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Mass Effect 2 – “Another for the Masses”

Gears keep turning.  Four years after its launch, “Gears of War” remains the template, the archetype, the defining game by which all  revolve around. In this mere second in video-games’ development time, there have been dozens of video-games that have borrowed, stolen, or downright mimicked the original “Gears of War”. One would think it was high time someone said enough, but no, the Gears keep turning. What originally seemed like an innocent, pleasing, ostensively dumb military action game, has now become one of the most harmful influences on the industry. When even a critically acclaimed and commercially successful company such as Bioware has to adapt its own model and genre to fit the conceptions of what is now deemed popular… you start wondering where this is all gonna lead the industry. Point being: “Mass Effect 2”, like so many others, is a straight up “Gears of War” clone. Worse even, one that adds nothing to that tiresome template. And it’s not just Gear’s combat that was appropriated, but also the comic-book aesthetic, that gray smudge of shattered beauty. Most of the “Mass Effect” universe now feels drab and life-less, lacking color and contrast, as if the whole thing had been attacked by a de-coloration ray.  It doesn’t help that the ambient space-music soundtrack reads like a desperate, uninspired attempt to emulate Jarre and Vangelis: a flat succession of ominous  keyboard choruses with no climax or fanfarre. Admittedly, the idea was to make the mood darker and more somber, “The Empire strikes Back” of videogames as they say, but “Mass Effect 2” has none of the heart or aesthetic beauty of the one good “Star Wars” episode.


Sure, beneath the frantic shooting and the insipid sight-seeing there is still a Bioware roleplay to be found, but even that seems a poor repetition of things of gone by. There is simply nothing in the game’s architecture that wasn’t present in the original “Knights of the Old Republic”…  a 7-year-old game. It’s all cleaner and streamlined, denoting a heavy investment (by EA) in terms of polish and user-friendliness, but we couldn’t care less whether a dreary old game is polished or not… it is still a dreary old game. Which is what “Mass Effect 2” really feels like: a has-been trying to look cool for the younger crowd, by wearing trendy new garments. And whilst we appreciate “Mass Effect’s”  new tricks – especially the cinematic aesthetic in character interaction – it’s depressing to see it come to no avail. The plot and characters promise intrigue and plot-twists, delving into cool sci-fi pop-references left and right, but (saving minor episodes) all they can deliver is a never-ending no-thrills ride, with no dramatic insight or thematic depth to speak of. Even “Mass Effect’s” sole redeeming factor – the notion of scale of its universe, brought upon by exploration of each planet – has been duped for a ridiculously boring mini-game which you’re constantly forced to play. All in all, the only minute pleasure to be had in “Mass Effect 2” lies precisely in its “Gears of War” combat… and we’ve all played that many many many times before. It’s not even fun anymore.

score: 2/5

2010
05/24
POSTED BY
CATEGORY
Review
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5 comments

Final Fantasy XIII – “Heartbreaking Nostalgia”

All it took for was one brief look at the Yoshitaka Amano title screen in a local megastore for a scream to build up inside. “Final Fantasy”. We grew up with the series and for that they will always hold a special place in our hearts. Despite we being old enough to acknowledge that they do not represent the epitome of video games’ expression (nor have ever represented), they still come out as great examples of the specific realm of their genre or aesthetic. Like those wonderful storybooks you read when you were younger or the fantasy films of yesteryear, we look past their ever-lasting naivete and ingenuity, and welcome their heart-warming fantasy. It helps that they were crafted by some of the most gifted artists and story-tellers that were present in the medium: Sakaguchi, Kitase, Amano, Naora, Minaba, Uematsu. These authors breathed life into these childish incantations, making adolescents’ imagination soar high with those beautiful, magical sceneries that the world could never see unless for the power of digital art. But though our hearts cry with joy at the sights and sounds of many old chapters, they shriek in horror when faced with the XIIIth! Why is this?

Some think we are too old to indulge in such infantile musings [like our dear friend dieubussy or Carless]. Such an idea seems puzzling, not just because older J-RPG’s still click today with many of us, but also because other mediums have consistently shown that family entertainment directed at children is possible. So much literature, film and music is non-age specific, despite apparently being directed at young ones, that one must question why such a reality is not possible in video games. Are we really that old not to appreciate a light fantasy story? We aren’t, and yet “Final Fantasy XIII” makes us squirm. Why? Is it the clear-cut plot? The plastic theatricality of anime aesthetics? The combat system, high on acrobatic thrills, yet devoid of meaningful strategy and, in a clear step backwards from “XII”, also absent of naturalistic control and animation, drowned in decades of turn-based prejudice? Are these elements worse than they were 10 years ago? Somehow the memory of past titles, however tainted by nostalgia, inclines us to say: these are worse in every possible way.

Perhaps it is just the fact that technology has opened doors that current age video-game creators still are not adept at exploring. Just as “Final Fantasy X” botched the expressive potential of adding voice-acting, maybe “Final Fantasy XIII’s” creators just didn’t know how to fill with detail that which once bloomed with mystery and so powerfully ignited the hidden corners of our imagination. But even that doesn’t explain everything. Because, not only does “Final Fantasy” avoid and even contradict welcome evolutions to basic video-game language – such as a predominance of spatial metaphors and real-time dynamics – as it seems crafted for audiences far less demanding than those of past titles. Impoverished storyline and characters, gun-crazy action sequences, fast beat soundtrack and sugar-caned visuals are all elements that mar the experience of a proper fantasy tale, making it only fully digestible by those with short attention spans, spoiled by the frantic plethora of inputs that governs this information age. Nonetheless, we remain in doubt. We know not why “Final Fantasy XIII” does not resonate with us. Perhaps for all the aforementioned reasons, or perhaps for none at all. But one thing we take for certain in the midst of these questions: “Final Fantasy XIII” isn’t good. Despite the big budget and technical finesse we’ve come to associate with Square’s productions, the game simply lacks the fine artistic craftsmanship of the past, and thus it no longer represents the standard by which all J-RPG’s should be measured. And of that, let no doubts remain.

2010
05/07
POSTED BY
CATEGORY
Miscellaneous
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9 comments

The Void – “Unrequited Love”

“The Void” has us enthralled at first sight. An eerie melancholic soundscape fills the background, a strong feminine voice entangles itself in a haunting poem [adapted from our very own Luís Vaz de Camões, it seems], the screen swerves through the air, gently flying by a colorless cityscape, waltzing near an old withered tree, only to then plunge slowly into a pit of nothingness… death. It all starts with death. That is how you enter “The Void”, a purgatory realm of ether somewhere between life and true death. It’s not named void by accident, it’s an oppressively dark and empty space, a vast sea of absence and non-existence, punctuated with small shimmers of light… beacons of color. These islets of comatose life serve as surreal habitats for the strange denizens of this no-life: the sisters and the brothers. The former are romantic and charismatic interpretations of beauty and emotion incarnate, and the latter are grotesque, crude nightmares born out of melting flesh with mechanical weapons. All are portrayed with a pendant for aesthetic virtuosity that cannot be overstated, demanding immediate comparison with Tale of Tales’ own projects. Like the Belgian studio, Ice-pick lodge indulged in sipping inspiration from the fine arts, bringing centuries of haunting beauty into the barren 3D medium. That both their games’ landscapes can be read as breathtaking spatial paintings is telling of this aspiration to “art”.  But similarities between the two studios productions end thus, as in terms of formal structure, these could not be more disparate. Whilst Tale of Tales insists in valiantly swinging its art/not-game banner with both ingenuity and admirable perseverance, Ice-Pick lodge clearly upholds and cherishes the conflicting logic of games.

Which brings us to the strange nature of “The Void” as a video game, a sinuous hybrid: half strategic board game, half art-house horror adventure. You actually play “The Void” as an economic management game not unlike “Monopoly” – you plant color, wait for it to mature, collect it, and then employ it to defend your territory and repeat the cycle – , but you also spatially explore the void, delighting in its glorious vistas whilst occasionally confronting yourself with its menacing creatures. All these elements compete for your attention in equally strenuous ways. One must juggle the cognitive burden of pondering every move in the over-world board, managing color in the most efficient way, whilst keeping in mind the hectic, nerve-wracking combat and the heavy, obscure rules which the game forces upon players without explanation. All this, whilst still trying to derive pleasure from the symbolic journey through the void’s bizarre milieu, attempting to decode its metaphors and allegories, as well as its rules on a purely semantic level. It is by far the most puzzling of its eccentricities that it can be so cleanly split into these conflicting halves, as they are not only aesthetically incompatible – inviting antithetical subjective experiences – , as they appeal to different audiences.

Nikolay Dybowskiy’s blind, gluttonous virtuosity may be to blame. In attempting to complexify game design and imbue it with meaning – a western game design axiom, if we ever saw one – he must have lost track of what was most important: player’s relationship with the game. For this, “The Void” ends up being a good example of video-games not being art; there’s a lot of art in it, surely – in the ethereal soundtrack by Vasiliy Kashnikov or the moody 3D landscapes by Peter Potapov – but it plays just like a game, barring any possibility of pure aesthetic appreciation and that vital sense of transcendent beauty which defines art. There’s just no space for the experience to breathe, as you will find yourself frantically competing with the game. Which is not to say Ice Pick Lodge does not deserve praise; they do, by all means. They’ve created a singular video game with some of the best art and character design we’ve seen in the past years, and backed by a proper budget, which is no mean feat by itself. It’s just that we wanted to love “The Void”. Heartily, with passion and idolatry. In fact, we might have loved it at some point. At the very least, we love its potential to be something more than it is. But it just never loved us back. And quite frankly, we couldn’t guess who it loves… like its beautiful mistresses, “The Void” is a demanding diva that forces you to masochistically labor for its sympathy, only to keep you ever frustrated and desolate no matter how much sweat you sacrifice for it. It possesses the lyrical beauty of a mesmerizing poem, but beneath it lies the cold embrace of a punishing game, one so powerful that when you see through its gorgeous exterior, it will feel as barren and desolate as the void itself… because that’s how games feel.

“The dream of future you see dissolves
And with time so does the apprehension
The world under sun is no exception
And all you see around you evolves

New traits in things familiar can be sensed
But futile is hope without fruition
The grief you knew begets no vision
The happiness you felt becomes regret

Winter fades and takes it cold and storm
Spring revives the world with loving and warmth
But still the law: all things decay and age.

Vanity itself won’t dry your tears
And so you fear as your time draws near
The word will turn but never change.”

2010
04/27
POSTED BY
CATEGORY
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3 comments

State of the Art – “Teenage Wannabe”

 

A while back, I had an argument with a video game scholar who had a background in the study of cinema. He advocated that if film achieved its pinnacle with “Citizen Kane” 40 years down the mediums’ lifetime, then by juxtaposition, it would mean that by now, the video game medium’s language would be completely firmed. Then he went on to call “Ocarina of Time” the “Citizen Kane” of video games. Punch-lines aside, his argument wasn’t that illogical – if cinema allegedly grew up so fast, why shouldn’t video games? There are many flaws in this reasoning, most of which you can probably spot in a mile – video games are not film and they originated in a different social, cultural and economical environment. However, his argument, like that of others who stand by similar principals, was not naive. He seemed to be using it as a rationalization for the fact that he could not justify the immature content present in contemporary video games. By stating that video games had to be mature by now, he could find comfort in his mind while stating that “Half Life 2” had to be video game’s “1984”, that “Grand Theft Auto” had to be video game’s “The Godfather” and so forth. Video games have to be mature. Comparisons aside, are video games a mature art form? Should we even expect them to be by now?

Film can represent practically all objects without a need to craft them in a specific medium. You can shoot an entire film with a few actors, real-life locations and objects, and knowledge of cinematography. The processes of lighting a scene, choosing the proper POV, the right lens aperture, editing footage, etc, were speedily improved so that 40 years down the line you had what this particular scholar called “the pinnacle of film”. And in terms of cinematography he was probably right. But cinema may also involve sets and props and virtual characters – art design, costume design, make up, sound mixing and editing and special effects are also part of the cinematic language and have not evolved at such a brisk pace. CGI for instance, practically started a new cinematic language that has little in common with the film concept associated with an object such as “Kane” (some may even call it a new art form within film itself). More so, art forms are the product of human creativity and therefore reflect human’s cultural, ideologic and social evolution. Can we really say when an art form has matured?

Cinema may not have been in its “pinnacle of maturity” in the 1950’s, but it is true you could already feel that its basic narrative pillars were sound. But it did manage to keep evolving, continuing to grow as both medium and language. A distant parallel exists for other art forms. For example, by the nineteenth century, paintings were at their representational apex; painters could already represent with surprising detail practically every object, character or scene, and yet painting continued to change – impressionism, expressionism, cubism, surrealism, abstract expressionism, etc, etc, etc, etc. Who’s to tell, when painting had ‘matured’? It’ll take many, many, many decades for video games to even achieve the meccha of photorealistic representational power. Crude polygons and animation techniques can get you this far, but are still miles away from tricking our senses into believing that those are real characters and locations. Even after that representational peak is achieved we can only dream what will lie ahead. Not to mention what new means for interaction with video games might exist in the future – VR controllers, Natal-like direct input, “Matrix” plugs? Will these not dramatically change and deepen the semiotics of video games?

What I am sure of, is that the content in video games, not its form, is usually infantile and not at all directed at an adult and critical audience. Debate all we want about technique, this is a fact hard not to acknowledge. It’s fine to try and elevate the medium to “a mature art form”, but where is the basis to support such an argument? Video games are commercially oriented, products in a vast mass market which is geared towards an audience that isn’t interested in games as a cultural vehicle or a means of human expression: we are happy with our little “Facebook-apps” and “Wii-Gimmicks” and “FPS’s”. So there’s no point in telling ourselves that if cinema had Welles, then by necessity we should have one too. Because nobody seems to know who he might be, and that assures me that video games, at the very least, are still not understood, criticized and studied as a mature art form. So whether or not they are ‘art’, nobody could care less. Ergo, they aren’t art.

P.S. If anybody knows the scholar who I address in the text, please don’t view this as an attack on his opinions or any form of insult. I only mean to diggress on a particular reasoning which I feel many people defend.

2010
04/08
POSTED BY
CATEGORY
Editorial
14 comments

Echo Night Beyond – “Space Exploration”

For quite some time now, video games have become a thrilling new means of conveying the aesthetics of subjective experiences. Nevermind video games as narrative, video games as games or video games as rules – video games adept at simulating presence in three-dimensional worlds. These dream-machines are capable of eluding senses into immersion by representation of sight and sound and interaction, conjuring the fantastical and the mundane alike. That such reality is so often forgot is the only explanation why such a long-time primordial dream of mankind and the human ego has been so mistreated in the medium. Amidst rows and rows of shooters and strategy games set in space, one would find a great deal of difficulty in chosing a game that could accurately represent the sense of being a space astronaut. Powerful and inspirational memories of the past, such as Kennedy’s famous speech or the iconic 1969 broadcast of Apollo 11 seem to have been utterly forgotten due to game designers’ strangling myopia. Herein lies “Echo Night Beyond’s” accomplishment, as more than serving as decent sequel to the horror-themed first person adventure “Echo Night”, it establishes a faint, yet palpable realization of what it would feel like to be in outer space.

Sadly, its legacy does come into place. As background scenario there’s an occult ghost-story set in space, which serves as narrative bridge to previous iterations, not to mention that the structural design follows closely on its predecessors, with exploration guided with means of quests attributed by wandering ghosts. Eventually, these awkward trappings become fully digestible because “Beyond” follows that golden rule of Japanese design which places all elements as functional complements to the establishment of an aesthetic experience. Indeed, the clichéd esoteric storyline and adventure template prove mere video game macguffins that justify players’ need to embark on a journey through an abandoned space station. The alpha and omega of the game is the voyage itself, as you wander through the cold metallic halls of an eerie, ghost-infected mining facility, encrusted somewhere on the face of the moon. And it is, as all survival horror games should aspire to be, a distressful, profoundly unsettling psychological journey.

You explore the game in first person view, with a claustrophobic helmet crushing your sight’s field of view, and a bulky space suit slowing your every move. The silence, in almost as dreadful manner as in Kubrick’s masterpiece, is ever present, with the howling trot of the space suit being your ears’ only companion for the majority of the time. Sluggishly plodding about the atmospheric surroundings, a small torch tenuously lighting the way through the darkness, you’ll feel just like a space explorer should feel: alone. The occasional metallic ringing of shutting doors and industrial machines will be the only presence you will encounter apart from the sinister (albeit somewhat lost in translation) encounters with ghosts. As they guide you through the adventure, you’ll even explore the exterior of the space station, thrust into the moon’s harsh surface, beneath the menacing black void of outer space, crawling ever so slowly, nigh standing still, or simply jumping as Neil Armstrong did, in a lethargic space twirl, flying across wide areas of white dusty terrain, only to find oneself perpetually trapped in the most desolate of landscapes.

Like its “King’s Field” brethren, “Echo Night Beyond” reminds us of how simplicity in the game design meanders and scarcity of resources are no barriers for devising superlative forms of player experience. Its technical excellence in audio-visual design make it an extremely immersive and moody game, and allow it to be a pioneer in capturing the imagination of all those who’ve always wanted to be a little bit closer to that vast dark mantle of unknown that covers the sky.

score: 4/5

2010
03/25
POSTED BY
CATEGORY
Review
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5 comments