Archive for the ‘Ranting Saturday’ Category

Mirror’s Edge 2: Faith’s Redemption


FAITH and her sister KATE are still hugging, behind them the helicopter spinning out of control, heading for the streets below.

I’m so glad I rescued you, my sister Kate.

Thank you Faith. You’ve shown me how evil and corrupt THE SYSTEM is. And together we can take it down.

Below them, the helicopter crashes into an orphanage.

Look at their disregard for human life. They make me sick.

Will it even make the news?

If you can hear it through all that EVIL ADVERTISING.

A COP runs up to them.

Excuse me, was it you who caused that helicopter accident?

My God, did I used to sound so misguided?

I’m going to have to arrest you, I’m afraid.

Faith attacks the Cop, beating him over the head with a bit of pipe repeatedly while he screams. The Cop’s wife and children watch, crying. Eventually the Cop stops moving.

THE SYSTEM is corrupt and we have to stop it. Come on, Kate. I’ll teach you how to Run. Because only by Running can we uncover the evil secrets behind those EVIL CORPORATIONS.

Show me.

They leap off the building together, into the first level.


Time and Time Again

Remember GUN? No, of course you don’t, GUN was rubbish. It was a terrible attempt to cash in on the short-lived Deadwood craze of cowboys, violence and modern day swearing that fell flat on its face because it simply wasn’t very good. It was released on all three consoles (Xbox, PlayStation 2 and GameCube) and met absolutely no acclaim. The cowboys were incredibly wooden characters with poor dialogue, the violence was so badly animated it might as well have been made using beef mince lobbed at a wall and the swearing was hilariously childish. Of course, there was the fact that you could blow up horses.

The reason that I mention GUN is because I suddenly got to thinking about it the other day. Since leaving uni I’ve had precious little time to actually sit down and play games through to their 100% marks. I tried playing Chrono Trigger but had to drop it like an unwanted child when the game made it very clear that I was going to need far more than the ten hours I’d already put in. I’ve long since given up on Okami after playing for over thirty hours and forgetting where I was, forcing me to realise that I just don’t care enough to keep throwing away vast chunks of my life just to help a white wolf with a magic paintbrush. Screw him – he’s a God, he’ll be fine. The last game that I actually put enough time in to try and see everything it had to show me was Resident Evil 5 and even that required a monumental amount of willpower to force my housemates off the 360 for a few hours. At one point I even took the Xbox out of the living room just so I could keep playing it.

What was it about GUN that suddenly made me remember such a bland, forgettable and ultimately unworthy game in such positive light? It’s got nothing to do with rose-tinted glasses or a wish to return to a simpler time – hell, even when I was playing it I knew it was utter crap. No, it has more to do with that fact that I managed to see everything the game had to offer in less than the time it takes to prepare, eat and wash up a roast dinner.

The game was entertaining in the same way as watching old people fall over, a haphazard cross breed of GTA-style freeform roaming sandbox play and actual storyline. You get a pretty large, mostly featureless map to wander about in, visiting the handful of brown, dusty featureless towns that consist of a few cardboard buildings and two people you can interact with. These people will then charge you with pretty much the same quest as the actual story missions themselves – race to another town, murder a lot of Indians, move some cattle to another town, murder some Indians with a big gun or just plain ol’ killing loads of people quickly.

It was incredibly repetitive and very, very easy. But the reason I’m remembering such a unremarkable game in such a positive light now is simply because I no longer have the time to play games in the way I used to. Once upon a time, I could take a massive, sixty hour game and see everything it had to show me within a week. Nowadays I have to give up on a game if it runs over ten hours.

It’s not that I don’t want to play games – hell, I love them, they’re my entire life – it’s just that so many games today demand so much time and attention that I simply can’t give them. Call of Duty 4 was the perfect length. It took me three sittings over a couple of weeks and I loved every second, but I’m damned if I’m going to play it again on a harder difficulty – there are other games out there. Dead Space was magnificent, but I could only play one chapter a week, and by the end I was playing it more to finish it and move on than because I was gripped by the story. Mirror’s Edge was just right, a healthy six hours.

The problem is in the diversity of the games I’m offered. The ones I want to play are the huge, seventy hour games, but I know I’ll never get around to playing them. The alternative is that I play a selection of mini games designed to entertain dysfunctional families that last around an hour before I see through their lies and realise that I’ve just spent forty quid on the same two games repackaged over and over and over and again and again and again. However, if the game lets me blow up horses, I’m all in.

Months of Agony in a Second-Long Sound Effect

You know that feeling when you’re really, really full? When your jeans start cutting into your belly and if you don’t undo them, you’re going to explode? Well, it turns out that actually there’s a really simple solution to this, and it’s been handed to us by games. The easy way to get around our wonderful first world ability to eat until we’re sick is to simply hide from the view of the plate for a few seconds. That way you’ll be able to tackle another course of steak in just a moment.

Naturally, I’m being an idiot and we all know it. Hiding from plates for a few seconds won’t solve a damn thing. But the problem is; why do games seem to think this is true? It’s against the course of logic. A few years ago all you had to do to evade an enemy in a game was run around a corner and hide behind a crate until they forgot what they were doing and went back to making themselves easy targets. Even if they’d seen your footprints, found the corpse of their best friend and noticed your graffiti on the walls screaming, I WUZ ERE LOLZ, it didn’t matter a jot to them because they had some patrolling to do.

Back then it was more to do with internal memory than anything else. So what if a guard walked away after unknowingly giving chase? So what if a corpse vanished just seconds after they hit the ground? As long as it kept the game chugging along at the same pace, the gamers didn’t care, and neither did the developers.

But nowadays there is a bigger problem in gaming. The limited internal memory has been almost completely excised from gaming – what with the Blu Ray discs containing room for 50 gigabytes and Wii games drawn on cardboard and animated by ADD-inflicted children – and little room is left for error. Guards now chase you a damn sight longer than they used to. Corpses remain on the floor for the duration of the level. But something much more evil and irritating has crept in to take their place.

I am talking about the recharging of health. A few years ago, a chunky health bar placed somewhere on screen gave a terrifying warning of your own impending mortality. Now there is only a faint red glimmer at the edge of the screen and a thumping vibration in your hands to tell you that you’re squatting on death’s doorstep, begging the reaper to try and chase you off his property. Instead of heath kits, medpacks, medics or magic fairies, the only way to recharge your ailing, bullet-ridden body is to simply not get hit for a few seconds – thus, you must hide behind a crate once again.

Who decided this was such a good idea? When did it creep into games, this idea that removing a permanent warning sign would be a great step forward? It’s one of those things that just makes you scratch your head in wonderment as to exactly why it’s been so readily accepted by the gaming community at large.

The humble health bar was a great thing, simply because there was nothing you could do about it. It sat there at the top, side, or bottom of the screen (or, in one case, on the protagonist’s breasts, forcing you to look down at yourself to check your current status) and every time you got hit, a chunk got knocked off. It was gut-wrenching, intense and forced you to constantly be aware of absolutely everything that was going on around you, to the point where every gamer can remember every single detail about most of the games they grew up playing.

Back before the health bar, there was very little. Sonic had his gold rings. Mario had growth spurts. The Ghouls n’ Ghosts knight had his pants. But the spirit was there: watch your every step! Be aware of your situation at all times!

Nowadays most games have adopted this ridiculously offensive notion that simply ducking out of a hail of bullets is a good idea to inspire you to keep playing. It’s a stupid system that detracts from the credibility of the game. I can understand that maybe the red mist drawing in across your vision is realistic, as is the ‘heartbeat’ vibrating in your hands, but what exactly is realistic about sitting down and taking a time-out?

Heath kits were never a realistic idea – they were always completely absurd, after all, they were just grey boxes with bright red crosses on them – but it was never about that. If you were shot for real, you’d see yourself looking at an extremely long and painful recovery process. That’s the health kit represents – months of agony, hospitals, doctors, unattractive nurses, stitches, x-rays, tutting relatives, sympathetic looks from work colleagues, time off to heal, madness from watching TV alone, lashing out at a loved one, divorce from a loved one, watching the loved one take the kids with them to their new partner they met at whatever event it was you didn’t go to because you were in the goddamn hospital having shrapnel taken out of your arm by a doctor who kept looking at you funny because you’d been shot and he reckoned you were a gang member who had it coming. That’s the health kit, right there. All that trauma compressed into one neat second-long sound effect. Not realistic, not in the slightest, but far and away more enjoyable and intense than the regenerating heath of today.

The main problem with regenerating health is that it lets developers off the hook for whatever bad design decisions they might make. Most games with regenerating health feature incredibly hard and unfair sections that get you stuck like peanut butter to a prostitute’s thigh. Night after night, you’ll wade against a horde of nigh-impossible enemies, constantly hiding to recharge, only to be killed because you needed one more second to collect yourself. If these games featured health kits – limited use, Jesus-I-only-have-two-more-left health kits – you can be damn sure the developers would put a little more thought into what they were doing. Instead, we’re left with offices full of giggling developers, throwing in ludicrously unfair sections over and over again, simply claiming, ‘It’ll look awesome to play, man!’ Even multiplayer is let down by this – what fun is it if the person who killed you is totally fine just a few seconds after your body rots into nothingness? And don’t even get me started on co-op gaming’s ‘tag, you’re alive!’ nonsense.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hide from landlord until he forgets I owe him rent. After all, I’m pretty sure one of us has a limited internal memory and it sure as hell isn’t me.