I listened to this album sometime last year actually, and didn't think very much of it. Some of the songs are pretty good, and a lot of the instrumentation is pretty subtle and effective. But much of it seemed...unnecessarily dark? I'm not someone who thinks that music should always make you feel good or anything (although when I was in college and didn't listen to music that often, I remember saying something along those lines), but I couldn't quite figure out what the point of this music was - it was moody without being very atmospheric.
Then this week, I decided to give Fugazi another shot, and listened to an earlier album, Red Medicine. This album was fun, creative, and a blast to listen to. It was still nerv-y and anxious, like the best post-punk, but it sounded like the band was having a lot more fun and wanted you to have fun too. Then I read up about the group's background in hardcore D.C. punk, and got a better idea of where they were coming from. With that knowledge, I decided to re-listen to The Argument, fully prepared to revise my opinion. But I didn't - I don't hate this music, but it still doesn't do much for me.
So why did I choose to talk about this album, instead of the one I liked? Well, good question, I guess.
It just bothers me when I fully respect the talent and craft of a bunch of musicians, but for whatever weird contextual reason can't quite get into their work. The Argument isn't really that far from Joy Division's stuff, which I love. For whatever reason, I can't listen to The Argument without wanting it to sound more like Red Medicine. I hate that.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Hard Games - Part 2
If my last post succeeded in encouraging you to move outside your gaming comfort zone, here are some tips on how to approach tough games. What follows applies mostly to action games.*
1. Find the right game for your skill level.
Pointlessly debating what constitutes a truly difficult game is one of the pernicious ways that even well-intentioned game players fail to welcome newcomers. The truth is that most games will be hard to certain people, and that's unavoidable. I've read many game critics say that Super Mario Bros was expertly crafted to be fun and inviting, but to my wife, who didn't grow up with a controller in her hand, it can be extremely frustrating to beat the first level.
So find that game that's right for you. If you think it's hard, then don't let anyone tell you you're a wuss. If you're feeling unskilled, and you want to get some perspective, then read forums about shoot-em-ups, where no matter what obscure, brutally difficult Japanese game someone brings up, there's always someone who's beaten it on one credit and doesn't understand what the big deal is. Ah well.
2. Make a commitment.
Games are long, and they've got lots of stuff in them. So decide early on how much you want to do. If it's a real toughie, then there might be plenty of satisfaction in just beating the game. Or maybe the challenge is in the bonus levels.
An important question to ask yourself early on is how much online help you want to allow yourself. Certainly, it's a bit artificial to isolate yourself from all help, especially since most modern games are designed to support a community of active players. But be careful. While it's true that knowing tips about a game like Castlevania doesn't make it that much easier, there were exceptions. I certainly would've preferred to find out the trick about using holy water on the Grim Reaper on my own. (However, without knowing that trick I might've given up, so who knows.)
In any case, once you've set your main goal, really commit yourself to playing the game until you accomplish it. Try to play it a little bit every day, if you can. Most importantly:
3. Manage your expectations.
I can't stress this one enough. While an overarching goal is important, giving yourself timed goals is a recipe for disaster.
An example may be necessary. When I was playing Contra, most days I found myself making a little bit more progress in the game than the day before. However, there'd be days when I wouldn't make any at all, and it would be hard to justify picking up the controller at all. But without even realizing it, I was always getting better at the game, and when I did finally beat the game I could be sure that luck didn't have anything to do with it.
So the trick is being really easy to please. If I laid out for myself a plan, say to beat one level a day, or even to get farther today than yesterday, frustration would quickly mount. And whenever you find yourself really getting flustered, it's time to turn the console off.
Well that's it. Last tip: don't forget to have fun!
*Of course some of the more obtuse adventure games from the 90's (Sierra Online being the primary offender) can be just as or more difficult as action games, at least if you want to avoid online help. Perhaps one day I'll write a version of this post for adventure games, but for now I'll just say that even having played many, many adventure games over the years, I still get hopelessly stuck from time to time. That feeling's the worst.
1. Find the right game for your skill level.
Pointlessly debating what constitutes a truly difficult game is one of the pernicious ways that even well-intentioned game players fail to welcome newcomers. The truth is that most games will be hard to certain people, and that's unavoidable. I've read many game critics say that Super Mario Bros was expertly crafted to be fun and inviting, but to my wife, who didn't grow up with a controller in her hand, it can be extremely frustrating to beat the first level.
So find that game that's right for you. If you think it's hard, then don't let anyone tell you you're a wuss. If you're feeling unskilled, and you want to get some perspective, then read forums about shoot-em-ups, where no matter what obscure, brutally difficult Japanese game someone brings up, there's always someone who's beaten it on one credit and doesn't understand what the big deal is. Ah well.
2. Make a commitment.
Games are long, and they've got lots of stuff in them. So decide early on how much you want to do. If it's a real toughie, then there might be plenty of satisfaction in just beating the game. Or maybe the challenge is in the bonus levels.
An important question to ask yourself early on is how much online help you want to allow yourself. Certainly, it's a bit artificial to isolate yourself from all help, especially since most modern games are designed to support a community of active players. But be careful. While it's true that knowing tips about a game like Castlevania doesn't make it that much easier, there were exceptions. I certainly would've preferred to find out the trick about using holy water on the Grim Reaper on my own. (However, without knowing that trick I might've given up, so who knows.)
In any case, once you've set your main goal, really commit yourself to playing the game until you accomplish it. Try to play it a little bit every day, if you can. Most importantly:
3. Manage your expectations.
I can't stress this one enough. While an overarching goal is important, giving yourself timed goals is a recipe for disaster.
An example may be necessary. When I was playing Contra, most days I found myself making a little bit more progress in the game than the day before. However, there'd be days when I wouldn't make any at all, and it would be hard to justify picking up the controller at all. But without even realizing it, I was always getting better at the game, and when I did finally beat the game I could be sure that luck didn't have anything to do with it.
So the trick is being really easy to please. If I laid out for myself a plan, say to beat one level a day, or even to get farther today than yesterday, frustration would quickly mount. And whenever you find yourself really getting flustered, it's time to turn the console off.
Well that's it. Last tip: don't forget to have fun!
*Of course some of the more obtuse adventure games from the 90's (Sierra Online being the primary offender) can be just as or more difficult as action games, at least if you want to avoid online help. Perhaps one day I'll write a version of this post for adventure games, but for now I'll just say that even having played many, many adventure games over the years, I still get hopelessly stuck from time to time. That feeling's the worst.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Hard Games - Part 1
So I'm in the middle of Demon's Souls at the moment. When the game came out in 2009, it was lauded for being a fairly difficult game, at a time when hard games were not in vogue. Even today there are plenty of crushingly-difficult retro-inspired platformers, but nothing with the high production values of the Souls series.
Why does this matter? When I was a kid, games were expected to be tough, and for that reason I didn't beat very many of them. I finished a small minority of the Sega Genesis games I owned - only the easiest of the bunch, like Lion King or Home Alone 2. I was not a kid who persevered in the face of defeat, and I hated seeing Game Over screens. Adventure games on the PC promised a way to see more story content than those old platformers anyway. Certainly, they could be even harder, but with a walkthrough at hand, there was nothing stopping me. I love adventure games and JRPGs to this day, and I have to admit that a big part of the appeal is that outright failure is pretty rare.
Without realizing it, though, something had stuck with me about those old Genesis games. On a whim, I replayed Aladdin, an old favorite, while visiting my parent's house several years ago. This game isn't known for difficulty, but I still remember feeling shock and elation when I beat it on the first try, on hard mode no less. That feeling is extremely addictive. After buying a NES after college, I quickly conquered the early Mario and Sonic games, before tackling a few games that (in my mind, at least) constitute my greatest gaming-related achievements.
There are really two "flavors" of difficult games, which I will lazily call the Castlevania model and the Contra model.
The first and third Castlevania games have some of the hardest single moments I've ever encountered - in particular, the crushingly difficult bosses. The saving grace is that the game uses a checkpoint system with infinite continues, so that one needs to make that perfect execution only once. For that reason, there's always the feeling of slow, but inevitable progress, no matter how hard each level is. Beating those games is a great achievement, for sure, but it never felt impossible. (The first game on NES, unfortunately, didn't allow you to turn the system off without restarting, but that's due solely to regional hardware differences. I recommend the Game Boy Advance port.) This checkpoint-based model is easily the most popular today, with games like Super Meat Boy, where level playthroughs can take just a few seconds.
The individual moments in Contra are never as hard as those in Castlevania. The bosses can be tough, but they usually have recognizable patterns. The real challenge of Contra is that you have to beat the whole thing with a limited number of lives and continues. As a result, the game requires you to develop traits that are not often required in today's "angry nerd" gaming culture.
Making it most of the way through the game, only to succumb to a random and easily avoidable bullet is incredibly frustrating, if you don't learn to be patient and manage your expectations. There would be days I would play Contra and not make one whit of new progress. But surely and steadily I was getting better at the game. It's easy to discount the extraordinary sense of accomplishment I felt when I finally beat Contra as rather vacuous, but it seems clear to me that I had become a better person in the process.
This model of game is usually seen as a relic of the arcade era, but it's received something of a comeback recently with the resurgence of rogue-likes like Spelunky. Even when the levels are randomly generated, there's still plenty to be learned and memorized.
Next time I'll post a few tips for playing hard games.
Why does this matter? When I was a kid, games were expected to be tough, and for that reason I didn't beat very many of them. I finished a small minority of the Sega Genesis games I owned - only the easiest of the bunch, like Lion King or Home Alone 2. I was not a kid who persevered in the face of defeat, and I hated seeing Game Over screens. Adventure games on the PC promised a way to see more story content than those old platformers anyway. Certainly, they could be even harder, but with a walkthrough at hand, there was nothing stopping me. I love adventure games and JRPGs to this day, and I have to admit that a big part of the appeal is that outright failure is pretty rare.
Without realizing it, though, something had stuck with me about those old Genesis games. On a whim, I replayed Aladdin, an old favorite, while visiting my parent's house several years ago. This game isn't known for difficulty, but I still remember feeling shock and elation when I beat it on the first try, on hard mode no less. That feeling is extremely addictive. After buying a NES after college, I quickly conquered the early Mario and Sonic games, before tackling a few games that (in my mind, at least) constitute my greatest gaming-related achievements.
There are really two "flavors" of difficult games, which I will lazily call the Castlevania model and the Contra model.
The first and third Castlevania games have some of the hardest single moments I've ever encountered - in particular, the crushingly difficult bosses. The saving grace is that the game uses a checkpoint system with infinite continues, so that one needs to make that perfect execution only once. For that reason, there's always the feeling of slow, but inevitable progress, no matter how hard each level is. Beating those games is a great achievement, for sure, but it never felt impossible. (The first game on NES, unfortunately, didn't allow you to turn the system off without restarting, but that's due solely to regional hardware differences. I recommend the Game Boy Advance port.) This checkpoint-based model is easily the most popular today, with games like Super Meat Boy, where level playthroughs can take just a few seconds.
The individual moments in Contra are never as hard as those in Castlevania. The bosses can be tough, but they usually have recognizable patterns. The real challenge of Contra is that you have to beat the whole thing with a limited number of lives and continues. As a result, the game requires you to develop traits that are not often required in today's "angry nerd" gaming culture.
Making it most of the way through the game, only to succumb to a random and easily avoidable bullet is incredibly frustrating, if you don't learn to be patient and manage your expectations. There would be days I would play Contra and not make one whit of new progress. But surely and steadily I was getting better at the game. It's easy to discount the extraordinary sense of accomplishment I felt when I finally beat Contra as rather vacuous, but it seems clear to me that I had become a better person in the process.
This model of game is usually seen as a relic of the arcade era, but it's received something of a comeback recently with the resurgence of rogue-likes like Spelunky. Even when the levels are randomly generated, there's still plenty to be learned and memorized.
Next time I'll post a few tips for playing hard games.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
A Fish Called Wanda (Charles Crichton, 1988)
A Fish Called Wanda is certainly a very funny movie, but why? Well, I've never been a big fan of dissecting comedies, but if I'm going to keep this blog going at such a high rate, then it seems like I'd better get used to it. So here are just a few reasons why this movie really does it for me:
1) It has a surprisingly strong plot for a farce. In fact, as a heist movie, it's not really all that different in spirit than Reservoir Dogs or even Fargo. Why does this matter? Well, a cogent narrative gives all of the ludicrous characters some sort of motive. I love Monty Python sketches as much as the next person, but by the end of Wanda I was laughing much harder than I was in Holy Grail, which feels less than the sum of its parts.
2) It has excellent one-on-one dynamics. If you look at the movie scene-by-scene, all of the best moments occur with exactly two of the four main characters, and the developing relationships give the movie quite a bit of character. The fact that John Cleese gets to behave very differently around Kevin Kline than around Jamie Lee Curtis is a great part of the fun of the movie. (And as good as Kline is in the movie, I do think that Cleese makes the whole thing work. In fact, I think this is Cleese's only great role outside of Monty Python). The only pairing that isn't really explored (outside of one very funny scene) is Cleese and Michael Palin - ironic, considering their history.
3) It's grounded (see part 1), yet much of the humor feels particularly unsafe for a movie of its era. Of course I'm referring to the various pet murdering, but also the fact that Jamie Lee Curtis gets to play such a wonderfully unrepentant seductress. I suppose she does settle down with Cleese in the end, but the ludicrous final title cards take the edge off of that a little bit by making fun of our desire for a happy ending.
1) It has a surprisingly strong plot for a farce. In fact, as a heist movie, it's not really all that different in spirit than Reservoir Dogs or even Fargo. Why does this matter? Well, a cogent narrative gives all of the ludicrous characters some sort of motive. I love Monty Python sketches as much as the next person, but by the end of Wanda I was laughing much harder than I was in Holy Grail, which feels less than the sum of its parts.
2) It has excellent one-on-one dynamics. If you look at the movie scene-by-scene, all of the best moments occur with exactly two of the four main characters, and the developing relationships give the movie quite a bit of character. The fact that John Cleese gets to behave very differently around Kevin Kline than around Jamie Lee Curtis is a great part of the fun of the movie. (And as good as Kline is in the movie, I do think that Cleese makes the whole thing work. In fact, I think this is Cleese's only great role outside of Monty Python). The only pairing that isn't really explored (outside of one very funny scene) is Cleese and Michael Palin - ironic, considering their history.
3) It's grounded (see part 1), yet much of the humor feels particularly unsafe for a movie of its era. Of course I'm referring to the various pet murdering, but also the fact that Jamie Lee Curtis gets to play such a wonderfully unrepentant seductress. I suppose she does settle down with Cleese in the end, but the ludicrous final title cards take the edge off of that a little bit by making fun of our desire for a happy ending.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Tokyo Twilight (Yasujiro Ozu, 1957)
Ozu is known for quiet films, where great emotion lingers just below the surface of Japanese politeness and pleasantries. Tokyo Twilight starts out in this vein, but the problems here are too big to stay hidden for long. The story centers on a banker Shukichi and his two daughters. The eldest daughter Takako has fled home from an abusive husband with her infant daughter. Meanwhile, the youngest, Akiko, is spending all of her time in mahjong parlors, while claiming to be studying English shorthand. (I'm very curious why this would be a topic of study, but can't find much information on the subject.) It turns out that the new owner of one of these mahjong parlors is the women's mother, who abandoned the family years ago.
Takako and Shukichi are played by Ozu veterans Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu. Ozu re-used the same cast members more frequently than Wes Anderson (who also shares a similar set design and choreographic aesthetic), and the biggest challenge of being an Ozu fan is in telling the different characters apart. It doesn't help, for example, that Hara plays a woman named Noriko in three consecutive films. Hara, one of the most beloved actresses of her era, is quite good in the film, but she mostly stays out of the spotlight.
It's the role of Akiko, played by the lesser-known Ineko Arima, that eventually steals the show. At first, her dead expression makes her appear to be just another disaffected adolescent, making the movie appear at first glance to be a Japanese take on Rebel Without a Cause (released just two years earlier), with pinball and street racing replaced with mahjong and pachinko. But she's hiding a shameful secret, and her self-hatred boils into some extremely intense scenes that go strongly against the Ozu stereotype.
Unfortunately, the overstated social message - in particular, an emphasis on the need for a two-parent family - probably keeps this from being a top-tier Ozu film. (I don't know enough about Ozu or Japanese society to know how important a message this was for him.) But it does have some wonderful scenes. My favorite character in this one is actually Shukichi, the father. The actor Chishu Ryu (who, astoundingly, appears in 52 out of 54 Ozu films), is famous for a mild, passive, demeanor that doesn't quite conceal the loss his characters feel. I can't think of a single American actor that compares - certainly, we have our share of stoic men, but usually there's some trace of violence in the impassivity.
The final scene is especially moving - Shukichi, having just faced a great tragedy, is preparing for another day at the office. Without any cause whatsoever, there's something optimistic about him. As he sets off, outlined against a bleak and wintry day, we are reminded, as we are constantly by Ozu, that the world always has simple pleasures for us if we're willing to look.
Takako and Shukichi are played by Ozu veterans Setsuko Hara and Chishu Ryu. Ozu re-used the same cast members more frequently than Wes Anderson (who also shares a similar set design and choreographic aesthetic), and the biggest challenge of being an Ozu fan is in telling the different characters apart. It doesn't help, for example, that Hara plays a woman named Noriko in three consecutive films. Hara, one of the most beloved actresses of her era, is quite good in the film, but she mostly stays out of the spotlight.
It's the role of Akiko, played by the lesser-known Ineko Arima, that eventually steals the show. At first, her dead expression makes her appear to be just another disaffected adolescent, making the movie appear at first glance to be a Japanese take on Rebel Without a Cause (released just two years earlier), with pinball and street racing replaced with mahjong and pachinko. But she's hiding a shameful secret, and her self-hatred boils into some extremely intense scenes that go strongly against the Ozu stereotype.
Unfortunately, the overstated social message - in particular, an emphasis on the need for a two-parent family - probably keeps this from being a top-tier Ozu film. (I don't know enough about Ozu or Japanese society to know how important a message this was for him.) But it does have some wonderful scenes. My favorite character in this one is actually Shukichi, the father. The actor Chishu Ryu (who, astoundingly, appears in 52 out of 54 Ozu films), is famous for a mild, passive, demeanor that doesn't quite conceal the loss his characters feel. I can't think of a single American actor that compares - certainly, we have our share of stoic men, but usually there's some trace of violence in the impassivity.
The final scene is especially moving - Shukichi, having just faced a great tragedy, is preparing for another day at the office. Without any cause whatsoever, there's something optimistic about him. As he sets off, outlined against a bleak and wintry day, we are reminded, as we are constantly by Ozu, that the world always has simple pleasures for us if we're willing to look.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Wadjda (Haifaa al-Mansour, 2012)
Is it fair to criticize this movie? Not only is it the first feature film shot entirely in Saudi Arabia, by the first female Saudi director, and not only does it directly confront the travails that women face in a Sharia society, but it's also...quite good. There's no one I wouldn't recommend this movie to.
However, at the risk of sounding incredibly heartless, there is something odd that's been bothering me about Wadjda, and that is that Wadjda is clearly intended for a Western audience. Certainly, the movie is enriched in Saudi culture, with all kinds of fascinating details and insights that lift the movie well above it's admittedly cookie-cutter plot. (One absurd joke comes when the main character skins her knee after falling from her bike and cries out "I'm bleeding!" Her mother with horror immediately assumes that her virginity has been compromised.) In fact, Wadjda goes out of its way to point out all of the things about Saudi society that Westerners find so bizarre, and certainly there's no question in the director's mind that her audience will immediately identify with the scrappy and resourceful girl at the heart of the movie, no matter how much she pushes against authority. One of the oddest things about Wadjda is that as transgressive as it is (as a woman, the director had to control outdoor scenes while hidden from sight in a van), the movie looks and feels like it could have been made in Europe with a resourceful set designer.
P.S. The classic movie about kids and bikes is the italian Bicycle Thieves from 1948, which the director claims as an influence. But I think the parallels are even more striking with 2011's The Kid with a Bike, also about childhood transgression.
However, at the risk of sounding incredibly heartless, there is something odd that's been bothering me about Wadjda, and that is that Wadjda is clearly intended for a Western audience. Certainly, the movie is enriched in Saudi culture, with all kinds of fascinating details and insights that lift the movie well above it's admittedly cookie-cutter plot. (One absurd joke comes when the main character skins her knee after falling from her bike and cries out "I'm bleeding!" Her mother with horror immediately assumes that her virginity has been compromised.) In fact, Wadjda goes out of its way to point out all of the things about Saudi society that Westerners find so bizarre, and certainly there's no question in the director's mind that her audience will immediately identify with the scrappy and resourceful girl at the heart of the movie, no matter how much she pushes against authority. One of the oddest things about Wadjda is that as transgressive as it is (as a woman, the director had to control outdoor scenes while hidden from sight in a van), the movie looks and feels like it could have been made in Europe with a resourceful set designer.
P.S. The classic movie about kids and bikes is the italian Bicycle Thieves from 1948, which the director claims as an influence. But I think the parallels are even more striking with 2011's The Kid with a Bike, also about childhood transgression.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
To Be Kind (Swans, 2014)
What did we as a species do to deserve another two-hour dark and punishing album from Swans in just two years? Whatever it is, I hope we keep doing it.
The music itself in this one is just as good, and there are some really awesome tracks I can't wait to re-listen to. The obvious difference to my ears is that Gira's vocals sound much wilder and unconstrained in this one. If we take the title of The Seer literally, to be about some sort of dark future-telling cult, then To Be Kind sounds a bit like they've gotten into gyromancy.
I mentioned that The Seer seemed to be devoid of punk influences. Well, there are definitely shades of Public Image in this one, what with all of the Dadaist lyrics. Also, counter to the title, there are some especially cruel moments in this album. "I need loooove," yells Gira in "I'm Just a Little Boy," and we hear derisive laughter in response. In fact, "love" might be the most common word in To Be Kind, which makes me wonder whether John Lennon might actually be the most important influence here.
The music itself in this one is just as good, and there are some really awesome tracks I can't wait to re-listen to. The obvious difference to my ears is that Gira's vocals sound much wilder and unconstrained in this one. If we take the title of The Seer literally, to be about some sort of dark future-telling cult, then To Be Kind sounds a bit like they've gotten into gyromancy.
I mentioned that The Seer seemed to be devoid of punk influences. Well, there are definitely shades of Public Image in this one, what with all of the Dadaist lyrics. Also, counter to the title, there are some especially cruel moments in this album. "I need loooove," yells Gira in "I'm Just a Little Boy," and we hear derisive laughter in response. In fact, "love" might be the most common word in To Be Kind, which makes me wonder whether John Lennon might actually be the most important influence here.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Deadly Premonition (Xbox 360, 2010) - Part 2
To start at the beginning, we have to go back to Twin Peaks, the cult TV show that aired for just two seasons in the early 90's. The show is about an eccentric FBI agent attempting to solve the murder of a high-school girl in a small town in Washington. It would be an understatement to call Deadly Premonition a tribute to Twin Peaks - the above plot summary would serve just as well for the video game. In fact, the game goes out of its way to line up as many parallelisms as it possibly can. To name one of the silliest and most unnecesary, the "Log Lady" from the show becomes the "Pot Lady," who, in a series of Crazy Taxi-esque mini-games, must be delivered to her house from somewhere across town before her pot gets cold.
All of this would only seem to add to the game's failings. Deadly Premonition sometimes rips off Silent Hill, and sometimes GTA, so why not throw a 90's TV show into the mix? Except that Twin Peaks is an incredible thing for a game to aspire to. Trying to explain why the show is so excellent would require another blog post. Suffice it to say that the show, like many Lynch creations, explores the dark and corrupt underbelly of American values, while simultaneously being a very exciting detective show, with new and bizarre clues to the mystery laid on thick in each episode.
The developers of Deadly Premonition don't have Lynch's mastery of form. What they do have in common with Lynch is a love for the bizarre and surreal, and the game is a testament to all of the ways in which a game can creep us out, mostly by exploring the far away depths of the uncanny valley.
It's impossible to talk about Deadly Premonition without mentioning the cutscenes, which are impossible to describe without showing an example.
There's so much to point out here. For example, note the way Polly is hunched over at the beginning. That's a common Japanese depiction of the elderly. It's fascinating to see the West filtered through Japanese tropes, which is part of what makes Earthbound so great.
Also, note the bizarre and over-stylized gestures, like the way Morgan smokes. The developers gave Morgan a series of repeatable gestures like this that show up in nearly every cutscene. That wouldn't be unusual if these actions weren't extremely poor facsimiles of a way that an actual human behaves. I should mention that the cutscenes are (perhaps unintentionally) extremely funny - the way that Morgan smokes calmly, while the music blares so loudly that it's near impossible to hear Polly in the background, nearly brought Clare and me to tears - but they also make the game extremely creepy when it wants to be, much in the way that Silent Hill 2 uses the plastic appearance of the character models to highlight the general surrealness of the game.
Of course, there's also the hidden message in the coffee. Agent Cooper of Twin Peaks also has a great love of coffee, and at times relies on supernatural clues (although the two are never mixed, as far as I can remember).
But like Twin Peaks, Deadly Premonition is often a fairly decent mystery - the "F K" clue is indeed a useful one. One of the best-implemented features is the way that the myriad suspects all keep to their own schedules in the town of Greenvale, and you're free to spend as much time as you want following them around and spying on them. This is not a new idea - Lure of the Temptress, the debut game from the Broken Sword developers, tried to do the same thing back in 1992. But it is still incredibly ambitious, especially for a game ostensibly about shooting monsters.
Indeed, it's the sheer ambition on display that's most impressive about Deadly Premonition. There's certainly nothing perfect about this game, but it seems clear - especially given the game's lukewarm reception - that there is and probably never will be a game quite like it again.
All of this would only seem to add to the game's failings. Deadly Premonition sometimes rips off Silent Hill, and sometimes GTA, so why not throw a 90's TV show into the mix? Except that Twin Peaks is an incredible thing for a game to aspire to. Trying to explain why the show is so excellent would require another blog post. Suffice it to say that the show, like many Lynch creations, explores the dark and corrupt underbelly of American values, while simultaneously being a very exciting detective show, with new and bizarre clues to the mystery laid on thick in each episode.
The developers of Deadly Premonition don't have Lynch's mastery of form. What they do have in common with Lynch is a love for the bizarre and surreal, and the game is a testament to all of the ways in which a game can creep us out, mostly by exploring the far away depths of the uncanny valley.
It's impossible to talk about Deadly Premonition without mentioning the cutscenes, which are impossible to describe without showing an example.
There's so much to point out here. For example, note the way Polly is hunched over at the beginning. That's a common Japanese depiction of the elderly. It's fascinating to see the West filtered through Japanese tropes, which is part of what makes Earthbound so great.
Also, note the bizarre and over-stylized gestures, like the way Morgan smokes. The developers gave Morgan a series of repeatable gestures like this that show up in nearly every cutscene. That wouldn't be unusual if these actions weren't extremely poor facsimiles of a way that an actual human behaves. I should mention that the cutscenes are (perhaps unintentionally) extremely funny - the way that Morgan smokes calmly, while the music blares so loudly that it's near impossible to hear Polly in the background, nearly brought Clare and me to tears - but they also make the game extremely creepy when it wants to be, much in the way that Silent Hill 2 uses the plastic appearance of the character models to highlight the general surrealness of the game.
Of course, there's also the hidden message in the coffee. Agent Cooper of Twin Peaks also has a great love of coffee, and at times relies on supernatural clues (although the two are never mixed, as far as I can remember).
But like Twin Peaks, Deadly Premonition is often a fairly decent mystery - the "F K" clue is indeed a useful one. One of the best-implemented features is the way that the myriad suspects all keep to their own schedules in the town of Greenvale, and you're free to spend as much time as you want following them around and spying on them. This is not a new idea - Lure of the Temptress, the debut game from the Broken Sword developers, tried to do the same thing back in 1992. But it is still incredibly ambitious, especially for a game ostensibly about shooting monsters.
Indeed, it's the sheer ambition on display that's most impressive about Deadly Premonition. There's certainly nothing perfect about this game, but it seems clear - especially given the game's lukewarm reception - that there is and probably never will be a game quite like it again.
Monday, May 19, 2014
Possession (Andrzej Zulawski, 1981)
I'm not sure if Possession is a good movie or not. In fact, I'm not really sure what kind of movie it is. For much of the beginning, it is about a couple, played by Sam Neill and Isabelle Adjani, getting a very messy divorce after the husband returns to East Berlin from some sort of spy mission. The arguments these two have very quickly become extremely destructive, and extremely loud. The director has let it be known that he wrote the screenplay during his own divorce.
Then, at times, the movie becomes about a slimy, tentacled monster the woman is...creating...in a secret apartment. A monster that she feeds unlucky men that chance upon her. Also, the movie is about alien doppelgangers, mysterious espionage, and in a grand culmination, nuclear war. Somehow, the movie doesn't feel scattered or silly with all of these elements; rather, it feels simply like the insane, overflowing amounts of energy this movie generates can't be contained in one genre.
I'm not sure if Possession is a good movie. What I do know is that's easily the most exhilarating and electric movie I've ever seen. There's something dangerous about this movie in a way that no straight horror film has ever seemed to me. The insanity and hysteria on display here is raw and unadulterated. The performances are incredible. Isabelle Adjani is mindblowing, but even Sam Neill lets loose in a completely surprising way to any fan of his post-Jurassic Park performances.
Needless to say, I have no idea how a director could possibly elicit such intensity from his actors.
Then, at times, the movie becomes about a slimy, tentacled monster the woman is...creating...in a secret apartment. A monster that she feeds unlucky men that chance upon her. Also, the movie is about alien doppelgangers, mysterious espionage, and in a grand culmination, nuclear war. Somehow, the movie doesn't feel scattered or silly with all of these elements; rather, it feels simply like the insane, overflowing amounts of energy this movie generates can't be contained in one genre.
I'm not sure if Possession is a good movie. What I do know is that's easily the most exhilarating and electric movie I've ever seen. There's something dangerous about this movie in a way that no straight horror film has ever seemed to me. The insanity and hysteria on display here is raw and unadulterated. The performances are incredible. Isabelle Adjani is mindblowing, but even Sam Neill lets loose in a completely surprising way to any fan of his post-Jurassic Park performances.
Needless to say, I have no idea how a director could possibly elicit such intensity from his actors.
Friday, May 16, 2014
The Seer (Swans, 2012)
"The Mother of the World," one of my favorite tracks from early in this nearly two-hour-long album by Swans, begins with the lead singer Michael Gira panting for several minutes, keeping perfect time to a rigid, droning beat. I first heard it on a sunny, beautiful afternoon this week, as I was walking from BU along Beacon Street. The feel of the music is exciting and relentless, and the drumming is especially superb, but very quickly I started to hyperventilate along with the singer. I was having a hard time walking - the song continued in this way for what felt like an eternity. The music fades until only the gasping breath remains, and then powerfully resurges. "In and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in," Gira drones. Perhaps The Seer is trying to keep you near the edge of reason, but it's nice enough to give you instructions for not losing consciousness along the way.
The Seer is oppressive and extremely heavy, but never brutal or punishing. The influences stay away from the cynicism of punk; Swans sounds less like Joy Division or This Heat and more like a darker, more spiritual Pink Floyd. The instrumentation is usually on the conventional side, but the musicianship is excellent, and the songs feel much more crafted than the "experimental" label normally attached to Swans would suggest. The extremely lengthy songs evolve and control energy levels in a way that's not unlike classical music.
The Seer is oppressive and extremely heavy, but never brutal or punishing. The influences stay away from the cynicism of punk; Swans sounds less like Joy Division or This Heat and more like a darker, more spiritual Pink Floyd. The instrumentation is usually on the conventional side, but the musicianship is excellent, and the songs feel much more crafted than the "experimental" label normally attached to Swans would suggest. The extremely lengthy songs evolve and control energy levels in a way that's not unlike classical music.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Broken Sword 5: The Serpent's Curse (PC, 2014)
The Broken Sword series has always been the gold standard of European adventure games. The first and most beloved game in the series, released in 1996, is one of the last great 2D adventure games from the classic era, and still looks quite beautiful. This series, from the British studio Revolution, stars an American George Stobbart, and a French journalist Nico Collard, who get caught up in one occult conspiracy after another.
Though the developers reached their peak with the first game, there is a strong international fan base, even after the developers left their beautiful 2D artwork behind and moved to lackluster 3D in the third and fourth games. Although the third game deserves kudos for keeping the spirit of adventure games alive in the dry spell of the early 2000s, neither of these games are particularly great. Fans of crate-pushing puzzles may disagree.
So many fans were understandably excited when Revolution promised a return to the glory days in the Kickstarter-funded fifth game.
Not only is the game in glorious 2D. The puzzles are even refreshingly hard, after a spell of much-too-easy modern adventure games (here I'm thinking especially of Jane Jensen's Moebius, of which I should have much to say later). There are some decent cryptographic puzzles, but most of them are in the classic inventory-style. Some of the former are quite tricky - and just as silly as the infamous cat-hair moustache of Gabriel Knight III. But Clare and I never really got stuck, mostly because the interface is dirt simple. Hotspots are easy to find, and the game doesn't make you choose between different ways of interacting with an object. Also, the game very rarely forces you to leave a room to search for a necessary item.
The story centers around a stolen Gnostic painting, which leads George and Nico around Europe in search of a tablet that does...something. Actually, the plot doesn't really pick up until the second half of the game, and even then it's not that engaging. The writing was never at the level of Gabriel Knight - it's mostly popcorn Indiana Jones-style stuff. Clare and I played through all of the previous games with gusto, and even we couldn't recognize most of the recurring characters.
Actually the character design is the game's biggest problem. The supporting characters are cartoonishly one-dimensional, and the poor voice acting doesn't help the situation. (That's something I don't miss about the 90's.) However, even George and Nico didn't seem to have any internal motivation. They just seemed cheerily optimistic, like they were just grateful for their Kickstarter-funded revival. In a shamelessly crowd-pleasing move, the writers even tried to force a romantic connection at the end of the game, without acknowledging any of their history. Ugh.
Ultimately, this game was something of a disappointment. Although modern adventure games should take note that it's possible to do hard puzzles reasonably well, there's really no excuse for mediocre writing.
Though the developers reached their peak with the first game, there is a strong international fan base, even after the developers left their beautiful 2D artwork behind and moved to lackluster 3D in the third and fourth games. Although the third game deserves kudos for keeping the spirit of adventure games alive in the dry spell of the early 2000s, neither of these games are particularly great. Fans of crate-pushing puzzles may disagree.
So many fans were understandably excited when Revolution promised a return to the glory days in the Kickstarter-funded fifth game.
Not only is the game in glorious 2D. The puzzles are even refreshingly hard, after a spell of much-too-easy modern adventure games (here I'm thinking especially of Jane Jensen's Moebius, of which I should have much to say later). There are some decent cryptographic puzzles, but most of them are in the classic inventory-style. Some of the former are quite tricky - and just as silly as the infamous cat-hair moustache of Gabriel Knight III. But Clare and I never really got stuck, mostly because the interface is dirt simple. Hotspots are easy to find, and the game doesn't make you choose between different ways of interacting with an object. Also, the game very rarely forces you to leave a room to search for a necessary item.
The story centers around a stolen Gnostic painting, which leads George and Nico around Europe in search of a tablet that does...something. Actually, the plot doesn't really pick up until the second half of the game, and even then it's not that engaging. The writing was never at the level of Gabriel Knight - it's mostly popcorn Indiana Jones-style stuff. Clare and I played through all of the previous games with gusto, and even we couldn't recognize most of the recurring characters.
Actually the character design is the game's biggest problem. The supporting characters are cartoonishly one-dimensional, and the poor voice acting doesn't help the situation. (That's something I don't miss about the 90's.) However, even George and Nico didn't seem to have any internal motivation. They just seemed cheerily optimistic, like they were just grateful for their Kickstarter-funded revival. In a shamelessly crowd-pleasing move, the writers even tried to force a romantic connection at the end of the game, without acknowledging any of their history. Ugh.
Ultimately, this game was something of a disappointment. Although modern adventure games should take note that it's possible to do hard puzzles reasonably well, there's really no excuse for mediocre writing.
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Tokyo Story (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953)
The hardest part of living in Boston is being so far away from my family. Tokyo Story is about a couple in their 60's who wish to visit two of their children, who live a day's train ride away. Also in Tokyo is the widow of their second son, who died in the war. The two children are not awful people, but they lead busy lives, and can't take time off to show their parents around the city. The daughter-in-law does spend a day sightseeing with them. Perhaps it's because she's less busy than the others, perhaps not. Certainly she seems more eager to please the couple, but isn't that just how in-laws normally are?
One could say that Tokyo Story is a morality tale about filial piety, but I think that approach would miss the point. Tokyo Story is really a story about people doing the best they can to balance their own affairs with their sense of duty. For all that the daughter-in-law respects the couple, the couple would rather she remarry. Certainly she'd be happier if she did.
Ozu's films are tremendously peaceful - I relish the warm calmness that begins each time I start one. I don't think it's a good idea to attribute the slow pace, which can be off-putting to many viewers, solely to cultural differences. Ozu knew that peacefulness, happiness, and even euphoria can exist simulataneously with a sense of loss and disappointment. Tokyo Story is one of the few films that can bring me to tears, but it's still a film I love to revisit often.
One could say that Tokyo Story is a morality tale about filial piety, but I think that approach would miss the point. Tokyo Story is really a story about people doing the best they can to balance their own affairs with their sense of duty. For all that the daughter-in-law respects the couple, the couple would rather she remarry. Certainly she'd be happier if she did.
Ozu's films are tremendously peaceful - I relish the warm calmness that begins each time I start one. I don't think it's a good idea to attribute the slow pace, which can be off-putting to many viewers, solely to cultural differences. Ozu knew that peacefulness, happiness, and even euphoria can exist simulataneously with a sense of loss and disappointment. Tokyo Story is one of the few films that can bring me to tears, but it's still a film I love to revisit often.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Richard II
Richard II is yet another history about a bad king. Not wildly scheming and hilariously evil like Richard III, nor quietly ineffectual like Henry VI, just quite unpopular, due to holding high taxes on the commons, while at the same time disrespecting the rights of the aristocracy. He is deposed rather quietly, without much fuss, by the exiled duke of Hereford, who invades England while Richard is away in Ireland. No one seems much bothered except for one of the older lords, who knows that Richard's a lousy king, but who can appreciate that England is in for some trouble if no one's going to respect the divine right of succession.
The play sounds pretty boring on the surface, but save for the deliciously morbid Richard III, this is my favorite history yet. (Okay, the dry Henry VI series doesn't pose much of a threat, but still!) Richard is such a pathetic figure that it's extremely hard to take him seriously. But his monologues are so good! They're so tragic and poignant, but at the same time the man is so schizophrenic that an element of strong, dark humor is hard to ignore.
Again, no theatrical film adaptation that I could find; here good old BBC comes to the rescue as usual. Derek Jacobi overpowers the proceedings with an extremely self-indulgent performance. I think his interpretation, though definitely on the goofy side, is actually pretty defensible. Richard II has to be one of the most difficult parts in the Shakespearean repertoire. Even if Clare and I were nearly in stitches in a couple of these scenes, I think the humor has to be at least partly intentional on the author's part.
The play sounds pretty boring on the surface, but save for the deliciously morbid Richard III, this is my favorite history yet. (Okay, the dry Henry VI series doesn't pose much of a threat, but still!) Richard is such a pathetic figure that it's extremely hard to take him seriously. But his monologues are so good! They're so tragic and poignant, but at the same time the man is so schizophrenic that an element of strong, dark humor is hard to ignore.
Again, no theatrical film adaptation that I could find; here good old BBC comes to the rescue as usual. Derek Jacobi overpowers the proceedings with an extremely self-indulgent performance. I think his interpretation, though definitely on the goofy side, is actually pretty defensible. Richard II has to be one of the most difficult parts in the Shakespearean repertoire. Even if Clare and I were nearly in stitches in a couple of these scenes, I think the humor has to be at least partly intentional on the author's part.
Monday, May 12, 2014
Deadly Premonition (Xbox 360, 2010) - Part 1
This game has gotten pretty famous, and most people have probably made up their minds one way or the other about it. Even so, I'm going to try to start at the beginning.
Here is the cover to Deadly Premonition, a game by the Japanese developer Access Games, who prior to this weren't known for much in the U.S., besides working on one of the Ace Combat games. Looking at this, you would probably guess that Deadly Premonition is a survival horror game. The game does indeed take many cues from the Silent Hill series: for example, the axe-wielding hooded man lurking in the corner is a kind of rip-off from "Pyramid Head". He drags that axe as he walks around, throwing sparks everywhere, and is impregnable to bullets until the end of the game.
To satisfy our expectations, the following shot represents the first hour or so of the game quite well.
Here is a shot from the next hour (for sticklers, this is actually the PS3 version, but it's close enough):
What you see here is the main character from the first shot, the FBI agent Francis York Morgan, exploring the sleepy town of Greenvale, Washington in a police cruiser. There are no monsters in this segment. In fact, less than half of my playthrough of this game was spent in the "dark world" (the percentage could be much less for those intent on completing all sidequests.)
So what the hell kind of game is this? If it's a survival horror game as the marketing would have us believe, then it's pretty mediocre and repetitive. Probably 90% of the enemies take the form of a clownish zombie who bends over backwards, like in that first screenshot. The combat is pretty simplistic stuff. At least it doesn't give you much trouble on medium difficulty.
If we're going to call it an adventure game with a GTA-like facade (the closest facsimile, in my experience, is the overworld component of No More Heroes), then it's still pretty lacking, since there's way too much driving and way too little to do in the town of Greenvale. The missions are almost invariably some form of point A to point B driving.
So any genre-based review of this game will be quite negative. It will also be wrong, because this game is an amazing experience and an absolute must-play. Why? Well, I'll have to go back to the beginning once again.
(Part 2 to come)
Here is the cover to Deadly Premonition, a game by the Japanese developer Access Games, who prior to this weren't known for much in the U.S., besides working on one of the Ace Combat games. Looking at this, you would probably guess that Deadly Premonition is a survival horror game. The game does indeed take many cues from the Silent Hill series: for example, the axe-wielding hooded man lurking in the corner is a kind of rip-off from "Pyramid Head". He drags that axe as he walks around, throwing sparks everywhere, and is impregnable to bullets until the end of the game.
To satisfy our expectations, the following shot represents the first hour or so of the game quite well.
Here is a shot from the next hour (for sticklers, this is actually the PS3 version, but it's close enough):
What you see here is the main character from the first shot, the FBI agent Francis York Morgan, exploring the sleepy town of Greenvale, Washington in a police cruiser. There are no monsters in this segment. In fact, less than half of my playthrough of this game was spent in the "dark world" (the percentage could be much less for those intent on completing all sidequests.)
So what the hell kind of game is this? If it's a survival horror game as the marketing would have us believe, then it's pretty mediocre and repetitive. Probably 90% of the enemies take the form of a clownish zombie who bends over backwards, like in that first screenshot. The combat is pretty simplistic stuff. At least it doesn't give you much trouble on medium difficulty.
If we're going to call it an adventure game with a GTA-like facade (the closest facsimile, in my experience, is the overworld component of No More Heroes), then it's still pretty lacking, since there's way too much driving and way too little to do in the town of Greenvale. The missions are almost invariably some form of point A to point B driving.
So any genre-based review of this game will be quite negative. It will also be wrong, because this game is an amazing experience and an absolute must-play. Why? Well, I'll have to go back to the beginning once again.
(Part 2 to come)
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Orange is the New Black - Season 1
After finishing this up yesterday, I was surprised to learn that the show is based on a real-life memoir of a white, female college graduate who spent a year in prison on a drug trafficking charge. This is surprising, because the majority of the characters in this show are, to put it lightly, far too crazy and/or bizarre to accurately reflect anyone living or dead.
There are important issues being covered here. I do think that the absurdities and abuses of our prison system are, in many ways, one of the defining issues of our times. But the caricatures on display here often go well beyond what I can take seriously, and I think this does a disservice to some very real problems. I can understand that making a comedy in a women's prison is walking a pretty fine line: this show's main problem is that it doesn't have much heart.
That's too bad, because the show is pretty smart about some things. For instance, the racial dynamics here are spot on. Piper, the main character, has friends and family that want to see her as better than her fellow inmates by virtue of being white. Despite this, Piper is often just as cruel and manipulative as everyone else, and there's a kind of deliciousness when the other characters pop her illusory bubble.
There are important issues being covered here. I do think that the absurdities and abuses of our prison system are, in many ways, one of the defining issues of our times. But the caricatures on display here often go well beyond what I can take seriously, and I think this does a disservice to some very real problems. I can understand that making a comedy in a women's prison is walking a pretty fine line: this show's main problem is that it doesn't have much heart.
That's too bad, because the show is pretty smart about some things. For instance, the racial dynamics here are spot on. Piper, the main character, has friends and family that want to see her as better than her fellow inmates by virtue of being white. Despite this, Piper is often just as cruel and manipulative as everyone else, and there's a kind of deliciousness when the other characters pop her illusory bubble.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Zelda Runthrough: The Wind Waker (Gamecube, 2003)
Besides giving me an excuse to replay some great games, the main reason I began this runthrough was to determine, once and for all, what is the greatest Zelda game. In that respect I've failed entirely. I now have more "favorite" Zelda games than ever: Link to the Past, Link's Awakening, Ocarina of Time, and Majora's Mask are all excellent for very different reasons, and being forced to choose between these feels... unnecessarily pedantic.
However, after more than a year, I'm finally ready to declare my first bold and unmitigated opinion: The Wind Waker is NOT the greatest Zelda game.
Okay, let me mitigate that a little: I enjoyed Wind Waker tremendously. Like nearly everyone, I'm a huge fan of the graphical style. It should be remembered that the decision to forgo the quest for "photorealism" and instead exhibit a crafted and conscious aesthetic style was extremely controversial in 2003. The decision paid off in spades. I love the way this game looks - to give just one example, I love Link's expressions. The scared look he gets in front of a boss, the solemn nod he gives when the King of Red Lions asks him whether he's ready, even the slightly queasy look he gets when he puts a Hyoi Pear on his head to attract a seagull. The game is overflowing with personality. I also love the story, the characters, and most of all the wonderful idea to set the game on the ocean. I even love the sailing, for all its flaws (on the Gamecube version).
So what's the problem? Well, if you've played the game, think about the first time you set out on the ocean on your tiny sailboat. An entire world out there for you to explore - who knows what you're going to find? And then you look at your map, and you see a nice 7x7 grid. It soon becomes apparent that every one of those squares on the grid, without exception, contains exactly one island. Suddenly that grand sense of mystery and adventure vanishes, and visiting all of the islands starts to feel like busywork. If you're old enough to remember how cool it was to find a hidden cave in Legend of Zelda, then imagine what would happen to your sense of wonder if EVERY screen in the game was guaranteed to contain one.
Now having 49 islands to explore is still pretty cool, even if finding them isn't exactly a challenge. But then you start to see how much repetition there is. Most of the islands only contain a few baddies to fight or a puzzle to solve for a reward, and there are just too many "eye reefs". Given the technical constraints, I don't fault Nintendo for not making every island unique and interesting. But consider that the rewards for exploring these islands are quite often treasure charts, which are there to generate yet more busywork.
I suppose it seems like I'm being grouchy, complaining that there's just too much to do in this game. But playing it a second time, it became clear that for all there is to do in Wind Waker, there's surprisingly little content. There are, after all, only four dungeons and one shortish boss tower. The game's "new" items, the grappling hook and Deku leaf, don't feel that unique. The combat is fun, but most of the enemies feel a bit overrecycled, and the challenge isn't really there (even in the misnamed Savage Labyrinth).
Wind Waker is a very good game, and I really want to just sit back and enjoy it without being nitpicky. Certainly the game has no shortage of fans, and if you feel that this one's the best, I certainly won't argue. But I can't help feeling that the game marks a real turning point for the series, and a certain sense of mystery that the early games had is being lost.
But Link has a way of always making me feel better.
However, after more than a year, I'm finally ready to declare my first bold and unmitigated opinion: The Wind Waker is NOT the greatest Zelda game.
Okay, let me mitigate that a little: I enjoyed Wind Waker tremendously. Like nearly everyone, I'm a huge fan of the graphical style. It should be remembered that the decision to forgo the quest for "photorealism" and instead exhibit a crafted and conscious aesthetic style was extremely controversial in 2003. The decision paid off in spades. I love the way this game looks - to give just one example, I love Link's expressions. The scared look he gets in front of a boss, the solemn nod he gives when the King of Red Lions asks him whether he's ready, even the slightly queasy look he gets when he puts a Hyoi Pear on his head to attract a seagull. The game is overflowing with personality. I also love the story, the characters, and most of all the wonderful idea to set the game on the ocean. I even love the sailing, for all its flaws (on the Gamecube version).
So what's the problem? Well, if you've played the game, think about the first time you set out on the ocean on your tiny sailboat. An entire world out there for you to explore - who knows what you're going to find? And then you look at your map, and you see a nice 7x7 grid. It soon becomes apparent that every one of those squares on the grid, without exception, contains exactly one island. Suddenly that grand sense of mystery and adventure vanishes, and visiting all of the islands starts to feel like busywork. If you're old enough to remember how cool it was to find a hidden cave in Legend of Zelda, then imagine what would happen to your sense of wonder if EVERY screen in the game was guaranteed to contain one.
Now having 49 islands to explore is still pretty cool, even if finding them isn't exactly a challenge. But then you start to see how much repetition there is. Most of the islands only contain a few baddies to fight or a puzzle to solve for a reward, and there are just too many "eye reefs". Given the technical constraints, I don't fault Nintendo for not making every island unique and interesting. But consider that the rewards for exploring these islands are quite often treasure charts, which are there to generate yet more busywork.
I suppose it seems like I'm being grouchy, complaining that there's just too much to do in this game. But playing it a second time, it became clear that for all there is to do in Wind Waker, there's surprisingly little content. There are, after all, only four dungeons and one shortish boss tower. The game's "new" items, the grappling hook and Deku leaf, don't feel that unique. The combat is fun, but most of the enemies feel a bit overrecycled, and the challenge isn't really there (even in the misnamed Savage Labyrinth).
Wind Waker is a very good game, and I really want to just sit back and enjoy it without being nitpicky. Certainly the game has no shortage of fans, and if you feel that this one's the best, I certainly won't argue. But I can't help feeling that the game marks a real turning point for the series, and a certain sense of mystery that the early games had is being lost.
But Link has a way of always making me feel better.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Zelda Runthrough: Four Swords (GBA, 2002)
After taking a long break from Zelda games, I'm almost finished with Wind Waker, and I'll have plenty to say about that game soon. But first I have to take care of some unfinished business.
Four Swords is not a stand-alone game. Instead it's a multiplayer mode attached to the Game Boy Advance re-release of A Link to the Past. It requires two to four players to connect their GBAs (each with its own copy of the game) with link cables. For this reason, it's easy to see why the original release is not widely talked about. (A remake for the DSi was released online a few years ago, and then again earlier this year, to celebrate Zelda's 25th anniversary.)
It does have its own very simple story, told in two separate cutscenes at the beginning and end of the game, but it's terribly generic stuff about saving Zelda from a black bat-thing called Vaati. Link takes an artifact called the "Four Sword", which splits him to four differently-colored Links. The game has no overworld. Instead there are just three stages, each with a number of floors and a boss, and then a final stage where you fight Vaati himself.
The gameplay is pretty simple, but still quite a bit of fun. To obviate the need for an inventory screen, you can only hold one item at a time. Most of the puzzles require you to work together in some fashion - for example, the Links can toss each other over gaps when there's only one jump feather available. In an interesting twist, the levels are randomly generated, although this just means that pre-designed puzzles will appear scattered around in arbitrary order. After each level, a Great Fairy will appear, and judge you based on - get this - how many rupees you collected. (My wife and I consistently got the rating of "little eggs".) Rupees are quite important in this game, not only to please the capitalist deities, but because you spend them to regenerate your Links when they die.
Clare and I definitely enjoyed playing Four Swords, but I certainly wouldn't call this a hidden classic, because it's extremely short and not very difficult. Clare and I finished it in about three hours, beating Vaati quite easily our first time. I read online that one needs to play the game three times and get a ton of rupees in order to get the best ending, but I don't think there's enough content to warrant that kind of effort. If you have three GBA-owning friends, then this game might provide you with a fun and memorable afternoon, but otherwise, it's certainly no reason to go out and buy a second GBA (ahem).
If there's one thing to take away from Four Swords, it's that Capcom was more innovative with their approach to the Zelda series than the Oracle games would lead us to believe. Four Swords is a really good idea, one that they would make better use of later on.
Plus I love the way all of the Links have long bangs. Seriously, they're like a 90's boy band.
Four Swords is not a stand-alone game. Instead it's a multiplayer mode attached to the Game Boy Advance re-release of A Link to the Past. It requires two to four players to connect their GBAs (each with its own copy of the game) with link cables. For this reason, it's easy to see why the original release is not widely talked about. (A remake for the DSi was released online a few years ago, and then again earlier this year, to celebrate Zelda's 25th anniversary.)
It does have its own very simple story, told in two separate cutscenes at the beginning and end of the game, but it's terribly generic stuff about saving Zelda from a black bat-thing called Vaati. Link takes an artifact called the "Four Sword", which splits him to four differently-colored Links. The game has no overworld. Instead there are just three stages, each with a number of floors and a boss, and then a final stage where you fight Vaati himself.
The gameplay is pretty simple, but still quite a bit of fun. To obviate the need for an inventory screen, you can only hold one item at a time. Most of the puzzles require you to work together in some fashion - for example, the Links can toss each other over gaps when there's only one jump feather available. In an interesting twist, the levels are randomly generated, although this just means that pre-designed puzzles will appear scattered around in arbitrary order. After each level, a Great Fairy will appear, and judge you based on - get this - how many rupees you collected. (My wife and I consistently got the rating of "little eggs".) Rupees are quite important in this game, not only to please the capitalist deities, but because you spend them to regenerate your Links when they die.
Clare and I definitely enjoyed playing Four Swords, but I certainly wouldn't call this a hidden classic, because it's extremely short and not very difficult. Clare and I finished it in about three hours, beating Vaati quite easily our first time. I read online that one needs to play the game three times and get a ton of rupees in order to get the best ending, but I don't think there's enough content to warrant that kind of effort. If you have three GBA-owning friends, then this game might provide you with a fun and memorable afternoon, but otherwise, it's certainly no reason to go out and buy a second GBA (ahem).
If there's one thing to take away from Four Swords, it's that Capcom was more innovative with their approach to the Zelda series than the Oracle games would lead us to believe. Four Swords is a really good idea, one that they would make better use of later on.
Plus I love the way all of the Links have long bangs. Seriously, they're like a 90's boy band.
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