perfection - why settle for less?

i've had a real hankering for the excited feeling that comes with a new console. the smell of fresh plastic, the attraction of the 'unwrap', the lustre of shiny new technology resting in your hands. in particular, i've wanted a handheld mario marvellous machine (ie. the 3DS). so much so, in fact, that i've recently sold on all of my other handhelds - a nice shiny white (if somewhate effeminate) DS lite, a deliciously cute GBMicro and a pearly white PSPGo. so i'm now just 'stuck' with my iPhone - well, i would have been if i hadn't been a complete donut and donated it to a taxi driver after a heavy night out (thereby inventing the real 'iTip'). hence, my desire for the 3DS has, if anything, grown over the last few weeks.

imagine my horror then, when the game atop the list of reasons to buy the new handheld (Pilotwings Resort) gets a paltry 6 from the might EDGE. cue scenes of confusion, horror and outrage. my 'go to' game clearly having had its impeccable reputation tarnished. the once flagship of technological ability and paradise of free flight has apparently been sullied with a limited free-flight mode, a curtailed level unlock/progression system and well, just general averageness.

but a 6 is good, right? only the wonderfully defined scoring system, a 6 is above average. i've played some average games in my time, so this suggests the game's flaws aren't all-consuming and there is a slither (albeit small) of above-average enjoyment to be had. so, i should still jump in, feet first, into 3D - yes? well, i don't know. i'd like to think that i could get some short-term enjoyment from a quick dalliance with PW Resort, then move on to the inevitable Zelda and Mario. But that is a slightly riskier proposition than i thought it would be. and with a console costing above £200, that decision isn't as easy as it was to make before i saw the review. I'm grateful for the EDGE note of caution, but i can't help be slightly upset that they've spoiled my fun. i love you EDGE, i really do. but you don't half take the fun out of gaming sometimes.

Minecraft Blues

One of the accusations I often face as a COD player from those unfamiliar with first person shooters is that I must enjoy it only as an escapist fantasy. A boy (too old to be doing this now) playing soldiers and losing himself in the persona of an easily transferable template of a special forces operative. Either that or that I’m just a blood-thirsty manic with a lust for violence and a walking reason to BAN ALL VIDEO GAMES NOW.

I always try to refute these mischaracterisations and present the truth that we all know, to misquote, James Carville, “It’s the gameplay, stupid”. Yet I know that this is not the whole truth. Yes, it’s the challenge of the FPS that keeps me coming back day-after-day, but there’s a part of me, especially during the campaign (from COD4 forward), that does revel in the fantasy. In COD you can do things impossible in real life: rappel forward down a cliff and silently assassinate an unwitting enemy (See! See! bloodthirsty maniac), ride a snow mobile at 100 miles per hour firing a machine pistol as I go, or pilot an Apache gunship into Hanoi. In reality, I can never do any of these things...which is why Minecraft is so depressing.

Minecraft offers you a chance to be the man you always wanted to be but are just too damn lazy to become. Use an axe, make things out of wood, mine for ore, build a house, a boat, a bow and arrow. All of these things are available to me in real life, to all of us. I could go out next weekend and start digging, or at least try to make something useful, but chances are I won’t. That’s the allure and the sting in the Minecraft fantasy, it’s a life of manly creativity, just out of our grasp, albeit one rendered in 8-bit and accessed through a keyboard and mouse.

Minecraft is almost a life-simulator, only – a simpler, more satisfying life than we could ever imagine. In this way, Minecraft offers something different to games like The Sims Heavy Rain or even Animal Crossing. It’s simple craftsmanship, largely performed alone and mostly in silence, offering the sanctity and peace that real construction might offer, if only we could be bothered. Building a door in real life might take days, in Minecraft, just a few seconds, but you get a taste of what it might be like to build something for real.

And therein lies the problem. You know you’re only getting a glimpse of a shadow of the real thing, and you start to think of the real satisfaction available to you if only you’d get up and take it, “If only life was a simple as it is in Minecraft!”… But then you remember the zombies trying to kill you and think better of it.

Links
Minecraft Wiki
Watch Seananners excellent Minecraft walk-through
Markus "Notch" Persson's Minecraft blog (Minecraft developer)

What price, perfection?

I've seen it all. From 'way back' when games were a couple of quid, through the boom period when games were £50-plus (and often much more on import), to current special edition boxed-sets with associated paraphernalia for well over £100. Despite all these peaks and troughs, bargains and rip-offs, discounts and import duties, we've generally come to expect big name titles at big name prices, with a gradual rise in line with inflation. But lately, there have been some game changers. Online, iPhone and micro-payments. Okay, okay... pedants may argue that these overlap - and, of course, they're right. But I just - for the ease of categorisation and comment - wish to simplify things to enable perspective. It should also facilitate the comparison to other forms of entertainment. So, what's going on and what impact is it having?

Online - plug in, pay up, play on.
The advent of online multiplayer gaming has led to the development of a service tax (for 360 users at least), wherein you pay for your online connectivity on top of your games purchases. Live subscriptions, steam accounts, they're all essentially the same - pay to support your play. But they have also opened up revenue streams for developers through the serialisation of games episodes, or the sales of add-on packs. So develpers get to use a supported service to deliver their product and commercialise their games for further revenues (aside from traditional games-purchase-only-payments). Winner! So this means they can make better games and support communities with further products? Sort of - in reality it means that sometimes you get less for your money initially, and then pay for the remainder of what you used to get in instalments. But the plus side is that if you don't like the stripped back bit you buy initially, you don't go down the micro-payment/add-on route and you don't spend as much money. Great. Developers (Treyarch anyone?) must also beware - shoddy patches and updates for BlackOps could be costing you any future revenues which you may have earned from DLC sales. Perhaps they'll need to look for new content delivery models....Which could lead us on to pay per play... but that's for another blog post. So, what else?

iPhone - moving with the times
The bargain basement. Free apps, 59p wonders and 'expensive' £3.99 studio-pocket-lining-classics. And yet people still complain - the mind boggles. Truly we are spoilt with puzzle classics (Drop7), retro revivals (Monkey Island) and novel touch-based experiences (anyone heard of Angry Birds?) and all at a price which largely amounts to the loose coins in your pocket. Free apps are even making a mockery of this token pricepoint with many a happy hour of finger swiping and jabbing to be had for no cost at all. A clear threat to developers, since not every app is a surefire Angry Birds-esque hit. But it has seen the bedroom coder re-born - and as a pre-school for development talent, this can only be a good thing. Big studios have embraced the platform and delivery method and it looks like this one is to stay - perhaps complementing big studios' other, more substantial, development projects. Good for gamers, good for them.

Micro-payments - low cost, low enjoyment?
This generic catch-all includes all small add-ons of negligible value, which when adopted even by a small proportion of a large user-base, adds up to substantial sums for developers. This should support cheaper games prices by opening up longer term revenue streams, but largely enables cash-rich, time-poor users to circumvent time-sinks and enhance their playing experience. Sadly, those willing to commit greater amounts of time don't seem to get any money back, so this tends to be more of a tax than a subsidy. A pity.


So, we're getting more choice about how we spend, how we play, how we engage. Which should enable us to vote with our wallets. But are we? Charts full of rehashed sequels, successfull bolt-on packs that really should have been included in the original release, converted IP released on new formats - sometimes we're getting a bargain, but sometimes we're being tricked into splashing the cash in small instalments. If it's only a few quid, who really cares. But add it all up - are you really spending less on your entertainment? Or are you paying more than the days when you'd save for three or four killer titles a year?

Owzat! Big Cup Cricket (iPhone)

iPhone games. You've got to love the 59p price point - effectively small change, barely noticeable, 'worth a punt' sort of money. Whilst you'd umm and ahh about a full RRP purchase, ensuring you're going to get what you'd expect - value for money, quality, durability - for 59p you lower your guard. Multiple hours of playtime, depth, perfection of control are all easily eschewed in favour of pick up and play immediacy of enjoyment. Depth, variety and longevity are all bonus points rather than essentials. So with your guard lowered, it's a real moment of joy when you discern a diamond amongst the rough of the 59p price point store.

Moving slightly up the price scale, but still affordable at the equivalent price of a coffee (£1.19 the last time I checked), 'Big Cup Criket' offers a Sensible Soccer-esque take on the hallowed wicket of willow and leather. Pared down to the essentials, bowling and batting take the form of directional finger swipes, the speed and length of your 'flick' determining the nature of the bowl or stroke accordingly. It's good too - immediate, adaptable and with enough feeling of 'fair.' Catches are actioned through a directional press/flick (albeit they're arguably a little too easy) and you get a good mix of bowled wickets and catches to add diversity. Sadly, LBW is usurped in favour of keeping things simple-stupid, which is a bit of a pity for true cricket enthusiasts who may lament the exact degree to which the intricacies of the sport have been stripped down. Equally, the inability to move fielders, to match your bowling style, seems like a bit of a development shortcut. So if it's not quite the finished article, is it worth its 'relative' premium price point of £1.19?

The key point from my perspective is that whilst the game has its foibles, it's damn good fun. I've racked up a few thousand runs, won a couple of trophies and collected most of the acheivements. But I've yet to master the cups on the hardest difficulty setting and I've still got a few one day internationals to excel in. Will I return and collect everything? Possibly. Will I open the app now and again for a quick arcade-esque sporting fix? Definitely. Is it worth £1.19 of anyone's money? Without question.

The Hunchback of Killcam

It suddenly dawned on me yesterday - as I've grown older, I've evolved. Not just mentally (which is sometimes questionable) but from a physical perspective. From kneeling excitable four-year old, through slouching laid-back teen, to a hunched over sofa-edger. As cutesy platformers made way for the intricate complexities of FPS control, I've adapted my playing style. Languid became lucid. Disinterested became determined. I now sit coiled, eager, ready to pounce, elbows rested on knees, leaning forward as if trying to engage as closely as possible with my on-screen persona (well, my hands and my AK47). I've tried sitting back, chilling out, getting into the zone, but realistically I only perform well when I'm concentrating and adopting the position, hunched over my sofa-edge perch, directly in front of the television.

Which is fine. Ok, it could be better - but realistically my marathon gaming sessions are now interspersed with other hobbies and half-hour sessions can cope with the awkward positioning. But by the end of the week, I'll be the proud owner of a knee with precious little cartilage in it. Far from an upgrade, I'm being whittled down to the bare essentials. A solid 5 days of bed/sofa-rest beckons, but I'm slightly concerned about how I'll get on, lay on the sofa, in an unfamiliar configuration.

I must admit I picked up on some recent stories which referred to the needs of handicapped, disabled or lesser abled gamers struggling with non-configurable control setups. Whilst I'm certainly not suggesting I'll be anything other than inconvenienced by my leg issues, it provided me with some food for thought. To have to endure an uncomfortable position for a few days is a small price to pay - but are developers doing all they can to enable the maximum number of people to enjoy their wares given much more serious and longer term restrictions? Or are they just taking the easy option - the path of least resistance? I can see their point of view, trying to minimise cost and maximising utility, but it's a small price to pay to give a little extra, surely?

For me, I'll try the laid back approach and see how I go. Somehow, I think I'll revert back to the menacing hunch when the physio lets me, but it will be interesting to see if the forced change alters my playing style. It will certainly change my lounge configuration - my sofa needs to get much closer to that TV...

The cloak of familiarity

I woke up yesterday with an inexplicable hankering to play some Syndicate Wars. I couldn't tell you why, I just had the urge. And then today I find myself reminiscing about my N64, with its instant loads, the quirky controller and the extortionately priced carts imported from the US after hours poring through well-thumbed pages at the back of Edge. The familiarity of Goldeneye, the cute brutality of PilotWings and the near-perfection of Mario64 and Ocarina of Time are (in my memories at least) a wondrous, warm cloak of comfort.

I daresay that the reality would be somewhat different if I picked them up again, but the memories of these cherished experiences is one that I treasure and the pure thought of engaging with these games once more is reassuring and exciting - even if I never take up the opportunity. Having pondered why these yearnings have entered my mind, I've identified the source - the snow and ice outside my window. Granted, this may seem a little odd, given that I'm as likely to have played these titles at times other than when the cold, clean blanket of white covered the ground - but it's perhaps the tea and biscuit-fuelled sessions in warm surrounds whilst the snow and ice fell outside, that I engaged most seriously with the subject matter.

Just as smells, sounds and tastes can transport me back to places and events, seemingly the weather can evoke my gaming past. Hot summer days remind me of Jungle Strike on the Megadrive, and drinking a can of Dr. Pepper whilst playing License to Kill on the C64. It seemed to always be raining while I was playing Sensible Soccer and it was definitely blowing a gale when I was working my way through Day of the Tentacle. Sadly, this evocation of memories 'rule' is fallible and I can't work out whether it was hot or cold whilst I was playing some gaming greats. Golden Axe was played in shorts, but Streets of Rage was weather-independent.

Sadly, these days, I tend not to whole-heartedly immerse myself in games due to a lack of time and a change in priorities. But I'll always love the moments when I yearn to power up a classic. So please - keep snowing, stay cold and keep me craving the warm cloak of familiarity.