Momentum is a concept that must be encouraged
Especially when it comes to blogging.
Remain committed and dividends shall be repaid tenfold.
Super Street Fighter 4
arrives tomorrow Amazon permitting. The spectrum in which Street Fighting ability lies is vast and within it there is a place which I may occupy for the next few weeks. I predict, with a painful familiarity, that my place lies somewhere near the bottom.
Occasionally I arrive at a place uncharted upon my virtual map.
I obtain a game I had no real interest in buying but have nevertheless somehow managed to acquire. Player one presses start, the ball begins to roll. Then, for reasons over which I have complete control, the adventure ends. My wretched capriciousness takes effect and I stop playing. Genuinely enjoyable games have been left, my will to play sapped for reasons unbeknown. Each time I vow to return, and each return is long coming, if at all.For someone with such a completionist approach, this is heartbreaking. I curse myself for not finishing Batman, I get physically angry at my abandonment of Dragon Age: Origins, I shake with fury at my mental inability to complete Borderlands. My intentions upon the start of each adventure are so pure. These are games that I should finish. So why can't I?
Returning to a game that has previously been dropped is a strange sensation.
Those of you returning to titles such as World Of Warcraft after a lengthy hiatus will sympathize. Tactics, combos, layouts and button configurations all feel alien and strange. The story, in games that contain any story worth noting, feels irrelevant without it's previous context fresh in your mind. Characters and quests are approached as strangers. Familiarizing with each is possible but takes time. It's perhaps the most daunting aspect of returning to a game, and many people seem to work around it by simply restarting from the beginning.When I begin each virtual escapade that fresh burst of enthusiasm is often paramount to my enjoyment of the game. It's the sense of exploring, finding and mastering unknown quantities. The worst feeling in a game is realizing it has nothing new left to offer. Is my attention span so mercurial that it requires constant progressive stimulation? Is this my fault, or the fault of the game? Am I being unreasonable in asking for more when everyone else seems so content to metaphorically hack away repetitively from start to finish? Am I alone in this?
Progression in games may be an illusion, but if it's convincing enough then it's one i'm happy to entertain.
When I reach a point where I understand the concepts of a game and i'm told to Rinse and Repeat for the next 4 hours - there are two choices. If those mechanics feel comfortable then often I'm happy to humor them and allow the narrative to progress. Gears Of War would be a good example of this (for a given value of "Narrative"). The alternative is, upon realizing the task that lies ahead, to say "Fuck that!" and walk away. Perhaps the best way of explaining this is to reference the search for the Tri-Force Shards at the end of Wind Waker. I love that game, but I stopped playing at that point. I didn't have the patience to trudge around on that bullshit quest. The quantities, the tasks I would have to complete, were all known and failed to inspire any interest.
And so Super Street Fighter 4 arrives tomorrow, a game to which the concept of a "known quantity" is a strength rather than a weakness. You can stop playing and restart years later and instantly feel right at home. There's something about it which taps into the primal understanding of videogames each of us shares. It remains constant. Men may die, empires may rise and fall, but I'm not ever going to forget how to launch a fireball.
Thanks For Reading
Love Sweep
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