Surprisingly, this runthrough marks the second time I've played this game all the way through. In fact, before I started this game, Ocarina of Time was actually fairly low on my list of Zelda favorites, just because there was nothing in it that really stood out for me. I've heard it said more than once that every Zelda game after Ocarina is just a pale attempt to capture the same magic, but that seems pretty untrue to me. In fact, if any game copies its predecessor too much, it's this game, which cannot unfairly be called a 3D remake of Link to the Past. (One could try to say something similar about Majora's Mask, but all in good time.) It's pretty clear why I don't replay it very often, because it takes a frustratingly long time to get to the good parts, like riding Epona.
But, yeah, this game is pretty amazing, and I needed to be reminded of that fact. As a remake, it adds the heart and soul that the developers discovered in Link's Awakening; the same cannot be said for the rather dry Super Mario 64. The gameplay is also incredibly fun and addictive, and remarkably simple when compared to the modern collect-athons. There's a reason that Majora's Mask would rehash every single minigame from Ocarina (and not really come off any worse for it).
So now I have no idea what my favorite Zelda game is. From Link to the Past through Majora's Mask, and continuing to Wind Waker), Nintendo found ways to surprise people with every new incarnation. Were the Beatles that lucky?
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Fats Waller: "Your Socks Don't Match"
This strange song has been occupying my thoughts today.
For those who don't know, Fats Waller holds a cherished place in the pantheon of pre-war jazz. While Louis Armstrong was the unbeatable soloist and singer, and Duke Ellington had the best arragements, Fats Waller was probably the greatest entertainer.
This song is an enigma. It begins with Waller at the piano. Waller played in an era where the piano was often the only percussion instrument, and his stride style of playing usually keeps a fast and heavy beat, with the left hand dancing between octaves like Mingus on steroids. Here, backed by a drummer on hi-hat, Waller luxuriates a slow and easygoing blues for 1:30, actually half the song. And it's beautifully melodic playing.
And then the rest of the band kicks in, without much more energy. A guitar and trumpet sections keeps the blues theme going to great effect. And Waller starts singing. Here is the first verse, to the best I can figure it:
I like the devil in your chin
I even like that sugar way you grin
Still you ain't nowhere, you ain't any kind of cash
Dog-gone woman, your socks don't match
and later on, Waller speaks between verses, and the song turns more bizarre:
The shoes you wear, oh, they reveal your holes (!)
Seems that both of them are of different hue
They seem to be strangers baby, why don't you amalgamate and get them things together
I think you should introduce it too, yes, you gotta do them kind of thing
To put this song in some kind of weird context, this is actually a "sequel", if you will, to his bigger success, "Your Feet's Too Big". That song played in the credits of the Michel Gondry movie Be Kind Rewind, whose plot centers around an unusual attempt to rewrite Waller's biography (and whose star Jack Black stands out in my mind as the contemporary musician who maybe comes closest to Fats' style of comedy). But where that song is jumpy and boisterous, this one is tranquil and full of strange wordplay (notice the double entendre and the drunken pronoun-switch on the last line). Unsurprisingly, it wasn't as successful than its predecessor.
Fats loved to screw with the lyrics of his and other people's songs. He frequently added lines for humor, even into corny songs like "I Can't Give You Anything But Love". I heartily recommend watching him play his most famous song, "Ain't Misbehavin'" in a scene from Stormy Weather. It's not only worth it just to watch his mesmerizing expressions, it's probably the best recorded version of the song.
For those who don't know, Fats Waller holds a cherished place in the pantheon of pre-war jazz. While Louis Armstrong was the unbeatable soloist and singer, and Duke Ellington had the best arragements, Fats Waller was probably the greatest entertainer.
This song is an enigma. It begins with Waller at the piano. Waller played in an era where the piano was often the only percussion instrument, and his stride style of playing usually keeps a fast and heavy beat, with the left hand dancing between octaves like Mingus on steroids. Here, backed by a drummer on hi-hat, Waller luxuriates a slow and easygoing blues for 1:30, actually half the song. And it's beautifully melodic playing.
And then the rest of the band kicks in, without much more energy. A guitar and trumpet sections keeps the blues theme going to great effect. And Waller starts singing. Here is the first verse, to the best I can figure it:
I like the devil in your chin
I even like that sugar way you grin
Still you ain't nowhere, you ain't any kind of cash
Dog-gone woman, your socks don't match
and later on, Waller speaks between verses, and the song turns more bizarre:
The shoes you wear, oh, they reveal your holes (!)
Seems that both of them are of different hue
They seem to be strangers baby, why don't you amalgamate and get them things together
I think you should introduce it too, yes, you gotta do them kind of thing
To put this song in some kind of weird context, this is actually a "sequel", if you will, to his bigger success, "Your Feet's Too Big". That song played in the credits of the Michel Gondry movie Be Kind Rewind, whose plot centers around an unusual attempt to rewrite Waller's biography (and whose star Jack Black stands out in my mind as the contemporary musician who maybe comes closest to Fats' style of comedy). But where that song is jumpy and boisterous, this one is tranquil and full of strange wordplay (notice the double entendre and the drunken pronoun-switch on the last line). Unsurprisingly, it wasn't as successful than its predecessor.
Fats loved to screw with the lyrics of his and other people's songs. He frequently added lines for humor, even into corny songs like "I Can't Give You Anything But Love". I heartily recommend watching him play his most famous song, "Ain't Misbehavin'" in a scene from Stormy Weather. It's not only worth it just to watch his mesmerizing expressions, it's probably the best recorded version of the song.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Zero Dark Thirty
Katherine Bigelow wants to make war movies that put aside politics and stay close to the facts. I commend her for being the first director to succeed with a movie about Iraq. (Although for me In the Valley of Elah was more compelling than Hurt Locker.) But the newer movie has some deep and glaring problems.
I will be honest and say that I was slightly dreading this one, because of the depiction of torture. The makers of this movie have stated that they wanted to let viewers make up their own mind about the CIA's detainee system post 9/11, and I believe them. The fundamental problem is that neutrality on this issue necessarily comes off as silent consent. The narrative that the film subscribes to is that the information given by tortured detainees led intelligence officials (or one highly devoted official, but we'll get to that later) to focus their efforts on a possible courier to Bin Laden.
Many people have written about why this is inaccurate, and I'm not going to repeat the facts here. However, even if torture did provide crucial information in this pursuit, the movie does not really offer up a crucial question: does that information really justify the means of obtaining it? Perhaps this question is lurking in the background, but if this is really an insider's account, as the text at the beginning claims, than why not have the characters make their opinions known. (Instead we get one torturer taking a desk job because he feels he's "looked at too many men naked," and later a woman shaking her head slightly when listening to Obama denounce torture in an interview.)
When I actually watched Zero Dark Thirty, I could see that the whole torture issue is just one symptom of a larger problem; this movie doesn't just avoid politics, it avoids any kind of message at all. So it's reasonable to ask why it even exists. If Bigelow felt the need to say that behind the raid in Abbottabad were years of painstaking and unrewarded effort by hardworking and incredibly devoted agents, then forgive me for saying that that's not exactly a revelation. If the movie is meant as a fictional character study of one particularly feisty woman devoted to an incredibly personal manhunt for ten years, then fine, but I think Bigelow fails on this front as well. Chastain is a fine actress, but the role has little development and the last third of the movie consists of her being right about everything.
Speaking about this last part, Bigelow again dances around an extremely important and currently relevant issue, when the CIA leaders debate on whether to act on so little intelligence. However, instead of any reasonable justification, they decide to send in the helicopters because Chastain impresses everyone with her confidence. It's not only irresponsible, it's silly and boring.
By far the best scene of the movie (and this really surprised me) is the obligatory depiction of the raid itself. It's here that Bigelow's "just-the-facts" approach really pays off. This scene could easily have been something that high school teachers would show to students ten years from now to show America's clean and cathartic break with the war on terror. Instead we get the truth, which is a less-than-perfect assault where women got shot for being hysterical, and a dozen children are forced to huddle while men dressed in black point guns at them. Of course the soldiers are just doing their job, and as such it stands as a chilling reminder of why there is a difference between the police and the military. It's exactly the sort of thing we should be showing to high school students; it's probably the best depiction of a modern military action.
Edit: Speaking of which, happy Memorial Day! :/
I will be honest and say that I was slightly dreading this one, because of the depiction of torture. The makers of this movie have stated that they wanted to let viewers make up their own mind about the CIA's detainee system post 9/11, and I believe them. The fundamental problem is that neutrality on this issue necessarily comes off as silent consent. The narrative that the film subscribes to is that the information given by tortured detainees led intelligence officials (or one highly devoted official, but we'll get to that later) to focus their efforts on a possible courier to Bin Laden.
Many people have written about why this is inaccurate, and I'm not going to repeat the facts here. However, even if torture did provide crucial information in this pursuit, the movie does not really offer up a crucial question: does that information really justify the means of obtaining it? Perhaps this question is lurking in the background, but if this is really an insider's account, as the text at the beginning claims, than why not have the characters make their opinions known. (Instead we get one torturer taking a desk job because he feels he's "looked at too many men naked," and later a woman shaking her head slightly when listening to Obama denounce torture in an interview.)
When I actually watched Zero Dark Thirty, I could see that the whole torture issue is just one symptom of a larger problem; this movie doesn't just avoid politics, it avoids any kind of message at all. So it's reasonable to ask why it even exists. If Bigelow felt the need to say that behind the raid in Abbottabad were years of painstaking and unrewarded effort by hardworking and incredibly devoted agents, then forgive me for saying that that's not exactly a revelation. If the movie is meant as a fictional character study of one particularly feisty woman devoted to an incredibly personal manhunt for ten years, then fine, but I think Bigelow fails on this front as well. Chastain is a fine actress, but the role has little development and the last third of the movie consists of her being right about everything.
Speaking about this last part, Bigelow again dances around an extremely important and currently relevant issue, when the CIA leaders debate on whether to act on so little intelligence. However, instead of any reasonable justification, they decide to send in the helicopters because Chastain impresses everyone with her confidence. It's not only irresponsible, it's silly and boring.
By far the best scene of the movie (and this really surprised me) is the obligatory depiction of the raid itself. It's here that Bigelow's "just-the-facts" approach really pays off. This scene could easily have been something that high school teachers would show to students ten years from now to show America's clean and cathartic break with the war on terror. Instead we get the truth, which is a less-than-perfect assault where women got shot for being hysterical, and a dozen children are forced to huddle while men dressed in black point guns at them. Of course the soldiers are just doing their job, and as such it stands as a chilling reminder of why there is a difference between the police and the military. It's exactly the sort of thing we should be showing to high school students; it's probably the best depiction of a modern military action.
Edit: Speaking of which, happy Memorial Day! :/
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Bioshock Infinite (Xbox 360, 2013)
I took a break from my Zelda playthrough after Majora's Mask to play Bioshock Infinite. As is the general consensus, it's a terrific game with a great story. The Bioshock games, of which I've played the first and this new game (skipping the second, which changed developers and got mixed reviews), are about idealistic American "enclaves", set in the past but with futuristic technology. They're also credited with bringing a philosophical outlook to the modern high-budget video game. The first game focussed pretty heavily on Objectivism a la Ayn Rand. This game hits even closer to home, showing the dark side of American exceptionalism, racial purification, and Christian fundamentalism.
I wanted to start out positive, because I really did enjoy this game. In fact, since the designers did so much right, it's worth asking them what might be a pretty dumb question. Why does this game need to be a first-person shooter? Couldn't you tell a story just as good with a different gameplay mechanic? I understand that Booker DeWitt is not welcome in the flying city of Columbia, and why its leader believes he is a threat. I understand why he's willing to risk everything to accomplish his mission. I don't understand why that means it's sensible to turn him into a killing machine. These are not deformed "splicers", as in the first game, but quite real and healthy human beings that are dying by the hundreds.
Bioshock Infinite is an extremely violent game. Now I play games with many degrees of violence, and to be frank, this usually doesn't bother me. This doesn't have to be a moral issue, or an issue of children being desensitized. Honestly, this is just a game that would be significantly better if it had ditched the guns. Perhaps I wouldn't have felt this way when I was younger. It occured to me when I picked up this game that I've played at most 2 or 3 first person shooters since Call of Duty 4 came out. As I've gotten older, this is one genre I'm beginning to grow out of (and I still play JRPGs - go figure). Clare doesn't like watching them, and they're finally starting to make me queasy too.
The sad truth with this game is that it would probably be impossible, at least in this era of video games, to make something so beautiful, something with such high production values, without forcing the main character to carry guns around and point them at things. Perhaps someday there will be a Bioshock game that, without hypocrisy, will tell the gamers of the future about how America was once obsessed with firearms.
I wanted to start out positive, because I really did enjoy this game. In fact, since the designers did so much right, it's worth asking them what might be a pretty dumb question. Why does this game need to be a first-person shooter? Couldn't you tell a story just as good with a different gameplay mechanic? I understand that Booker DeWitt is not welcome in the flying city of Columbia, and why its leader believes he is a threat. I understand why he's willing to risk everything to accomplish his mission. I don't understand why that means it's sensible to turn him into a killing machine. These are not deformed "splicers", as in the first game, but quite real and healthy human beings that are dying by the hundreds.
Bioshock Infinite is an extremely violent game. Now I play games with many degrees of violence, and to be frank, this usually doesn't bother me. This doesn't have to be a moral issue, or an issue of children being desensitized. Honestly, this is just a game that would be significantly better if it had ditched the guns. Perhaps I wouldn't have felt this way when I was younger. It occured to me when I picked up this game that I've played at most 2 or 3 first person shooters since Call of Duty 4 came out. As I've gotten older, this is one genre I'm beginning to grow out of (and I still play JRPGs - go figure). Clare doesn't like watching them, and they're finally starting to make me queasy too.
The sad truth with this game is that it would probably be impossible, at least in this era of video games, to make something so beautiful, something with such high production values, without forcing the main character to carry guns around and point them at things. Perhaps someday there will be a Bioshock game that, without hypocrisy, will tell the gamers of the future about how America was once obsessed with firearms.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Zelda Runthrough Part 2: SNES Era
A Link to the Past (SNES, 1991):
This game is the epitome of Zelda. It's a common refrain that all Zelda games after Ocarina of Time are remakes of that classic. If that's true, then considering that Ocarina is in essence a 3D remake of Link to the Past, then we owe a lot to the sole Zelda game for the SNES. It's easy to forget that the series could have gone in so many different directions after Zelda 2. The developers decided to scale back from the larger size of that world, in order to focus on a smaller, more detailed Hyrule. Somehow the world doesn't feel smaller, because each area has a different theme and feel. However, the inclusion of the dark world does continue the more depressing tone that originated in Zelda 2.
I didn't play this game until a year or so ago. After I did, I was ready to call it my favorite in the series. It felt like an awesome compromise between the soul-crushing difficulty of the NES incarnations and the hand-holding of later entries. The puzzles made sense, and yet solving them felt like a major breakthrough. This time I was slightly less entranced. The dungeons feel a little too combat-heavy - not in itself a bad thing, but constantly refilling my 4 fairy jars began to wear on me after a while. Maybe I just suck at this game.
As the last major 2D Zelda on consoles, this game is drop-dead gorgeous though.
Link's Awakening (Game Boy, 1993):
Handheld games don't have a right to be this good. I'd played both this game and its predecessor before, but back-to-back it's incredible how this game improves on Link to the Past in nearly every respect. It's got better dungeons, with cool puzzles, minibosses, and different music for each. It's got dynamic NPCs that travel around, have conversations, and generally react to your presence. It's got new items, including a feather that lets you jump around like your pants are on fire. And somehow it does all this with hardware that was embarassingly bad for its time. In what kind of dream world does the existence of this game even make sense?
But seriously, I'm ready to place this game among my all-time favorites. My 'original hardware' stipulation game me an excuse to buy an old Fat Boy (which I haven't owned since I was 10 - L.A. was the second game I owned). There's no getting around the dim screen, but the speakers are terrific. By the way, L.A. has awesome music.
A footnote: Link's Awakening might be the most light-hearted Zelda game - it has a great sense of humor. And as much as I love darker entries like Majora's Mask, the series can stand some lightening up.
This game is the epitome of Zelda. It's a common refrain that all Zelda games after Ocarina of Time are remakes of that classic. If that's true, then considering that Ocarina is in essence a 3D remake of Link to the Past, then we owe a lot to the sole Zelda game for the SNES. It's easy to forget that the series could have gone in so many different directions after Zelda 2. The developers decided to scale back from the larger size of that world, in order to focus on a smaller, more detailed Hyrule. Somehow the world doesn't feel smaller, because each area has a different theme and feel. However, the inclusion of the dark world does continue the more depressing tone that originated in Zelda 2.
I didn't play this game until a year or so ago. After I did, I was ready to call it my favorite in the series. It felt like an awesome compromise between the soul-crushing difficulty of the NES incarnations and the hand-holding of later entries. The puzzles made sense, and yet solving them felt like a major breakthrough. This time I was slightly less entranced. The dungeons feel a little too combat-heavy - not in itself a bad thing, but constantly refilling my 4 fairy jars began to wear on me after a while. Maybe I just suck at this game.
As the last major 2D Zelda on consoles, this game is drop-dead gorgeous though.
Link's Awakening (Game Boy, 1993):
Handheld games don't have a right to be this good. I'd played both this game and its predecessor before, but back-to-back it's incredible how this game improves on Link to the Past in nearly every respect. It's got better dungeons, with cool puzzles, minibosses, and different music for each. It's got dynamic NPCs that travel around, have conversations, and generally react to your presence. It's got new items, including a feather that lets you jump around like your pants are on fire. And somehow it does all this with hardware that was embarassingly bad for its time. In what kind of dream world does the existence of this game even make sense?
But seriously, I'm ready to place this game among my all-time favorites. My 'original hardware' stipulation game me an excuse to buy an old Fat Boy (which I haven't owned since I was 10 - L.A. was the second game I owned). There's no getting around the dim screen, but the speakers are terrific. By the way, L.A. has awesome music.
A footnote: Link's Awakening might be the most light-hearted Zelda game - it has a great sense of humor. And as much as I love darker entries like Majora's Mask, the series can stand some lightening up.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Zelda Runthrough Part 1: NES Era
Last year, I finally finished the first two Legend of Zelda games for the NES. I've since decided to continue on and play the rest of the series (in order, on their original hardware). This is a good excuse to replay some beloved favorites, and catch up on quite a few games that I've missed out on. As I play them, I'll post some random thoughts here on the blog - don't expect anything very comprehensive.
The Legend of Zelda (NES):
I have a lot of mixed feelings about this game. On the one hand, it's one of the most expansive, fun-to-explore adventures on the NES. The wide variety of tools at your disposal are fun to mess around with. There's an awesome thrill to be had when you discover a new passageway, or decode some oblique hint from a friendly old man that you wrote down hours ago. The game has a sense of humor too, for its age. One of my favorite moments is burning a tree down to discover a hidden cave, entering it, and then being fined by its inhabitant for destroying the entryway.
However, finishing Zelda 1 was one of the most frustrating gaming-related experiences in recent memory. Being stuck in this game is a real drag, because you can have no idea what you should be looking for, or where to start. Also, it takes far too long to collect rupees (there are no twenty-rupee crystals). More than once, I lost my metal shield to one of those awful body-hugging things, and then had to spend at least 30 minutes grinding to afford another one.
To top it off, I had the constant and realizable fear that my save game would be lost for no reason. In a previous playthrough, this happened after I finished 7 dungeons. Nothing like that to up the anxiety level.
Zelda 2: The Adventure of Link (NES):
Ah, the black sheep. This one's actually quite a bit of fun, in the right mindset. All of the items are now used passively - all of the combat takes place with the sword and shield. (Magic plays a role in defense and healing.) The gameplay actually feels quite a bit like Castlevania - as in that game, it's quite easy to get knocked into pits, especially late in the game. (The comparison is ironic, because I think Konami stole considerably from Zelda 2 in turn to make Castlevania 2.) The punishments for failure also get considerably more severe.
However, Zelda 2 is the first game to have actual towns (and quite a few at that). The dungeons are a lot smarter, with a lot more variation. And the combat can be pretty fun, especially after you learn the down strike, which lets you bounce on enemies' heads with your sword.
Which game is harder? For me, it's something of a toss-up. Some of the hidden passageways in Zelda 1 are far too difficult to find. Locating the silver arrows (which no one tells you are necessary to defeat Ganon) would have been impossible for me without help. On the other hand, the final dungeon in Zelda 2 is an extreme endurance test (even getting to it can be extremely difficult), and I needed serious help to beat that game as well. Overall, they were interesting experiences, but too flawed to be among my favorite games.
The Legend of Zelda (NES):
I have a lot of mixed feelings about this game. On the one hand, it's one of the most expansive, fun-to-explore adventures on the NES. The wide variety of tools at your disposal are fun to mess around with. There's an awesome thrill to be had when you discover a new passageway, or decode some oblique hint from a friendly old man that you wrote down hours ago. The game has a sense of humor too, for its age. One of my favorite moments is burning a tree down to discover a hidden cave, entering it, and then being fined by its inhabitant for destroying the entryway.
However, finishing Zelda 1 was one of the most frustrating gaming-related experiences in recent memory. Being stuck in this game is a real drag, because you can have no idea what you should be looking for, or where to start. Also, it takes far too long to collect rupees (there are no twenty-rupee crystals). More than once, I lost my metal shield to one of those awful body-hugging things, and then had to spend at least 30 minutes grinding to afford another one.
To top it off, I had the constant and realizable fear that my save game would be lost for no reason. In a previous playthrough, this happened after I finished 7 dungeons. Nothing like that to up the anxiety level.
Zelda 2: The Adventure of Link (NES):
Ah, the black sheep. This one's actually quite a bit of fun, in the right mindset. All of the items are now used passively - all of the combat takes place with the sword and shield. (Magic plays a role in defense and healing.) The gameplay actually feels quite a bit like Castlevania - as in that game, it's quite easy to get knocked into pits, especially late in the game. (The comparison is ironic, because I think Konami stole considerably from Zelda 2 in turn to make Castlevania 2.) The punishments for failure also get considerably more severe.
However, Zelda 2 is the first game to have actual towns (and quite a few at that). The dungeons are a lot smarter, with a lot more variation. And the combat can be pretty fun, especially after you learn the down strike, which lets you bounce on enemies' heads with your sword.
Which game is harder? For me, it's something of a toss-up. Some of the hidden passageways in Zelda 1 are far too difficult to find. Locating the silver arrows (which no one tells you are necessary to defeat Ganon) would have been impossible for me without help. On the other hand, the final dungeon in Zelda 2 is an extreme endurance test (even getting to it can be extremely difficult), and I needed serious help to beat that game as well. Overall, they were interesting experiences, but too flawed to be among my favorite games.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Dead Space (PS3, 2008)
Like adventure games and Indian food, survival horror games are usually good even when they're pretty bad. Even Dino Crisis couldn't really go wrong, though it certainly tried. However, aside from a brief flirtation with Fatal Frame, which might be the scariest game of its generation, I largely abandoned the genre after the Silent Hill series stopped being developed in Japan. Getting into the Halloween spirit, I decided to give Dead Space a shot this October.
Dead Space is firmly in the post-Resident Evil 4 tradition of horror games, which is to say that it tries a little too hard to satisfy the action gamer's itch. What was lost in this transition was the true feeling of helplessness that games like Silent Hill fostered, where bad aiming and horrible controls were as much your enemy as the monsters. Isaac Clarke, the protagonist of Dead Space, is a one-man army.
Although each weapon is interestingly flawed, you get to carry four of them, so it's not too hard to find a strategy that will let you stay in control. Ammo wasn't too hard to find, even in Hard mode, after I discovered (late in the game) that the green boxes were breakable, and I always had enough credits to buy what I was low on, at the plentiful stores spread throughout the map. None of this stopped me from getting horribly dismembered every two minutes, but the checkpoint system kept this from being too frustrating, and made the save points largely anachronistic.
Speaking of dismemberment, the game has a weird fetish about it. Any weapon can tear apart limbs like cottage cheese, and it's usually the fastest way to kill monsters (a back-of-the-box bullet point calls it "Strategic Dismemberment", which might be what the Republican party is considering these days).
The monsters are called necromorphs, which take over a mining spaceship after they bring aboard some big rock called the "Marker". Isaac is part of the rescue party, which gets predictably separated after it arrives. Most of the character interaction is over one-sided radio transmission, which keeps you from getting too attached. Some of the rescuers may or may not be secretly working for the government, and there's some nonsense about a cult with a denigrating and completely unnecessary parallel to Scientology.
All of this is to set up some "big reveals", like the fact that the Marker was created by the government as a replica of the actual alien marker. Not that there's an important distinction there. Also, the appearances of your wife are hallucinations caused by the aliens (or whatever), a blindingly obvious fact that somehow needs to be confirmed by video evidence.
With all of its faults, though, Dead Space was still a pretty fun game. It has some cool innovations, like having all map and inventory interactions be via holograms, instead of time-stopping menu screens. There's a scary subplot involving a monster that can't be killed, an obvious but effective ploy since Resident Evil 3. Most importantly, on a dark Boston night, with the lights out and the headphones plugged in, it's capable of freaking you out, and that's really all that matters.
(Dead Space is out for PS3, 360, and PC. I would encourage you to play a console version; I hear the controls on the PC are no good.)
Dead Space is firmly in the post-Resident Evil 4 tradition of horror games, which is to say that it tries a little too hard to satisfy the action gamer's itch. What was lost in this transition was the true feeling of helplessness that games like Silent Hill fostered, where bad aiming and horrible controls were as much your enemy as the monsters. Isaac Clarke, the protagonist of Dead Space, is a one-man army.
Although each weapon is interestingly flawed, you get to carry four of them, so it's not too hard to find a strategy that will let you stay in control. Ammo wasn't too hard to find, even in Hard mode, after I discovered (late in the game) that the green boxes were breakable, and I always had enough credits to buy what I was low on, at the plentiful stores spread throughout the map. None of this stopped me from getting horribly dismembered every two minutes, but the checkpoint system kept this from being too frustrating, and made the save points largely anachronistic.
Speaking of dismemberment, the game has a weird fetish about it. Any weapon can tear apart limbs like cottage cheese, and it's usually the fastest way to kill monsters (a back-of-the-box bullet point calls it "Strategic Dismemberment", which might be what the Republican party is considering these days).
The monsters are called necromorphs, which take over a mining spaceship after they bring aboard some big rock called the "Marker". Isaac is part of the rescue party, which gets predictably separated after it arrives. Most of the character interaction is over one-sided radio transmission, which keeps you from getting too attached. Some of the rescuers may or may not be secretly working for the government, and there's some nonsense about a cult with a denigrating and completely unnecessary parallel to Scientology.
All of this is to set up some "big reveals", like the fact that the Marker was created by the government as a replica of the actual alien marker. Not that there's an important distinction there. Also, the appearances of your wife are hallucinations caused by the aliens (or whatever), a blindingly obvious fact that somehow needs to be confirmed by video evidence.
With all of its faults, though, Dead Space was still a pretty fun game. It has some cool innovations, like having all map and inventory interactions be via holograms, instead of time-stopping menu screens. There's a scary subplot involving a monster that can't be killed, an obvious but effective ploy since Resident Evil 3. Most importantly, on a dark Boston night, with the lights out and the headphones plugged in, it's capable of freaking you out, and that's really all that matters.
(Dead Space is out for PS3, 360, and PC. I would encourage you to play a console version; I hear the controls on the PC are no good.)
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