The Dizzy World of Yoshi's Island

Note: These articles I will be posting in the coming weeks are for school. That is why it lacks penis references. Sorry.

Violence in video games is nothing new. Every since the early nineties we were ripping out hearts in Mortal Kombat and dismembering Nazi’s in Wolfenstein. But in my opinion all of those games, the violence seemed to underwhelm me. Nothing looked anything like real people and the enemies were always so emotionless that I never got when people connected game to real life violence and youth crime until now. Mario games were always my favorites as a child. They were innocent, cute little games that were easy to learn, but only a few people you knew ever got to the end. I never once had regret for stomping on anyone in my path because I did not think of them as anything more than obstacles, for they had no human traits possible to relate to. That was until Yoshi’s Island.

Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island at first glance seems like a typical Mario game. You play as a cute green dinosaur named Yoshi who is carry a baby version of Mario. You move from left to right, deal with the creatures in your way and get to the goal at the end of the stage. So I stepped onto the island ready for a fun game or escapism with little to think about. But then something different about these “enemies”, they were all smiling. Not only are they all smiling but they seem to be minding there own business. Then I start really questioning myself.

Am I the hero or the villain in this game? Am I just invading these creatures homelands while they are minding there own business and murdering there entire families? Then I started to really question the way I was treating these smiley animals. I had be swallowing them whole regurgitating them and projectile vomiting them at there loved ones. I had been jumping up and smashing their heads open, taking carcasses of there dead comrades and tossing them at walls, and all of this while a human baby was on my back. I was a monster.

Now I began to worry. If I was doing all of these terrible things maybe I’m not even helping this baby on my back. Maybe I’m a kidnapper. A kidnapper who tourcheres all of his victims by forces them to watch the terrible monstrosities they preform on others pleasure. As I progressed though this happy go lucky nightmare, I came across these white cloud-like creatures. When I ingested them the world around me began to alter. The music began slowing and my vision began blurring. I began to stumble around uncontrollably. Then I realized, those cloud-like creatures contained some substance that emitted hallucinogenic properties. Now I had began to use drugs to be able to mentally handle all of the mindless murder I had committed. I was at that moment a kidnapping, drug abusing, serial killer.

So next time your little sibling or kid asked you if they can play a violent game look over it yourself. Most are not as bad as they seem, though some might be worse depending on their age. But remember that I warned you to never, never let them play Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island. Unless you want them to turn out to be green dinosaurs who murder the innocent recklessly and have substance abuse issues. Continue?

A Hard Blow

About a month ago I attended an NYU Game Center Lecture that featured Jonathan Blow. The lecture didn’t shed any new light on Braid’s “meaning of life” that Soulja Boy hasn’t already eloquently illustrated.

Topics covered:

• How Little Boy Blow was the only kid who thought about death and the meaning of life in his school
• Lego games suck
• Not taking his words out of context and posting them on a blog
  
• Flower is inherently stressful
• No design docs, no focus testing, no problem
• What is fun?
• Did us kids know what an NPC is? Is that jargon too technical?

After the lecture ended, I approached Mr. Blow. I explained to him that since Braid does not have a physical, retail form – it is in essence immaterial, and thus doesn’t exist – I was without such a fictional Braid case for him to autograph. Instead I brought a copy of Sneak King along for him to sign. He hesitated, looked at the newly presented box and it’s dressings of yellow, worn ‘used’ stickers. I asked him if he could sign on the $1.99 sticker if possible. He gawked at the box blankly then gave a strained wheeze of a laugh. Unamused, he looked up at me with the expression of a disgruntled cauliflower that won a Danny McBride look alike contest. The incriminating gaze lasted for a while. He seemed to be using that time to calculate how he would best dismiss the request, or possibly thought about rewinding time to the moment when the lecture ended, and alternatively make haste out of the room.

He said that he was opposed to the tradition of idolizing celebrites, deifying them with autographs and that he would not cooperate. Low blow, dude. “ It’s cool,” I said. “ I’m just going to sell it on eBay anyway.” His grimace remained static. “ Would you at least pose for a picture while holding Sneak King?” “ Uhh… no.” Now I was defeated. Weighing the awkward gravity of the situation, the host of the event jumped in, “ I would be happy to sign it as Jonathan.” That’s what I call blowback. I nearly blew my appreciative load right there. Heyo!

Jonathan sat idly by and did not object. I passed the host a Sharpie I brought and he went to work. “ I’m going to write your name the way I think you would.” Outfoxed and outflourished. Whenever I look up at the top of my desk, I’m comforted by the sight of Sneak King standing majestically with his shadow tickling the forged name of J. Blow.

During this time, Gabe asked Jonathan what he thought of the Soulja Boy review of Braid. He replied, “ I don’t care. But he seemed to be having fun with the time mechanic, so that’s good.”

Continue?

Think BIG

Jeana and I recently came into a bit of intelligence regarding BioShock 2. An ex-developer of 2K Marin, who asked not to be named, traded some info in exchange for 3 cans of Aunt Millie's spaghetti sauce and some "plasmids". After some back and forth on the logistics of procuring plasmids, they finally conceded that they wanted to score some heroin.

The first chunk of knowledge had to do with the decision to cut the subtitle 'Sea of Dreams'. Originally the team planned on taking the splicer ghost mechanic a step further, introducing the spliced up spirits of crustaceans and Rapturian football players past, which were able to join your party. This was scrapped and instead saved for another unannounced game in the franchise, which is currently in development.

The biggest treasure trove of juicy details we received was about all of the other classes of "Big Somethings" that were invented prior to the decision to make the Big Sister. Once the Big Sister trump card was dealt, the rest were dispatched in short order. What follows is a wealth of concept art and in-game screenshots that show some of these lost prototypes and evolutionary relatives. Enjoy:

Big Uncle

This particular class (or classless) of Big Something had problems since day one. The problem wasn’t with his arsenal. His wrench arm and steel-reinforced fanny pack (filled with explosives, awful back birthday presents, Chechnya Vodka nips, and lotto tickets) were beloved by the team. The problem was with his conduct and dynamic behavior. The first, and only, Big Uncle implemented into the game was by all accounts… just creepy. Through testing, the team saw all of the lewd and unlawful behavior that he engaged in with other NPCs. He would abandon all of his directives entirely and spend hours on-end at the slot machines in Fort Frolic, breaking away only to visit the strip club nearby. There he would bang his wrench on the vacant stage, the team thinks in an effort to coax a stripper out from backstage to perform.

When he wasn’t gambling away all of his ADAM and trying in vain to get a splicer striptease, he would collect Little Sisters for the sole purpose of trying to get them to sit on his lap. The programmers toiled day and night to try and omit the creepy gene from his code, but to no avail. Even after being forced to register as a sex offender he did not abstain. Left with no other options, the team put him down. None of the other NPCs attended his watery funeral.

Big Kitty

Step Daddy

Big Decapitated Head

Sugar Daddy
Aside from being some delicious in-game advertising, the Sugar Daddy was envisioned to be a kickass addition to Rapture’s ecology. Inspired by a segment on spiders in Planet Earth, he shat caramel to use as adhesive traps for his enemies. His drill served as both a weapon and a stirring mechanism for his caramel. Needless to say, his gooey composition made him quite popular with the Little Sisters. Too popular. Numerous dynamic battles between them ensued. Little Sisters began resorting to sucking excess sugar out of his fecal matter with their syringes.

You’ll note that he’s posing in this picture. This is a common behavior for the Sugar Daddy to exhibit. After the shutter opens, the emulsion is exposed, and the camera calculates the composition of the photo and grades it on a letter scale, the Sugar Daddy will hurl his caramel shit at the lens of the camera and proceed to butter the player’s bread as it were.

The team hired 3 new programmers whose sole job was to work on lifelike caramel viscosity. Due to the recession and the realization that such a pursuit was technically impossible, the Sugar Daddy was abandoned and the men were laid off. One of his architects may or may not have turned to selling intelligence for injectable income.

Super Small Craw Daddy
These little critters got their start as a pervasive, run-of-the-mill STD, native to the deep-sea home of Rapture. Their existence was known to the city’s inhabitants for some time. The brightest and most learned doctors in the world classified them as Pubis Crawdaddus Vulgaris, but that was all they did and a cure was considered unimaginable. Dirty fisherman and all-around no-goodnick, Peach Wilkins was believed to be the first to contract this disease. This was corroborated with one of his daily ‘Dear audio diary’ entries.

How he contracted it was not certain and not a topic anyone wanted to explore further.

It wasn’t long before these vermin found their way to Rapture’s premiere pole dancer, Jasmine Jolie, and then onto the moustache of Andrew Ryan. Colonizing both facial hair and pubic undergrowth, the Crawdads came into contact with plasmid residue. This exposure imbued the Crawdads with a variety of powers. They began to exploit the natural resources around them, like makeup glitter and aftershave, extracting alloys to craft weapons, armor, and anything else they could ever need. However, the Crawdads weren’t the only forms of life to be transformed. Their main aggressors were Splicer Sperm. Splicer Sperm also adapted and used the Date Rape plasmid (known as Electro Bolt to us humans) to stun the Crawdads and then attempted to enter them, thinking they might be eggs.

As the world of Rapture collapsed, a separate, microscopic dystopia existed just underneath everyone’s noses… and genitals. The citizens of Rapture began to don masks, much like syphilis wigs, to cover up their shame and the pinch welts that covered their faces.

Note to the player: Don’t be fooled, these guys can pinch something fierce. Avoid public bathrooms and whatever you do, don’t touch a single toilet handle. That’s where large concentrations of them frequent. The best defense against them is to stand underneath some water. Add the new Mr. Scrubbing Bubbles plasmid to said water. Work into a lather. Keep on body for 1 minute. Rinse off. Repeat until skin turns red.

Big Bad Foster Parents
Pretty self-explanatory. The parents force the kids to oil their guns, wash the hog, tape episodes of Texas Justice, pick up used syringes off the floors of metro stations, and alert the family to hide whenever a Jehovah’s Witness approaches the house. Foster Mom is armed, quite literally with an industrial strength eggbeater, which she uses to stir government pancake mix to feed 30, and also to beat some of the Little Brothers’ eggs if they step out of line. Notice the boy in front covering his privates? He has nightmares about that thing.

Big Brother Who Smokes Weed
Forgot to pick up your Little Sister from the vent and take her to suck liquid out of waterlogged corpses? Just tell her you were getting high and syncing up Anna Culpepper’s new album to play perfectly with seahorse mating rituals . . . She’ll understand.

Big Drill
This mean motherfucker is just all sorts of fuck you up


- EG and JF

Continue?

A Man Is Only As Good As His In-Game Attributes: Sensible Male Game Crushes and You

On the subject of love or lust in (at?) games, it has long annoyed me that what many female gamers consider to be the “hottest” video game characters are in fact, the most feminine characters imaginable. What these women lack is realism (or attraction to men at all). It’s all fine and dandy to imagine their perfect mate the captain of a flying pirate ship who enjoys shiny things as much as they do, but that is hardly realistic. In doing that they are setting impossible standards for any real life suitors. The same goes for any man looking for an Ivy, Morrigan, or Lara Croft; it ain’t gonna happen. Don’t blame me, blame science and statistics.

Ladies, if you’re going to look for the perfect video game counterpart, you need to look for the same qualities you would look for in a real man, which is hopefully not just “any man”. I’m going to give the benefit of the doubt to my fellow female gamers and assume that they are normal girls, and are not grouped in the"fat, ugly and desperate" camp, the "hot attention whore who may or may not actually like games" shanty, or the "doesn't really exist" lean-to. Good. Now that it has been established they are not walking, talking stereotypes, these ladies need to know how to scope out a man with good qualities. It all comes down to making a list of pros and cons, because yes, women are heartless monsters who will judge every possible aspect of a relationship that hasn't even come to fruition yet. That is true, and not a stereotype. We're awful.

Let's take a look at our bachelors, shall we?


Isaac (Dead Space)
You are standing amidst of pile of corpses, former friends and coworkers who were turned into monsters. A man in a mask has cut off their limbs, saving you from their grasp and freeing them from their torment. Dazzled, you ask him his name and offer to buy him a drink. He tells you not to mention it, he's just trying to fix the goddamn ship.

Pros: He's an engineer who is driven forward by his love and dedication. In addition to that, he never has to ask for directions because he has built in GPS and there is no pesky HUD to get between you and him.

Cons: Totally and completely subservient. Sometimes you want him to smack you around because HE wants to, not because you ask him. ...Wait, forget that.



Derek Stiles (Trauma Center series) -
You've got a mysterious disease and you slowly lose consciousness. When you reawaken, a handsome young doctor stands over you. You blush because you know he's seen your nipple-less breasts. You thank him for saving your life and ask if you can see him demonstrate his "magic touch" now that you are awake. He hands you a bill for $20k.

Pros: He's got that doctor money.

Cons: "Did I just accidentally use my Healing Touch to slow down time or am I in loooooove?"




Gordon Freeman (Half Life series)
You are killing some Combine soldiers with some of your resistance pals when he shows up, in his sexy Hazard Suit and glasses. As he walks toward you, your heart pounds faster and faster. He shoves you aside. You apologize for getting in his way.

Pros: Lemme just take an excerpt from my conversation with my dear friend Brian:
me: actions speak louder than words
Brian: absolutely
risks life and limb to save someone hes not even interested in in a sexual way lol
IMAGINE what hed do for you if you were dating him
me: I am, and it involves a crowbar euphemism.

Cons: If all returns to normal, he'll get a job being a scientist again, leave you home with a kids, and work long hours into the night. You will cry. Either that or he becomes some sort of god who needs to give up his powers so he can be with you and then everyone resents you for it. Don't be that chick.



Professor Layton (Professor Layton and the Curious Village)
A dashing man in a top hat and his riddle-apprentice come into your town one day. He approaches you and inquires about the town history. You tell him he must solve the following riddle : "If I have two five liter containers, one full of liquor, and one empty, and an additional empty 3 liter container, how can you pour the liquor so that I have exactly 4 liters in a glass, making me just drunk enough to sleep with you?" He tips his hat and his apprentice tells you the answer is that you are already drunk.

Pros: A real gentleman who puts the needs of others before himself. He is very protective, and also extremely clever and resourceful.

Cons: Even though he knows the answers to all the riddles before you do, he will not help you unless you pay him. He also comes with baggage. Who knows that kid's story...



Kyle Hyde (Hotel Dusk)-
You've checked into a hotel where you see a rugged looking man in a trench coat walking around and talking to people. You invite him back to your room where he stands outside of the door and asks you a series of questions. He makes some accusations and disappears. You go to bed alone.

Pros: He's a pretty realistic character so you can only expect him to have the same flaws and attributes a normal man would have. Hey, alright.

Cons: He's involved in some crazy shit. You're better off not getting involved.



Male Sims (The Sims)-
You are already married and have 6 children of varying ages. You contribute equally to the housework. Neither of you go to work as you have a nest egg of a couple million dollars, care of "rosebud". You make woo-hoo often, after which he falls asleep and you can see he is dreaming of your lawn gnome.

Pros: He will do whatever you want, whenever you want! You can manipulate the hell out of him, and he'll like it!

Cons: If left to his own devices, he will piss himself and cry.




Andrew Ryan (Bioshock)-
You meet him one night at a piano bar. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You are quite taken with him. He is soon called away without telling you who he is. You decide to follow him to find out. You follow him deep into Rapture, places you've never gone before. You are gunned down by sentries for trespassing.

Pros: He owns a whole underwater city. The. Whole. City. Also reminds me of a young Orson Welles.

Cons: Given the chance, he will kill you and steal the baby from your womb. He may also grow to look like an older Orson Welles.



James Sunderland (Silent Hill 2)-
He walks out of the fog, lead pipe in hand. The radio is playing static. You look deep into his eyes as he bludgeons you. You slither away into the fog.

Pros: Braves the horrifying Silent Hill to find his beloved wife.

Cons: Well...erm....



Ico (Ico)-
You're trying to figure out how to get anywhere in a goddamn castle when this boy takes your hand and shows you the way. You live on a couch together. You die of starvation.

Pros: Hand holding is so important. He knows how to dish it out. He'll also protect you like a mo'fugguh.

Cons: [insert well constructed pun about always being horny]



Hacker Protagonist (Rez) -
You walk in as your hacker boyfriend is on the computer. When you ask him what he's doing, he covers the screen and says "Nothing". You sigh and leave the room and go play Rez.

Pros: Rez is an awesome game. With the trance vibrator, it's the only game that can love you back.

Cons: None come to mind, really.


I suppose this should have been written a little earlier to coincide with Valentine’s Day, but at the time I was far too preoccupied with planning my perfect Valentine’s evening that I could not focus on anything else. It’s rather surprising how much planning goes into self immolation, and even more surprising when you suddenly drop those plans to make cupcakes and watch Ghostbusters 2.

Now I hope you take my completely absurd advice and make sensible choices when deciding to crush on fictional characters. No Edward the vampire bullshit.

Props be to Brian who was able to come up with startlingly convincing insight about what makes a man dreamy, and to Alex who provided me with a picture that would likely make Mr. Grant spin in his grave, or high-five.
Continue?

The Problem with Resident Evil 4

With the release date of Resident Evil 5 rapidly approaching, I have become almost incapable of concentration, often finding my thoughts wandering away from important tasks (for example: not stabbing myself with that needle covered with Salmonella serotype B, while inoculating it onto various medias) and instead speculating wildly about what glorious treasures RE 5 might hold in store. Normally such speculations would then immediately be shared and extensively discussed but my generally antisocial nature and the significant distance separating me from my normal group made it rather difficult to find others to do this with.

It should not be hard to imagine my joy when I happened upon a conversation between a group of acquaintances about how much they couldn’t wait to get their hands on RE 5. Naturally I joined right in on this discussion, inquiring if they had seen the most recent trailer. Upon hearing that they had, we launched into an in-depth dialogue about the trailer, and intermittently, the demo. Our dissection complete, the speculation began with the most important questions being addressed first, namely who was Wesker exposing at the very end of the most recent trailer. It was at this point that one of the members of this discussion weighed in with their opinion stating that they thought it was “either Ashley or Ada.” While Ada seemed like an interesting (though unlikely considering Chris has no real history with her and Wesker seemed to think that Chris would know who it was) choice, I was stunned that someone would say Ashley, as she was probably the very last person I would have chosen. Brushing off the comment as one might brush off the stray flakes of various organic acids, which is to say with great personal discomfort, I suggested that it may have been either Jill Valentine or Claire.
And then it happened. A bomb went off, sending red hot fragments of ignorance tearing through everything I held near and dear to my heart.

“Who are they?”

The words sounded innocuous enough, and the look of unmitigated horror they produced on my face must have come as quite a shock to those poor souls, but it simply could not be concealed.
My mind was abuzz with a flurry of anguished thought, how the fuck could they be excited about RE and not know who Jill and Claire are… and then it hit me. This blasphemy was made possible by Resident Evil 4.
Before I launch into an exploration of the above idea, it should be stated that I am a huge fan of RE 4. The game was an excellent entry in the series that both single handedly saved a stagnating franchise and showed the potential of the now common over the shoulder viewpoint. That does not, however, change the fact it is responsible for this atrocity.
When RE 4 removed both the archaic controls and fixed camera angles of its predecessors, it resolved one of the major issues that had kept it from being enjoyed by a larger audience. Where the controls of previous RE titles had slow, often clumsy, and frequently frustrating, the controls of RE 4 were smooth, responsive and actually enjoyable. While in previous RE titles you enjoyed the rewards reaped from playing, in RE 4 you could actually enjoy the act of playing the game.

This new control scheme obviously demanded a new game. With complete control of the character (mainly the ability to aim at whatever you damn well please and to do so both quickly and accurately) the slow, stumbling zombies simply wouldn’t be a threat. It would be easy to pick those fuckers off before they got within 20ft. So the hallmark enemies of the series were left by the way side and a completely new set of enemies would have to be implemented, ones that reflected the new controls.
Eventually RE 4 emerged, and what we were presented with was a superb action title. Unfortunately the slick new controls and fast new enemies came with a price. The characteristic atmosphere of the RE series was lost. Leon S. Kennedy was not wandering through a mansion low on bullets, running in fear from enemies and trying desperately to survive. Leon S. Kennedy was a badass motherfucker with an arsenal large enough to make a small third world dictatorship blush, slaughtering more enemies in a single 15 minute encounter than a player would in an entire play through of, say, RE 1. The feeling of helplessness, the desperation of just trying to survive was gone.

All these things were forgivable in my eyes, however. RE 4 was so damn good at being an action game I forgave it for not being scary. RE 4’s major sin, in my biased fan boy eyes, was its complete lack of connection to the previous titles.
The presence of Leon and Ada does not count, I mean sure, there are characters in RE 4 that are called Leon and Ada, sharing those names with beloved characters in RE 2, but they could have been completely original characters and it wouldn’t have changed a god damn thing. Generic government agent man goes to save the president’s daughter and meets up with a crazy pseudo-Asian bitch that works for a shadowy corporation. Their connections to previous titles are extraneous name dropping used to tenuously tie the game to the rest of the series.

What I mean is that RE 4 was almost completely devoid of any canonical RE material whatsoever. It gives no context to the adventures of Leon and the activities of Ada, so all those new players sucked in by the new controls and slick gameplay are left unaware of the significance of the character’s relationships and actions. This potentially robs them of what little impact the admittedly cheesy story might have.
While this lack of background could be easily ameliorated by a trip to the omniscient Wikipedia, simply reading about the events is a poor substitute for actually experiencing them, and I would say that those who played the titles will have a more substantial investment to the characters and events than those who merely read the highlights on the internet.

The final sin RE 4 commits is being too damn awesome. Players that loved it will go off and play previous titles only find the archaic controls and slow, plodding (though very atmospheric) gameplay. By revolutionizing the controls and creating the fast, slick gameplay, RE 4 basically broke the older titles for those who had not already developed a special love for them. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard statements like this “I loved RE 4 and tried to play the others but I just couldn’t get used to the controls”.

In summary, RE 4 commits two major sins, it contains no canonical content, being a game that might as well exist in a vacuum, and its shiny new controls basically render the games that could provide that content unplayable to the new players that actually need it.

I obviously am aware that these statements are not wholly accurate or applicable and I am sure that many RE 4 fans managed to both play and enjoy previous RE titles. This article will most likely be dismissed as the xenophobic rantings of a fan boy against his beloved series’ new fans, but I feel that some of my worries are applicable to the future. RE 5 seems to be a game that is going to be chock full of returning characters from the canon, and I while I know that each time long time fans see Wesker, hear about Umbrella, hear about Jill, they will be giddy. But what of the new fans who do not have the necessary background to understand what they are seeing? Will the impact of scenes involving long time characters be lost? Will opinions about the game itself see a division between long time fans and the RE 4 crowd? It will certainly be interesting to find out.
Continue?

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY EVERYONE! . . . Alright, guy from New Hampshire!

It's been about 7 months since this little modest blog started. But things are changing for Adults Only Arena. We're starting to diversify our content and use transmedia models to branch out into other innovative directions. I picked up that fancy business jargon from watching press conferences. Impressive, huh?

Taking a page from some of the big boys, I'm going to release some information on our blog's penetration of internet demographics without making it sound any more dirty. Here are some visual aids to give you an idea:



Obviously our marketing strategy could use some revamping, but I feel confident in one solution I'm planning.

Stat Counter provides some lovely little services for spying on all of you and your online habits. It’s sort of like looking through internet peepholes, or more appropriately in some cases, glory holes. One thing it offers is the ability to see how some users came across our website using a search engine, and what search phrase they used that eventually lead them into our unaccommodating hands. Here's a list of some of those search phrases:

* ds is the best in the business
* neo gent le
* D.S. best in the business
* limericks only for adults
* ladies fuck gent
* D.S is the best in the business
* "curdled milk" game
* D.S. is the best in the business
* "ben hergt" Arena
* bilding hoes

And now, to release our quarterly results for the fiscal year. We're currently losing money. Moving on up to a de-luxe dotcom in the sky cost $10. Dotcum was sadly not offered.

Lastly, I would like to welcome two new members to the adult industry:

Alex Hopke - biochemist, beard enthusiast, and chemical Antichrist who has been responsible for countless war crimes in Bomberman using biological agents and will almost assuredly do the same in real life some day

Reid Messenger - pixel scrutinizer, cat appreciator, disgruntled telemarketer, and sender of disturbing pictures (or just pictures of birds) on PSN

One last note. I feel like we haven’t been making good on the promise of game-related fan filth that our blog’s name suggests. To remedy this there will be some adults only fan fiction planned for the future. That much I can assure you. Maybe then we’ll get some respectable clicks. Continue?

Nocturnal Visitors

On this rather cold and inhospitable day (as they often tend to be up here in the cold northern wasteland) I’ve found myself gripped by an insatiable need to write, and as luck would have it, my good friend Jeff recently entrusted me with the opportunity to express my opinions at this illustrious establishment.

Unfortunately it appears that, despite an awful longing to pour the contents of my brain out onto the page, I had nothing of substance to say. While some might give up and go do something productive, for example pay some attention to a Bacterial Physiology test, I decided instead to blame my inability to commit a coherent thought to paper (or perhaps more accurately “electronic paper”) on a recent nocturnal assault, which I will explain.

On the night of Tuesday the 17th I drifted off to into a deep sleep. Once firmly entrenched in this death-like state, I awoke to find myself in a vast library, filled with shelf upon shelf of musty tomes and ancient grimoires. The amount of arcane knowledge on display was enough to bring tears of joy to my often expressionless face, and I eagerly grabbed the largest and most formidable one I could find. After an undetermined amount of time I began to hear sounds, sounds that could be only described as the whispers of alien tongues. While this would have likely unnerved most, I simply assumed that such events were the natural consequence of trying to discover the things man was not meant to know. As I gleefully continued to absorb information concerning alien entities and the end of mankind’s insignificant existence, I came upon a page that was initially completely devoid of text.

I say initially because soon after I arrived at this page a number of rather unsettling symbols began to appear, glowing a deep crimson color in the rapidly diminishing light of the library. Naturally I was becoming aware that it was rapidly approaching that time when those that wished to remain alive would be making a swift exit, but before I could do so the symbols vanished and I found myself staring though the page into another dimension, or more specifically the horrible tentacle face of Nyarlathotep himself. Giving into the “FUCK FUCK FUCK” sort of panic that mortals faced with their immient demise often do, I tried to fling the book aside and defend myself from a volume of approaching tentacles that would make the average Japanese hentai jealous. It was at this time I apparently returned to waking world, finding myself momentarily airborne before making a bone-shattering landing on the floor near my bed.

In my desperate dreamland struggles I had apparently flung myself off my bed and awoken during my inevitable plunge downward.

How is this even remotely relevant you ask? While I may have escaped with my life, I believe that tentacled horror took a piece of me, a piece I am going to blame for my inability to come up with something to write about.
Hopefully in relating this, my greatest dream in the last year, you can all get an ample introduction into who I am and how my mind works.

In gaming related news, I hope everyone has checked out the most recent Resident evil 5 trailer. If you haven’t already done so, DO IT. RIGHT FUCKING NOW. I will spare you all from an in depth discussion of if for now, but just let me assure you, the ratio of Wesker to everything else is so skewed in Wesker’s favor that I was easily able to disprove the common myth that men cannot have an organism multiple times in a row. Continue?

How Things Work

You may meet me in the street, and after a few moments of pleasantries, you may begin to recount what you enjoyed about the most recent episode of Heroes. I will nod my head to show my interest, but I will be thinking about Gunstar Heroes and whether or not I think my cartridge is still in working order. Oh it isn't you, it's me. As my favorite past time, video games manage to work their way into the duller aspects of my life. No no, that isn't to say YOU are dull! It's just conversations in which you are speaking to me exclusively are less entertaining than, say... Pong.

I'm sorry, that was rude. What I mean to say is, less entertaining than Super Pong.

Well I certainly don't think I have a sass-mouth.

There is no need to bring my mother into this.

Okay.

See you next week, Professor.

...

I've noticed quite awhile ago that my feeble attempt at taking notes, or more accurately my great effort to try and look busy have been riddled with doodles, many of which reflect my gaming habits. These doodles are one attempt to enliven class wide debates by rendering them silent to my ears. When I do listen, it's merely to find fault in my class mates opinions and then doodle that as well. A professor of mine once asked about my doodles and I told him they work as mnemonic devices. He did not believe me as he did not see how a giant squid punching a shark would help me remember any aspect of the life of Beethoven.

Here, I will give you a fairly accurate look into my psyche. You may glean quite a bit from these pages.


You may find:

1.Fledgling article ideas
2.What I should be studying.
3.Insight from the people around me.
4.Likes and Dislikes
5.Much much more!

It'll be like Waldo, only less fun.

Click 'em to make them larger. This is not meant to be suggestive.






After this, I will indeed be playing The Lost and the Damned expansion, as I have been looking forward to it, as you can see. Expect coverage of the uncoverage sometime in the near future. Now, my friends, I feel closer to you and I expect you feel closer to me. If I could hug you and hold you to me, I would. Perhaps some day I can convey to you my affection.


Continue?

The Garden of Unearthly Delights: Reactions to Flower

Okay, let’s get the most obvious puns over with: This is definitely one title to pick. Take a break from impregnating adventurers and stop to smell the roses! This game is as fre$h as a fucking daisy. So good, you’re going to want to make sure to deflower all of the trophies. Waiter, a blooming onion for the lady! It’s Gro Time©, try Miracle-Gro today!

There. I won’t dwell on the basic mechanics and premise of the game too much. If you want an overview of the game, check out the Frankenreview. Got it? Good. Now, I ask you, does GLaDOS dream of electric sheep? Does Ico dream of a comfier couch to sleep on? These are some pressing questions I’ve asked myself. But what do flowers dream of? Another question I’m sure we’ve all asked ourselves and one Jenova Chen has just answered. And the survey says, [ATOMIC SPOILER ALERT AHEAD! PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION!!] they dream of… more flowers. Narcissistic weeds. Yet, I’m glad that they do because it makes for a rich and inventive experience.

I sit there in my shoebox of a room, staring at its download percentages, watching it grow. Outside of my window is the vibrant, pulsating compost heap of NYC’s Bowery. Sounds of car alarms, unintelligible disputes, and drunken vagabonds wailing over Bruce Lee’s death, glancing off of concrete and arcing through my window. I shut the window and turn the lights off. The download blossoms and almost immediately I enter a jet stream of consciousness.

Flower is a remarkable meditative and lyrical journey. The absence of dialogue and text is refreshing. The usual pollutants of most games–strict gameplay mandates, HUD, and tutorials–are nowhere in sight. Even when a flower’s dream turns to a nightmare (one that’s reminiscent of the game Operation) and earthly dangers and peril are introduced, it’s justified and adds a new, arresting dimension to the gameplay.

Visually, the game is quite stunning. It’s a good argument for the sake of more sophisticated graphics. It's a work where even the most staunch purists in the indie game art community, whose exalting, easily-earned praise of stick figures being endearingly “minimalistic”, just cannot deny the important role of visuals in the success of this concept. You get absorbed in the fidelity of your little Zen sandbox, parting waves of grass and passing through beads of twinkling, multichromatic dew. Sailing your pedal-fused kite on celestial vents, you’ll often pause to climb up into the air, dance, and swing around to marvel at your flower trail, which can grow to enormous lengths. Immersed in this transcendent sea of meadows, wind, and delicate beauty, you’ll think of tracing patterns in the clouds as a kid. You’ll think of shaking that cherry blossom tree’s trunk and standing underneath its showers of pedals. You’ll think of that game you played while looking out of the car window, negotiating your imaginary avatar over obstacles and connecting with mailboxes as they would pass.

The ruminant exercises this game presents do not stay constant. Right when the gameplay approaches brief monotony at the end of the second dream, you drift on to new greener pastures. The third dream complicates the gameplay a bit, introducing new dynamics to the wind and more complex topography where flowers reside. The fourth dream introduces light to the equation. Drinking in radiant energy from specific flowers, the player temporarily gives off light that can be used to draw patterns and illuminate objects in the dark. This is a great addition to the gameplay, it’s just a shame that it’s fleeting.

Thatgamecompany has certainly grown. Yet, Flower retains many qualities reminiscent of flOw. It is evident after playing both that they share a common heritage. The way your entity grows larger when awaking dormant flowers (in the case of flow, when consuming energy), the controls (or lack thereof), absence of definable objectives, and the end zones separating levels are just some noticeable parallels between the two. Despite those similarities, the two games are quite different in spirit and gameplay. Flower is more of a mantra while flOw is a dirge. I wouldn’t be so bold and say Flower is better than flOw, but I will say that I think it’s more of an achievement of form. However, this garden of unearthly delights is not without its weeds.


For the most part, the central mechanic of flying through flowers takes place along pretty straight fairways of manicured terrain. Obviously the flowers were deliberately placed in this way to create a smooth, fluid flight path for the player. The path gets a little more intriguing as the game goes on, but I felt that there were more times when the flowers could have been uprooted from the ground and placed on more unique geometry. For instance, the first dream ends after giving life to a tree. Breaking the pattern of taking the path of least resistance would have been welcome here by having the tree’s limbs bloom, then fit for gathering.

Also, there are far too many times that you canvas an area, prompting the camera to detach from you and perform a context-sensitive movement, giving you a wider view of the changing landscape. Unless telegraphing to the player a new area or item that is accessible, the movement and angle is almost always the same. Mostly these moments simply distract from interactivity and organic discovery.

Another element of the game that becomes tired is the tones that flowers emit after being awakened. Switching to notes from wind instruments on the turbine level would have been interesting, or more electronic noises for the night level, but these opportunities to vary the musical responses of the flowers are sorely missed. The nightmare is the only portion of the game that dramatically alters these responses, and rather intelligently, replacing bright chimes with tuneless plucking of strings, almost as if you are hearing the flower wilt away.

Perhaps the most distracting aspect of the game, however, is how heavy-handed it can be with its eco initiative overtones. Jenova Chen has repeatedly stressed that the game is supposed to represent a flower’s dream. Saying it’s Al Gore’s wet dream is also accurate. Without ruining too much, I’ll just say that in the latter stages of the game the “green” themes become so pervasive that I was half expecting to visit George Bush’s Texas ranch and watch it dematerialize with just the gentlest graze of one of my pedals against the siding. When this didn’t occur, I convinced myself that there were at the very least going to be oil-covered baby seals that needed some scrubbing from my vortex of flowers.

The social and political values can be forceful, but it doesn’t significantly detract from the game when considering the whole. If anything, it’s a breath of fresh air to be killing industrial regimes and infrastructure instead of nameless soldiers operating on behalf of one-dimensional dictatorships that are unmotivated in their malevolence, created by writers that are unconcerned with their shallowness. In this respect, I’m more than glad that the only killing being done in Flower is killing Mother Nature with kindness. At least the threat presented in the game is founded on something more factual, more at hand than unremitted terror and echoes of WWII panic that have been reverberating off of the industry gamescape for too long, the message getting more faint and prosaic with each trip. At least it stands for something and argues for it through grassroots game design. It's a small miracle that this developer has been allowed to take root and spring up from the erroded soil of the American gamescape, a devastated place where most abstract innovation is greeted with commercial payloads of Agent Orange.

There is a bed of themes in the game that stand on their own if you let them, if you choose to dissasociate them from going green. The idea of renewal and the virtue of restoration are prevalent, communicated through reversing environmental degradation. Unity of purpose is also a common theme, which can be witnessed every time a flower is added to your stream, increasing your overall speed. Something must be said for a game that not only contains thought-provoking ideas, but also cultivates them through gameplay. It’s pretty amazing that just a couple days prior to the release of Flower, it was ranked the #1 most popular game on 1Up, sitting atop a game titled Killzone 2. Proof positive the industry is very rigidly polarized no doubt, but it’s still inspiring to see a game of so much courage and creativity garnering that much attention.


The car alarm sounds off again. The bum starts hollering about being a man of power and something about a jacket with a dragon on it. How am I supposed to find my chi when all of this is going on? I walk away from my potted plants and now sparkling apartment, and into my current one, surrounded by decomposing burrito remains and germ cultures, my roommates. The room is the same and the street is the same but not every street should be or can be clean. Flower isn’t a game that completely changes how you view the world. I don’t want to rush out and plant a tree, install solar panels, or grow a pot plant. But I wake from my reverie refreshed, rejuvenated, and not cursing the sky over an untimely incident of friendly fire, even though it’s seldom surprising anymore. Continue?

Getting My Girlfriend Into Gaming

When you’re a gamer and you have a girlfriend, you can never anticipate just how much your worlds will collide. I remember when it happened all too vividly, telling my girlfriend that I was an addict. It wasn’t an easy thing to say. At first she was oddly accepting, though she did approach the subject with extreme cautioun. Since I never played games (hardcore games mind you) around her, she did not know the extent of my usage. I mean I may play some Mario Kart or a round of Mario Party with her, but those are so common that it's more like playing a board game where everyone knows how those games play. Her concerns finally surfaced during social situations.

When most were playing beer pong or flip cup, my fellow brotatoes were critiquing Metal Gear Solid 4, discussing whether or not we believed the game was blatant fan service or a “masterpiece”, a title that IGN and Shane Bettenhausen have so aptly bestowed upon it. It must have been the 3rd or 4th time that I up and abandoned her for a discussion about our last verbally abusive, alcohol-induced trip on Xbox Live when she pulled me aside. She seemed almost in tears as she poured out complaints of how I always neglect her at parties to debate semantics about interactive adventures still on the horizon. At first I outright denied the fact, but the circumstantial evidence became too staggering for the jury to hand out a sentence of anything but guilty. That was the night when I came up with the worst idea in history: to make my girlfriend a hardcore gamer.

Now, as all addicts know, the way one gets addicted is through a gateway drug. So, I decided to peer pressure her into taking a hit of Endless Ocean. First off as every gamer knows, everyone loves the Wii (with the only exception being…well gamers). Even my mother wanted to get Wii Fit, or rather asked me why I did not buy it for her. It only took until the title screen appeared for me to realize I had made a huge mistake. Try having someone hear this and then try to make them take the game seriously at all. I feel kind of ashamed when I try to show anyone the game, they have all seen enough at the title screen to pass judgment and call me a doucheosaurus. It's like getting caught masturbating to the One Night in Paris on mute, Yankee candles spread strategically around you desktop and Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” flowing sensually from your Dolby Digital 5.1 surround sound. Just imagine trying to play that off like it ain’t no thang. Luckily my girlfriend is so into seeing creatures that it didn’t phase her.

Everything she saw she was enamored with. Everything I saw was boring and repetitive. She loved the basic exploration; finding new sea life, petting exotic fish, and seeing the penguins gather in bulk on the back of your boat. The 15 to 30 minutes that we played at a time were completely fulfilling for her. So after a while of getting her hooked on that I decided to skip coke and meth, and go straight to the opiates of gaming. That’s right; I made her play a JRPG.

I knew if I was to keep her interested in the game it had to be co-operative and it's mechanics had to be easy enough to understand, but deep enough to keep her interest for long periods of play. The main obstacle was the extreme length of JRPGs. I made it clear to her that it was going to be a long time investment and that it would take constant playing during our holiday break from college. It did not take much deliberation to decide upon playing Tales of Vesperia. The Tales series is rather welcoming and I knew that I could fill in things she didn't understand. Also it looked ill in H to the Dizzo.

The anime stylings were the first things that piqued her interest, but she was just as quickly turned off by the game. It takes a little over an hour to get your first party member. This made her antsy for the co-op portions. After two sittings of trying to convince her that the fun would come soon enough, it finally did arrive. Once we were both battling together she got attached to the characters and the story they were a part of. We must have played eight hours over a two day period. I thought I had indeed accomplished the impossible. I spoke far too soon.

As days went by she wanted to play less and less. She said she really enjoyed the game; she just wanted to do other things. Then vacation ended; she went back to her college and I went to mine. Now I only see her on weekends. Can you imagine how long a JRPG would take when playing for only a couple of hours every weekend? So now I feel obligated to play it with her, even though I can see the likely prospect that we will never finish the game. I am forever trapped, ten hours into a game I quite enjoy. And women think that men can’t commit. So in conclusion, if your girlfriend plays games, that’s great, but never, ever try to convert your girlfriend into a gamer. It will just leave you brokenhearted and ten hours into a 60 hour RPG. Continue?