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Let’s think about this for a second.

There are FPS-RPGs and RPG-RTSs (or SRPGs). Yet, I still hear people say that FPSs are the furthest things from RPGs. Despite Fallout 3, Bioshock, Deus Ex, the two genres seem irreconcilable.

Perhaps, then, ‘genre’ is the wrong term. Perhaps video games can’t be categorised, and doing so is butt-hurting more and more fanboys by the day.

So let’s move to the term ‘classification’. FPS, RPG, RTS, etcetera are classifications of games. Not genres or categories. They just describe the ways we can classify the mechanics of gameplay. ‘Genre’, then, would describe the style of the game (fantasy, steampunk, space, speculative, etc.).

This is a popular idea in other fields. In linguistics, the idea that a word must sit in a single category was done away with during the post-Chomsky days of non-binary semantic theories. Classification, as such, is what’s usually applied to words, like animals. This is because words are fluid things, like art and video games. The way they behave isn’t cut-and-dry.

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There’s a shouting match going on, and I really don’t get it.

Console heavyweights are banging on about the mobile gaming market muscling in on their handheld sales; mobile gaming moguls are declaring handheld consoles “dead on arrival”.

What the fuck?

I mean, the crowning glory of mobile gaming is the low cost:high grade of software. People can buy quality software for small, inconsequential amounts. The idea: most people will make lots of little purchases. Compared to DS games which range from US$20 – $30, gamers would consider the US$0.99 – $9.99 price tag of mobile games to be insanely cheap. And as we’ve seen, they’ve sold accordingly.

Despite what the console kings say, this sounds to me like mobile gaming can coexist fluidly with console gaming.

Another point: no one is deciding to get an iPhone or a HTC instead of a PSP or 3DS. Like, no one is. The experience is totally different, as is the catalogue you can access.

My view: mobile gaming is actually good for console gaming. A wave of kids playing Angry Birds and Canabalt on their mum’s iPhone will wonder what else is out there in the wide world of gaming.

Think of mobile platforms like shareware. If you give people a taste for free (or cheap), they’ll spend the big bucks on the real stuff.*

* However pejorative this may sound, you get my point.

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Two articles have recently got me thinking about the interactions we are seeing between the visual elements of games and the aural. In this article on Osmos at Create Digital Music [via Critical Distance], Peter Kim discusses with its creators the process behind the sound design of Osmos and how the game’s mechanics continuously affect it. The other article is on the synaesthetics behind Audiosurf [also via Critical Distance].

Along with the works created by Brian Eno and Peter Chilvers’ project, Generative Music (Bloom, Trope and Air), Audiosurf and Osmos make interesting comments about synaesthetics in modern games. By way of extrapolation we can see them positioned across a sort of spectrum:

The game and thus gameplay is determined according to the music (music determines player’s actions): Audiosurf recognizes that music is as much a part of the game as the visual and mechanical side.

The music indicates aspects of the game and gameplay and vice-versa (music affects game and gameplay, game and gameplay affects music): Pacing in Osmos is suggested by pacing in the music. Conversely, visual elements alter the music. As Osmos creator Mat Jarvis says to Kim:

“I’ve always liked music visualisers like the Processing and Cymatics stuff, they’re quite compelling to watch how they react to the music, so it would be interesting to go the other way; by manipulating/ sculpting abstract shapes which then modify or even create sounds and music, especially using the new controllers like the Wii, [Microsoft’s] Project Natal and Sony’s Motion Controller instead of the mouse.” — Music, Physics, Space in Perfect Fusion: Interview, Creators of Game Osmos.

The player’s in-game actions determine the music (player’s actions determines music): In Generative Music’s software as well as in works like Electroplankton, what the player does determines the music. Whether or not these works constitute games will not be discussed here, but they are relevant as, no matter what, they inevitably fall under the same banner as traditional games.

Following this line of reasoning, we can deduce the following chart:

chart_1

Simply put, this is a clear synaesthetic relationship being formed between long-standing components of games. I think it is quite wonderful how seamlessly music and gameplay are being integrated in this way. I know there are other games out there that attempt to form these environmental relationships, but the games chosen here demonstrate my point clearly. In sum, some questions:

  • Could this relationship be the result of more musicians taking active roles in game development? Generative Music, for example, has Brian Eno at the helm. Eno is a highly influential musician particularly with regard to the types of aural experiences we’re seeing in games. Wiki ‘generative music‘ for a summary of this.
  • What directions might these synaethetic relationships take games in the future?
  • And what other relationships might be built in to games in similar ways?
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After three-years and fourty-thousand checks of my email, the Starcraft II beta finally arrived. I guess one of the perks of keeping a blog is that you get access to the newest things in video games as they happen, like DoTA remake Heroes of Newerth, as well as exciting developments in the field, like home-made and independent games. But after playing a fair few games of Starcraft II I got to thinking: is this game really “new”; is this game really exciting?

My first impression of SC 2 was, bascially, “wow — this game looks great, this game plays great, this game is great”. And, like culture shock, this elicited a feeling of excitement that this was something familiar (principally similar to Starcraft, common units) but completely different (new mechanics, new units, etc.). But also like culture shock, it wore off, and I was left with the reality of Starcraft II.

Starcraft II, from what I’ve gathered from the multiplayer component of the beta, is a really good game, even post-’culture shock’. The problem: it feels like a really glossy remake of Starcraft; it doesn’t feel like a revolution. As anyone who has been following the developent of the game will know, there are a few changes to the way the game can be played. For example, certain units can leap / scale cliffs and ledges, Zerg roaches can move burrowed. In my short time with the game, I have also noticed the drastic ’rounding’ of the Zerg game since Starcraft (they actually have an early game via roaches!). There is also more filled-out, linear progression from light to heavy units.

For me, some of these features felt like they could have constituted a heavy patching of the original game; the other features, while cool, did not and, in my experience, have not redefined the way the game is played. Low-tier unit rushes are still the same except Terran use a few marauders and Zerg use roaches instead of hydra. Protoss often incorporate stalkers, but can rely on early zealot pushes. Likewise, if playing against someone with even a slightly lower skill level, a fast tech to heavy air units still usually delivers a comprehensive victory.

That being said, there are some drastic improvements in the playability of the game: the ability to select multiple buildings, rally miners to resources, improved pathing,  generally less ‘bugged’ unit AI (I am yet to see computer opponent AI in full force), que upgrades, que rally points / commands, etc.

Yet in spite of all this, I return to my earlier point that Starcraft II just feels like a (very) comprehensive remake of Starcraft II. The improvements on Starcraft don’t constitute a revolution of the game. A revolution would imply a considerable, near-redefining shift in the fundamentals, but this has not taken place. Perhaps it is more helpful to consider Starcraft II in terms of evolution. If we consider the patching Starcraft mutations, then I’d say that Starcraft II constitutes, while drastic, just another mutation.

But so far I have only discussed the gameplay itself. The aesthetics of the game, on the other hand are completely different: the design of Starcraft has seen revolution. Units, buildings, terrain have obviously been intricately designed and benefit greatly from the gorgeous Havok-driven polygons. But such changes are to be expected and constitutes an article unto itself.

As you have probably gathered, I was left with the feeling that Starcraft II was more of a contemporaneous interpretation of the original and not the drastic revolution of RTS I was hoping for. Once the culture shock of the new units and (limited) new mechanics had worn off, I felt like I was playing the same game. This is not to say it is bad. In fact nearly every improvement is a liberating development on its predecessor. Additionally, playing Starcraft II is one of the most joyous and purely fun gaming experiences I’ve ever had. I chalk this down to a) its familiarity and b) the developed aesthetics and gameplay. It’s more than likely that the fundamental similarities between the two games were conscious master-strokes made by its developers. But that doesn’t undermine the fact that Starcraft II is to Starcraft as a human is to a chimp: on the surface there are substantial differences, but many of the same principals underpin both creatures.

In sum, Starcraft II does excite me and it is a greatly evolved version of Starcraft, but it is not a new genus of RTS. These are minor, analytical gripes, however, and hinge largely on my own expectations. All in all, anticipate enjoying the game immensely and being uniformly impressed by the work as a whole.

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A while back REZ was quite a bloggable game. And it may be a bit old hat to bring it up again, but I stumbled across this fascinatingarticle by Douglas Brown on its recursive interactions between visuals, audibles and references to other art.

“Abstract: Douglas Brown’s Rez: An Evolving Analysis dives into Tetsuya Mizuguchi’s ‘trance shooter’ to reveal how the game’s recursive dynamics – between sight and sound, rhythm and novelty, abstraction and representation – work to construct the player’s spatial and temporal experience.”

That and it opens with a Kandinsky quote. Win.

A great paper. On the denser, more academic side of things.

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RunMan: Race Around the World, For PC — I saw Ikko Taniuchi perform last week. For those of you who aren’t familiar with him, Taniuchi covers himself in paint and rolls around on a large canvas [1]. It’s an exercise in the primal joy one gets from rich, solid colors. This is obviously a theme to his art as, accompanying this performance, was an exhibition of works done with crayon. Much like his performance, they focus on the beauty of solid colors and are drawn with a child-like fervor and simplicity [example 1 2]. Which brings me to RunMan…

Like watching Taniuchi perform, RunMan: Race Around the World (Tom Sennet & Matt Thorson) is also an exploration (and explication) of the joy of solid colors. This must sound like a somewhat underwhelming endorsement, but let me assure that it is not. This game is awesome.

I mean, I haven’t enjoyed a game this much for some time. Its vibrant pallet, addictive gameplay and the (consciously) kindergarten-quality graphics make for an experience that, simply put, oozes a joy that is sorely missing in a lot of independant games. And the music — oh the music! — adds another gleeful dimension. Like in his other projects, Sennet has used a bunch of public-domain music. In this case it’s bluegrass. And in a strange way, it accentuates the childlike whimsy inherent in the work as a whole.

taniuchi149456-runman

The gameplay isn’t doing anything revolutionary, but it does hark back to a bygone era of PC platformers; nay, an era of childhood video game memories. And this really important. Not only is it in line with the simplicity of the work (overly complex mechanics would be jarring), but it allows you to enjoy the aesthetics which, I think, make it quite special. The gameplay delivers some basic joys, too — you can bounce of walls (which delivers an enjoyable ‘boing’ sound) and run really fast through (yes, through) enemies.

All I can tell you is that I loved RunMan’s simplicity and aesthetics, namely its simple, elegant and unorthodoxly-orthodox use of colors. Additionally, I applaud the employment of public domain music and also marvel at the brilliant choice of bluegrass. But, like with Taniuchi, I can’t really convey the  pleasure of experiencing RunMan: Race Around the World in words. My recommendation: go download it (PC ony). You’ll thank me later.

Above: Ikko Taniuchi’s untitled 2009, crayon on canvas compared with still from RunMan.

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Just watch this Girls’ Generation (SNSD) performance from the Special Force ProLeague final in South Korea. Girls’ Generation are a manufactured 9-piece girl-group who sing sickly sweet songs about, well, love and boys. But the group’s initials are GG. Totally rad.

The second song, Gee, yields an unparalleled amount of catchy-ness:

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I recently read ‘A Trilogy in 7 Parts’ over at Hit Self-Destruct (heart!). In the first part, Mitch Krpata exposes—rather earnestly—his feelings about the diminishing allure of video game journalism. But unlike his contemporaries in the field of lit criticism, he doesn’t bemoan any so-called death of journalism. Instead he credits game journalism with having become more informed and educated over recent years. And I, for one, agree with him. But why is it that while the standards of general journalism decrease in many other fields due to mass layoffs of editorial and support staff [1] [2] the standards of game journalism increase?

I think the coinciding of Web 2.0 and the rise of game criticism have had something to do with it. Where other types of writing have struggled to keep their heads above the surface of the ever-rising deep that is the ‘new media’, a school of game critics have formed itself within its boundaries and dexterously utilized its components. The high quality of online game writing produced has thus kept game writers—both print and web—on their toes.

But what can Web 2.0 offer writers that print can’t? Well, here are a few ideas:

  1. A new peer-review process: Game critics can post an article and have the whole internet fact-check, theory-parse and critique it. This is a new incarnation of the peer-review process.
  2. Journals 2.0: They are forming left, right, above and behind, just not in the form we’ve previously known. In fact, many members of them have never met. Community game blog Critical Distance, for example, essentially functions like a think tank by bringing amateur critics together and releasing podcasts and articles. Coupled with the peer-review process discussed in points 1, I’d argue we can consider this a type of journal.

  3. Direct contact between author and reader: In traditional academic fields, writers can rarely receive direct feedback from their audience but depend on the guidance of editors. But in the world of Web 2.o, writers who keep blogs get direct feedback and often in abundance. How does this apply to game critics? Well, because a lot of game critics are putting their work straight onto the internet, they put themselves at the critical behest of the entire community, often coming face-to-face (sort of) with people who know a lot more than they do. This results in a hell of a lot more accountability.

For many years, I’ve been involved in lit writing —both academic and journalistic—and the presence of critical lit writing online is non-existent save the traditional institutions (New Yorker, McSweeney, Paris Review). As such, lit journalists generally don’t have much pressure on them from online writing. Nonetheless, this issue is in the minds of many people in publishing [1] [2].

Game criticism, on the other hand, is far more prevalent on the net. And coupled with the above components, is of a generally high quality. By embracing the faculties of the new media, web-writers have consequently forced established journalists to improve and effectively save themselves.

When talking about Web 2.0, people tend to talk about how it is set to destroy traditional medias. Seldom do you hear how it can produce good writing. Hopefully, though, I’ve illustrated some of the ways faculties of the internet have helped produce good writing in game criticism and (arguably) incidentally improved game writing at large.

So why not start looking to the future instead of bemoaning the present? It seems to be accepted that all types of medias are changing rapidly. If you ask me, this means we should start preparing for a near-future that will be utterly different to the recent-past. Besides, I don’t think it looks that bad at all.

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Although I don’t really agree with Amanda Kloer’s post at End Human Trafficking, she points out some interesting moves made by the seller of infamous Rapelay, BGamebox. Apparently they have recategorized said game as a ‘Platinum’ game and not a ‘Rape’ (‘ryoujoku’) game. The company has gone further and renamed other games in hopes of making them sound less ‘bad’. As Amanda Kloer points out, Gang Raped by the Entire Village: Girls Covered in Milky Liquid is now The Trap Set by the Entire Village: Bodies Covered in Milky Liquid.

The article as a whole, however, has a notably old-world approach. Kloer holds that the media is a pervasive and insidious force. As she says, the aforementioned games ‘train players (often young men) how to rape and abuse women and train them as sex slaves’. This I disagree with. They they might attract rapists (or those with a rape fetish), but they don’t train them. See this article for a discussion about the issue RE Rapelay.

[http://humantrafficking.change.org/blog/view/sex_slave_training_video_game_for_sale_under_new_euphemism]
[http://www2.bgamebox.com/oshirase.htm]
[http://www.touchebitches.com/2009/06/lets-do-pomo-again-rape-games.html]

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When you hear a game described as an RTS, a few staple images are conjured—elfs and orcs fighting in forests, tanks blasting insectoids out of their burrows, the desolate landscape of Arrakis. So when I heard about the indie RTS Dyson I was kind of intrigued—indie games at large largely call upon platformers, RPGs and the ambiguously titled interactive story genre. How would this game explore, deconstruct or expand the genre as most indies are want to do?

Predictably, Dyson is very different to what you’d typically classify as an RTS. Sure, it’s got several usual tenets—resource-gathering, army-building, diversification—but it lacks many of the complexities. For example, your army self replicates cutting out much of the macro associated with most RTS games. Likewise, unit attack automatically eliminating micro. But this is not a bad thing!

Dyson was nominated in several categories at the Independent Games Festival including the Seumas McNally. You see, Dyson is such an immersive game. Not immersive in the way BioShock is, but in a highly aesthetic sort of way. It’s visually very simple—solid lines, few colors—and it’s built around a neat engine which provides smooth animation and action. Your units are little seedlings. They glide around in circles and stream from planet to planet as you amass more and more. Mix this with an ambient soundtrack—which is unusual for video games—and you have a highly meditative experience. Imagine Atlas Sound spent two years in a monastery then made a video game—that’s what Dyson is like. It’s peaceful, almost abstract and aesthetically-focused game.

But Dyson is very much for the indie-gamer. If it’s hardcore gameplay you’re after, you won’t get much out of the experience. In the current build there is no online play and I can’t see it being particularly conducive to Dyson. But I don’t think that’s the point of Dyson. While I wouldn’t say it necessarily deconstructs or explores RTS like The Path did RPG, it does expand it by generating a very different experience. It’ll be interesting to see how it’s received once it gets a final retail release in October. Will other indie games look to the RTS; how will its aesthetics be perceived?

There is currently a free build available.

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Do you like 8-bit pop? Well of course you do! Online bit-pop label Pterodactyl Squad recently came out with a compilation of various chiptune bands covering Weezer songs. When I first heard about this, I was excited. Not only does Weezer smack of my youth but so do the oh so crunchy sounds of Game Boy, NES and C64 sound cards. And getting to hear some new stuff from Anamanaguchi and PDF Format is also kinda cool.

But as with any compilationmore pertinently, tribute compilationsit’s hit and miss. The obvious artists shine: Anamanaguchi, Bit Shifter, videogame orchestra and :( . I was particularly enamored by nordloef’s rendition of “Buddy Holly”, but I think that’s largely nostalgia. The rest of the album is never bad, but it’s seldom great. I was a little disappointed with PDF Format’s “You Won’t Get With Me Tonight” and, despite their cool name, Unicorn Dream Attack didn’t amaze me.

I think it works well because it’s a trip down both memory and hipster lane at the same time. One more criticism: it’s called The 8-bit Album; I think it should be called The Beige Album. Bam! Now that’s genius.

It’s free to download under creative commons. Also check out the Weezer 8-bit blog.

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It’s a pet topic of certain authors on this blog to talk about a so-called postmodern turn in contemporary games. After reading about postmodernity in gaming on this blog, a fellow reviewer and journalist recommended that I play The Chinese Room’s Dear Esther. As she saw it, Dear Esther incorporates many of the conclusions of postmodernism much like The Path. I played it and agreed with her. But what was it that made her—and me—think Dear Esther would add interesting elements to the pomo argument? It wasn’t the genre-challenging nature of the game. Nor was it the inherent intertextuality. Dear Esther slots nicely into the postmodern argument because it is built around a highly polysemous narrative. In other words, the story is amiable to multiple—if not infinite—interpretations. I’ll begin with a quote from the developer about the game:

‘The user [of Dear Esther] navigates the environment, triggering audio fragments of a narrative which, together with visual clues and codes embedded in the world, build to create a story which is inherently constructed around the innate slippage of meaning and fragmentary nature of interactive experiences.’

Obvious in this quote is that the game was built around this idea of polysemy. In Dear Esther, the player—or ‘user’—is not given a cogent or even seemingly sensible narrative. Via audio of someone reading out letters to Esther and environmental cues like things written on walls or figures in the distance we are delivered fragments of something what we assume is a broad narrative. These snippets are fragmentary and discordant, so much so that the game fails to deliver a pre-determined plot. But this is the intention. Let me quote a commenter on Dear Esther’s Moddb page:

‘Lol. Im to scared to find out the secrets of this island, Can someone please tell me what all the writings are about [sic]’

The discordancy of Dear Esther’s ‘narrative’ is genuinely scary. It’s not because the island setting is grim and deserted. This isn’t enough to scare most gamers. What makes it so scary is our own minds; the way we interpret the cues we’re given in the context of someone wandering a deserted island. I should add here that we don’t know from whose perspective we’re playing. Is it Esther; is it the sender of the letters; is it a ghost; or is it someone/something else?

Anyway—back to postmodernism. Dear Esther is, as discussed above, completely polysemous. Like The Path, there is no set meaning to the text as a whole. Also like The Path, it doesn’t resolve the central ‘plot’ tenets. As such, any reading you give it is correct. Welcome, Postmodernity. Dear Esther successfully utilizes this postomdernist idea of polysemy to create an interesting and absorbing experience (see abiove). It also challenges the taxonomies that be: what is ‘game’; what can first-person games be; can games be art; and what is an ‘interactive story’ as opposed to a game? When you play it you’ll see what I’m getting at and I’m not going into these idea here. I’m going to posit something instead—games bereft of narrative conclusiveness are gaining prominence and postmodernism in gaming can be observed at some level across many modern games.

The Path, Dear Esther, Blueberry Garden, Mad World and many others provide the player with input that we assume is narrative-related. But we aren’t told anything conclusive and thus mould said inputs into something useful. As such, these games are polysemous. Postmodernism is a framework that’s overlaid on texts and not something necessarily inherent in their creation. But what these games do is bring the ideas of postmodernism to the fore and it should be noted that many of these games have other postmodern traits. And it should be noted that by implementing a polysemy in games, developers are acknowledging a dialogue that exists between them—the artist—and players. In other words, they acknowledge that how art is read is not entirely up to the creator and that it is often a compromise between inherent components in the work and the reader’s (player’s) interpretation.

I think it’s interesting how the medium is used to analyze the textual polysemy argued for by postmodern scholars. But not only do I think it’s interesting, I also think it’s very important. These games investigate the ideas scholars have thus-far only alluded to in books, film, music, architecture and art. From an academic-theoretical perspective, this helps to modernize the medium of games and forcibly bring them up to speed with other medias. I’d argue that this pomo turn in gaming is a reaction to the games as art issue—can games be considered art like other mediums? Of course they can. And these games demonstrate this by incorporating features of other types of text.

I encourage anyone who reads this to tell us about any other games that fit this description. I also highly encourage you all to play Dear Esther. It’s an enlightening and fascinating experience that none of us here at Touche will be forgetting soon.

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