Rambo.

He’s single-handedly murdered thousands and thousands of people, and without hesitation. M60 in hand, hulking muscles absorbing enough recoil to send my soft flabby body reeling a kilometre backward, he stands, sir, and delivers. Few people will ever understand what it’s like to be Rambo — invincible.

I do. I’ve been Rambo, for forty minutes. So has my friend Cas.

We walked into the arcade and saw this machine, this gigantic fuckin’ machine, with two huge light-guns strapped to it, blaring gangster rap, illuminated by flashing plastic flame. Rambo, by Sega.

$25, forty minutes and cramped fingers, hands, wrists, arms, shoulders, necks, stomachs and legs later, we too had murdered thousands of Russians, Germans, Viet Cong, or whatever. And you know what, it felt un-fuckin’ believable.

Cas’ friend butchering the entire Viet Cong army, single-handed

Anthony Burch of Destructoid puts it best when he describes it as the “ultimate male power fantasy”:

“…the game has one goal: make you feel like the most stereotypical, hardcore, mass-murderin’ badass action hero in history. In this respect, it is successful to the point of hilarity. Armed with a machine gun with a ludicrously large magazine, you’ve got effectively no reason whatsoever to fire off little bursts to take off individual enemies, like you might in a less well-endowed game: you’re meant to spray the screen with that motherfucking M60 (or whatever it is) that you’re holding…

…baddies appear by the dozens at any given time, and they’ll often jump onto screen and just stand there, waiting to fire. They demand to be taken out. They don’t exist to serve as a challenge, or to test your reflexes: they are there only to be killed by your inaccurate flood of machine gun bullets…[and with] the rage bonus, you’re allowed to basically act like an idiot once you become an invulnerable, screaming psychopath with limitless deadly bullets.”

And, you don’t even need to release the trigger to reload. You just spray that huge chunk of plastic death from one side of the screen to the other, killing whatever stands in the path, dip the gun outside the screen, then continue the arc back with a full magazine.

Rambo is honest, and pure. It is this scene from Hot Shots 2:

If you ever come across Rambo the Arcade Game you need to cash in all your notes and set aside whatever you had planned for the next half hour. Your penis begs you. For Melbournites, there’s one located in the Ed Hardy bowling alley in Melbourne Central.

P.S. I really hate Ed Hardy, were it not for the arcade, I would never have ventured near it.

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

Edition 10 of Australia’s greatest, and free-est, gaming e-zine, Pixel Hunt, has hit the net ready for download. Inside you’ll find my review of Beaterator and Marvel Ultimate Alliance 2, in addition to reviews and articles written by some of Australia’s premier games writing talent, including Dylan Burns, James O’Connor, Ben Abraham and Tracey Lien. You should go hit it up.

In addition to producing words, I’ve also been producing art work, or at least trying. One such piece, which I’m particularly proud of, is this single page comic which I created for the Kotaku AU Darksiders competition. The prize is a 4-foot-long replica of the Chaoseater sword wielded by War, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, in the new game Darksiders: Wrath of War. How could I not resist? And, by the way, if you haven’t heard of Darksiders yet, then you should fast become acquainted. Developed by relative newcomers,THQ-owned Vigil Studio, under the direction of Haydn Dalton and renowned comic book artist / writer Joe Mad, Darksiders: Wrath of War follows the story of War as he seeks to identify who falsely summoned the apocalypse, then pay them retribution.

Reviewers have been making comparisons to Zelda and God of War, referencing the need to explore new areas then decapitate people. It’s been scoring well, too, averaging 9/10. Personally, I openly declare Darksiders: Wrath of War to be my new Favourite Action-Adventure Game of All-Time. Hence why I spent so much time creating a single page comic from the various screenshots and assets the Internet could provide me.

I’d discuss the game in further depth but I’m under embargo until January 4th. The game itself is released on 360 and PS3 January 7th.

I recently appeared on a podcast with some other Australian locals, however, I’m not sure that particular piece of audio has been unleashed upon the world yet (which might be a good thing). I’ll let you know when you can listen to me rave on about whatever for God-knows-how-long when I know where it is.

For the first time in a long time, I’m giddy with excitement. I find it hard to work myself into the fan-frenzies that accompanied game releases which punctuated much of my early childhood. Then this smokin’ hot witch entered the picture. No, I’m not talking about Morrigan, she’s dead to me. Lelianna, too. I refer, of course, to Bayonetta. The freakishly proportioned skyscraper with tits, ass and hair. I can’t wait for for January 7!

Then, there’s Mass Effect 2. And, yes, I’m ordering both the linked Collector’s Editions.

What are you looking forward to in the New Year? Also, wish me luck, cause I really want to win that 4-foot sword.

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

Uncharted 2: Among Thieves deserves it’s accolades. It is a magnificent game. Where Uncharted 2 strikes me as unique, however, is not in it’s high production value and Hollywood sheen but rather in it’s use of player conditioning — the way in which the developer, Naughty Dog, is able to aid the player in moving through the game at a consistent pace by teaching them early on exactly how the game is designed. This is, in some ways, similar to the way in which Left 4 Dead’s opening cinematic and trailer teaches players of the various game mechanics. (Warning: plenty of spoilers.)

Naughty Dog are aware of the reward of being allowed to simply “play” a game, with no further hints and tutorial. This is demonstrated by the introductory sequence, and it’s repetition later down the road. In the beginning, Drake wakes to find himself bleeding, sitting in a chair mounted in a train car precariously dangling over a cliff-edge. He falls and must climb his way to the top and to safety. Here, the player is taught the basics of vertical scrambling, as prompts inform how to climb, shimmy and jump. It is a slow and perilous adventure, and one wrought with falling obstacles, unexpected lurches and other Hollywood-esque sequences but one which is stunted by the virgin player’s own inadequacy. Then, mid-way through the game, after the player has built a rudimentary climbing skillset and learned how Drake has wound up in this mess, we are allowed to replay this same train-climbing experience again. This time, however, the player is free to simply climb and to enjoy the nature of the event through a more condensed, movie-stylised, perspective. We climb, we get knocked back, we climb into a car and the camera rolls to the side to show Drake tumble out of the car (skipping the awkward clambering that we performed on the inside in the opening sequence). The climb continues from this external perspective until, finally, we are at the top of the car. This is a most enjoyable rarity, a time when our own skill is put on display for us as a viewing spectacle.

Yet, it is only because Naughty Dog has conditioned us to how to navigate their environments effectively that allows them the to pull the camera back for us. Like many games, Uncharted 2 relies on forward momentum. If you begin to run from the direction you’re facing, and you see a ledge or roof top in front of you, then chances are you’re supposed to continue traveling in that direction. Adjust the control left, or right when you come to a path, and you’ll continue along the intended route. If you’re forced to stop, you are usually expected to traverse vertically, and so you look up and find some bricks to grab a hold of and continue on your way. And, if you take too long to come to this realisation, the game will prompt you to look up through a hint system. On the occasions when you are not expected to move forward, you’re taught how to back track. If you see a destination, such as the chain above an arch, then you’ll notice a gold ledge below it, contrasting with the green foliage. Following this ledge back, you’ll find a series of stones covered in heavy moss and set out from the wall, which are climbable. After playing for a number of hours, this back tracking becomes second nature. This isn’t so much a reflection of the player than it is on Naughty Dog’s careful instruction, you’re taught this skill in the opening levels. In Chapter 2, ‘Breaking and Entering’, Drake needs to cut the power to the alarm systems in a heavily guarded museum. We, the player, are told to follow the power cable from the alarm to the junction box. You trace the red cable back through the room to the junction box at its entrance. In the second instance, you trace the red cable up a climbable gate, then along yellow ledges. After you’re first taught to trace back, you’re conditioned to continue using this method whenever you get stuck. When you reach the monastery in Chapter 21, a hint lets you know you need to clamber through an open window. Looking to the right, you see a ledge that would be perfect to accomplish the jump, so you follow the ledge back to a ladder at the far end of the corridor. Climb the ladder, navigate the ledge and climb through the window.

In the war-torn streets of Nepal, a truck explodes blocking your exit and you need to find another way to move forward. After wandering for a while without much clue as to where to head next, the intuitive hint system prompts you to climb the vibrant red, yellow and white signage a little way back down the street. From this moment onwards, you understand that this kind of signage is climbable. And, in fact, these are the ultimate embodiment of the colour conditioning Naughty Dog have woven. Climbable ledges and protruding bricks are almost always yellow, red, or white. (Actually, DICE also used red and yellow to delineate interactive objects in their first-person platformer, Mirror’s Edge. Maybe gamers already knew to look for these colours? Red barrel bad!)

Then, Naughty Dog intentionally pull the rug on the player to subtle, but great, effect. Roughly two thirds through the game, Drake awakes in a gorgeous village (the chapter suitably titled “Where Am I?”). Injured, though safe, he follows a non-English speaking Sherpa through the streets and at a forced walking pace. This break in the gunplay and monkey-play provides a moment of serenity rarely found in action games. Following a short expedition through icy ruins with this Sherpa, Tenzin, whom Drake has come to trust, he returns to the village to find it under attack. Adding to the drama, a tank decides to make Drake it’s prey, which leaves him with no alternative but to run.

Drake tails Tenzin through the streets. Suddenly, Tenzin vanishes around a corner. Drake calls out “Tenzin, where are you?” With wreckage blocking the entrance to a little maze of buildings, and a tank blocking the only visible exit, it is not immediately obvious where to go next. After defeating some enemies, there is a brief pause for reflection. In direct contrast with the last time Drake found himself in the village, where he casually walks, enjoying the beauty, sociality and companionship, here he finds himself alone, lost and under high pressure in a disparate version of the community. The player is abandoned, too, as no hint dialogue appears to indicate the intended direction. The player, and Drake, are both lost together. After wandering back and forth along the short path, jumping randomly into walls, I, the player, suddenly realise something is wrong. For the first time, I look down. A small path appears below the snowy outcrop on which I stand, so I drop to it, shuffle along a narrow ledge, narrowly avoid falling due to tank-induced catastrophe, and find Tenzin patiently waiting my arrival. Drake is relieved, as am I.

Many have stated that the pacing in Uncharted 2 is phenomenal, though few have managed to pin down why. Mitch Krapta believes that it is because Uncharted 2 is so lean, forfeiting features as simple as crouching, that keeps the action focused and “elegant”. It maintains the stimulation, the forward momentum and the downtime necessary to narrative and character development only. Probably as an extension of this considered and conscious game design, Naughty Dog effectively teach the player how to navigate their environments before joyously relinquishing control of the more exciting moments in Drake’s experience to the player, such as continuing a battle while the building you’re in collapses, or playing havoc on a speeding train. It’s true that Uncharted 2 isn’t perfect, I in particular found the final boss fight to be surprisingly uninspired, but it has such a sense of momentum and progression that it’s hard to put down the controller and, yes, to figure out why exactly it works so well.

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

Panel 2 of a Triptych I’m producing for Uni.

What’s happening world? I’ve been pretty busy, actually. Thanks for asking. Just because words haven’t been appearing here doesn’t mean that I haven’t been producin’ ‘em for someone else. (Also, I’ve been working on some other projects which I hope to debut at some stage, too.)

First up, I reviewed inFAMOUS (PS3) for that great Aussie e-zine Pixel Hunt. The latest edition has been out for a little while but you should still go download it from http://pixelhunt.com.au! In short, I thought inFAMOUS was alright.

Second, my Reader Review on Zombie Apocalypse (360) was published on Kotaku AU. And guess what, provided you’re an Aussie, you can submit a review too for the chance to win a DVD pack from Madman Entertainment (they do Manga, and shiz). So go do it and get your name out there!

I’ve also been producing and design work for Uni. All this gets uploaded in hi-res to my Flickr account, and low-res to Facebook. Check it out and add me as a friend if you’re interested.

Oh, and I finished Brütal Legend (360), it was awesome. The best scene is that one in which Mr. Crowley by Black Sabbath kicks in as she hits the water (don’t click if you don’t like spoilers — or this one, which is the best boss death ever in a game). It’s poetic. Like, totally FUCKIN’ METAL. I loved that game, though I can understand if not everyone does. I’m playing Marvel Ultimate Alliance 2 (360) and Star Wars: Clone Wars – Republic Heroes (360) (they both suck) and hope to get into MotorStorm: Arctic Edge (PSP) and Uncharted 2 (PS3) when Uni strops drowning me in anxiety.

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

And that is the best videogame trailer, ever.

Back to intermission.

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

Consider this a short intermission.

Uni is crazy at the moment and I’m taking downtime on anything non-essential.

In case you’re wondering, I’ve been playing a heck of a lot of Gears of War 2, watching Burn Notice and Drawn together and doing a lot of copy and paste.

If you’re the stalker type, hit up http://www.flickr.com/photos/stolenname/ to see what I’m doing visually and http://twitter.com/stolenname for my day to day happenings.

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

and others at http://www.flickr.com/photos/rikitakaoka/

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

I love the Devil May Cry series. It’s fast, frenetic, colourful, vibrant, humourous, and violent. When enemies explode into red and green gummis, I’m satisfied. Heck, Devil May Cry 4 was my game of the year for 2008, or at least on par with Patapon. There should be no surprise then that I’m hanging out for the release of Bayonetta, developed by a team at Platinum Games headed by Devil May Cry visionary Hideki Kamiya.

I won’t post a list of what makes me excited about another “Stylish Action” game from this guy (partly because that would be boring and partly because then I’d have to hunt down references). Instead, I’d like to draw your attention to the Platinum Games blog. The team developing Bayonetta have been posting to a regular schedule, which have been more or less enlightening. (Did you know special effects could be such a fun design field to head into?!)

A recent entry, “The Method of Fun”, is particularly interesting as designer Hiroshi Shibata attempts to explain the design philosophy that has provided the guide for the team in making Bayonetta fun to play. Initially, this is broken down into a very basic equation demonstrating the flow of human feelings:

Emotions -> Urges -> Emotions

For instance, this would be an example flow:
Anger (Emotion) -> Hit (Urge) -> Exhilaration (Emotion)

The important part is recognizing that the emotion that follows the urge is the opposite of what came before. Please keep this in mind.

It’s more an essay than a design document but I found it an enjoyable read. Being the lazy slob I am, I’m not going to bother throwing in my two bob. I agree with some parts, disagree with others. Go read it anyway.

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

WoW, don’t go there

If you attempt to engage me in a conversation regarding World of Warcraft (WoW), you can expect me to utter some guttural noise, indicating my not so subtle feelings of contempt toward said time-waster. Isn’t the rainbow-infested post-Tolkienesque world nothing more than an addictive morphine dream? Such a hobby that requires serious time, money and emotional investment, with little tangible return–save the occasional marriage and friendship here or there–can’t be assumed a good thing. Heck, a number of WoW players that I’ve spoken to have expressed wishes that they could just quit. To withdraw themselves from the fantasy realm in order to focus more on bettering their Real lives but, for one reason or another, they are unable to disconnect. Even those who have successfully fasted are drawn back into relapse by the next expansion. Meanwhile, the developers over at Blizzard sit atop a pile of money, drinking from gold chalice the souls of the damned, between designing yet another digital drug more potent and destructive than Ultra Jet. And Blizzard aren’t the only ones to blame. CCP Games and their beloved EVE Online are equally evil, as is Richard Garriott and anyone else responsible for a massively multiplayer role-playing game (MMORPG).

Talk to me about WoW, and you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of this diatribe. Bear through the rehearsed rambling, though, and you’ll find me letting slip that, in fact, this is all cover. Truth be told, I envy those who successfully lead double lives in another ‘verse. Of course, I could just go out and purchase a copy of WoW, provide my credit card number to the Empire and carry on a life of ork-slaying. Except, this would be the end of all my creative endeavours and any life in the Real world. There’s a very simple reason for this: I compulsively consume media. Once I start consuming a well produced, written or developed television series, book or videogame, I must effectively put on hold all other pursuits in order to demolish said media with fervor and resolution. The faster I plough through the material, the sooner I can get back to living. (Ben Abraham can attest to this, when I stayed at his place and began watching the first ten episodes of Season Four of Battlestar: Galactica one night. He was surprised to learn the next morning that, after he had watched two episodes and gone to bed, I had remained awake well into the early hours in order to watch the remaining eight without pause.)

Any videogame that has no foreseeable endgame scares me.

Credits, roll on

Conversely, this is precisely the reason why I enjoy reading hard copy books and documents (if we’re talking study material), and further, videogames that are strictly linear and have a clear path. As you finish reading the pages of a book, flipping them over, you’re building up a legacy of past accomplishment to the left (assuming you’re reading a book published in the West). At the same time, you’re removing one leaf from the pile on the right, which indicates how many pages are left before you are at the conclusion and may continue to live. Turning each page assuages the guilt that I’m not spending my time more “wisely”. Once I’ve turned the last page, closed the cover, and re-shelved a book, I’m happy that it will no longer eat away at every waking moment. Likewise, when I’ve replaced the disk of the game most recently haunting my disc drive, and relinquished it to my collection, or better, a friend.

I tend to prefer games with Chapters, clearly defined goals, and a point by point checkbox of objectives that evidently result in making X progress to the end credits. For instance, games such as Devil May Cry, Resident Evil 4 and 5, Assassin’s Creed, Gears of War and Dead Space, which catalogue where you’ve been, how long it took for you to get there and, cross-referencing with GameFAQs, perhaps, how many Chapters remains.

Of course, this isn’t to say that I avoid RPGs. Indeed, games such as the Final Fantasy and Fallout series and Mass Effect, which provide clear narrative objectives with the room to fart-arse around at my leisure, are also comforting. Once you’ve hit the credits, generally these sagas have also come to a satisfying conclusion, much akin to reaching the last page of the book. (Though generally the ending is far more cataclysmic in videogames, lending themselves to near-apocalypse, whereas most books just draw conclusion to one particular narrative arc, leaving the reader to speculate as to the characters future undertakings.)

Time, Books and Videogames

As you may surmise, I’ve been reading a lot recently. Having resigned from employment a few weeks ago, and currently on University holidays, I’ve had every day to dispose of as I will, without any commitments save to those I’ve personally made to friends and a breakdancing class on Friday evening. As such, this has been the perfect time to indulge my compulsion to consume large quantities of media, and without the usual remorse. Namely, I’ve read five hefty novels, watched hours of television and films, and made my way through both Crackdown and Assassin’s Creed with obsessive attention to accomplish all primary and secondary objectives. Throughout these adventures, it’s dawned on me that perhaps videogames have more in common with books than other media regarding their impact on Time.

When consuming film and television, the time that it takes to consume the media is predefined. On the back of the disc case, the length of the feature is presented in minutes. Thus, it’s possible to make a precise approximation of how much time it will take to consume, giving due attention to pauses for rest-breaks, of course. The time it takes to consume books and videogames, however, is determined in part by the consumer, as is the quality of the experience. Someone with better reading skills, a more comprehensive knowledge of the written language and greater perception will be able to turn the pages of a particular book faster and come away with a better understanding than someone who isn’t as skilled. Likewise, gamer’s with a better grasp of the controls, understanding of the way games are designed (whether this knowledge is acknowledged at a conscious, or unconscious, level), and greater investment in the content of the game, will affect how long it takes to complete the game and how much they enjoy the experience.

For example, when navigating the game worlds of linear first-person shooters, I move from point A to B to C in the order intended by the developer fluidly and without stutter. Whatever factors attribute to this, whether it’s an innate understanding of map and deliberate lighting design that I’ve accumulated, or some other detail I’m not sure, but the end result is that I always complete games in record time on the first run through (unless I’m deliberately holding back for some reason). I don’t consciously acknowledge that I’ve built this familiarity with all game worlds until I watch friends with less comprehension, who seem to get lost in places where to me the exit appears obvious. As such, they will take longer to complete the game than I will, even though we effectively have the same distance to cover. A more complex example would describe how a game designer playing a particular game may enjoy a poorly made because they are experiencing it through a critical perspective, as opposed to a novice gamer happy to submit themselves to the spectacle of explosions. In addition, someone reading a book or playing a game may decide to skim it as quickly as possible, though the depth of their understanding of the text may be diminished by this practice.

(I’m deliberately not entering into discussion regarding the passive and impassiveness of particular media–even though I’ve already attempted to establish that videogames require active interaction by the player in a past essay–as I’d then have to begin explaining the way written text forces the reader to use their imaginations, and what constitutes the reading or interactive elements of consuming visual media such as film. Though it does sound fun to explore!)

What I’m trying to say is

Essentially, whereas the time it takes to consume media such as television series and films is predefined by the author, the time it takes for a book or videogame to be consumed is, though in part predefined by the length of the text (number of pages, or chapters, etc.), subjective to the skill of the consumer. Returning to where I kicked off, I refuse to play MMORPGs because there is no determinable end game but that I really like to read and play more book-like games where I can make an approximation as to how long it is going to take me to plough through it. (I’m ignoring, of course, the problems that arise when a videogame player gets stuck on choke point, such as a hard boss fight or puzzle, and progress is halted. That’s an essay for another day.)

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!

Greg De Stefano has produced nearly the entire Super Smash Bros. Brawl cast in this gritty photoshoot. Go check it out at http://www.gregdestefano.com/.

Huge number of sites have reported it, I came to it via http://popwhore.com.

Digg, Face, Hit, Spread me!