Spoilers ahead

Video games have a terrifically terrible time deciding what they are. Are they interactive movies? Interactive narratives? Are they just time-wasters? If they are any of these things, how do they do what they need to do to get their point across? Do they have a point? What is it?

Limbo circumvents a lot of the problems of modern games by removing a few key elements: dialogue, plot and music. What we get is an experience — but still a narrative. Let me explain.

First and foremost, here is what we know about Limbo: a boy is in a world, the world is kind of fuzzy and black and white, it’s very dark, everything and everyone is out to get him. You control the boy through a series of perilous encounters with giant spiders, people throwing spears and giant machines. Eventually the game ends with you coming across a girl picking flowers. You do not speak to the girl or even approach the girl — in fact there is no guarantee it’s even a girl.

Narrative once meant “to narrate.” This isn’t really the case any more — nowadays it means to exist and tell a story. This story doesn’t need to be explained, it just needs to exist. For all intents and purposes, Limbo does not have a plot — it has a narrative, but no plot. What does this mean exactly? It means the user is allowed to generate the experience based on the day-to-day activity of this little boy. For all we know this is a normal circumstance for our avatar — this is a normal day — he travels around a darkened landscape, avoiding death on every corner and trying merely to survive.

Or maybe it’s not. Maybe this is a special circumstance — maybe by “limbo” they mean purgatory — or hell — or dreams — we can’t know for certain — which is what makes this an interesting form of storytelling. It’s the concrete “being there” we get and nothing else. It’s an experience more concerned with narrative as an art — as what we view and interpret rather than a plot.

Is this still a narrative though? Yes it is. It’s not traditional — but I would find it hard to believe the developers didn’t have a plot in mind when they painted this picture. It’s closer to Perec’s Life: A User’s Manual than it is to a game in its narrative. The difference between this and say, Uncharted 2 is that we are assumed to be intelligent, creative humans that are capable of filling in the gaps. That isn’t to say there is anything wrong with Uncharted 2 — for every Fellini there needs to be a Michael Bay — the two forms, as well as all others can coexist without there ever being a “right” solution. What Limbo does is give us a narrative without a plot — and for that, I’m thankful, grateful and incredibly impressed.

Everyday we as human beings get up and do our routine. We take a shower, we work, we love, we eat with utensils, we travel. It’s these mundane events that add character to our lives — whether it be the type of job we have, the kind of furniture we own or the type of people that like us. This accumulation of the mundane is how we become known to acquaintances and thus becomes the way we convey our story to the outside world.

Video games do not generally catalog these everyday worlds, but that doesn’t mean some haven’t tried. While The Sims latches onto this idea full force, it fails to recognize the other portion of the equation: the incredible. In a mystical, magical world, like say, a video game world, the incredible is arguably the most important facet of engagement. But by encompassing and utilizing  the mundane,  plotless narratives can develop, even if the designers don’t intend on it.

Take Fable II as an example. If you’ve played the game yourself, you’d likely describe the narrative of the game as being something like this: I found a box, wandered around the world, bought a house, got a husband/wife, accidentally cheated on husband/wife when a Frankensteinian scientist resurrected a woman who fell in love with me on first site, had children, gave gifts to peasants, worked at the blacksmith, watched my dog die and then did some big event for some reason I can’t remember.

The most important takeaway in Fable II is the mundane, it’s not the plot. The plot is a bland revenge fantasy — but the hours the player spends working, exploring, expressing and emoting is the narrative the player walks away with. It’s these seemingly trivial things that not only affect the world’s view on you, they have an effect the outcome of the game — they make the narrative what it is.

While Fable II takes this idea to its maximum, it still has the issue of being convoluted in its plot. Would anyone have minded terribly if the plot was removed? Or rather, if the narrative itself just naturally built up to a logical end, as opposed to working in opposition of the mundane narrative? I’d like to think not. I’d like to think that the plot of the game would have benefited immensely from just existing in the background — maybe even happening on “accident.” Either way, it’s one of the few games that do this — and many others could stand to learn a thing or two from Fable II.

Take the Mass Effect series. Here you’re given the opportunity to save the universe — twice (three times, perhaps?). But what exactly are you saving? Sure, Bioware does an excellent job of layering the world together to reveal a semi-livable place — but who are you? What defines you? In Mass Effect it’s your reactions that define you, it’s how you react to conversation nodes. Comparing that to Fable II, where your actions define you showcases the primary difference between the two. In one, you react to the world, in the other, the world reacts to you. Because of this reactionary measure, Mass Effect is a bit doomed to always play as an experience rather than a full fledged life. Who is Commander Shepherd? We only get the emotions of him/her, we never see the mundane. Do space cowboys even have a mundane?

I could go on and on with a slew of more comparisons, but I think I’ll end here. The main argument I’d like to make is that the mundane is okay — no matter how extravagant or over the top the plot of a game is — it’s the personal narrative that’s going to have an effect on the player. We don’t need action all the time — look at a game like Far Cry 2, now get rid of the random encounters — now think about how normal it would be to drive across the environment and how incredible it would be.

It’s the mundane, the commonplace, the everyday that makes a narrative worth exploring — it’s not the plot. After all, as the saying goes — before enlightenment we chop wood, carry wood — after enlightenment we chop wood, carry wood.

Insiders tip: They’re all from the same place! Different time periods, different look! What’s going on here?!? Time will tell!

The Sims 3

The Sims series has always inexplicably weirded me out and after watching this rather odd trailer nothing has changed. Maybe it’s too heady for me. Maybe I just don’t get this new emergent narrative thing.

Battlefield: Bad Company 2

Okay, this one’s not really as big of a deal as it might seem on the surface, but when EA Europe boss Jens Uwe stated: “In March we will launch Battlefield: Bad Company 2, which is our first strong attack on Call Of Duty,” it feels to me like the game is being formulated as a response to Call of Duty. Maybe the problem in my head stems from the fact EAs other shooter series, Medal of Honor is being updated to modern times too. Or maybe a game that’s a response to another game is just silly to me, it’s like saying MADTV is a response to SNL. In the end the influences are so transparent they push everything backwards instead of forwards.

Mass Effect 2

I have no idea what planet EA or Bioware or whoever is responsible for this remarkably stupid preview is from, but I don’t ever want to go there. Who the fuck thinks introducing faux-metal and some Tank Girl looking “bitch” into a science fiction game is a good idea? And why do they think fans of the series will be into this incredibly stupid promo? I feel dumber just watching it. At least it ends with the eponymous line, “Now who’s the badass biotic, bitch?” Or rather, “Now who’s the badass biotic bitch?” Actually, I’m not really sure how to transcribe that one.

Dragon Age: Origins

Marilyn Manson was just one of the “metal” songs used in a Dragon Age trailer, furthering the conclusion that I came too long ago: People who are into cheesy dark metal/goth are also into cheesy high-fantasy and probably never get laid (although what comes first, the metal or the lack of sex is still a mystery). I have no idea what connection I’m supposed to make here, other than there isn’t one, and this was just supposed to be a badass soundtrack to get me into the game. Weirdly, it had the opposite effect. Also, it fails to demonstrate the type of game this is, a tactical RPG. New shit? I think not.

Dante’s Inferno

Okay, Dante’s Inferno: the Game. Where to start with this one? Perhaps the “official” novelization of the game which is based on the book and pictured above (yeah that’s the book cover, not the game cover)? Or maybe the embarrassingly stupid Christmas themed trailer? How about I let you judge those on you’re own, and continue on to showcase some highlights from the PR trail:

• The “Fake Protest: (all links lead to Kotaku, because I’m lazy)” EA stages a religious protest against the game… to garner attention… um…
• The “Sin to Win Contest:” EA challenges people at Comic-Con to commit acts of lust by taking pictures of booth babes.
• How about the “Killing Babies” achievement which may or may not make it into the final game?
• Mailing $200 checks to potential game reviews: Pretty much self-explanatory here, not that it’s any different than a Halo themed free Xbox or the various other schwag. At least they’re being transparent on this one.

Chances are I missed some strange and usual advertising and PR techniques utilized for some of the handheld games or even some of the sports games (those sell themselves though right?), but other than selling Madden 2010 anywhere with a cash register I couldn’t remember anything. To be fair, I hold nothing against the developers on these, and hell, chances are Electronic Arts probably outsourced half these anyway, but I’m not going to lie, the Mass Effect 2 trailer made me less excited about the game, the Dragon Age: Origins trailer made me uninterested, the Battlefield comment made me sad and the Dante’s Inferno collection of missteps is still making me chuckle.

1. Top Ten Songs from the ’00s That Will Puzzle Future Generations

2. Ten of the Best Soundtracks of the Decade

3. Ten of the Best Reissues of the Decade.

4. Ten Best Video Game Soundtracks of the Decade

5. Top Ten CD/LP Packaging of the Decade

6. Top Ten Cover Songs of the Decade

My favorite albums have been written up and sent off to the printing press as well, so those are only available on that ancient and strange medium of paper (I think anyway, maybe they’ll be online? They don’t tell me these things).

I just finished recording another Simoebic Dysentery track, this one, “Blood Buddy” is a little different than the rest of the album (okay, not really), and utilizes a “less is more” attitude (with the exception of the absurd six and a half minute length). Please enjoy. The rest of the soundtrack is available here. Free, as always.

The sky opens and rain comes down. To escape I walk into a dimly lit old building, “arcade” in neon lights.

I hear the sound of quarters pounding out of a change machine. Quarters against other quarters. The sound of plastic being pressed and mashed against other plastic. A wooden ball gliding up a wooden ramp and into a hole.

The arcade is filled with flashing lights. A small boy runs past dropping loose change like breadcrumbs. A teenager comes waddling past with a grimace on his face, the weight in his apron pounding against his knees. An older man sits on a bench in the corner, reading a newspaper as his daughter tugs on his shirt.

The scent of popcorn and candy fill the air. Soda spilled on the carpet smells of sugar coated moth balls. A woman, uncertain in her stance, smells of lilacs.

Touching the joystick, memories to flood in. Down, down-right, forward, punch. Hadouken. The buttons are sticking to the frame. The joystick loose in its socket. The boy to my right holds tightly onto his. His tongue sticking out slightly against his lips. I can feel his concentration. Mashing the white buttons. Forward, down-forward, down, down-back, back, kick.

He slams his hand against the table. Looks at me with eyes ablaze. Drops another quarter in the machine. Metal against metal. I nod. He continues.

Down, down right, forward,

punch and hadouken,

it’s your end, my beginning.

I was told once that endings often come before beginnings. It’s a strategy of writing often used in film, where you come up with a premise, a background story and a universe, then decide how you want your particular tale to end before you’ve even decided how to start it. It’s a great technique, one that has yielded excellent results for me (in my own opinion, anyway, I adore the ending we’ve come up with for Simoebic Dysentery, for instance). I’ve been thinking recently about video game endings, or more specifically, how bad most video game endings are. This is startling considering the simplicity of many of the stories and downright weird that resolutions wouldn’t be met inside some of these stories.

This was sparked after I finished Batman: Arkham Asylum, a game that has a reasonably interesting plot and passable dialogue. The ending, however, was uninspired at best. Yes, I realize this is a Batman game and Batman has to win and then leave the universe in the same state it started in, but at the same time I felt the story being woven was far more complex then the resolution allows for. We got to see Batman start to lose his mind a bit, start to question if he too was crazy, then, nothing. It all goes away, Batman overcomes, no problem. It’s almost as if the story was being written as the the game was being developed, then suddenly it was time to end it. The place it ended up was not the place I was expecting — in a Batman story this is a bad thing. The resolution doesn’t match the early implications and the ending was tacked on, essentially useless. It didn’t resolve the story of Batman, it resolved the story of the Joker.

This is a common trait in video games, sadly. It’s as though an idea is created and then suddenly the game starts being developed — but where is it supposed to end up? What is the resolution? Some of the greatest endings have been great because they truly resolved the story. Look at a game like Shadow of Colossus, the ending (although surprising) wraps everything together in a shocking and beautiful way.  It was obvious from the get go, right after that big reveal, the designers new this was going to be the ending. Metal Gear Solid 3 is another great example, the killing of the Boss was an end point that must have been decided on early. Bioshock has one of those moments too, so does Deus Ex and countless others.

But countless others don’t match up to the hundreds of thousands of games that have no clear ending. Look at a game like Mirror’s Edge, whose ending makes absolutely no sense because it’s built as a trilogy. What’s the resolution? There isn’t one. What’s going to happen next? Well, judging by the sales, we may never actually know. This isn’t a risk game developers should be taking. We as players, as readers, as viewers, need to have resolution by the games end. More importantly, the resolution needs to END the story. It needs to finish the arc, leave us with a sense of understanding and allow us to move along. Ambiguity isn’t an ending, it’s a parlor trick. It’s something you tack on after the credits just in case you get the chance to make a sequel. But this arc, this first movement should be completed by the finish of the game.

There are thousands of great games out there and hundreds of thousands of great ideas. But it’s the responsibility of any storyteller to finish what they start, and I don’t feel the majority of games do this. It’s a problem perhaps solved if designers and writers start writing to an ending, not from a beginning.

Video game soundtracks are rarely on the top of list when it comes to finances, and rarely even listed on review scorecards. Yet, as a medium the industry still seems hell bent on retaining a cinematic nature with the sound and to this end the industry is failing.

Now, to be fair, sound effects are usually high on the list of “things to make a game good” but the actual soundtrack itself usually finds itself following basic film tropes:

*Large orchestrated pieces
*Midi synth
*Rock ‘n Roll/Pop Music
*Complete lack of music

There are a few games that I’ve been playing recently which have attempted to, and in some cases succeded at creating an excellent soundtrack — I’m not talking about the excellent Zelda theme and its subsequent rehashings, or the massive scale Final Fantasy orchestrations, or even the highly addictive music of puzzle games — I’m talking about a few games I’ve played recently that have attempted not to bridge the gap between cinema and game, but actually make a soundtrack specifically for the medium.

Mass Effect

Mass Effect fails miserably on most counts when it comes to the soundtrack, like many games before it and certainly many more to come, the designers decided on large scale Hollywood-style orchestrations for the majority of the game. However, at certain points Mass Effect nails it with minimalist, small scale science fiction arpeggios that feel, well, just right. It’s a science fiction game, it takes place in a science fiction universe, it follows science fiction theme’s and ideals — man/woman goes on mission, things go wrong, man/woman must save universe. Occasionally the soundtrack kicks in, lightly, as background, with the feeling of experimental ’70s electronic music, when this happens it is absolutely perfect — immersive, gut wrenching, hypnotic. Unfortunately this changes during cinemas to an orchestra and the whole thing falls apart.

Fallout 3

Fallout 3 has an excellent soundtrack. That said, it’s a very short soundtrack, maybe 40 minutes of actual music. Weirdly, this in game music, which is controlled by a radio by the player isn’t what happens during sequences with event triggers. You walk out of the vault for the first time and what do you get? An old timey jingle? No, for some reason you get a large orchestrated piece that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the game. It’s mindblowing that this is what they decided to do. They create a world in which the ‘50 lived forever, and then shatter the world with modern music pieces. They weave an in game radio into the plot, filled with propaganda, old time songs by the Ink Spots, Roy Brown, etc., then toss in orchestrations that make little sense. Why not use the same licensed soundtrack to convey the plot? Why wouldn’t “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” have worked for the player’s first step into the Wasteland?

inFamous

inFamous is a game that really, truly nails the very idea behind a video game soundtrack. That said, it’s not executed particularly well, but the foundation is there. The soundtrack is written and recorded by Amon Tobin using real world objects — trash cans, concrete, junk cars. This works perfectly for a game taking place in a half-destroyed city. The game itself is nothing particularly special, but the soundtrack is an excellent example of developers actually thinking about what the world they’ve created would sound like.

Final Thoughts

It’s no mystery that the industry needs to step away from film tropes if it wants to come into its own and tell its own types of stories. At the same time the industry needs to come up with its own way of conveying story through music. Soundtracks are an important part to any film — and most of us have our own personal soundtrack running through our heads throughout the day. Why wouldn’t our digital avatar’s have the same thing? What would these worlds, created from scratch sound like? What would I be hearing in my head while exploring a desolate planet, or an apocalyptic wasteland? Orchestrations? Unlikely.

If we look back at where the medium was heading 20 years ago we’ll find scripting like iMuse that attempted to set up soundtrack triggers to help convey themes. This was a stepping stone that didn’t seem to lead anywhere (we’re still here, just play any Call of Duty game and look for the line you need to step over to start the moaning violins and epic horns), but did set up some interesting ideals and systems to execute a soundtrack. Recently we’ve been getting dynamic systems in games like Far Cry 2, where weather, environment and pace are reconciled into the score (Far Cry 2 is another example of a game that attempted to go above and beyond in the soundtrack department, using instruments native to Africa while attempting to create mood and atmosphere with their dynamic system). These dynamic systems are likely the future of video game soundtracks (or, more accurately, are currently the way many work, event triggers not withstanding).  However, the soundtracks themselves have got to fit the mood of the rest of the game. I don’t need every game to have massive orchestration, I don’t even want that. Orchestrations are Hollywood tricks to make you feel when the director can’t completely convey a point — tearing up at the end of a movie when someone dies because the actor’s can’t hold their own (okay okay, also they are to enhance the mood). A true score needs to be able to be manipulated and changed to fit the player’s actions, no matter how unexpected those are.

I’ve got more to talk about here in regards to the possibilities for new systems and mechanics, and will do so soon.

Most regular readers here will quickly acknowledge that there has been an abundance of Simoebic Dysentery related posts. This one, the one you are reading right now, continues that trend. However, I hope to delve a bit deeper into the process thus far — the process of learning a new means to tell a story through trial and error. I’ve dreamt of working on a video game for the majority of my cognizant life. In the past, I’ve worked with Mojiferous (who’s developer diary that was recorded during the uDevGames contest (you know the one, the contest that we one 1st in “Originality” and 3rd in “Audio”) can be found here) through other facets including: a remix album, sound effects for Zoltan! and beta/QA testing for Atomic Combat 2.0. However, Simoebic Dysentery is the first project that we’ve worked on together from the ground up. Idea to (eventual) fruition. That being said, I’d like to discuss a bit of the history, from the origins to the present state.

ART

Glancing through my emails from the end of December, 2008 through early January, I can get an accurate glimpse of the some of the earliest stages of the process. The original idea, the one that sparked the whole thing, wasn’t related to the inner workings of the body at all. In fact, it was a weird “puzzle” game in which you were given a big gun, and had to blow up walls, but you only got a set of bullets. Pretty stupid really, but what it did do was spawn a slew of idea’s from Mojiferous. These ideas, pitched back and forth eventually lead to the idea of a game in which you play a virus and are attempting to navigate the bloodstream to kill your host. Originally the game was from an isometric point of view but technology, time and tech forced us into an overhead view. Also, after some fact checking, the virus was switched to an amoeba. The origins were remarkably crude, considering where we ended up:

I’m told that the main problem we were running into at the beginning were derivative of Mojiferous wanting to render the entire graphic set in the game — basically no call to jpg’s, png’s or predrawn hoo-haw. What we ended up with is a mashup of this system with the anatomy drawings from everyone’s favorite anatomical guidebook (which was the primary focus of the art style, narrative, and a building block to the basic premise of the game. Thanks Dr. Henry Gray!)

But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

ORIGINS

Our first real face to face was conducted at a coffee shop, where we sat notebooks in hand, a copy of Gray’s Anatomy open on the table and coffee spilling over the cups, talking, talking, talking. This, I remember thinking to myself, was collaborative creation. It was the epidome of this weird bohemian vision I’d created in my head of what it really meant to be on the brink of a creative cusp. This wasn’t a game, it was a revolution.

Of course, this was all quickly lost after we began the process of actually making the damn thing. Life’s an interesting thing, because it tends to get in the way of a lot of things. Here we had two Graduate students that were working on a hobby alongside 40 hour a week jobs and classes. One of us operates as an early person, the other at night. So the majority of our conversations would now take place via email and phone — but for the moment I was stuck waiting. The problem with being a “designer” is that after the idea comes crapping out of your body, after the pen is finished with the paper, your job is done for a while. So I had to sit back and wait for Mojiferous to get me the level creator toolkit.

We also had a hell of a time coming up with a name for this damn thing. In fact, we went through quite a few:

• An Amoebic Adventure
• Amoeba Lung
• Amoeba Brain
• Amoeba Castle
• Amoeba Mumbles
• Lone Amoeba
• Amoeba Sandwich
• Amoeba Grease
• Amoebic Onslaught
• Amoebic Avenue
• Amoebic Aggression
• Amoebic Enterprise
• Amoeba Attack
• The Shits
• etc.

MUSIC

During this time I was supposed to be working on the soundtrack. Which I was — and by mean working on it, I mean it was forming in my head. I don’t write music, I’ve never believed that I had the ability, but I do improv and I improv well (and by well, I mean I enjoy myself, not that I play well). Eventually, I plopped down in front of the keyboard and recorded four hours of music. Then I cut it down. It’s available you know, in case you missed the thirty-six other mentions on this very blog, here.

But none of the above things are really all that interesting. These are the types of things that one would expect from a little indie game. Lots of meetings, testing, late night and early mornings.

NARRATIVE

I do believe I’ve learned a significant amount of skills through this beginning process. First and foremost, the ability to talk about a project like this and bring it to fruition. We aren’t there yet, but I have no doubt in my mind that we’ll be there shortly. For me, the most interesting aspect here is the narrative. I consider myself a writer before all else and for better or worse that’s my chosen path. With a game like this, a puzzle game, it seemed almost absurd to combine story with gameplay. But I believe that Mojiferous and I have worked out a compelling reason to play this — and not just for the brain twisters.

When one talks of narrative in regards to a game, it’s important to understand that narrative and story aren’t the same thing. I’ve looked at this before. The interesting thing for me with Simoebic Dysentery was that the narrative was the entire reason for the game’s existence. We were actually using the setting (a human body) as both a playing field and a character. The two were interweaved and as the game progressed, this became more and more apparent. The actual plot of the game is fairly simple: Man goes to Amazon. Man contracts disease. Man tries to rid himself of disease. Man… well, I won’t give you a spoiler yet, but it’s fair to say that the man will either live or die. These plot points are revealed in game, through voice overs coming through the body and into the setting.

For me, this is interesting on a number of levels. We are afforded the unique opportunity to have a story being told by non-playable characters that directly effect the way the game is played (man goes to voodoo doctor who injects you with snail juice and suddenly you, the amoeba are forced to adapt, change your methods and learn new tactics. Think of the fire in Far Cry 2, or the rain in Call of Duty 4). These outside forces, the setting of the whole story are contriving against you, the player. It also creates the interesting dynamic of what exactly a game is. A game is, to many, something that you try to “win” or “beat.” Brainy Gamer talked about the idea of “beating” a game a while ago, which is actually what got me thinking of how one would go about creating a relationship with “win” that would, in the end, destroy the game, the idea of the game, and the point of even playing a game. Basically, if you, the amoeba win, the character, which is also the setting, dies. You no longer serve a purpose.

We were also faced with the problem of creating these voices in a manner that was both believable and interesting. We’re still hard at work on this — but our voice talent is solid, and I believe that the story is compelling enough to keep the player entertained throughout their puzzle solving. I’m not going to bother going too far into this now, because I imagine it’ll be a major point in the second of these posts (when the game finishes itself), when I’ll be able to talk more thoroughly about what I thought worked well and what didn’t when dealing with the narrative.

WHERE WE ARE AND WHERE WE’RE HEADING

As of this last week, we’ve both finished up with school for the semester. I’ll be heading back in June for a month, but we’re still given ample time to continue on Simoebic Dysentery. The future of the game is still rather daunting. We have the final proof’s of the story. We have the voice acting. We have a hundred or so levels to design. We have mutagens, add-ons, adaptations and enhancements to think about. Oh, what was that? Didn’t I mention that the game will feature mild RPG elements that allow your amoeba to evolve? Well, RPG in a loose sense, as the evolutions will come from how you attack the levels, not from a dice roll or upgrade system. The hope is that by gauging the way the player plays the game, our branching narrative will adapt to continue the challenge while the setting changes as well, flushing out its own systems and bringing in new ones. New elements will be introduced based around the ways a player beats a level (do they float through the blood stream and hide from white blood cells, or do the lyse their way through like a tank?). So far we’ve learned a lot of things. We’ve learned to keep our ideas small, to understand our own limits but still push them, we’ve learned that friends aren’t going to spend time beta testing or toying around with an unfinished project, but strangers on the internet will, we’ve learned that we have an original idea that is worth continuing with. Sure, in the end, this is “just another indie game.” But it’s our indie game dammit. And I’m already proud of it.

Man, that was is a long title. I really ought to have shortened it somehow. Um. So, anyway, Mojiferous and I are hard at work getting Simoebic Dysentery up and running on every conceivable platform, some of which are pipe dreams that I’m forcing him to look into, and some that are more viable. But long long ago in a land far far away, we put together the concept and artwork for an Lucasarts style adventure game on the iPhone. This, obviously has never been released, and likely will never be released. That said, the character’s were complete, as was the dialog tree and plot. Now, until I figure out a way to present the dialog tree that isn’t boring, I’m going to share the character designs. Enjoy what never was!

All the votes for the Udevgames Contest 2008 have been tallied up by an army of hamsters, and Mojiferous and I have walked away with a First Place finish in the “Originality” category as well as a Bronze in the audio category (for the umpteenth time, the soundtrack, performed by the Republic of Thoronia Band is available here) for Simoebic Dysentery.

A special thank you to all who voted for the game, Mojiferous and his lovely assistant Liaht, Christiné for the feedback on the soundtrack, and all the other developers in the competition.

For those of you unable to play the beta version, worry not, we’re hard at work on the full game, getting the dialogue finished up, designing new levels and such, and I’ve purchased a whip from Amazon.com to pelt Mojiferous with so we can squash all the known bugs. The game will be released on every single platform we can push the thing to shortly (ie, in this century). Thanks again folks! Next stop wonderland!

PS Anyone who played the game on their Mac’s, please feel free to email me (sidebar), comment below or sign up for the Mojiferforums to push design idea’s, bugs, crash reports, complaints or high fives.

PPS I’ve started becoming obsessed with the English Explorer Percy Fawcett, any idea how we can work that into the game?

Mojiferous and I have finished up the work on the contest-ready beta version of Simoebic Dysentery, a puzzle game for Mac’s that pushes the user to tackle the human body in an effort to guide an amoeba along the path of glory. As with any contest, this one wants you to vote on the winner, and it’s our humble suggestion that you vote for us, so that fame and glory will follow. Download the game here. Vote here. You can also pick up the full soundtrack (created by the Republic of Thoronia Band) here.

The art of telling a story is a simple one. That is, it’s simple as an idea, and if you have the means to get that idea onto paper, you are set to go. As a person who strives for the ability to call himself a writer, I tend to look at things from a narrative viewpoint. This causes a strange breakage in thought when it comes to video games. No, not because video games lack story, but because a video game’s narrative isn’t as simple as say, a movie, or a story. The word “narrative” encompasses so much more here. It is the universe, the world, the flora, the fauna, the shrubbery, the characters, the plot, the camera, the lighting, etc. Video games do not operate like movies, nor like books, they are their own entity, and unfortunately are often ridiculed, underused systems of storytelling. This is often because of a writers perception of a “gamer” as an underaged or underdeveloped human who is looking, perhaps at the most to interact or be immersed in a world, but isn’t looking for a complex story. This is quite wrong, as a number of very intelligent people will point out. That being said, that doesn’t mean that designers or writers believe in their audiences enough.

Being not only a person whom would one day like to call myself a professional writer (or at least a pseudo-professional paid jibber-jabber master) but also one whom plays video games and attends a school that breads experimental fiction, I tend to wonder about these things. Why have writers stayed away from the medium? Are they afraid? More afraid then having there works butchered by a Hollywood film exec? Are they not wanted? Not needed? This doesn’t ring true throughout the magical game developer kingdom, there are plenty of forward thinking people out there churning out great games that combine all the aspects of narrative design. There are designers who believe in storytelling and designers who believe in massive set pieces, there are games that stay on one path and games that give the player a sense of freedom, there are even games that leave the storytelling up to the player. You don’t play Sims, you weave a world, Far Cry 2 doesn’t tell you a story you have to find it; all of these combine different narrative elements to achieve the challenge of player immersion and control. However, few games are willing to challenge this challenge. Few people are willing to play a game that challenges their minds and their hands, and even fewer players are willing to play an experimental game… or, at least that’s what we’d like to think.

If you were to find and talk to Robert Coover or Italo Calvino and ask them a question like, “What would you think about being able to tell a story with branching dialogue in which the reader is allowed to respond, thus branching a new set of dialogue and changing the story?” Both writers, and likely many more would be on board. Look at all the hyperlink fiction of the ’90s, the copious amounts of footnotes in modern novels, or the fourth wall breaking meta-excursions of nearly every modern author. This digital medium should be there playground. But instead we get a far less interesting set of worlds, a science fiction war epic, a science fiction horror story, a fantasy lovecraft, a post apocalyptic wasteland… it’s genre fiction. As with all arguments there are many exceptions, some of which even keep within the restraints of financial success, Fallout 3 is a massive game driven by the player’s motive’s, Bioshock is a science fiction epic, Braid a bizarre dream, Grand Theft Auto IV an immigrants struggle… but by remaining in these genre staples, relying on the conventions, the designers are given a freebie–the world is already accepted, it’s acknowledged, there are rules and regulations. Video games will never step off the grocery store shelf of paperback fiction unless designers believe in their players. A twist doesn’t make a good story, convolution doesn’t make a good story, freedom of choice doesn’t make a good story, stereotypes don’t make a good story… what makes a story special is the interaction that the text has with the reader, the writers trust in a readers intelligence, video games are missing this interaction. Sure, it’s easy to draw you in, “immersion” is the industries hottest catchphrase right now, but that isn’t what makes a story memorable. You can be drawn into a John Grisham novel, but that doesn’t make it good. Learning something about a new world, yourself, others, being made to laugh, cry, wonder, think, interact… that’s a good story.

Of course, if every game tried to do this it won’t work, and there will always be a place for genre-games. Whether its survival-horror or a fantasy RPG, these things will always be staples, they can and will be excellent, and they can and will be played and purchased. Experimental narratives cannot and should not be applied to all games–but they ought to be applied to some. Video games do not have to be solely about challenging a players dexterity, or puzzling their mind with parlor tricks, sometimes it can be more. It doesn’t always have to be escapism or immersion, it doesn’t always have to be multiplayer or filled with war. A narrative is a world, it’s a dynamic system, it’s the control scheme, it’s the flora, it’s the camera angle, it’s the characters, it’s the story–all of these aspects working together are what make video games interesting, it’s what has brought them out of the basement and into the forefront of the entertainment industry. Now there’s a chance to play with them a bit more, push them around, experiment. Sure, not all the experiments are going to work. Not all of them will be successfull, but as long as new ideas are consistantly being put on the table the industry will be in good shape.

This isn’t a new argument, and it’s possible it’s an argument that will never be solved, but to those that say video games can’t tell a good story and have good gameplay: that sounds more like a challenge than a statement.

Yes folks it’s true. Contrary to what our initial game concepts might have lead you to believe, Mojiferous and I’s Amoeba based puzzler is well on its way to greatness. To kick off the two month long countdown we’ve decided to release the soundtrack early on, so, without further ado… here it is (zip format, individual MP3s below)! Check out Mojiferous’ explanation of the game below the track listing. And as always, feel free to check out the Republic of Thoronia’s other works here.

1. “Welcome to My Body”

2. “Unrest in Dys-century”

3. “Proteus Maximus”

4. “White Blood Cell Hot Body”

5.  “The Truth is Inside”

6.  “Amoeba I’ll Do It Tomorrow”

7.  “Mitosis Are Sore”

8. “Phagocytosis Soda Charm”

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COPIED FROM the Mojiferforum:

Title: Currently, something involving the word Ameba, Amoeba, Hot Sick, etc. etc. (suggestions, anyone?)
Genre: A real-time puzzler… Sort of an ugly man-beast-child of Frogger, Dig Dug, Super Mario Brothers, Portal, and dysentery.
Game Description: You are a parasite (at this stage in development an amoeba), happily going about your business of parasitism inside some unfortunate fellow’s body. You float through the blood stream, looking for nutrients, avoiding phages and antibiotics, and trying to (literally) divide and conquer. The game will be divided into “levels” and “worlds”- each level is a portion of a system or organ within the person’s body you are living within- so for example, the first “world” will likely be the lungs or stomach, with minor “levels” as you advance through the stomach wall and towards whatever organ you’re after next. Each level ends with a “target cell”, much like the flag at the end of a Super Mario level, full of nutrients to allow you to continue your journey, with end-of-world levels home to a much more nutrient rich cell that will give your amoeba enough energy to divide, increasing the number of “lives” you have and opening the door for possible mutation. Mutation is currently planned to be non-directional (meaning neither definitively positive nor negative) and allows for added abilities, special skills, or [possibly] unforeseen consequences.
How it will work: Like Dig Dug married to Super Mario at Frogger’s house… The player will start at one end of the level, with the “target cell” at the opposite end- in between there will be a maze of blood vessels, cells, bone, muscle, etc. etc. The player can move freely through the blood vessels, but they will be the main conduits for immune-response cells (of various kinds), antibiotics, and other such amoeba-eating nasties (everything will move through the blood vessels according to a “pulse”, and in early levels the player may not have strong enough propulsion to overcome this pulse and may be stuck riding the current. Also, as the “patient” gets sicker, the pulse will increase, making the game’s “immune response” faster as levels increase… this is the Frogger part of the game, timing your escape from the white blood cells.) Surrounding the blood vessels will be cells that the player is able to lyse, or burst- much like Dig Dug, tunneling through the body’s organs to get at the “target cell”. Occasionally these normal cells will also hold immune-system nasties or bonus proteins, making them impassible or attractive. Scattered about will also be areas that are impassible (such as bones or muscle tissue), that the player will have to plan around. Big gameplay concept: The amoeba may only destroy a limited number of cells in its quest for the “target cell”, so the player will have to plan their route to the target- will it be through the dangers of the blood stream, or can you make it through the maze of cells and tissue? if only you had enough cell-bursting power…
Graphics: The graphics will be modeled after Gray’s Anatomy (the book, not the TV show), with a woodcut/etched look. Mostly black and white, but with color overlays for blood vessels, target cells, etc. Some important items or places will be labeled in a similar fashion to the book.
Controls: WASD and spacebar

Development Tools:
REALBasic
Illustrator
Inkscape
Gimp
Audacity

Team:
Joe Flores (Mojiferous) – code, design
Thorin Klosowski (King Thor) – design, script, music, sound
Liaht Rosenstein – technical consultation, editor

Additional notes: We’re hoping to have some sort of soundtrack for the game, and recorded dialog (that will sound muddied, as if you were listening to it inside the body) whether that happens, we’ll see…

Development Plan (as of 01/09/09):
1) build a graphics engine for the game with accompanying level editor, post them here, distribute to team (1 week?)
2) design levels, while sound, music, and other assets come together (early Feb?)
3) assemble levels and start building physics and logic for the game (late Feb?)
4) something close to a working game (hopefully by the end of the contest!)

Resistance: Fall of Man and Resistance 2 are two action-shooter games that were released on the PS3. Generally speaking, action games have razor thin plotlines and thin voice acting, but Resistance: Fall of Man, attempted to expand on their universe creation by using History Channel-esque World War II montages with a voice over.  The first game was immersive and interesting, and the documentary style storytelling worked surprisingly well. However, the second game, which continues the story of the main protagonist, manages to drop the ball on the narrative, and more importantly, fail to live up to what was potentially a very interesting character development.

Often games will take pieces of history or other fiction to help generate an immediate response from the player. In Bioshock we were not only given a story that closely mimicked Atlas Shrugged, we were also given a character named Atlas, it was a nod that made the overarching world grounded in our reality, and helped push the player into the game even further. In Resistance, we get the same thing. Other than the game taking place in a alternate-post-war world, we also have a main character whose namesake not only predetermines the story’s ending, but grounds it into a reality that we can familiarize with.

Nathan Hale was an officer during the Revolutionary War and considered America’s first spy. He is most famous for the line “I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country,” which he muttered before he was hanged by the British. Hale was well known to infiltrate enemy lines, disguise himself as a British soldier and would convey back to the American’s the British troop movements.

Lt. Nathan Hale is the protagonist from Resistance and Resistance 2. He is charged with infiltrating enemy lines to gather the information needed to take down an invading alien force known as the Chimera (another nod to fiction, the mythological beast, Chimera was said to be made out of several different animal parts. This plays into the story with a few allusions to the Chimera possibly being the first inhabitants of Earth and therefore being a mix of human and alien. Unfortunately this is never fully explained or detailed in any way). In his efforts he is infected with an alien virus. The alien virus will eventually take over his body and turn him into an alien himself, however, in the second game a doctor has found a way to inhibit the virus from overtaking him. Despite the suggestions from his officers, Hale decides to push on into the alien forces, refusing to break back to base to get his shots, effectively sacrificing himself to shut down the invading forces.

The Revolutionary War Nathan Hale is often cited as a martyr, Lt. Nathan Hale could be as well, (*SPOILER*) considering that he is killed by a fellow soldier at the end of the second game. This is a very straightforward story and it’s remarkable how Resistance 2 manages to lose ground on it. Namely, we are never given Hale’s back story, so we really don’t know why he’s even fighting in the military, he’s considered a mysterious hero throughout both games, which actually just means that the writer’s never bothered to pen a reasonable past. This makes the case for martyrdom all the more complicated if you do not care for an individual, if you cannot sympathize with their losses, it is difficult to care about their death. Hale obviously choses early on that he is going to sacrifice himself to stop the Chimera, and the writers and developers did as well, otherwise they wouldn’t have named him after a historic martyr. Knowing this, the developer’s still didn’t take the time to give Hale a sense of place or virtue. We don’t need a life story out of him, but any sign of emotion would have been nice. Even in his dying moments he is so crazed by the virus that we aren’t offered a look of worry or doubt from him, but by his killer, who seems, perhaps, to remorse slightly in his choice.

There are narrative follies abound throughout Resistance 2, like a first-time director with tons of new cameras and tricks, the game never seems to figure out how it wants to tell its story. It jumps from first-person to montage to third person so often that you’re constantly forced to reconsider whose viewpoint your seeing the story through, who the narrator is, and more often than not, what the characters are supposed to symbolize. Often in action games we’re given a series of archetype’s, and even here Resistance fails. Sure, we get the scientist that accidentally destroyed the world and is now trying to fix it, the big-mouthed fellow soldier that eventually does the right thing, and our protagonist, who, well, doesn’t fit an archetype. In the first game Hale rarely spoke, simply just fighting his way though the story as someone else narrated the events. Here, Hale won’t shut up, he has questions, complaints and directs the other troops around. But his purpose is just that, barking orders, being a badass, but never fully becoming any of these things.

Generally speaking, when writers pull from history to tell a story, they do so in a way that means something. Unfortunately, Hale’s story doesn’t mean much in Resistance and it’s too bad. It’s a classic action script that wouldn’t have taken much to make it great but in the end is unispired and sadly, uninspiring.

2008 was  a year of missed opportunities. Companies, as usual, rushed to the holiday storefronts and delivered lackluster products in order to keep them timely. One company did this more than any other: Ubisoft is the winner of the year for Best Games That Were Almost Perfect Yet Still Managed To Have One or Two Fatal Flaws That Ruined the Whole Game for Many People award. Some of these games were released with regular old bugs, some with game play flaws, some with graphic flaws, and one game was released with no flaws whatsoever, but being the type of game that it is didn’t garner that much hype behind it. Either way, here we go, the rest of the best of whatever it was I got my hands on this year!

Resistance 2 — Action games are usually pretty easy to execute, run kill run kill run kill story run kill run kill. Resistance 2 tries to be something more with absolutely horrid results. The game misses a giant, easy to hop onto barge when it comes to it’s story. *SPOILER ALERT* The plot follows the continued adventures of Nathan Hale, a soldier infected with an alien virus. Yeah, it’s stupid, but being the second game we’ve gotten used to the premise and even might have gotten close to Hale. Quickly that closeness is removed with shotty storytelling and phoned-in voice acting (literally, the voice acting sounds like it was recorded on a analog tapedeck, run through a washer, put out to dry and then played over a phone line to a Radioshack microphone). What’s worse is the fact that the story is so easy to tell that you’re constantly slapping your forehead as you play: Man sacrifices self to save humanity. Easy-peasy yeah? You’d think that Sony, a gigantic company could’ve hired at least one writer for this script right? A script about a man that is willing to die for his country, that, in fact DOES DIE FOR HIS COUNTRY. And how did I feel when I got shot in the face and the game ended? Happy. Thank goodness they killed me, I thought, happy days, I thought, but, why? I was just shot and I don’t care at all. Okay, okay, some of you are screaming that action games don’t need plots, you don’t need to care about your character… my only response is that if action games don’t want plots then don’t tack them on, don’t decide early in the game to kill your main character at the end if you don’t want to attempt to illicit an emotional responce from the player. So, the story was bland and uninspired, big deal. But the game was an action-game, and action games are no-nonsense fun right? Not with Resistance 2, apparently. The game doesn’t reward you for learning its mechanics or trying out new methods, it rewards you for dying. It’s this type of trial and error game play that, although interesting and fun in the 16-bit era, isn’t really interesting or fun now. Sure, it’ll get the job done, but isn’t advanced AI, player choice and a sense of intelligence and accomplishment where the industry should be heading by now?

Dead Space — Ah, survival horror, the genre that seems to be lost and confused and unable to rescue itself. Dead Space promised to revitalize the genre, give us back something, something new and exciting, a story, a universe a world a theory a blast. It was so damn close — but lacking in some major ways. The world that we get is created through out of the box movies, comics and shorts, the world exists around the game, but fails inside of it. Unfortunately, Dead Space’s biggest flaw comes from its ambition. It really wants the player to buy into the world with an inventive HUD, System Shock-esque storytelling and in game cutscenes. Unfortunately, they forgot to make the ship that you spend the entire game on believable as a living habitat. I’ll take the world, I’ll accept the twisted Scientology-esque plot line, I’ll even accept the girlfriend-gone-missing-turned-ghost part, but could we get a little bit of trash on the spaceship? Maybe some bathrooms? A kitchen? I wanted to believe in this game, to inhabit its world, but EA failed on one of the simplest parts. Dead Space 2? Trash? Bathrooms? Ducking?

NHL 09 – I love hockey, but hockey games aren’t really a yearly necessity for me. I’ll pick one up every few years, or even as rarely as once a generation. However, NHL 09 isn’t just another sports game — and regardless of your thoughts on the sport or sports games in general, it’s difficult not to love NHL 09 for what it accomplishes. Not only are the animations, physics, game play, modes and controls all superior to prior versions, it also introduces the closest thing to an MMO for sports nuts ever seen in sports game. Full online leagues, 6 player co-op, experience points, tournaments — this is the WoW for people with a crush on Mike Modano, Warhammer for those of us who dance in glee when a game is actually broadcast in HD. Simply put, NHL 09 is the best sports game in recent history.

Prince of Persia — Wow, I haven’t seen a game get hated on, loved on, and talked about this much in a while. For a game so polarizing you’d think people would have more concrete ideas, but even some of the best critics still seem to be a bit confused about whether or not they actually enjoyed themselves while playing. Personally, I just bought the thing yesterday for less than $30 which means that my expectations for the game are a bit lower than people people that paid $60. If I enjoy the game for 6 hours I’d say that I’d have gotten my money’s worth. PoP is one of the examples of Ubisoft missing it’s mark again, regardless of my own playthrough reactions (the other times being Far Cry 2 this year, and Assassin’s Creed last year). The company is getting damn close to a great game, but keeps on falling short. You can read what many, many others have said about Prince of Persia by following these links:

• Brainy Gamer’s 4 Part Take on the Game
• Graduate School Gamer
• Variety
• Game Critique

And that’s pretty much it for me. A few DS games popped onto my screens, some downloadable’s, small stuff that I don’t really feel like going to in-depth about. 2008 was, for the most part, a good year, one that showcased the release of a few games with startlingly large ambitions. It’s those ambitions that make 2009 and beyond so exciting. So what do we in Thoronia want to see in the future? Well…

• New IP Price drops — Games like Dead Space, Mirror’s Edge and Little Big Planet would have been better received had they plopped into the marketplace at $40. Game companies need to remember that games, like all medium benefit highly from word of mouth, and if we all chip in to talk about new titles they’ll eventually sell well. Every other media-industry is willing to give early-adopters a price break, why not video games?
• Reviewers need to judge games based on what they do – It seems like the 20-something nerdballs that have become game-reviewers for the major online sites have got the pretension stick so far up their ass that they’ve forgotten that there are hundreds of different types of gamers out there. We all can’t be fit into the two main categories of hardcore and casual. Reviews need to look at a game and what it is supposed to accomplish and judge accordingly. Oh, and online-centric games like Left 4 Dead or Socom need to be reviewed AFTER the launch. I mean, c’mon, how can you review a game without actually playing it? Oh, and on the same topic, reviewers need to finish the games they review. Too many this year have fessed up after the fact that, “well, I’m only on the third level, but I really like it so far…”
• Games need to find their place — We the community and we the gamers need to let developers figure out what they’re doing this year. We need to give them a bit of lee-way as each director and producer learns their place in video game creation. Not all games are going to fit easily into a category and subsequently not all categories are going to hold all the games. In order to expand the medium into something truly special, gamers need to stop crying foul when a developer tries something new. Actually, gamers and fanboys really just need to shut their mouths when it comes to things they don’t understand. I haven’t chimed in on the goofiness of Gears of War 2 for a very distinct reason — I don’t care. So if you don’t, then don’t say anything. The internet is unforgiving, and trust me, when you’re older, and you google your name and find the stupid things you’ve said, you’ll feel, well, stupid.
• DLC needs to go away, patches need to come quicker — Microsoft, don’t be a bunch of dicks. If a game, especially an online based game launches and needs some patching, let the developer do it quickly. And developers (Bethesda, I’m looking at you), don’t charge us the price of another game for expansion packs. Look, Fallout 3 was great, but I already paid $60 for it. Now you want me to spend another $30 on your expansion packs? The ones that easily could have been included on the disc if you weren’t so keen on getting it out for Christmas? No. No. No. This market isn’t going to sustain you’re stupid additions and you need to look at companies like Valve to understand what keeps gamers happy and ready to come back for more. Free upgrades, map packs and patches.
• Trust us, developer’s we’re smart — Game companies and developer’s need to realize that a growing majority of gamers are intelligent and willing to let a game challenge their mind as well as their ethics. We are well read and understand complex concepts, you don’t need to dumb down, or worse, remove idea’s from games because you think we won’t get it.
• Rereleases and sequels — You know how the movie industry is always made fun of for doing stupid things like My Bloody Valentine 3D? Or Spiderman 3? Well, you’re doing that too. Stop. Come up with new ideas or take a cue from a series like Final Fantasy where a game might just exist in a world, or format — we don’t need to continued versions of your already despicable plot lines. Spiritual successors are all well and fine with us.
• Social Components — Not all games have to be online. Not all games need to shared. We, in an era where games are loved for their multi-player to the point of a lack thereof takes points away from a score, need to remember that playing with yourself can be just as fun and relaxing.
• Downloadable Titles — Which is different than DLC, mind you. The three console networks have at their fingertips the picture perfect distribution system (look at Steam console makers). Unfortunately, this has so far been wasted on titles that would be better suited for an arcade than a living room (or again, back to the rereleases: emulation, Dreamcast games, HD upgrades (wherein they make the game kind of blurry and put some artistic bars on the sides of the screen), and a surprisingly large amount of SCHMUPS on the 360). Of course, there are exceptions, but games like Everyday Shooter and Braid proved that a single person could make an amazing game and get it out to hundreds of thousands of people. Sony , now is your chance to showcase your innovation by latching onto more innovative developers. Quick, while Microsoft is busy trying to update Bad Boys to play on the 360, find a help release more games like Flower and Nobi Nobi Boy. Show PS3 users, even if it’s for pretend, that you’re all about the little guys.
• The Cross-Platform Multiplayer Pipedream – It’s 2009, there are three main consoles and PCs. Most games are developed for at least three of these major four. Add onto that we’re also in a recession were few people own multiple systems. Now, I’m not a huge online guy, I prefer a good single player experience. But games like Call of Duty 4 and Left 4 Dead were great life-distractions (if I didn’t have Call of Duty 4 while I was unemployed I don’t know what I would have done with myself). Unfortunetly, I’m a one console person, and it’s difficult to talk friends into buying the PS3 version of games due to the stigma attached to PSN. Now, if PC games can run on a number of systems I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to play COD4 with a XBOX, I realize Microsoft is money hungry and loves charging for all of their services, but I’d be willing  to sacrifice a little bit of cash for some cross-platform play, and I’m sure others would as well. But then again, maybe that’s why I’m not working in the marketing department anywhere.

People have incredibly strong feelings in regards to the Metal Gear Solid Series. It’s one of those “love it or hate it” franchises that sparks massive debates by bloggers and critics — yet in a critical score generally receives high marks. The video game community has poured over this title like no other this year, with exception perhaps to Little Big Planet and Grand Theft Auto IV. It was marketed as not only a PS3 seller, but a perfect conclusion to one of the most cinematic and confusing stories to ever hit the consoles. You won’t be hard pressed to  find information about the game on the internet, so if you’re interested feel free to do so. What I want to talk about here however, is the metagaming that Metal Gear incorporates so well.

Metafiction, much like MGS, is a love it or hate it genre of fiction. It’s often called experimental, cheap, or on several occasions, childish. It has been used as a technique for storytelling in countless books and films ranging from The Neverending Story to House of Leaves, from If On a Winter’s Night a Traveler to  The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. By definition, it is fiction that is self-aware.

Few games are willing to break the fourth wall, and while many tinker with it (say Super Paper Mario), few dive in completely. This year we had two titles that used the technique to varying degree’s, No More Heroes on the Wii, which used super-stylized metagameness to create a bizarre world in which having a character named Travis Touchdown become an assassin who uses a lightsaber to hit baseballs back at pitchers, and Metal Gear Solid 4, which used meta-gaming techniques to break immersion then subsequently to create a new kind of game experience. While No More Heroes was all in good fun, the literary equivalent of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy or Breakfast of Champions, Metal Gear Solid 4 takes the House of Leaves approach (with about as many characters and plot points to keep track of as well).

Metal Gear Solid 4 has its quirky moments, from jokes about the Xbox 360’s storage capacity to player-triggered flashback sequences, but some of the game’s best experiences come when the game reminds you that is is just that, a game. Take one of the games ending sequences in which the aged and near death Old Snake is forced to crawl through a microwave to get to computer server in hopes of shutting it down. Everything at this point in the game is falling apart, friends are getting shot, cut, slapped down, shot at, Snake’s gear is falling apart, the world seems on the brink of destruction. What one would expect from a game of this nature is a big, catostrophic cutscene that moves the story along. That is, essentially what you get, however instead of the game letting you sit back and watch it all happen, you are forced to push the triangle button to get Snake to proceed. At first this is a simple task, but as he gets further and further into the microwave, he begins to collapse to the floor and the player has to keep pushing the triangle button. For what seems like several minutes, with your hands getting numb, Snake crawls across the floor, and you continue pounding on triangle, scene’s cut through across the screen of everyone else in your party going down, and you continue to press the triangle button. This does absolutely nothing in regards to breaking any illusion to the fact that you’re playing a game, but it does make you feel the torment that Snake feels, you are tired, weary and sick of doing this whole thing until, finally, with carpal tunnel setting in, you make it. Triumphant isn’t generally a word associated with a single button press, but here it is one of the most relieving and self-aware moments in gaming history.

There are several more events throughout the game, but it’s up to you to find them. The point here is that Metal Gear Solid 4 enjoys breaking the fourth wall, it relishes in it, and somehow, regardless of the constant reminder of its medium, the player feels a solid connection to Snake. A connection that would be impossible if we were just given a set of hands holding a gun, or even feet that we can see while running. In the end, it proves that immersion doesn’t have to always mean the same thing, and for that Metal Gear Solid 4 is a rewarding and intelligent experience that, although bloated at points, silly in others, is one of the best video game experiences of the last decade.

If I was 14 I would think that Little Big Planet was the stupidest thing in the world. If I was 8 I would love it. I’m 27 and I think it’s one of the best things to hit this generation of console’s since… well, since Metal Gear Solid 4, but other than MGS4 nothing has it beat. Why? Well, in case the media hasn’t shoved it down your throat yet (or you’re one of the many, many readers that don’t admit to loving video games), Little Big Planet is adorable, it’s girlfriend/wife ready, it’s kid ready and it’s some of the best fun playing a game you’ll have all year.

In description, the game is nothing more than a platformer, you run and jump and grab things. But the design of the game is what carries it over the edge. The entire world is created with fabrics and stitches, cardboard and sharpies, and it looks like a massive art-school student’s final diarama project.

But we’re still not to the part that makes Little Big Planet stand out from the rest. The kicker, the big deal, the shabang is the user-created levels. Hundreds of thousands of levels are already up and available to play online, with a friend or by yourself. The developer’s integrated a full-blown level creation system into the game — something that PC users have had for years with mod’s and source codes — but this is the first time it has hit hard on a console system. Feeling a bit creatively stifled? Or perhaps you just work better as a team? Get your friends together not only just to play, but to create. We’ve all heard of the collective conscious, but a collective creative element is simply unheard of on a console system. If creating your own level sounds a bit too complicated for your taste, or perhaps you’ll argue that you’re “just not that creative” LBP has an answer: Play through the game. By the time you’ve finished the game you are aware of how each lever and pulley works, your creative juices are flowing and lightbulps are exploding over your head. Or not, and that’s okay too, you can rock every one else’s levels any time, and there are hundreds of thousands of them to dig through.

Hardcore platformer dudes will argue that the game’s spotty control scheme might turn off those that spent hours getting through Mario as quickly as possible, but the other side of the argument is that LBP didn’t settle on predetermined physics to base their game. Argue away about the precision of your sackboy, but you can’t argue with the amount of fun you’ll have pulling down a felt cloud or riding high on a piece of cloth attached to some wings.

In the end, it’s difficult to explain all the things that make this game great, but if you’ve had doubts put Little Big Planet on at a party and watch as everyone gathers around the TV, helping each through levels, wanting to get a shot, and gracefully asking, “how much does one of these PS3 things cost anyway?”