since I have no idea how to process Lamb's actions and the reasoning behind them, I feel the same towards Bioshock 2 as a whole. I have no idea what it's trying to say. This disappoints because while Bioshock didn't stick its landing, I knew what it aimed for. The story of Rapture is the story of Bioshock. The mystery of Rapture unveils itself to the player in the first game, and this new outing in the same setting doesn’t offer any new insight. While Rapture is a testament to Andrew Ryan and his objectivist ideology, Bioshock 2 tries to be about the people left behind. This approach explains Lamb's rhetoric, and why the relationship between Delta and Elanor is effective. Their bond is the most memorable part of the game, especially through the final areas. Speaking of their relationship, I enjoyed how Delta wants to protect Elanor because she’s his Little Sister, but after Elanor saves Delta’s life, she puts on the armour of a Big Sister, becoming the one who then protects Delta.</div>
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In the end, Bioshock’s greatest strength is Bioshock 2’s greatest weakness; Andrew Ryan. He's still more compelling a character than anyone in both games. Rapture cannot escape the shadow of the man who willed it into being, even this long after his death. While Bioshock 2 has the opportunity to carve its own path, the first stop after the intro is in Rapture's amusement park. A shrine to the objectivist ideology, to Andrew Ryan himself, and to the first game. Bioshock 2 can't escape the shadow of its predecessor, and I’m not sure it ever wanted to. Bioshock 2 may play better, but like Lamb’s rhetoric, nothing about it feels substantial. It’s just paying homage.</div>
Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4765891151786510747.post-72897337014789415692019-12-31T05:30:00.000-08:002019-12-31T05:30:12.298-08:00The best games I played in 2019<div style="text-align: center;">
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Hey hey folks, Dave here. I hope you all had a great 2019. It was a rough year, but when it came to the video games themselves (and not the industry), I have few complaints. I set out to have a new impressions video every Friday on the channel in 2019 and I succeded. I got to play a lot of great games. I began a series going through the Elder Scrolls saga, and a friend loaned me an Xbox One. This allows me to not only play Xbox exclusives, but a lot of games I've always wanted to try are on Game Pass. I don't have to worry about my laptop not being able to handle such titles.</div>
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For new viewers, allow me to explain how the list will work. This is not a list of the best games of 2019. No, this is a list of the best games I have played in 2019. Due to my funds and an ever growing backlog, I find myself playing more games from years past. In a shocking twist, everything on this list is no more than a couple years old. The oldest game is from 2016. There's a couple from 2017, a couple from 2018, and a couple from this year.</div>
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What I ended up doing was choosing from the 15 games I want to play more of after making impressions videos of them. To make hard choices, I cut the fifteen in half and rounded down to 7. Seven is a lucky number. These are the 7 games I want to play more of in 2020 or the years beyond. Whenever I can get around to it. These 7 games will be in alphabetical order, and then following this list will be my favourite game of the year. The game of the year is one I’ve played through in its entirety and then made a critique video about. It should be easy to guess which game it is for those who've been watching my channel in 2019, but regardless, let’s start the list with...</div>
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Control</div>
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Control is the most fun I had playing a game this year. The reason is Control ticks off a lot of my boxes when it comes to science fiction. Secret government agencies, alien technology, and a reminder our understanding of spacetime and quantum mechanics is woeful and rudimentary. These ideas are packaged up in a third person shooter with superpowers. Control feels good to [ahem] control on top of gorgeous lighting and use of space, cementing this as a game I cannot wait to return to.</div>
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Dead Cells</div>
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In my impressions video I said Dead Cells was the smoothest Roguelike I've ever played. How I didn't feel my time was being wasted by not making progress because cells can be donated towards game upgrades, and plus the gameplay is reward enough. As exciting as I found rolling around and bonking foes with my frying pan, trying out the shield and engaging with the blocking, stun, and parry mechanics added a whole new layer to my excitement. A further appreciation. I look forward to spending more time with this game and uncovering its secrets.</div>
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Forza Horizon 4</div>
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I don't play a lot of racing games, and when I do I prefer to hold down the accelerator and zoom around rather than learning how to navigate a vehicle through a fine tuned racing simulation. Forza Horizon 4 is a nice marriage of these two styles of play. I was able to just choose a car and drive, the guide arrows suggesting the best time to brake and turn, but for those who want to delve deeper, the options are there. What kept me playing was the magic moments kept occurring. The right car, the right lighting, the right song on the radio, the right landscape; I was gawking at situations I found myself racing in, and I want to return to experience more of these moments.</div>
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GRIS</div>
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GRIS is an audio/visual extravaganza. I liken it to playing through an art installation. It's light on gameplay because of what it's trying to accomplish, but I am interested in what new sights and sounds lie around the next corner, and what kind of emotional reactions the game will end up eliciting from me.</div>
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Outer Wilds</div>
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Outer Wilds is special. It's special because of how alien it is. The solar system the player finds themselves in exhibits different behaviour than what we're used to. Much of the thrill of discovery is in figuring out how this universe works. What quirks inhabit each planet, and how to best use the alien technology available. I want to see if Outer Wilds can maintain its sense of mystery and discovery up until its conclusion, and I wonder just how strange this solar system ends up being.</div>
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Persona 5</div>
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It was during a PSN sale when I discovered Persona 5 was not a PS4 exclusive like I had thought it was. It was also available on the PS3, and during this sale, it was dirt cheap. What was I waiting for? Having loved Persona 4, I wanted to try this new entry in the series, whose sleek, and vibrant presentation had been talked about ever since its release. It's a joy to play. Perhaps a little drawn out, but the game makes allowances to give the player a stress free time, while keeping the core of what made the previous 2 entries beloved. I love the concept of the main characters travelling into people's hearts to cure them of their twisted desires, and look forward to continuing this tale. I am worried about the time commitment, but that’s a bridge I’ll cross when I come to it.</div>
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Unavowed</div>
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I'm a fan of the work of Wadjet Eye Games, the Blackwell series most of all. Unavowed takes place in the same world as those games, and is about a group of paranormal investigators / police. I love the attention to detail in the backgrounds, I love how hotspots have descriptions on them when moused over, and I dig the whole vibe of the game, becoming enamored with the characters. I look forward to getting to know the current cast even better, and meeting all the new members of the team.</div>
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Now we come to the best game I played this year. I created 5 critique videos in 2019, and all are eligible, as I played each title start to finish. The contenders are Killer7, Sleeping Dogs, Hollow Knight, Bioshock, and Yakuza 0. The winner? Drumroll please…</div>
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Hollow Knight</div>
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Hollow Knight is a rarity because when I finished the game, I didn't even start writing my critique before I began a second playthrough. I wanted to experience all the unexplored aspects left on my first time through, and it made me love the game even more. A lot has been said on Hollow Knight's value for money. How for only $15 US you get a platformer which keeps revealing itself to the player hour after hour (not even including the free downloadable content which extends the game even further). Affordable pricing aside, it's the level of love put into the art, the design, and creating a world crying out for exploration which had me returning to the game night after night, despite my frustrations with the movement and combat mechanics. A lot of games succeed by having their strengths outshine their weaknesses. Hollow Knight succeeds despite its weaknesses. My frustrations may have pulled me down in the moment, but I kept thinking about the game when I was away from it, and even though it's now been over 6 months since my second playthrough, I've thought about a third. More than any game, Hollow Knight captured my imagination and rewarded my perseverance. This is why it is the best game I played in 2019.<br />
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Now it's your turn. What are the best games you played in 2019? They don't have to be from this year, I'd just like to know the games you had the most fun playing. Please tell me in the comments. I hope you're all looking forward to 2020 as much as I am. It's not just a new year, but a new decade. The possibilities are endless. Let's all be the best we can be. I look forward to making and sharing new videos with you this year, and I hope you enjoy watching them. Happy new year everybody, and I hope you all have a wonderful 2020.</div>
Dave_the_Turniphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10936724545186944875noreply@blogger.com0