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Loot Management & You: How Games Deal With Your Garbage

That is a terrible title. Why am I starting an article with.. oh hey there! Since I discussed dungeon crawlers (or the hybridization thereof) last time, I figured I'd move onto how games of this genre (and its other RPG contemporaries) allow players to interact with the treasure they find, specifically focusing on the relative merits of simple convenience vs. in-depth inventory micromanagement.
 
RPGs are all about the treasure right? Well, alongside the character development, strategic combat and those fanservice parts where the female protagonists put on bathing suits at the hot springs because Yosuke is a horndog. Mostly treasure though. To the extent that even if the developers are deliberately concentrating on the aforementioned characters/battles/jiggle physics, they still need to be mindful enough of a player's inherent desire for shiny things to have an extensive system in place for the acquisition and management of same.
 
So in this article I'll explain the general steps games take with their inventories and treasures, citing particular examples that either try something unique or just happen to have a particularly good/bad system in place. Starting with inventory systems:
 
Inventory - The Inventory wiki page adequately covers the three basic types of item management: The "Unlimited" system, usually employed by JRPGs and games less committed to realism over player convenience, the "Weight Allowance" system that limits a player's carrying capacity based on a physical characteristic often favored by the type of WRPG that is based to some extent on curiously pro-jock D&D encumbrance rules, and the basic "Fixed Capacity" system that limits a character's inventory to an arbitrary fixed number, usually represented visually as a series of boxes filled with each collected item - this system is the most often employed by video games on the whole, including games outside the RPG genre such as Dead Space or Resident Evil 4. This system of box-filling occasionally goes a shade too deep into some kind of abstract Tetris puzzle game, which makes me wonder why someone hasn't built a Tetris game with Diablo's weapon and armor sprites as a joke. Possibly because most people talented at coding don't have the free time that I do.
 
The Bard's Tale - In this sixth-gen adaptation of the early Bard's Tale series for old people computers, the game takes a refreshingly blasé stance on inventory management by automagically transforming vendor trash into money. The game will also automatically sell weaker weapons and equipment once found, and will replace stronger equipment with whatever is currently equipped and sell the old equipment, which of course wouldn't work in a more complex game. Ostensibly, this system was introduced to avoid bogging down the player with too much "game" to deal with, due to its status as a light-hearted pastiche of action RPG tropes, but all the same it's still a surprisingly effective system that cuts out a considerable amount of unnecessary busywork. Like the spiral text-input of Beyond Good & Light, it's a one-off feature that makes you wonder why it isn't more commonplace.
 
Torchlight - Torchlight's most interesting feature regarding item management is the ability to send one's pet into town to sell useless treasure. Doing so hardly interrupts the gameplay and is a huge time-saver. The game does become a little tougher without the pet's help however, so this trick isn't without its perils.
 
Fable 3 - An example of a novel system that doesn't work so well is Fable 3's pocket universe inventory, which more often than not adds unnecessary steps to checking one's inventory and makes it difficult to find many item types. Terranigma uses a similar pocket universe feature, though it can be navigated like a normal menu system in most cases.
 
Now for treasure variety. I've taken the liberty of ranking these from commonest to rarest (sort of like how the games themselves do it, which kind of make me wish you can change the font colors on Giant Bomb):
 
Gold - Obvious enough. Currency is needed to buy anything and is the most valuable commodity available in practically every game that uses it. Games will occasionally change the name to keep things interesting though. I hear the Gil -> Zenny exchange rate is ridiculoid right now.
Equipment - A necessary part of any RPG character's inventory is the stuff they're wearing to fight bad guys. Some RPGs will scale equipment drops to the character's level, or to the difficulty of the dungeon you're in, meaning any given piece of equipment you find is comparable to what you may already have equipped. Others will have you routinely stripping dead enemies for their mediocre armor (it didn't do them any favors anyway) for selling. What's more interesting is how the game decides how many pieces of armor a character can equip (occasionally getting ridiculous with leggings and arm bracers), and whether or not it still takes up storage space if it's being worn.
Consumables - Potions and the like. Though incredibly common in some games, where a player's health potion stash starts to number in the hundreds, they can also be very rare and valuable tools in others and players often need to save them for when absolutely necessary. I'll also include ammo here, since characters that use it consume it at quite a rate (though perhaps more commonly they simply fire them from their bows or guns).
Junk - These items have no other use than to be sold for cash. This seems slightly pointless; like getting pocket change while trick or treating to later buy candy with, adding an extra step to one's Halloween process. It does add to the variety of things you can find, though, and you can happily sell this stuff without worrying about it being useful further down the road. In most cases.
Crafting Ingredients - Occasionally indistinguishable from the sell-only stuff, the materials you can find while adventuring have their uses in the game's crafting system; turning useless scrap into something useful. Most of the time these items are parts of monsters that either fell off mid-battle or that the characters took their time to remove from the corpses with knives/pliers/ice cream scoops, though there's usually a lot of harvesting ores and plants and such too. MMO jaunts tend to get unfortunately weighed down with hunting for this shit.
Fish - If there's a fishing mini-game, it's likely that these piscine peeps will show up. I guess it depends on what, exactly, you're fishing for, but in most cases it's usually fish. Fish will either act as a crappier alternative to potions or will occasionally have unique benefits that apparently only aquatic life can offer. Like Omega-3, perhaps, or that thing that makes sharks immune to Alzheimer's that Deep Blue Sea was all about trying to find before people started getting ate. This is kind of a departure, so let's move on.
Collectible Playing Cards - Your guess is as good as mine with these. People like CCGs, I suppose, so it makes sense that monsters would go out of their way to craft cards in their own likeness and leave them to be picked up upon death as some sort of memorandum. Total sense. This also includes figurines or books. As long as they don't make the drop rate abysmal, it's actually a neat (if completely incomprehensible) way of getting to know the monsters and the wider world which they inhabit.
Glass Bottles - Why the hell are these so rare? Poor Link could've been farming fairies for the end of days (which for him is occasionally half a week away) if fate ever let him find more than four. Woe betide his enemies if he ever stumbles upon his local recycling facility. I suppose anything that can take down Ganondorf should be meted out sparingly.

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News-Blog: 3DS First Impressions

So like many Europeans, I received my Nintendo 3DS from Amazon this morning. I was quite jubilant. Of course, it needed charging before I could do anything.
 
After letting it charge for its customary 3 and a half hours (which it'll need to do after five hours of action, meaning it has a work/sleep ratio that's even worse than my own) I did a grand tour of the 3DS' features. Here's what I found so far: 

3D Camera

This thing's a little trippy, but not any more than the rest of the 3D stuff. It does that stereoscopic thing that I'm sure everyone's read about at this point, and apparently the memory's sufficient for 1200 of these 3D photos which is kind of impressive (that's like ten MyNotebooks!). Other than that, pretty standard lowish-quality phone type camera really. I don't see myself using it much.
 

Mii Maker

Same old Miis. The face recognition stuff for this seems a little janky, but then it might just be that I have a janky face. It seems pretty identical to its Wii counterpart for all intents and purposes and will probably be ignored by me in a similar fashion. Unless I can download a load of good ones from some enterprising person on my friends list. The Miis here also fit into the Augmented Reality stuff too, as well as StreetPass stuff but I'm even less inclined to try that. Though I did just read about that RPG thing so maybe I should try that before continuing this blog. Ah whateve-
 

StreetPass

Never going to use it. I don't go outside. Not anymore. Not while they still have me under surveillance.

Augmented Reality

This is what takes up most of the bulk of the built-in apps, separated into several modes and including the Face Raiders game which I'll go into in a moment. 
Star Cards: Just basically virtual figurines. Mine came with Mario, Samus, Kirby, some Pikmin and Wind Waker Link. Dunno if that's the traditional set-up, but from I've seen from promotional pics elsewhere it is. They can do little poses and you can take photos of them doing little poses. If you wanted to do that for some reason. Seems kind of pointless, but its a nice inexpensive gesture if each Nintendo game gave out more of them. They're numbered, so it's not like they couldn't turn them into a collectible card side-gig either.
AR Shoot: Hitting targets. You do have to spin the camera around to find some of them, so it works best if you're setting the AR card down on a coffee table or something similarly central in a room. A cluttered desk or your own knee is a little more problematic (as I discovered), unless you simply manually move the card around yourself. The game ends once you shoot a dragon that randomly pops up. Because everything needs a boss fight these days apparently.
AR Golf: (Not its real name, but the real name Shot is ambiguously close to Shoot) This one's a little goofier, since terrain will suddenly spring up and it becomes something of a golf/billiards physics puzzle. It reminded me a lot of Kirby's Dream Course, actually. And the dragon shows up again. I'm wondering if all this dragon chasing is code for something.
AR Fishing: Pretty basic fishing game where you only need to snap the 3DS up once to catch something after it bites the line. It seems to have plenty of different kinds of fish to hook though, so it's entirely possible my completionist tendencies will get the better of me and I'll play more of it. I got quite excited when one particularly large fish shadow showed up, only to find it was that friggin' dragon again. C'mon dude, I'm trying to relax with some fishing here.
Face Raiders: Hands down the most terrifying game I've ever played. And I've played Drakengard. Setting aside any easy jokes about one's homely countenance (I've done that once already), the game's downright eerieness comes from the expressions the face ball things make as they attack you (or just goof off in the menus). They come at you from all directions, wearing your face, trying to murder you while laughing with their weird diamond-shaped Andross mouths. It's seriously like a scene from Lawnmower Man. Or a postcard from the Uncanny Grand Canyon. I won't be revisiting it if I can help it. Most troubling, I think, is that the face recognition software had me pegged as a 12 year old girl, despite not shaving recently.
 

3DS Sound

This one's a little odd. I kind of just expected it to be a music player (which is already an odd thing to use your DS for, though it kind of works if you're intending to take long walks for coins and need something to listen to) but it's apparently a sound recording studio type thing as well. It's more or less applying filters to music and recorded sounds, like making everything resemble 8-bit NES music (which sort of sounds wrong). I dunno, I don't think it'll replace the vastly superior sound mixer software that exists already in DS form.
 

Activity Log

Self explanatory. Mine was kind of empty, but then I've only had the 3DS for a few hours. There's lots of neat little infographics options though for whatever reason, so it's kind of like having your own little PSeG wherever you go.
 
 
I dunno, this is mostly information people have already heard from Jeff and other game/tech journalist types. I'm thinking now that this whole blog idea was a subconscious attempt to show off my 3DS-having status in a way that didn't seem too douchey. Fission mailed. But seriously, these apps are neat and there's quite a lot of them, cool of Nintendo to go all out for a bunch of proof of concept novelties. Now the long wait for the eShop begins. Nothing stops etc. etc.
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Hybridized Dungeon Crawlers

This week, I'll be discussing my favorite sub-sub-genre (seriously, genres are fucked up) and its merits over similar games without the hybrid element.
 
If you're wondering what manner of nonsense I'm talking about, the creation of a hybridized dungeon crawler is as follows: 
1. You take a perfectly functional dungeon-crawler - think Diablo or Torchlight, or anything designated as a " Roguelike" or said to include procedurally generated dungeons. These dungeons are varied in their size and aesthetic style (their look, in non-pretentious wordage), full of treasures and monsters, and are to some extent generated on the fly by some sort of inherent algorithm and other coding jargon I've long since been unable to figure out.
2. You add to this dungeon crawler an equally full and functional second game genre. Currently, there doesn't seem to be any theoretical restrictions on what this second genre is, only that it needs to be something that can directly complement the dungeon crawler element in some way - so money earned in the dungeon would have second-mode applications, and you can do stuff in the second-mode that will assist or direct the dungeon crawling. 
3. Important to note that the dungeon crawling and second mode should remain separate: It isn't just the same game mode throughout. So something like Borderlands, which is pretty much a hybrid of a dungeon crawler and an FPS, wouldn't count in this instance. Though I guess they'd have to be called the same thing. Genres are fucked up.
 
The idea is that the dungeon crawler element is captivating on a sheer behavioral level of "kill monster, find shiny", which after a while will lose its sheen and begin to resemble a pointless chore. The second mode alleviates this "enjoyment entropy" by giving players the distraction of a separate gaming experience for a while, so they cam re-enter the dungeon mode refreshed and the initial captivation intact, with this cycle perpetuating ideally for the length of the game. At least that's the theory, but considering how successful some of the games on this list became, it's clear this system works when handled correctly.
 
I'll briefly cover some examples of what I'm talking about:
 

Shin Megami Tensei: Persona (Dungeon Crawler + Social Sim)

The Persona games famously divide their playtime between the dungeon crawling and the social dating sim aspects. The dungeon crawling moves the game forward, with deadlines imposed and met to further the storyline. The social element allows the player to increase their prowess in the dungeons via some sort of spiritual power leak from the strength of their relationships with friends and lovers. Thus, building these relationships between dungeon excursions is highly beneficial as well as being an entertaining series of vignettes focusing on the development of a side character. These little stories are the perfect foil for the randomized dungeon crawling, creating solid, believable character arcs that stand out especially against the indiscriminate chaos of your Tartaruses and TV Worlds.
 

Dark Cloud (Dungeon Crawler + World-Building Sim)

The Dark Cloud series follows the adventures of a world-building hero, who needs to descend various dungeons for the inspiration and raw materials to recreate a series of locations. The first game largely takes the Soul Blazer route of having certain buildings and people of the overworld unlocked based on the player's progress through the dungeon, though the player is responsible for the placement of these overworld pieces to suit specific requisites. Dark Cloud 2 is slightly more open, giving you the resources (or funds) needed to rebuild entire villages complete with buildings, walls, fences, pathways, rivers and stage-specific fixtures like mechanical cranes. The sequel also goes one step further by introducing many side projects to the dungeon crawler, including a photography subquest, character specific requests and fishing and golf mini-games that can be undertaken once a dungeon floor is cleared of enemies. 
 

Rune Factory (Dungeon Crawler + Farming Sim)

Simple enough: Harvest Moon with dungeon crawls. The resources you claim from dungeons, mostly tamable monsters, are as integral to building a profitable farm as the diligent planting and harvesting cycle of your edible flora. Doing too much of one or the other isn't necessarily going to ruin your farm, but a balance is recommended. It's hard to say if this improves the Harvest Moon experience too much, since I'm not sure who buys these games besides farming enthusiasts (the ones that aren't all flocking to Farming Simulator 2011, of course), but it now has five games in the series so obviously farming and treasure are a potent combination for somebody.
 

Now I'll go over several theoretical "second mode" genres and how they might be combined with a dungeon crawler, and see if it creates a fun Frankenstein's monster, like Frankenberry, and not a scary bad Frankenstein's monster, like Frankenstein's monster.
 

Dungeon Crawler + Shmup

Shmups don't seem like they'd be impossible to procedurally generate - it's basically waves of enemies and glowy bullets to avoid - either in the traditional horizontal/vertical scrolling format or the currently popular single-screen dual-stick format. While you could build a game that had shmup stages separating the dungeons, similar to Kingdom Hearts Gummi Ship sections, I'm wondering if you couldn't have a game where you'd just simply switch between these two modes whenever you had the compulsion to do so. While dungeon crawling is a slow(ish),  methodical sweeping of a series of halls and tunnels, the shmup equivalent of same would be a lot faster paced but also a lot more treacherous without that measured sense of caution. Players could switch if they find their crawling experience flagging, or if they find they're dying too much against the enemy hordes on this level. Both modes would have all the treasures and monsters native to dungeon-crawling, so it'd be more or less just a switch-up of pacing.
 

Dungeon Crawler + Sports

Well, I'm the last guy to play a sports game, because if I did that I'd be a jock and therefore my own worst enemy. Over here in 1980s highschool movie cliché land. Honestly, I just don't find them all that enthralling since they tend to be so dry and shoot for realism. One exception are the Mutant League games, which combine the usual rules and plays with horrific zombie-on-alien violence and lots of dark comic humor. A Sports/Dungeon Crawler based on that type of world would involve capturing monsters and training them for roles in either some fictional medieval sport or perhaps a real one like soccer or football (or football and American football, depending on your geography). Certain monsters could be used for "defense" and "offense" depending on how rock-solid or pointy they happen to be, though they'd need enough intelligence to follow orders. You could also use the funds from dungeon crawling to hire and trade pre-existing players. Adversely, the monsters would assist the player in the dungeon crawling aspect, increasing their skills in the blocking/tackling/kicking fields as they level up.
 

Dungeon Crawler + Empire Building Sim/Strategy

In this hypothetical game, the dungeon crawling boosts a would-be conqueror's armies and territories. This is partly done by simply raising funds and finding weapons and equipment for their troops by exploring ancient fortresses and forgotten dungeons on a larger "take everything that isn't junk" scale. The end goal of each large dungeon, though, would be to reclaim some artifact of power with an actual global effect on the player's abilities as a monarch. These could range from icons that affirms their right to rule (increasing fame and relations with rival despots) to advanced lost technology that increases the strength of their troops a la Civilization, or magical artifacts that give the player unique benefits when creating cities or fighting wars. The player would move around in dungeons with a larger excavation team of warriors, engineers and stout peons for the heavy lifting. Instead of one or two weapon or armor drops, they'd be emptying entire armories of hundreds. Instead of just taking piles of gold and jewels, they'd be taking all the furniture and fixtures that haven't completely rotted away. It'd be an interesting (even if I do say so myself) twist on the usual small scale one-man dungeon crawl.
 

So what do you guys think about combining dungeon crawlers with other game types? Are they more fun or less fun than core crawler games like Torchlight? Any other (hopefully better) ideas for combinations? Do you think these blog posts are weakened by having a bunch of rhetorical questions at the end? Is this a rhetorical question? Where are my pants?
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Let's Plays: A Mentospective

Hey all. For this blog I'll be going over Let's Plays, because Yahtzee just did something similar and this whole video game blogging business is a "follow the leader" industry. By which I clearly mean that I intend to give my own standpoint on this continuing internet 2.0 phenomenon irrespective of the ramblings of some maniacal ex-pat. I guess I should probably write " ZP response blog" somewhere just to be safe. Ehh, maybe later.
 

A Let's Time and a Let's Place for Let's Play

That's a catchy and non-stupid sub-topic title! The value of a Let's Play is hard to accurately define, unless you believe internet dollars are real things, so we'll say it is entirely dependent on its educational and entertainment value. Preferably with a mix of both, but one or the other is fine if it's at an acceptably high standard.
 
Now for some stuff that isn't a retread: The games that work best with decent Let's Play coverage. Most examples are pulled from SA's external non-subscription (hey don't subscription sites suck, by the way? Am I right guys? Guys?) LP archive, called imaginatively enough the LP Archive.
 

GOOD

SURVIVAL HORROR
Best Features of a Survival Horror: Scary shit, story.
Worst Features of a Survival Horror: All doors seem to be locked either with sliding puzzles or keys currently situated a mile away in some nurse monster's gullet.
Survival Horror is easily the most entertaining of the Let's Plays to watch, simply because it excuses you from the nerve-wracking experience of running around for keys in a haunted building and lets some other chump do it while you reap all the scares and story beats. Plus you get the benefit of watching said chump lose his shit if it's a blind run.
 
Example: This Forbidden Siren LP is informative, keeping the commentary to an understated subtitle track (can't spell "subtitle" without "subtle", y'all), while handily navigating the player through annoying stealth section after stealth section and letting them experience the game's creepy-as-hell atmosphere and story. There's no way I'd have the patience to play this game myself. The sequel's LP by the same dude is also worth a look in as it covers a game never released in the States.
 
INTERESTING FAILURES
Best Feature of an Interesting Failure: They're interesting. Possibly unique. Possibly unique for a reason.
Worst Feature of an Interesting Failure: Actually trying to play them.
There's usually plenty of genuinely imaginative ideas that simply could not be realized fully by the under-experienced or under-funded development team, creating something only a fool would love. Fortunately, the world has enough of those amusing fools to create a Let's Play memorandum for these forgotten non-gems. Fun for MST3k-ing, but only if the LPers are actually funny (Unskippable take note).
 
Example: This Jurassic Park: Trespasser LP is fairly famous in LP circles for the host's Brad-like sardonic southern wit covering the sheer debacle of this early physics-and-dinosaurs-based shooter/thrower. He finds plenty of good things to say about the game, however, including how it blazed a trail for games like Half-Life 2 to follow with all its hoity-toity notions of competency and fun. The Yahtzee article also mentioned the Daikatana LP which is even more famous, especially if you like no-clipping and frogs. Oh yeah, I heard there was a good playthrough or two of that Deadly Premonition game somewhere as well.
 
GOOFY ASS MULTI-PLAYER
Best Features of Goofy Ass Multi-Player: It's a lot of fun, even from a spectator viewpoint. Beefs are born as quickly as they are squashed.
Worst Features of Goofy Ass Multi-Player: Not always easily available, especially if you're a hermit. Occasionally becomes an annoying and incoherent cacophony.
The Goofy Ass Multi-Player experience seriously depends on one's tolerance for stupidity. Fortunately, rather than flailing moronically at the game's challenges (which is frustrating for everyone) they're mostly flailing moronically at each other. With the right game and the right crowd, it's one of the best types of LP for sheer entertainment value.
 
Example: Those likable dolts of the Freelance Astronauts covered the New Super Mario Bros Wii (that's a title destined for obsolescence) in suitably chaotic form, with a ful playthrough using all four players. As expected, they barely survive most levels, the largest obstacles to their success naturally being each other.
 
FILLING IN BLANKS
Sometimes you just want to play a game because it reveals a lot of information that would be spoiled by a sequel, with said sequel either an imminent release or a recent purchase. Often, though, the earlier games in a series are far less polished and are a chore to get through, especially if there's a significant time lapse between it and its sequel. This is where LPs become valuable historical records for games either too difficult to obtain or too horrible to play.
 
Example: SA user and LPer "The Dark Id" often covers games of this type, usually in a screenshot format that neatly summarizes the game rather than subject the viewer to endless hours of terrible in-game action. While some of the games he covers are objectively quite good, most are merely mediocre. The benefit of reading these LPs is that these games are often part of a larger series of much higher quality, so the LPs are a more entertaining method of catching up with the prequels and gaiden games than actually playing them. Specific examples include FF7's melancholy shooty vampire spin-off Dirge of Cerberus, deeply unpleasant dragon-sim and sort-of prequel to Nier Drakengard and Resident Evil's frequently baffling zombie excursions which include pretty much all of them up to #4 if we're talking about the bad ones, but for generosity's sake I'll just post the LP of one of those horrible rail-shooters.
 
ENDURANCE RUNS OF LONGER GAMES
Best Feature of Longer Games: Longevity, first and foremost. There's usually a lot of worthwhile content buried in an even larger amount of repetitive dreck.
Worst Feature of Longer Games: Players (usually older ones with jobs and such) often lack the patience or free-time to play these goliaths from start to finish. 
The longer game can be a bit too cumbersome for most, who prefer their gaming in short bursts. Having long stretches where the game seems to go on forever without a save point or a reprieve can make a person's eyes glaze over, and any and all goodwill towards the gameplay or story are eventually forgotten as the tedium sets in. Fortunately, someone else's endurance run of same will cut these playthroughs down into manageable chunks to view at one's convenience and pleasure.
 
Example: i dunno much about endurance runs other than.. other than the one we got at this site vinny used bufu on things and i watched it MORPHELGORBL
 
 
Dudes, totally feel free to respond with your own thoughts and LP recommendations. For the record, I actively detest any LP that is: "creatively narrated" (fucking English majors) or "wacky/insane" (sort of a little pot kettle black, granted).
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Old vs. New: Final Fantasies vs. Final Fantasy XIII (Part Two)

Welcome to the second part of this sort-of introspective of the Final Fantasy series (the first part being around here somewhere). Like all good self-respecting article-writing guys, I'm going to direct you towards a far superior, more in-depth look at the series written by SMPS (and occasional HG101) contributor Pat/Pitchfork. It's right here and a great read and I've tried not to mimic it too much. Probably.
 
Onwards!
 

On t3h Cyberpunkz (In MY Fantasy RPG? It's More Likely Than You Think) (FF7)

A worrying trend in FF games, starting with FF7 (though one could make a similar case for the steampunkish FF6) is having all these futuristic trappings alongside the mages and moogles. Something about getting all your "you must go to cave for item to defeat the darkness" fetch quests via Mog Twitter or CactuarBook just seems malapropos, and characters with swords are completely ridiculous in a world full of automatic weapons and flying attack drones, even if those swords are also guns somehow.

Because FF13 is a Final Fantasy game made after FF7, it too has an all-too-modern setting for its Logan Run-esque hapless mortals to amuse themselves in as their caretakers plot their demise. They even start with a similar "rebels on a train" sequence for Jenova's sake! And then a scorpion robot! I guess this counts as throwing a bone to all those FF7 fanboys crying out for a HD remake.
 
Maybe I shouldn't be too hard on FF13 for this. It's not like there aren't many modern games where your characters can hit solid metal robots with sticks to brutal effect (sup Enslaved). But I am a little annoyed they turned all the bombs into gamer dice because "the future".
 

On Dramatis Personae (FF8)

So here's where the similarities really start to stack up. Almost every character in FF13 has an analogous member in FF8's lineup of whiny schoolchildren. Maybe they all came from the same orphanage but forgot, huh? So in no particular order:

Lightning = Squall

Voted in unanimously as party leader, despite being a misanthropic loner with very little affection for anyone under their care. Sure, why wouldn't that make sense. Maybe it's because they both have swords that fire bullets? Like that's Final Fantasy's version of holding the conch shell? Both go through the sort of cutesy-poo "daww they're human, really" development where they'll go from grimacing and never saying a full sentence to anyone to except to call them a dumbass, to smiling occasionally.

Snow = Seifer

This could go either way between a Seifer or Zell match. Like Zell, he's a good-natured dumbass who punches things instead of picking up a gun like a smart person. Like Seifer, he's a romance-obsessed douche with a dumb white trenchcoat. Considering Snow starts mildly antagonistic, with a couple of cohorts in the form of an androgynous "one of the guys" gal and a butch surfer type, he strikes me as a Seifer-esque "I'm not a bad guy but my opinions are different" dipshit. Sorry Snow. No, wait, I'm not.

Sazh = Zell
So that makes Mr Comic Relief guy (when he isn't trying to suicide himself) Sazh our Zell ersatz. Ersazh. Heheheh. Sazh is actually a pretty cool dude, whose early prowess as a Synergist made him kind of useful, before he spent the rest of his early chapters as a Commando guarding little Miss Glass Cannon. Zell isn't useful at all, unless the enemy is made out of hot dogs. Durger-murder aside, Zell has a horribly exploitable limit break attack (oh, so like all the other horribly broken limit breaks in that game) and not much else going for him. OH MAN indeed.

Vanille = Selphie

Cut out the sugar, ladies, you'll give yourselves diabetes. See how endlessly perky you are after losing a foot.

Jihl Nabaat = Quistis

The calm, collected chick with the glasses. A riding crop you use to hit people with isn't a million miles away from a whip, either. Aw hell, they're the exact same character, only they made FF13's Quistis pure evil for some reason. Maybe Franziska von Karma and the Baroness convinced them that haughty types wielding dominatrix weapons are traditionally villains? When a good guy comes around, they must whip it. Whip it good.

Fang = Edea

Another character that begins as an antagonist, swooping in with the enemy's militia to beat some sense into your characters. Of course, the truth is far more complicated, and at one point they both become playable and are hilariously broken to boot. But then you get to keep Fang and it's like "oh, sweet".

Hope = ?

Man, it's just as well no-one in FF8 is as whiny as Hope. That game had enough problems. Hope's FF8 equivalent can be the Card Queen because I hope they both die in a fire for introducing the "Random" rule wherever I go. Or in Hope's case, for never shutting up. "Ooh, I'm sad my mom died. I'm too scared to jump over obstacles. I'm going to stab pubebeard." Well then do it, you wuss. I'm convinced Operation Nora had something to do with attacking my sanity.
 

Barthandelus = Ultimecia

Stands to reason that both games would have a human-looking antagonist, introduced some 2/3 the way into the game, who later transforms into the same kind of giant angelic monstrosity you'd expect to see Bayonetta pounding down on with her hair beasties. This type of character isn't unique to either FF8 or FF13, sadly.
 

On Eidolons As Plot Devices (FF9)

Eidolons are what FF9 and FF13 call the summoned deity things that have become one of many FF trademarks. Unlike in many other FF games (well, except maybe 6), they're pretty integral to the plot and the development of the characters as well. In FF9 the Eidolons are pretty much the scary "destroy the world" McGuffins for the first half of the story until something shinier comes along for the flamboyant Kuja to wet himself over. In FF13, they're a series of really sadistic puzzle boss fights where you have to discern the correct approach to fighting them before they tear you to shreds for being too chickenshit to carry out your duties as some god machine's plaything. In either case, I never used them much after picking them up, choosing instead to stay focused on attack strategies that don't factor in overlong animations and stupid Transformers bullshit. Your mileage may vary.
 

On Linearity (FF10)

So when FF10 came out, a lot of derision was hurled at how every location on the map was essentially one long road from A to Z(anarkland) with monsters at various points. There was even an enterprising fellow setting up motorway service stations for you to chill out at for a while. Then you hit a big plain and the game seemed to open up a bit more before entering the final few dungeons. 
 
If you've played FF13, this all sounds pretty familiar no doubt. Except the linearity has, somehow, intensified in its one-track mentality. It might as well be a rail shooter. On top of a chocobo. " Chocobo's Safari". Needless to say, after being positively spoiled by FF12's massive and perhaps confusingly oblique playing field (not to mention those of WRPGs such as Fallout and Oblivion), this is what got the most flak in FF13's many negative critiques. It certainly stands out, but I guess it all depends on your predilection for extraneous exploration. A labyrinth, after all, is traditionally a single unerring path made complex by its many twists and turns.
 
I feel like history's greatest monster for trying to defend FF13's linearity. Moving on.

On Monthly Subscription Fees (FF11)

Oh wait, FFXIII doesn't have any, because it's a video game and not the Bacon of the Month Club. Which is a shame, because bacon is awesome.

On Hunting For Sport (FF12)

So FFXIII's singular side-mission is this huge meta-game about hunting monsters to help out dead people for fabulous prizes (either from the monsters or the dead people, it's not clear). This is pretty much identical to FFXII's meta-game; simply an excuse to squeeze in boss fight after boss fight. I'm not too far into it yet, so I don't know if FFXIII will pull another Yiazmat, but it probably will. An optional super-boss battle isn't fun unless it takes one full orbit of Mercury to complete.
 

On The Future of Final Fantasy (FF??)

Short version: There's going to be more of these. Not just more Final Fantasies, more Final Fantasy XIIIs. We need to spin this baby off until people hate it even more, then maybe make a Tower Defense game on the 3DS to seal the deal. It's not a particularly encouraging strategy. It seems these days they can't simply shrug off the less well received ones and try something different again for the next installment. Except they did and it's another frickin' MMO, so maybe we can stick around with this one a bit longer. 13's a lucky number, right?
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Old vs. New: Final Fantasies vs. Final Fantasy XIII (Part One)

It seems almost too easy to compare a new entry in a franchise to an older one: Of course one is going to be inspired by the other, that's how franchises work, right? But when you're able to adequately compare all twelve core entries to its newest one in at least one very specific way, that's a little more interesting. Depending on your fanboy or hater leanings, it can either mean that Square-Enix's venerable Final Fantasy series is either built on the foundations of its forebears; establishing a rich tapestry of common themes and conventions OR cannibalizing itself to constant diminishing returns with each new ponderous adventure to save the world from whatever silver-haired goon or angry tree is threatening it this time.
 
FF13 is the newest in the core franchise, if you don't include MMOs and I rarely do. Plus, I'm at the cusp of completing the damn thing. So that's the "New" for those following along at home. Was it maligned? Is it truly as terrible as they say? Will playing it make you go bald prematurely, regardless of gender? Hopefully this blog will go some way into answering these pertinent questions. But it probably won't. 
 
In the "Old" corner we have every other one of thems. The Final Fantasies. They're all lining up for a piece of the new guy. This is going to be looooooooooong.

On Beginnings and Endings (FF1)

So, Final Fantasy. The first one was created in 1987 famously as a last ditch effort to create something, anything that might sell for fledgling company SquareSoft; were it not to do so, it'd live up to its "Final" modifier for the company and for the game's planner Hironobu Sakaguchi. But then sell it did, and a whole bunch of stuff happened after that.
This is what's commonly referred to as "cutting a long story short".

For a slightly more specific comparison from FF's humble beginnings to its most recent effort, both FF13 and FF1 have exactly six classes apiece; though the vast chasm between the two sets is a handy demonstration of how far the video game RPG has progressed in those 23 years, for better or worse:
 

FF1

Fighter = Guy who likes swords and hitting things with swords. Powerhouse user, can use everything, pretty much essential.
Black Mage = The guy who casts the spells that makes the people fall down. Strengths: Offensive magic, pointy hat.
White Mage = Healer. Occasional buffer. Stands at the back. Waaay at the back.
Black Belt = Hits things, but with fists instead of swords. Manlier, but not essentially better than a Fighter (but a similar role).
Thief = A thief for, I dunno, in case you wanted to steal something. More practical in a game where thieves are needed for trap-disabling and locks. FF1 doesn't have those.
Red Mage = Jack of all trades. King of none. If he can hit that bullseye, all the dominoes will fall like a house of cards. Checkmate. Nice hat.
 

FF13

Commando = Physical and Magical attacker, non-elemental DPS. Doesn't wear underwear. 
Ravager = Magical attacker, sheer elemental output to exploit weaknesses. Not an elementalist though. Ravager sounds cooler.
Sentinel = Tank. Does nothing but distract enemies and absorb their blows. Will absorb you if you hang around too long in one place.
Saboteur = Debuffer. Drops the effectiveness of enemies. Not to be confused with Sabotenders.
Synergist = Buffer. Enhances allies. Paradigms and Synergy? Was this game written by Square-Enix's marketing team?
Medic = Healer. Walking band-aids. Always essential. Occasionally talks in a German accent.
 
As the above lists demonstrate, the early video game class assortments were more or less based on D&D, which may or make not sense depending on how sophisticated your game world is. MMOs, due to their nature of being simple grindfests book-ended by NPCs telling you to find innumerable amounts of wizard skulls (and hey, they don't need to tell you how fucked up that is), streamlined the most useful aspects of these classes for combat, the archetypes of which FF13 utilized for their whole "simplicity" principle. 
 
So there you go, progress. Of a sort.
 

On Antagonistic Monarchs (FF2)

While the TRUE antagonist of any given Final Fantasy is infamously the kind of giant random entity of death that appears out of the ether during the 11th hour, more often than not there's a pretty complex villain either behind their appearance or messing around with the seal holding them in place. "Pretty complex villain" is entirely relative of course. We're not talking Moriarties or Lecters here, but generally speaking there's usually more going on with the cold-hearted murderer you're chasing down than sheer psychopathery hi-jinx.

In FF2 and FF13, you're drawn into a mega-lo-maniacal plot first as clueless fugitives, then as knowing and rebellious pawns and finally as the saviors and reclaimers of the oppressive empire you're fighting against. Of course, all FF games seem to have an evil empire staffed entirely by faceless dudes in black armor (like I'm one to talk with my avatar) but they usually vanish into obsolescence before the midway break to concentrate on some colossal new threat that wants to do something mean to the planet, like take it out for a nice seafood dinner and not call it again. In FF2/13's case, the empire never ceases to be relevant to the central plot and the final boss is more or less the culmination of the same evil patriarch's Xanatos Gambit that the whole game's been building toward. The enemy's dreadnought being called the Palamecia allusively supports this comparison. 
 

On Worlds Above & Below (FF3)

FF3 is kind of the lost Final Fantasy in many ways: It took the longest of any to go from its original release in Japan to a (legally) localized version. Like the Lost Levels, the main reason for this seems to have been its sheer difficulty. Pshaw, right, this is the hemisphere that created Ultima and Wizardry. Too difficult to sell, my dainty derriere. Might also be because the NES was essentially dead by the time FF3 would've been localized, but I'm going with the difficulty thing because of reasons.

Anyhoo, the biggest similarity between FF3 and FF13 are the separation of the two main "worlds" the game takes place in: The first is a floating, magically-supported continent where most of the early game takes place. The second is the dangerous and wild terra incognita of the "lower world", mostly abandoned of people with traces of various cataclysmic deeds throughout. There's also a giant tower that sucks to travel through.

Many RPGs like to take on the "are we really so different?" two worlds schism (mostly Namco's Tales of series) but the similarity with the friendly hometown floaty float zone/danger-filled unknown groundy ground zone split seem very deliberate indeed.
 

On Real-Time Meeting Turn-Based (FF4)

So, in another "how did we get here from there" comparison, FF4 was chiefly applauded on release for its Active Time Battle system, as well as its fleshed-out characters and nifty, colorful SNES graphics. Since then, most FF games have sort of balanced its thoughtful turn-based strategic combat with a real-time "dudes, you're getting attacked, better do something" impetus. FF13 takes this system to its logical extreme, creating a system that requires the same sort of reactionary stratagems more befitting one of those headachey RTS games. It's so fast the game helpfully chooses all the most relevant spells and powers in that class's repertoire, leaving you to concentrate entirely on which repertoire is needed for the task at hand. 
 

On Job Systems (FF5)

So while really FF3 was the progenitor of the Job System, perhaps one of the series' most enduring and endearing gimmicks, FF5 was the one that really established it for everyone on this side of the Pacific. Or this side of the Pacific and Atlantic, if you're European. Delete and replace with your own nearby bodies of water where appropriate if you're from anywhere else. FF5's Jobs improved with experience and some user tweaking, something FF13 builds upon with its own very specific jobs and crazy 3D Star Trek Chess "Crystarium". I could also mention something about both games having amnesiacs pouring out of an otherworldly mode of transportation and freaking out people, but that seems a little tenuous.

On Melancholy Post-Apocalyptic Landscapes (FF6)

 The best direction FF6 took with its plot progression was destroying a world it took pains to gradually introduce to the player. Everything shifts, and now the planet is a dark, dangerous place full of once-eternally sleeping eldritch terrors clomping around doing their own thing. This more than exemplifies the Archelyte Steppe and other regions of Gran Pulse of FF13: A vast plain of humongous beasts and powerful, immortal entities just waiting for your party to accidentally wander into and get annihiliated by. Gran Pulse in general is a "World of Ruin", and with all those giant turtle dinosaur jerks wandering around stomping the bejeebus out of everything it doesn't take a huge leap of logic to figure out why. Plus the fact that both regions begin more or less with the [SPOILER] of that game's Cid character tells you that shit just got real, son.
 
[End of Part 1. Man, there's going to be a second part? Apparently! Oh hey, it's right here.]
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Mento Plays Some TG16 Games: Aero Blasters & Air Zonk

Hey all, welcome to my webzone. This is a wheneverly feature I felt like starting. But why? Why would I do such a thing?
 
Well, the UK never received the Turbografx-16: the higher energy games system. Theoretically, I shouldn't even know that was the tagline because no trace of it ever appeared on our shores. France got it, but screw France. What have they ever done for video games? Besides Ubisoft. And Delphine. Anyway, screw France. Point is, I'd never heard of this system back then and never thought to emulate it when such wondrous technology became available. But then they started dropping them on the Wii's Virtual Console for the UK. So now we have these "Try these old classics, y'all! - Nintendo's Virtual Console is sponsored by the NDX podcast, copyright Jeff Gerstmann Inc." type ads that purport to deliver nostalgia in places where no nostalgia spores could possibly reach. Which is why I'm going to establish a base of nostalgia for NEC's console just to spite them. Boy, these all sound like the words of a sane person don't they? So without further Apu:
 

Case File #1: Aero Blasters

Now, I'm no authority on shmups, but as soon as I started playing this I got pangs of deja-vu. While this sounds like a lead-in to bring up the fact that Kaneko's Aero Blasters (subtitle: "Trouble Speciality Raid Unit". Wow, really?) is actually Air Buster for the Sega Mega Drive, it's actually a lead-in to say that all spaceship side-scrolling shmups look fricking identical. 



 
That said, it's actually quite fun and for the first stage I managed to get away with not getting hit at all, partly because my helpful options shielded me from enemies above and below. The power-ups aren't so much meted out gradually as hurled across the screen five at a time after blowing up some orange thing, so the difficulty lies in not only grabbing the desired random letters that correspond to fifteen different bullet directions (and the letters repeat for separate powers, let's not forget that) but also doing so while they fall off the screen and swarming with enemies. And then the second stage happened. It was at this point that the game pulled the old Battletoads trick of "Hey you know what's fun? Speeding up the playerandmakinghimgoreallyfastdownnarrowspacesWOOOOOOOOOOO!!." Well then. I may have hit a few walls during that segment. I reach the boss, shoot it a bunch, die and then my dying on-fire carcass of a ship manages to finish it off for what might be the cheapest win since cherries were introduced to Street Fighter.
 
Finally, I reach the third stage and survive for a bit before my remaining credits evaporate in a puff of suck and I phone in an overall performance that would make hillbilly shmup prodigy Xoxak deride me for my inability to comprehend images at the speed of light. Which would make me feel bad. So, moving on... (I made no claim that I was going to finish any of these)

 

Case File #2: Air Zonk

Hudson had a lot of stake in the TG16 as I understand it, yet the console's relative lack of success didn't diminish the Hudson juggernaut. Frankly, I don't see how they could ever.. (checks news) oh right. Still, this game immediately introduces you to Hudson's second-most famous spherical-headed hoodlum, B.C. Kid, before he goes SUPER SAIYAN and becomes some asshole with shades and a mohawk. Because this is the 90s, dammit.


So it turns out to be another shmup. But an utterly insane one. The (titular?) thing that players control powers-up like normal, but the enhanced form counts as a secondary level of protection: Get hit and lose the enhancement, but not your life. You have to quickly find a new power for that security blanket to be back, which creates a neat balance of insurance and panic. Added to this are options who apparently have their own personalities and abilities, which you can eventually merge with to form some kind of ultra-killer Voltron mode that's handy on bosses. These options can all be seen in the opening screen, and also all have their own pair of badass shades. Of course, I hadn't known about them when first playing, so when some giant bomb appears behind you and closely follows you everywhere there's a certain amount of trepidation before you realize what's going on and feel like an idiot. The game plays as predictably as shmups tend to, with midbosses and end-bosses for each stage and waves of bizarre individuals in the meantime. There's a lot of character, though, which is very reminiscent of the Parodius franchise of in-jokey fun.
 
I really don't feel like one to rate how good a shmup compares to another, and it's just my crummy luck that the first two TG16 games I choose (which also happen to be the first two alphabetically) are shmups. But then I don't plan on publishing this blog anywhere important so I guess I can feel perfectly justified filling a blog entry with random bullshit about how badly I crashed and burned in two examples of a genre I don't much care for because no-one has to read it. So I'll heartily recommend this game! It's.. it's zany.
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Old vs. New: Doom II vs. Dead Space II

Oh, hello. I didn't see you come in. I was just sitting here in this armchair, with a large book in front of a fireplace and thinking about how Brad-favorite Dead Space 2 compares to an earlier "shoot the bad things in space until they go away" contemporary, id Software's Doom II. As you might remember from the last Old vs New I did ( situated hereabouts), I just do these compare & contrast things for fun, and to pass my boredom onto you, the reader. The fact that all these seem to be sci-fi games is purely coincidence.
 
POSTSCRIPT:  Holy Christmas on Funkatron, I just started watching the Dead Space 2 Quick Look after getting halfway through this blog for ideas and they brought up Doom 2 as a comparison. That's some crazy selective memory loss. So, uh, this is Quick Look inspired? Let's go with that. To avoid issues.
 

Setting

Well, it's space again. But specifically, it's a journey through metaphorical hell (Dead Space 2) and a journey through literal hell (Doom II). Also, while Doom 2 starts you on Earth, it was all originally on both of Mars' moons. Dead Space 2 recognizes that Mars is old and busted and moves its business to Saturn, the new hotness. Otherwise they're both mostly just space stations with occasional creepy goth architecture.
 

The Bad Things

Now this is an interesting point. In either game, there seem to be two viewpoints on the creatures themselves: They're either biological weapons accidentally created by careless human research into ancient alien technology (something the Doom movie kind of stuck with), or they're some kind of religious phenomenon meant to deliver/tear us apart because Space Xenu Jesus is tired of us doing all the masturbating, or something. In both games you see evidence of either case, creating that kind of favorable narrative situation in horror media dealing with the unknown where you're given the opportunity to draw your own conclusions. But it's totally demons in Doom.
  

Pro-tah-gown-ist 

While Doomguy doesn't quite have the development arc Isaac does, he's about as fully-formed. They're both dudes that are getting kind of tired of dealing with monsters all the time. Considering this, it's probably best the Doomguy doesn't get much dialogue besides grunts and death screams. Isaac's a little more centered, except for the cluster f-bombs while stomping things, but he's still pretty much a normal guy in a bad situation (or a high-selling, critically-acclaimed series of bad situations) and little more than that. Ultimately, it's Doomguy who gets the most face time with the player, mostly because there's no way to get rid of his little avatar looking furtively around for demonic shenanigans.

Technology Level

Both Dead Space and Doom take part in some arbitrarily far year in mankind's development (2511CE and "the future, I guess" CE respectively), but the technology level is decidedly different. While Doom's universe has invented portal technology (which didn't go quite as well as when Aperture Science did it), Dead Space's universe has created and refined both telekinesis and stasis to the point where soldiers have their own personal "tell the laws of physics to sit down and shut up" modules. Weaponry-wise, I'd say the BFG has it because giant green plasma shit seem to beat anything Dead Space's weapons can shoot out. Other than that, in Doom it's the same old shotguns and pistols and chainguns and tree-felling equipment for.. space trees. Most of Dead Space's weapons seem to be engineering tools that are impossibly hi-tech presumably because space engineers have an awesome union.
 

Outer Space (Not Outer Space, Iowa)

Doom 2 won't let you go outside. Dead Space 2 does, but not too often and if you have to go out I hope you like getting shot at by giant testicle monsters. Doom 2 needed more airlocks to blast demons out of, but the technology wasn't there yet. But then Space Crusade had turn-based depressurization and I haven't seen anything that can beat that. Apparently the deadly vacuum of space moves one tile in every direction per turn, as all Warhammer 40k fans probably know.
 

Ammo Scarcity

While Doom is hardly a prime example of Survival Horror, balancing your ammo supply is pretty important. At some point you will have to put away your empty rocket launcher and use the plasma rocket launcher for a while, and the game is sorry for making you do that. You also have a finite supply of ammo, which is about twenty times more than Rambo can fit on his bandolier (and he's a big dude). Adversely, Dead Space 2 has even less room for ammo and has to share space with gigantic sniper rifles and javelin guns, cans of health drank, microchips and other tiny bits of semiconductor circuitry. All of which take up equal amounts of room. Obviously. In Dead Space 2's favor though, you do get more ammo from the corpses of monsters made from the corpses of humans, but mysteriously not on the corpses of humans. It's almost as if the giant bat Infector assholes inducted newly-made necromorphs with "welcome to abomination orientation; here's your pointy monster limbs and this human item you can no longer comprehend, which we want you to store in a random limb for.. emergencies. I guess."
 

Death Scenes

Doomguy just kind of gives up and slumps over at any number of health lower than one. Anything higher than or equal to that and he's just peachy though, if a little bloody. Isaac goes a little more analog rather than digital (I totally got these the wrong way around the first time! I have a brain problem!) with his health, as he starts slumping limply at low health and the joints connecting his limbs to his torso become all the more weaker. Dead Space 2 really put a lot of work into their death scenes, with at least one for every unique monster and some environmental hazards too. In all other cases a limb falls off and it's a trip (or a spastic flailing) to Ragdoll City for poor Isaac.
 

Survival Horror

So here's the thing. Is Doom 2 Survival Horror? Is Dead Space 2 Survival Horror? Well, in both you're surviving a horrible situation, but thanks to Silent Hill's establishing of the iconic formula (laid down by predecessors like Clock Tower) it's hard to argue the case for either fitting the same mold. In Survival Horror, it's often more about the running away from Clive Barker highschool notebook sketches than sticking around and trying to figure out which of its surplus extremities it needs the most and then blasting it off with something explosive.
 

Monster Closet

Both games do this because it's easy. There, I said it. I'm not sorry for saying it either. It's cheap as hell and completely expected. Well, it's unexpected, but it's expected that the unexpected is... I'm just going to move on.
 

Fucking Archviles

Both Infectors (asshole bats) and Archviles (asshole meaty skeletons) have a nasty habit of speedily moving around a room and resurrecting everything. KILL THE CLERIC FIRST. The Infector is currently embroiled in a "chicken and egg" scenario: Either an Infector is needed to create a Necromorph, in which case how does the first Infector come about? Or it's the Marker that turns all nearby dead tissue into Necromorphs, making Infectors completely superfluous. But hey, what about that proboscis? It's pretty gross-looking, am I right? Totally worth bringing that plot hole monster back.
 
 
Missed anything? Doomguy doesn't hallucinate glowy dead broads ( "What the hell does that mean? huh? "Make Us Whole", I don't even know what the hell that means, all I know is this "Nicole" character comes out of thin air in the middle of a goddamn space hallway while her buddies are running around cutting everybody to shreds, and she just stands there waiting for me to stomp my boot straight through her, with light coming out of her mouth!") , and Isaac doesn't at any point pull a massive grin and start punching the begiblets out of everything. Maybe I should've done a System Shock 2 comparison with Dead Space 2, but then I'd have to do one for System Shock 2 and Bioshock, and then I'd have to do one for Bioshock and Deus Ex and then blah blah blah long story short I kill everyone and turn the gun on myself. I'll have to do something with a different theme next; all these space oddities are getting me down. What with all the floating in a peculiar way and the stars looking very different today. So to speak.
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Good vs. Bad Achievements

Achievements, eh? People like those. They are some okay things. But, after recovering from reading an opening that strong, GBers might wonder why I'm singling out such a perfectly benign feature of modern gaming. Well, because like any other design decision that goes into a game, there's an issue of balance; what's "good" and what's "bad". And unlike many other design decisions, achievements are still relatively new and haven't really been set a precedent yet.

So what exactly is the point of achievements? Well, I tend to liken them to the checklists you find at the back of Where's Waldo books: Ostensibly, the goal of these books is to scour a very detailed, elaborate collage of interesting characters and set-pieces, find the red-and-white striped dork and move onto the next page. The artists who put all the work into those images would suddenly think, "Hey, hang on. You found Waldo after like a minute of searching. Did you even see this dude up here running about on fire like a loon? What about this little guy down here who's about to get beaned by an anvil? Come back and look at what we did, assholes." And thus the checklists were born: A whole list of stuff to find after you'd found Waldo. Achievements work on almost the exact same principle, only replace "finding Waldo" with "beating the game" and "artists" with "game developers".

What I've thrown together here is what I call the desirability hierarchy for achievements. Now, I'll be the first to point out that these are generally subjective opinions, but I feel like I've hit the consensus with the overall list more or less. Agree or disagree at your leisure.

#1 (Most Desirable): The Unexpected

These are the achievements where the game will actually request that you try a different approach. Sometimes they're just so people will try out a new gun, a new power or a new method of getting past an obstacle. Ideally, these achievements will ping after one (or maybe 5-10) use, just so the game knows you've given a feature that they've painstakingly included and balanced a shot, which you might've ignored completely in any other circumstance. Occasionally, these achievements will ask you to do something so crazy it completely changes the game experience. These are what the achievement system were made for: To bring an extra level of creative longevity to a game after the main objective has come and gone.

Example: Bringing the Gnome with you in Half-Life Episode 1 (my mistake, Episode 2. Episode 1 was the one bullet thing). Man, that was crazy. Occasionally annoying, but it made you consider how to proceed while also in the possession of your pointy-headed companion. Hell, I got pretty attached to the thing after not too long. This might be apocryphal, but I believe Valve added this one to the 360 Orange Box version after noticing that a bunch of weirdos on the Steam servers were doing it.

#2 (These are pretty good too): Difficulty Modes and 100% Completion

Not to sound too obvious, but before the time of achievements these were the sort of things the "hardcore" completionists tended to go after. If a game has additional difficulty modes, then it stands to reason that they were the next port of call after beating a game on its Normal setting. If it was more of a large RPG or platformer or sandbox type, then there was usually some sort of percentage-based score to tell you how much of the game you had conquered. Giving players large achievement point bonuses for fulfilling the type of goals achievements replaced seems like a perfectly natural progression and the sort of thing they should still honor.

#3 (Sure, fair enough these are here): Story Progress

There really isn't a reason to give players achievements based on reaching points of the story they can't possibly miss. But what this does is mete out some minor rewards to convince players they've just passed a milestone and should keep playing for more. It's the sort of Skinner-esque behavioral reward system that shouldn't really be necessary if a player is enjoying the game - though if they aren't it might convince them to keep heading towards the end of the rat maze anyway.

#4 (Maybe not include these on your achievement lists? I mean, I guess it's fine either way.): Scavenger Hunts

Now, Scavenger Hunts are something we're all familiar with, especially in Sandbox games and occasionally First- and Third-Person Shooters. You have a task to collect a series of TACOs for backstory, or occasionally unlockables, or usually for no reason at all. That's why they're Totally Arbitrary Collectible Objects. In order to not fall into the dreaded Black Hole territory (below), a scavenger hunt needs a couple of requisites, ideally meeting both of them: A) It needs some in-game way of detecting these things, perhaps unlocked towards the end of the game. B) They need an actual in-game purpose - unlocking concept art does not count. Adding background flavor text is fine, but giving players an actual boost in health or something would be preferable.

#5 (Seriously, these kind of suck. Why are they so common?): Black Holes

Nothing escapes a black hole. Not light, not matter, not Mr Domino, not The Blob and, importantly for this article, not even time. Well, I don't know about time. I really should've read that book by that wheelchair guy. But essentially, what I mean by a Black Hole achievement is one that will suck all the free time out of your schedule if pursued. The sort of achievement that demands you kill 500 stormtroopers with Force Lightning when surely a tenth or a hundredth of that number would suffice for getting across the point that you can use Force Lightning on stormtroopers to kill them. It's asking that you play the game for 50 hours when you were done after 30 minutes. It's asking that you beat the main game ten times for whatever warped reason the achievement-makers could think of. It's beating an optional, 100-floor dungeon full of procedurally generated fun for no benefit. Any of the above achievement types can fall into this category if they're not careful, and this sort of thing needs to be stopped now before people get antsy and rise up in rebellion, murdering the entire industry with pitchforks. It happened once when E.T. came out, and it could happen again.

#6 (Oh hell, these things. I hate these things. They are not so great.): Time Trials and Undefeated Runs

Now these things are just major pains in the ass. They're the dark equivalent of the aforementioned "force players to play the game in a new way" type of achievement. The soon-to-be-very-apparent downside to these is that if you accidentally fail them, they're out of your reach until you start over. You might be playing the game, hoping for a S-Rank when suddenly your character jerks spasmodically in some ragdoll nightmare because of wizard reasons. Suddenly, you've lost access to the 100 point "don't die" achievement and need to restart the entire game if you want it. Ditto for getting to the penultimate dungeon and seeing the timer roll over to one second past You're Fucked O' Clock. Unless the timed or undefeated run is isolated to a very short sequence that you can bear repeating over and over, you'll rarely find an achievement more frustrating.

#7 (Least Desirable, or: FUCK FUCK FUCK A BUNCH OF MULTIPLAYER ACHIEVEMENTS): Multiplayer

Now this seems entirely subjective initially. If you've bought a game that's pretty much intended for multiplayer gaming, it might strike you as fair enough that most of the achievements reflect that. However, what including multiplayer achievements does to your game is instantly date it. After a point, you won't be earning those achievements because people will no longer be playing it. They'll have moved onto Shout of Obligation: Avant-Garde Combat 3: 3DS: Red World Edition and left the old and busted version you're playing completely free of all but the most hardcore of the "they changed it now it sucks" video game hipsters, who are no fun to be around at all. Other than setting up private matches between you and the few friends you have left that don't hate you yet for making them play old shit, those are some achievements that are almost always going to be closed off forever. Protip for designers: KNOCK IT OFF WITH THESE THINGS. Or at least allow you to get them with bots. Sweet, nonjudgmental bots.

So that's a blog entry I wrote. I do that sometimes. Here's the fun interactive part for you people at home: What achievements do you love/hate? Anything I've missed off the hierarchy that needs adding? Are achievements a good idea or largely pointless? When was the last time I went outside? If a tree falls in the woods and no-one is around, does it still get the achievement for falling over?

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Good vs. Bad Difficulty

Difficulty is a tricky design aspect to broach because, like humor, it can be entirely subjective: There are players that are on a whole different skill level to the masses most games are targeted towards (the dreaded "casuals") who derive their enjoyment by performing gaming feats others simply are not capable of, especially online. Others simply like being challenged to the point where it becomes this adamant, borderline-masochistic drive to defeat the undefeatable. But plenty more still get easily frustrated with their inability to handle the challenge set out before them, to have so much of the game's content (that they paid for) to be forever closed off due to their lack of finesse.
 
Generally, though, I believe games like Donkey Kong Country Returns (which I recently completed, sort of the impetus for this blog) and Super Meat Boy more or less find the right balance between making the game difficult for difficulty's sake while throwing their players enough of a bone to keep them coming back. I believe this has to do with the balance of fun, "good" difficulty vs. dissatisfying, controller-throwing "bad" difficulty. 
 
So how to distinguish between the two? It seems like a balance as tricky as many of the other balance issues that designers and testers will spend many weeks of their development cycle tweaking and correcting. Here's my personal thoughts, based on the games I hated or abandoned for their difficulty and the ones I kept coming back to in spite of it.
 

GOOD

Surprises - Sometimes a game is difficult because it's almost next-to-impossible to predict what happens next. However, if these sequences are static the player will learn from them and factor the new information into their next attempt. So while a hidden blade trap might randomly kill you, and frustrate you for a few seconds because of how cheap it seemed, nothing will beat the satisfaction of coming back around and handily dodging it with the hard-earned wisdom, nor will anything beat the admiration of anyone watching you play the game (provided they had arrived just after the previous embarrassment). At least until you fall into a concealed pit immediately after the blade trap.
 
The Impossible Becoming Possible - Another neat device is to present what appears to be an unbeatable obstacle and then allowing the player to figure out what makes it tick after a (hopefully short, but it's impossible for designers to predict this) amount of trial-and-error. That they are then able to pass it using a simple learned trick or a memorized sequence of actions provides no end of triumphant joy. This assumes that, of course, the impossible really is possible and the solution isn't so nebulous that a quick trip to GameFAQs is warranted.
 
Timely Reprieves - The biggest difficulty balance issue is the meting out of checkpoints, (auto-)save opportunities and/or extra lives, depending on the game's genre. Obviously, too many makes the game too easy and too few make it too hard. Ideally, a difficult game should reward the passing of a tricky series of events with a reaffirming "hey, don't worry, you won't have to do THAT again."
 

BAD

Repetition - Building on the reprieve aspect, having too few points to mark your progress and start over in a spot further along than you were originally means having to repeat a lot of the game. After a player has "solved" the timing on a series of jumps, the correct method to systematically break down and defeat a boss or the order in which to build units, gather resources and build up tech trees or what have you, it's boring for them to have to do it all over. Most of the elation came from the realization that you had beaten something that had caused you so much trouble, so the duplication thereof becomes a series of diminishing returns. It also doesn't help to have to constantly repeat an earlier part of a level to get to the part you're currently trying to figure out, as nothing beats the frustration of almost getting the method down pat than having to trek all the way back over to where the action is, possibly messing up on tiny errors because your mind is still on the present predicament.
 
Length - This is more or less the companion piece of the above item, with regards to checkpoint allocation and the like. The longer you force the player to go without a reprieve, the easier mistakes will come and the more frustrating a level becomes when a player is still dying trying to get to the point where they died the last time. When you need to make four or five jumps to reach the end of a level or a checkpoint, it becomes a rhythm to get it right, a few seconds of sublime perfection before moving onto the next series of obstacles and all their tricks to figure out. It doesn't matter if those jumps are near impossible to land, because you'll eventually nail it with such a small amount before the next save. Stretching that out into a much longer sequence just causes frustration, because the player will more likely than not just keep making unforced errors.  
 
Glitches - Obviously, a game can be made a lot harder to beat with the appearance of glitches, running the gamut to minor, amusing glitches (like RDR's cougarmen) that could increase the difficulty to the major game-breaking annoyances which makes further progress unattainable. Though hardly the intention of the designers, they are very much at fault if their game is literally impossible.

AMBIGUOUS

Sheer Assholery - This item basically represents every time the game gypped you on one aspect or another, usually things you've taken for granted up until now. Sometimes depriving the player can make for a fascinating new challenge, as you're suddenly faced with a new challenge to deal with alongside everything else. Making the screen pitch black except for a small spotlight around the character, for instance, brings something new rather than detracting from what might've been an otherwise unremarkable level. But then there are times when the game simply won't adhere to the rules it itself established earlier in the game, suddenly removing opportunities to regain health or imposing a time limit or a great many other highly objectionable features. It largely depends on the temperament of the player, but will invariably elicit an "Oh, you assholes" response, either with a chuckle or an AVGN-esque controller-smashing freak-out.
 
 
Wow, this whole blog post makes me seem butthurt about getting my ass kicked by the aforementioned two games. Definitely not the case. For all you know. Though I should play some of these notoriously difficult games simply to gather more data and clarify these differences. If we can expunge bad difficulty from gaming forever that would be a major coup, maybe losing quick time events and unskippable cutscenes along with it.
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