We start on a film set, as a tubby French gentleman - Fahrenheit's Director, David Cage - confronts us with instructions on the controls and techniques that will see us through the modest, six or so hours that follow. We assume the role of a crash test dummy, and guide this vessel from wall to wall of the setting, little hints of what's in store peppering crevices of the creative space. It's a some what poignant beginning to an experience that would much sooner allude to being interactive cinema than a mere video game. In the film business it's referred to as breaking the fourth wall; that instance you engage the audience and turn the passive observer into an active participant. But then a gamer must surely, on some subconscious level, ask his or her self just if or when that happens in every video game.

When you pick up a pad, do you automatically assume the role of hero, or are you merely the guide; the puppet master peering down from above the strings? On gaming journeys where you, the gamer, and your pixelated alter-ego on screen share in an experience it's not hard to find yourself filling the shoes of the protagonist. Unknowingly you can refer back to your actions in a game as if you were the person who physically acted on them, like you'd pulled the trigger to drop the kingpin, executed the sharp turn, or scored the most decisive goal in the final. This immersion was one of the strongest factors behind why I didn't consider Fahrenheit an instant classic that moment I'd finished the game. Quantic Dream's decision to have you assume the role of multiple heroes, and even a villain or two, shatters the ability to form a bond with your lead, as the starring roles in this piece are split between up to three different characters at any one time. It's a creative approach that, on one hand, I certainly admire, but on the other it was a bad decision for the narrative progression of the game, and an even worse one in the spirit of gaming as a source of immersion and escape.

At this point you're probably questioning why I'd be doing a retrospective on a game I don't even seem to like, but I assure you that couldn't be further from the truth. In fact, despite Fahrenheit's most fundamental flaw I consider this to be an astute example of gaming's potential to hold its own with cinema as a legitimate narrative platform. It makes a strong case for the idea that interactive story-telling should be considered the next evolution in entertainment. As a gamer you are encouraged to make snap decisions that effect the progression of your journey, and this is something wholly unique to video games. It's not as if you could sit down to a movie at your local cineplex and be confronted, directly, at various stages of the film, with options for where you want to see the movie go. Even DVD, in all of its empty promises of a fully interactive experience and a future in which cars hovered a foot from the ground, failed to make good on the pledge to evolve home entertainment (can anyone say My Little Eye?) There is arguably much room to grow, and Fahrenheit is not a flawless masterpiece that's going to visually or narratively put The Godfather to shame at any point in the near future. It did, however, present the world with a series of ideas that can only be explored and elaborated on with tomorrow's games.

In 2005 Atari shared with the world a solid adventure game, but more than that the company released a package of concepts that revitalized a specific aspect of the gaming industry, which, in turn, belong to a team seemingly dedicated to the idea that the script, story, and character development in a project don't have to be an afterthought. While gaming is dominated with mascots dripping in machismo or sex appeal, it's nice to believe in an industry where the likes of Fahrenheit's Lucas Kane can be revered alongside a Marcus Fenix or Master Chief.

I'll end this on a video I only recently got around to watching. One that, in my opinion, is an incredible achievement for gaming as an art form, and affected me as much as just about any scene I've caught in film or television. Enjoy.

Fuck the creature stage.

Fuck being a herbivore on the creature stage.

Fuck walking for an hour to find pointless upgrades which are never quite advanced enough to make friends beyond that piss ant group of douchebags that surround your first nest.

Fuck dancing like a prick in front of about 15 different species of creatures just for them to better you by about 3 millimetres on that bastard friend gauge.

Fuck accidentally walking into enemy territory every 10 seconds and never being quite fast enough to run, nor quite tough enough to fight.

And finally, fuck the fact that I can't seem to give this shit up. Will Wright is one twisted, evil genius, motherfucker...

Okay, so, that bit at the beginning was good. Very good, in fact. The IQ test, I mean. Not the bit before it where a 173 year-old Madden stumbles on camera and tries not to pass out while he tells you about it. The one thing that previous Madden's needed, as a person who doesn't even casually watch NFL, was an explanation of control techniques, and a test of how well you use them. That 10 minute IQ test taught me more about how to play Madden than the whole 6 years of guess work I've spent fumbling through the games (not that that stopped me for all those years - what can I say, I like sports games... All of them!)

So, yeah, I spend that time doing this damn IQ test to fine tune my game, and the only thing this fucking demo lets me do is play out a scenario? I can't even have, say, a quarter of regular play time to get a good feel for how this new Madden is fine-tuning itself to my wavelength? Ain't that some shit! I'll be getting on Madden 09 for sure, I mean, I'm very curious to know just how intuitive this new IQ system is. However, I could have done without being fucked over in the demo. Thanks all the same, EA.

Okay, so Rock Band came through my Netflix today, and I haven't been able to stop playing the game. In all fairness to Guitat Hero 3 it held me in a similar addiction, however, that addiction was far more of a struggle, while Rock band is a total pleasure. I think a lot of that is down to the playlist that Rock Band holds in its mighty grasp, I mean, some of the first tracks the game let me play were In Bloom by Nirvana, and Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. These are two songs I absolutely adore. Guitar Hero 3, on the other hand, met me with the likes of Foghat and KISS.

I'm 21 years old. While I appreciate that their are rock conniseurs out there who enjoy there golden oldies, I remain painfully disconnected. In Guitar Hero 3 I found myself reluctantly dragging my weary carcus from song to song in the hope of finding something remotely contemporary, until I was actually happy to see the likes of AFI show up on my setlist (I never thought I'd ever be saying that).

Rock Band, however, is solid effin gold! I know and love 90% of the songs it throws my way, and rather than running an endurance session in the hope of finding a song I enjoy, I instead find myself spoilt for choice as new set lists appear and I can't decide what to play first. This, to me, is the most important factor in a rhythm game such as this. Maybe Activision were just cutting costs with taking a more vintage route, but they've alienated me, at least.

I was playing Guitar Hero 3 today when it suddenly struck me that there's a few things about the game that rile me up.

• For starters, any session which stretches for longer than three songs leaves my vision well and truly effed in the A. For about an hour afterwards everything I see makes me feel like I'm trying to work out a magic eye puzzle.
• Notes don't feel entirely in rhythm with the songs you're meant to be playing; I end up missing notes that appear as if from nowhere, and trying to hit notes that don't exist.
• In addition to the previous point, if a song has more than two guitarists you end up playing a mixture of both their fretwork, which can be a fucking nightmare. Especially if you know a song you're playing, and you're focusing on the strumming patterns of one specific guitar, only for the game to throw you the notes for the other guitarist out of nowhere to catch you off guard.
• The lead singer for your band doesn't really embody the spirit of each song very well. Whether you're playing Santana or Slayer, he still seems to have the same, boring animations.

I’ve been really getting into these guys recently. Assembled from part of House of Pain, and other miscellaneous rappers they found in garbage cans and convenience stores, this group of rather angry folk are… well, yeah, angry! They get me amped they’re so angry, in fact. If you’ve ever digged the likes of Jedi Mind Tricks and his no-holds-barred, FTW stance on hating everything and everyone; from kittens to washing machines, then you might well dig it. La Coka Nostra MySpace.

I also really love their art style and the art style of their affiliates. Black and white has always been a cool design option, but I’ve never seen such a robust and inventive use of those two colors. Definitely worth checking out their page if you wanna see some cool design, even if you’re not angry enough to dig their music.

I'm sure none of you know it, but I do things that barely classify as art sometimes. It's my job, after all. And people paying me to do it is a ludicrous idea, but one I spend little time arguing against. Here's something I made very recently, it's called Sexual Tension, tell me what you think...

10,000 members in only two days? Really? I think we're onto something here. I'm just hoping we get some good people in place to stop anymore discrepancies from appearing this ever so fragile framework we've created for ourselves.

Everyone be sure to get yourself on the Giantbomb IRC if you're into such forms of chat. Jax and the folks there are all in this for the good of the community, so it's worth checking out.

Hopefully I'll get something substantial up soon, but I must attend to my own business, as I must eat and not die (this seems some what important).

Lou.
www.desirevo.com (my design site - yeahboyshamelessplug!)