E3 predictions: everyone is making them. Since I don't have any inside connections in the industry, all I can do is travel to various news sites and see what people who know the business are expecting to happen. But of course there's no value in recycling what a hundred other people have already said. So instead, I'm going to make some ridiculous predictions and see if any of them come close to panning out.
Nintendo
There will not be a new Mario, Zelda or Kid Icarus title announced. However, the Urban Champion franchise will be resurrected as Nintendo's attempt at a mature title, a la Madworld.
Mother 3 will still not be localized for North America, but Mother 4/Earthbound 2 will be announced for the Wii for Japan and North America.
Despite claims that they have no intention of bringing out new hardware at this time, Nintendo will tease a new iteration on the Wii, with HD output, a much larger internal harddrive and WiiSpeak capabilities built-in. It won't be available until at least holiday 2010.
Microsoft
Hoping to once again get ahead of the game, MS will announce their purchase of OnLive, accompanied by a retooling of the 360 (especially the dashboard) for optimal cloud computing.
Sony
There will be a PS3 price drop.
Other
SquareEnix, in their ongoing quest to milk their IPs for all they're worth, will announce a new King's Knight title for the PS3 and 360.
Capcom announces Street Fighter vs. Mortal Kombat, in association with whoever the hell ends up with that IP after the raiding of Midway's assets. Also, their mystery title will be an open-world Strider game.
Kojima's heavily teased new game will be the next entry in the Metal Gear franchise; however, it will entirely replace controls with quick time events, allowing the game to be one long cutscene.
It will be revealed that City of Heroes developer and recent Atari acquisition Cryptic Studios is working on a Gauntlet MMORPG.
And finally...
Activision will not announce any new iterations on existing IPs.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Five Games I Want to See at E3 2009
Like most gamers, I'll be watching this year's E3 unfold from the comfort of my office chair. But the fact that I won't be there doesn't stop me from looking forward to new information about some upcoming releases.
I Am Alive: I've heard next to nothing about Ubisoft's upcoming survival (horror?) game since last year's E3, and Ubisoft doesn't seem to be in any hurry to divulge new info on it--the game's official site still has nothing on it besides the same trailer that debuted a year ago. Granted, the hardcore resource management of the survival horror genre was wearing thin by the end of the last console genreation, but transplanting those game mechanics into a new genre might make them feel fresh again. At any rate, the thought of having to explore a ruined city in the shoes of an average Joe sounds like a cool change of pace from other recent disaster games like Fallout 3 and Infamous, with their focus on leveling up into a super-powerful hero (or villain).
Alan Wake: With Duke Nukem Forever finally having been put to rest, Alan Wake seems to be a strong candidate for the new most sought-after piece of vaporware. The game has been in development since 2005, which isn't that long, but information on the title has never come in more than a trickle. Very little is known about the story, and the one trailer that exists doesn't show anything that looks like gameplay. Hopefully Remedy can pull off a really interesting psychologial thriller in the medium of video games, but right now I'd be satisfied if they announced a release window.
Faith and a .45: This one is a longshot. Back in January, it was announced that Deadline Games' Bonnie and Clyde-inspired shooter was indefinitely on hold due to lack of a publisher. This immediately inspired people to complain that the video games industry was no longer willing to take chances, but for all any of us know, it might also mean that the game was not looking very promising. Since Faith has commonly been described as "Gears of War in the great depression", the latter does at least seem like a possibility (since the world is hardly in need of another Gears clone). Regardless, the screenshots looked beautiful, and the setting is one that has rarely, if ever, been explored in games. However the final product turns out, I'd love to see it get made just to show that there are still unexplored settings out there to be taken advantage of.
Mass Effect 2: Mass Effect was a game I really wanted to like, but which had some problems that kept me from being able to get into it--especially the fact that everywhere I turned, even while I was waist-deep in a firefight, there were crowds of people calling out to me to accept side quests from them. The game was a prime example of what Penny Arcade's Tycho once called "opportunity paralysis". What makes me excited to see more of Mass Effect 2 is the fact that Bioware might have learned a lesson from Fallout 3's superior execution on the same concept. If they can tone down the number of strangers shouting at me to take care of their dirty laundry, I'll be up for giving it a second try.
Capcom's Mystery Title: Capcom has promised to deliver a new title from one of their previously existing IPs, specifying only that it won't be Devil May Cry 5. With most of the company's Japanese staff pulling out of the show due to irrational swine flu fears, there's a chance that the announcement will be put off (maybe until Tokyo Game Show), but that's merely speculation on my part. Capcom has some incredible IPs to choose from, so hopefully this announcement won't disappoint.
I Am Alive: I've heard next to nothing about Ubisoft's upcoming survival (horror?) game since last year's E3, and Ubisoft doesn't seem to be in any hurry to divulge new info on it--the game's official site still has nothing on it besides the same trailer that debuted a year ago. Granted, the hardcore resource management of the survival horror genre was wearing thin by the end of the last console genreation, but transplanting those game mechanics into a new genre might make them feel fresh again. At any rate, the thought of having to explore a ruined city in the shoes of an average Joe sounds like a cool change of pace from other recent disaster games like Fallout 3 and Infamous, with their focus on leveling up into a super-powerful hero (or villain).
Alan Wake: With Duke Nukem Forever finally having been put to rest, Alan Wake seems to be a strong candidate for the new most sought-after piece of vaporware. The game has been in development since 2005, which isn't that long, but information on the title has never come in more than a trickle. Very little is known about the story, and the one trailer that exists doesn't show anything that looks like gameplay. Hopefully Remedy can pull off a really interesting psychologial thriller in the medium of video games, but right now I'd be satisfied if they announced a release window.
Faith and a .45: This one is a longshot. Back in January, it was announced that Deadline Games' Bonnie and Clyde-inspired shooter was indefinitely on hold due to lack of a publisher. This immediately inspired people to complain that the video games industry was no longer willing to take chances, but for all any of us know, it might also mean that the game was not looking very promising. Since Faith has commonly been described as "Gears of War in the great depression", the latter does at least seem like a possibility (since the world is hardly in need of another Gears clone). Regardless, the screenshots looked beautiful, and the setting is one that has rarely, if ever, been explored in games. However the final product turns out, I'd love to see it get made just to show that there are still unexplored settings out there to be taken advantage of.
Mass Effect 2: Mass Effect was a game I really wanted to like, but which had some problems that kept me from being able to get into it--especially the fact that everywhere I turned, even while I was waist-deep in a firefight, there were crowds of people calling out to me to accept side quests from them. The game was a prime example of what Penny Arcade's Tycho once called "opportunity paralysis". What makes me excited to see more of Mass Effect 2 is the fact that Bioware might have learned a lesson from Fallout 3's superior execution on the same concept. If they can tone down the number of strangers shouting at me to take care of their dirty laundry, I'll be up for giving it a second try.
Capcom's Mystery Title: Capcom has promised to deliver a new title from one of their previously existing IPs, specifying only that it won't be Devil May Cry 5. With most of the company's Japanese staff pulling out of the show due to irrational swine flu fears, there's a chance that the announcement will be put off (maybe until Tokyo Game Show), but that's merely speculation on my part. Capcom has some incredible IPs to choose from, so hopefully this announcement won't disappoint.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Multiplying Catastrophically
I am in an age group vehemently targeted by developers. I am 20, moderately tech savvy, and in possession of all current-gen consoles, all of which are connected to an intermittently reliable broadband connection. What I am not is swayed by the call of the hoard.
I grew up counter to my generation. Generation X holds more similarities to me than anyone who is now ironically obsessed with Poggs and Batman Forever. My first video game came to me through an acient PC that I had to write down the commands for to be able to run anything. When I had mastered the simple Rogue-likes at my disposal, my father decided to invite me into the world of consoles with my very own NES. By this time the SNES was an established console. It would be just before the PS1 American launch that I would receive a SNES. My gaming development was slow and primarily done alone. I saw gaming as a personal escape. When RPGs entered into the picture my quest for immmersion was complete. Of course immersion was gained in text blips of platformers as I constructed a story to satisfy my curiousity.
The point I want to make is simple, and I feel some back story makes my proceeding objection clearer. (Then again, there are numerous journalists who will disagree with my sentiments). I am in the perfect position to take advantage of the latest gaming phenomenon and feel it has it's time and place. I do not align myself with the gamer who craves multiplayer.
Games like Left 4 Dead and Team Fortress are designed around the idea of multiplayer and are therefore excluded from my arguement. I enjoy both games and am not entirely opposed to multiplayer. What I am opposed to is the popular, and unecessary, inclusion of multiplayer into games where it ought not be. Too many games these days are destroyed by the developer's quest for sales longivity in the form of multiplayer. I feel Mr. Driller's 360 debut was tainted by the inclusion of online that was so hastily attached that had no place in finishing the game's title. Further still, Bionic Commando's multiplayer demo left me disatisfied. I do not purchase a game for it's multiplayer, unless that game is designed around it, for it, and genuinely seems engaging despite the developmental stages of the average troll user.
Bioshock 2 brought this low fire to a roar for me, largely because of the nature of it's presented multiplayer. The beauty of Bioshock was the craft and depth that could so immerse a player. The isolation, the sense of one man against unspeakable genetic mutation was thrilling. So too was the notion of the increasingly Totalitarian steps taken to preserve the idea of freedom within the city. There is a rich history presented in the shadows and set dressings. That history, the events leading up to the New Years Eve party, is precisely what I want a Bioshock prequel to be.
I want to experience the wave of madness and destruction alone. I want to see what happened to the people attempting to sneak in bibles and political propaganda. I want to see how the splicers took over.
Multiplayer may kill the development of plot. If the curent trend continues, we will see more developers rushing out demos to appeal to Live and PSN users than to those of us who have never placed much stock in repetitive online combat. Taking the image of an undamaged rapture and making it's downfall the multiplayer is vaguely understandable but devestating to those who hoped for something that would transition so well into the Rapture we presently know.
I feel my gaming isolation has developed this in me. There are several varieties of gamers, each one wanting a different thing out of their experience. For those gamers obsessed with multiplayer there are options. For those addicted to Peggle, there are numerous verisons of Peggle to satisfy the urge.
Gamers who play for immersion are a dying breed forced to turn to JRPGs that are rapidly dwindling in their variety. The fact that multiplayer sells is speeding up the change, forcing out the players who feel the pain of their characters. Not every game can capitalize on multiplayer. Titles like Fallout 3 have a place in this world. I am pleased that Bethesda and Bioware did not follow the industry call in their recent RPGs and I hope they will lead a resistance against the oversaturation of multiplayer.
Anyway, enjoy this:
I grew up counter to my generation. Generation X holds more similarities to me than anyone who is now ironically obsessed with Poggs and Batman Forever. My first video game came to me through an acient PC that I had to write down the commands for to be able to run anything. When I had mastered the simple Rogue-likes at my disposal, my father decided to invite me into the world of consoles with my very own NES. By this time the SNES was an established console. It would be just before the PS1 American launch that I would receive a SNES. My gaming development was slow and primarily done alone. I saw gaming as a personal escape. When RPGs entered into the picture my quest for immmersion was complete. Of course immersion was gained in text blips of platformers as I constructed a story to satisfy my curiousity.
The point I want to make is simple, and I feel some back story makes my proceeding objection clearer. (Then again, there are numerous journalists who will disagree with my sentiments). I am in the perfect position to take advantage of the latest gaming phenomenon and feel it has it's time and place. I do not align myself with the gamer who craves multiplayer.
Games like Left 4 Dead and Team Fortress are designed around the idea of multiplayer and are therefore excluded from my arguement. I enjoy both games and am not entirely opposed to multiplayer. What I am opposed to is the popular, and unecessary, inclusion of multiplayer into games where it ought not be. Too many games these days are destroyed by the developer's quest for sales longivity in the form of multiplayer. I feel Mr. Driller's 360 debut was tainted by the inclusion of online that was so hastily attached that had no place in finishing the game's title. Further still, Bionic Commando's multiplayer demo left me disatisfied. I do not purchase a game for it's multiplayer, unless that game is designed around it, for it, and genuinely seems engaging despite the developmental stages of the average troll user.
Bioshock 2 brought this low fire to a roar for me, largely because of the nature of it's presented multiplayer. The beauty of Bioshock was the craft and depth that could so immerse a player. The isolation, the sense of one man against unspeakable genetic mutation was thrilling. So too was the notion of the increasingly Totalitarian steps taken to preserve the idea of freedom within the city. There is a rich history presented in the shadows and set dressings. That history, the events leading up to the New Years Eve party, is precisely what I want a Bioshock prequel to be.
I want to experience the wave of madness and destruction alone. I want to see what happened to the people attempting to sneak in bibles and political propaganda. I want to see how the splicers took over.
Multiplayer may kill the development of plot. If the curent trend continues, we will see more developers rushing out demos to appeal to Live and PSN users than to those of us who have never placed much stock in repetitive online combat. Taking the image of an undamaged rapture and making it's downfall the multiplayer is vaguely understandable but devestating to those who hoped for something that would transition so well into the Rapture we presently know.
I feel my gaming isolation has developed this in me. There are several varieties of gamers, each one wanting a different thing out of their experience. For those gamers obsessed with multiplayer there are options. For those addicted to Peggle, there are numerous verisons of Peggle to satisfy the urge.
Gamers who play for immersion are a dying breed forced to turn to JRPGs that are rapidly dwindling in their variety. The fact that multiplayer sells is speeding up the change, forcing out the players who feel the pain of their characters. Not every game can capitalize on multiplayer. Titles like Fallout 3 have a place in this world. I am pleased that Bethesda and Bioware did not follow the industry call in their recent RPGs and I hope they will lead a resistance against the oversaturation of multiplayer.
Anyway, enjoy this:
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Standing Out
Wired's Clive Thompson has an interesting post up over at the Game | Life blog, about a recent study which purports to show that most gamers care far more about play mechanics than violence. Discussion of the study segues into discussion of why, if violence isn't being demanded by the market, games continue to be so violent. I think Thompson hits the nail on the head when he says that the ever-escalating levels of head-exploding gore in action games is largely a product of studios who are convinced that their games won't sell if they aren't drenched in blood. They see other studios dishing out the entrails, and think the only way to compete is to back up a bigger dumptruck full of organs. Of course with the exception of the early Mortal Kombat games, when blood-fountains were a novelty in games, buckets of gore have never compensated for shoddy gameplay. Nevertheless, the gore (and, usually, the testosterone) keep getting ramped up, whether they make any difference or not.
I can offer some anecdotal evidence to corroborate Thompson's point. I worked for a few years as an in-house ad designer at a newspaper. Most of the local car lots would run big, expensive full-page ads every week, and during the time I worked there, these ads became a kind of arms race. The biggest lot in town would run an ad with 50 pictures, so the next week their competitors would want 75. The big lot would react by wanting 100 pictures, so the smaller lots would want 125, and so on. Lest anyone accuse me of committing a false cause fallacy, the salesperson who dealt with these lots would regularly come back to the office exasperated, with stories of how each lot owner would demand to know how many pictures would be in his competitors' ads that week so he could one-up them. The end result was ads crammed full of hundreds of tiny pictures of cars accompanied by seven-point type (which is barely legible when printed on newsprint) descriptions of each. Of course nobody could tell what was going on in these ads, but the lots were all happy to throw their money away on unreadable advertising, so long as they weren't being "bested" by another lot with more pictures.
There was another offshoot of this, though: every ad looked exactly the same. If you weren't paying attention, you could look through the paper's automotive section, and get the impression that a single car lot had bought all the advertising space. So desperate were they to win by beating the others at their own game, that by the end the lots even had their logos all looking similar. Of course we designers tried from time to time to get the salespeople to persuade the lot managers to try something different--like not try to advertise every car on the lot in every ad. With every ad in the section looking almost identical, the first person to buck the trend would be instantly noticeable. One of the designers made a mock-up of an ad with far fewer cars but far better design fundamentals, and the salesperson presented it to one of the managers. His response was that if he changed his ad, he would be admitting defeat, and we went right back to the tiny, blurry pictures and seven point type. The moral of the story: this was five or six years ago, and now only a couple of those car lots are still in business. While I'm sure the money they wasted on full page, full color ads that nobody could read was only a minor factor in their going under, one at least has to wonder if things would have been different had they been willing to do something to break away from the pack, rather than engaging in a never-ending dogfight.
Obviously, something similar is going on in action games, not just in the ever-rising tides of blood, but in characters (including character designs) and scenarios. We may not call FPS's "Doom clones" anymore, but most of them are still basically following the formula set down by the genre's pioneers. Sure, the worlds are more open, the graphics are better and the play mechanics are far more refined, but the basic premise--grizzled one-man army blows a bunch of monsters to hell in a spray of blood--hasn't changed. If your reaction to this is "Well, of course--that's what the genre is!" I invite you to play Half-Life 2 or Bioshock. Yes, these games are still about shooting a lot of stuff from a first-person perspective, but they build their own, instantly recognizable worlds. Their designers had the courage (or foresight) to stand out from the pack, and as a result both are considered milestones in the genre. And the rise of the term "Gears clone" shows that we're seeing something similar in the third-person shooter arena, as developers there have become convinced that no such game can succeed without a Gears-style cover mechanic.
It's not hard to see why more people don't branch out, though. Titles like Okami, Shadow of the Colossus and Beyond Good and Evil (just to name a few) which buck popular gaming trends tend to sell poorly. On the other hand, look at the ongoing success of PopCap games. Peggle and Plants Vs. Zombies have done huge business while eschewing every member of gaming's holy trinity of gore, space marines and cover mechanics. So what's the difference? That's not an easy question to answer, and maybe the comparison is not even fair. PopCap has incredible distribution, gets loads of word of mouth advertising even outside of the games press, and makes games that are essentially reskinned and refined versions of other instantly recognizable games. The niche titles mentioned above, on the other hand, are artsy, high-concept games that reqeuire significant investment to understand, and are only spoken of by a tiny percentage of the gaming press. So while PopCap's games buck the trends of graphic violence and mature themes (read: lots of swearing and misogyny) so prevalent in popular action games, they really aren't bucking gaming trends writ large.
So will truly original titles ever be able to sell enough in the U.S. to be viable? Hopefully, the continuing expansion of gaming's audience will go some way in solving the problem. Right now, games have a bigger audience than ever, but it still largely overlaps with the same audience that consumes mainstream entertainment. If the industry can somehow draw in more of the independent media crowd, then niche titles can, if not stop being "niche" altogether, at least be guaranteed enough of an audience to make them worth publishers' investment dollars. Eventually, it would be great to see games that stand out from all gaming trends get the attention they often richly deserve.
I can offer some anecdotal evidence to corroborate Thompson's point. I worked for a few years as an in-house ad designer at a newspaper. Most of the local car lots would run big, expensive full-page ads every week, and during the time I worked there, these ads became a kind of arms race. The biggest lot in town would run an ad with 50 pictures, so the next week their competitors would want 75. The big lot would react by wanting 100 pictures, so the smaller lots would want 125, and so on. Lest anyone accuse me of committing a false cause fallacy, the salesperson who dealt with these lots would regularly come back to the office exasperated, with stories of how each lot owner would demand to know how many pictures would be in his competitors' ads that week so he could one-up them. The end result was ads crammed full of hundreds of tiny pictures of cars accompanied by seven-point type (which is barely legible when printed on newsprint) descriptions of each. Of course nobody could tell what was going on in these ads, but the lots were all happy to throw their money away on unreadable advertising, so long as they weren't being "bested" by another lot with more pictures.
There was another offshoot of this, though: every ad looked exactly the same. If you weren't paying attention, you could look through the paper's automotive section, and get the impression that a single car lot had bought all the advertising space. So desperate were they to win by beating the others at their own game, that by the end the lots even had their logos all looking similar. Of course we designers tried from time to time to get the salespeople to persuade the lot managers to try something different--like not try to advertise every car on the lot in every ad. With every ad in the section looking almost identical, the first person to buck the trend would be instantly noticeable. One of the designers made a mock-up of an ad with far fewer cars but far better design fundamentals, and the salesperson presented it to one of the managers. His response was that if he changed his ad, he would be admitting defeat, and we went right back to the tiny, blurry pictures and seven point type. The moral of the story: this was five or six years ago, and now only a couple of those car lots are still in business. While I'm sure the money they wasted on full page, full color ads that nobody could read was only a minor factor in their going under, one at least has to wonder if things would have been different had they been willing to do something to break away from the pack, rather than engaging in a never-ending dogfight.
Obviously, something similar is going on in action games, not just in the ever-rising tides of blood, but in characters (including character designs) and scenarios. We may not call FPS's "Doom clones" anymore, but most of them are still basically following the formula set down by the genre's pioneers. Sure, the worlds are more open, the graphics are better and the play mechanics are far more refined, but the basic premise--grizzled one-man army blows a bunch of monsters to hell in a spray of blood--hasn't changed. If your reaction to this is "Well, of course--that's what the genre is!" I invite you to play Half-Life 2 or Bioshock. Yes, these games are still about shooting a lot of stuff from a first-person perspective, but they build their own, instantly recognizable worlds. Their designers had the courage (or foresight) to stand out from the pack, and as a result both are considered milestones in the genre. And the rise of the term "Gears clone" shows that we're seeing something similar in the third-person shooter arena, as developers there have become convinced that no such game can succeed without a Gears-style cover mechanic.
It's not hard to see why more people don't branch out, though. Titles like Okami, Shadow of the Colossus and Beyond Good and Evil (just to name a few) which buck popular gaming trends tend to sell poorly. On the other hand, look at the ongoing success of PopCap games. Peggle and Plants Vs. Zombies have done huge business while eschewing every member of gaming's holy trinity of gore, space marines and cover mechanics. So what's the difference? That's not an easy question to answer, and maybe the comparison is not even fair. PopCap has incredible distribution, gets loads of word of mouth advertising even outside of the games press, and makes games that are essentially reskinned and refined versions of other instantly recognizable games. The niche titles mentioned above, on the other hand, are artsy, high-concept games that reqeuire significant investment to understand, and are only spoken of by a tiny percentage of the gaming press. So while PopCap's games buck the trends of graphic violence and mature themes (read: lots of swearing and misogyny) so prevalent in popular action games, they really aren't bucking gaming trends writ large.
So will truly original titles ever be able to sell enough in the U.S. to be viable? Hopefully, the continuing expansion of gaming's audience will go some way in solving the problem. Right now, games have a bigger audience than ever, but it still largely overlaps with the same audience that consumes mainstream entertainment. If the industry can somehow draw in more of the independent media crowd, then niche titles can, if not stop being "niche" altogether, at least be guaranteed enough of an audience to make them worth publishers' investment dollars. Eventually, it would be great to see games that stand out from all gaming trends get the attention they often richly deserve.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Back Catalog - Lunar: Silver Star Story Complete Pt. 2
Last time, we left off with Alex, Nall (who it turns out is male, despite his obviously female voice--you have to admit, it's an easy mistake) and Ramus trying to sneak off to Meribia to sell the Dragon Diamond. Ramus has the bright idea to leave Luna behind, since the journey is going to be dangerous and a healer would just get in the way. The first leg of the trip takes the party through the Weird Woods, but they're covered in a thick fog, which prompts Ramus chickens out and run back to town. This sets in motion a series of events that ends with Alex's parents giving their son's adventuring career their blessing, and Luna deciding to come along after all. Good thing, since her singing manages to clear the spooky fog that has been making the forest impassable.
Getting through the Weird Woods is easy enough, but at the end the party is jumped by a horde of monsters. A mysterious swordsman shows up and offers his services. He actually offers three separate times, and I held out until the third, when Nall is begging Alex to accept. Afterward, you get a cut scene where you learn that the man's name is Laike, and I found myself reminded of the Wolf Creek campfire as the party fell asleep around his fire. I half expected everyone to wake up trapped in a remote Australian torture compound, but instead they simply rise the next morning to find Laike gone, and we traveled on to the port town of Saith to catch a ship to Meribia.
The real importance of this segment of the game, though, is the character development. In the case of Ramus, this is done quite well. In the case of Luna...maybe not so much. Having no knowledge of the Japanese script, I don't know whether Working Designs followed the story but translated all the dialog non-literally, or whether they took significant liberties with everything. What I do know is that there are a few jarring moments in which characters' words simply don't match up with the action that is unfolding. Last time, I complained that Nall is constantly riding Ramus about being a load while, in both battles and plot, he's pulling his own weight. Given his cowardice about crossing the Weird Woods in the fog, I'm going to assume this one was a problem in the original script as well as Working Designs' translation. With Luna, it's harder to tell. Sometimes--the times when she's likable--she's portrayed as strong, capable and confident, without being overbearing. Every now and then, though, she turns into that irritating anime archetype of the overly demure wallflower who would sooner die than express herself. A really good writer could have played this in such a way as to make Luna even more endearingly human, but instead she's just coming across as schizophrenic. I'm fine with the idea that Luna is hiding her feelings for Alex behind babysitter-like nagging, because she's obviously being playful (since she quickly slips into and out of that persona). What bothers me is that one minute, she's willing to follow Alex anywhere because she believes in him and his goals, but feels that she has a responsibility to his parents to look after him; the next, she's bemoaning her uselessness and wanting to run back to Burg to look after his parents instead. Of course it's rare, even now, for video games (especially JRPGs) to create deep, nuanced characters, and just the fact that there's more than one dimension to Luna puts L:SSSC's writers ahead of the curve. It does not stretch the limits of belief to imagine Luna and Alex having a conversation that is not about saving the world, precisely because Luna, so far, has not been portrayed as a caricature. Still when she slips into the helpless anime girl personality, it feels less like nuance, more like laziness on the part of the writers, because someone with the personality she usually has just would not behave that way.
Ramus, on the other hand, shines as a character from the time the party reaches Saith to the time he leaves the party in Meribia. So far, he has been portrayed as immature but basically good, as he tries to be virtuous, but mostly for the financial rewards it will bring. This is, of course, in stark contrast to the way the translators seem to want him to be viewed. In Saith, Ramus is almost entirely responsible for exposing a local con man who has managed to shut down the town's port by tricking a ship captain into giving up his sea chart. In Meribia, Ramus screws up by trying to sell the Dragon Diamond to another con man, but at the end of the day, his business sense solves the problem that he caused. (However, it's worth noting that the player, as Alex, is given the final choice as to whether to sell the diamond, and the only way to advance the story is to tell Ramus he should sell it--so really, Alex is just as much at fault for the debacle as Ramus is.). Ramus ends up taking over the crooked jeweler's store, and he tells the party to go on without him, as he's realized he's a better businessman than adventurer. I'm a little sad to see him go, because Ramus is a character I suspect a lot of us can identify with. He's a major motivating force for his friends (without him, we get the feeling Alex would have been content to sit around staring at Dyne's monument all day, and Luna would have had no reason to leave Burg), but precisely because he sticks his neck out and acts as a catalyst, he's always the first one blamed when there's a snag. The more I think about it, the more Ramus becomes one of my favorite console RPG characters.
Which, of course, is why the game replaces him with an obnoxious, egotistical wizard named Nash. Nash joined the party back at Saith, and to make a long story short, he seems to be spying on Luna. Maybe he'll grow on me eventually, but since Nash is the first character to be introduced in such a way as to suggest that he has no redeeming qualities, I'm not optimistic. However, with Ramus out of the party, Nash has invited Alex and Luna to the magic academy in the floating city of Vane. Since the game seemed to be pushing hard in that direction, I accepted, and that's where we'll pick up next time, hopefully with Nash doing something to redeem himself.
When I was younger, it was always easy for me to get thoroughly wrapped up in JRPG plots, but of course with age and experience, I started to be aware of the cliches and other weaknesses. I didn't expect L:SSSC to be any better, given its age, but in fact it has turned out to be a pretty positive experience so far. I like the characters (for the most part), the writing is sharp (for the most part) and the simplicity of the battle system can be easily forgiven by the lack of random battles. It remains to be seen whether it can hold my interest across two discs, but right now I'm actually looking forward to seeing what will happen next. At any rate, it's kind of nice to relive my summers from the early '90s, when my friends and I would rent all the anime videos we could find in town and veg out in front of them for days on end. You know, back when anime still had good music:
Getting through the Weird Woods is easy enough, but at the end the party is jumped by a horde of monsters. A mysterious swordsman shows up and offers his services. He actually offers three separate times, and I held out until the third, when Nall is begging Alex to accept. Afterward, you get a cut scene where you learn that the man's name is Laike, and I found myself reminded of the Wolf Creek campfire as the party fell asleep around his fire. I half expected everyone to wake up trapped in a remote Australian torture compound, but instead they simply rise the next morning to find Laike gone, and we traveled on to the port town of Saith to catch a ship to Meribia.
The real importance of this segment of the game, though, is the character development. In the case of Ramus, this is done quite well. In the case of Luna...maybe not so much. Having no knowledge of the Japanese script, I don't know whether Working Designs followed the story but translated all the dialog non-literally, or whether they took significant liberties with everything. What I do know is that there are a few jarring moments in which characters' words simply don't match up with the action that is unfolding. Last time, I complained that Nall is constantly riding Ramus about being a load while, in both battles and plot, he's pulling his own weight. Given his cowardice about crossing the Weird Woods in the fog, I'm going to assume this one was a problem in the original script as well as Working Designs' translation. With Luna, it's harder to tell. Sometimes--the times when she's likable--she's portrayed as strong, capable and confident, without being overbearing. Every now and then, though, she turns into that irritating anime archetype of the overly demure wallflower who would sooner die than express herself. A really good writer could have played this in such a way as to make Luna even more endearingly human, but instead she's just coming across as schizophrenic. I'm fine with the idea that Luna is hiding her feelings for Alex behind babysitter-like nagging, because she's obviously being playful (since she quickly slips into and out of that persona). What bothers me is that one minute, she's willing to follow Alex anywhere because she believes in him and his goals, but feels that she has a responsibility to his parents to look after him; the next, she's bemoaning her uselessness and wanting to run back to Burg to look after his parents instead. Of course it's rare, even now, for video games (especially JRPGs) to create deep, nuanced characters, and just the fact that there's more than one dimension to Luna puts L:SSSC's writers ahead of the curve. It does not stretch the limits of belief to imagine Luna and Alex having a conversation that is not about saving the world, precisely because Luna, so far, has not been portrayed as a caricature. Still when she slips into the helpless anime girl personality, it feels less like nuance, more like laziness on the part of the writers, because someone with the personality she usually has just would not behave that way.
Ramus, on the other hand, shines as a character from the time the party reaches Saith to the time he leaves the party in Meribia. So far, he has been portrayed as immature but basically good, as he tries to be virtuous, but mostly for the financial rewards it will bring. This is, of course, in stark contrast to the way the translators seem to want him to be viewed. In Saith, Ramus is almost entirely responsible for exposing a local con man who has managed to shut down the town's port by tricking a ship captain into giving up his sea chart. In Meribia, Ramus screws up by trying to sell the Dragon Diamond to another con man, but at the end of the day, his business sense solves the problem that he caused. (However, it's worth noting that the player, as Alex, is given the final choice as to whether to sell the diamond, and the only way to advance the story is to tell Ramus he should sell it--so really, Alex is just as much at fault for the debacle as Ramus is.). Ramus ends up taking over the crooked jeweler's store, and he tells the party to go on without him, as he's realized he's a better businessman than adventurer. I'm a little sad to see him go, because Ramus is a character I suspect a lot of us can identify with. He's a major motivating force for his friends (without him, we get the feeling Alex would have been content to sit around staring at Dyne's monument all day, and Luna would have had no reason to leave Burg), but precisely because he sticks his neck out and acts as a catalyst, he's always the first one blamed when there's a snag. The more I think about it, the more Ramus becomes one of my favorite console RPG characters.
Which, of course, is why the game replaces him with an obnoxious, egotistical wizard named Nash. Nash joined the party back at Saith, and to make a long story short, he seems to be spying on Luna. Maybe he'll grow on me eventually, but since Nash is the first character to be introduced in such a way as to suggest that he has no redeeming qualities, I'm not optimistic. However, with Ramus out of the party, Nash has invited Alex and Luna to the magic academy in the floating city of Vane. Since the game seemed to be pushing hard in that direction, I accepted, and that's where we'll pick up next time, hopefully with Nash doing something to redeem himself.
When I was younger, it was always easy for me to get thoroughly wrapped up in JRPG plots, but of course with age and experience, I started to be aware of the cliches and other weaknesses. I didn't expect L:SSSC to be any better, given its age, but in fact it has turned out to be a pretty positive experience so far. I like the characters (for the most part), the writing is sharp (for the most part) and the simplicity of the battle system can be easily forgiven by the lack of random battles. It remains to be seen whether it can hold my interest across two discs, but right now I'm actually looking forward to seeing what will happen next. At any rate, it's kind of nice to relive my summers from the early '90s, when my friends and I would rent all the anime videos we could find in town and veg out in front of them for days on end. You know, back when anime still had good music:
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Back Catalog - Lunar: Silver Star Story Complete Pt. 1
Since "game club" podcasts seem to be all the rage these days, I thought I'd try to institute a similar feature here. In other words, I play a game in shortish installments and provide a running (spoiler-filled) commentary. The catch is that the games will be old ones from our library, thus the "Back Catalog" title. Since Game Arts just announced a PSP remake of Lunar, I decided to start with the PS1 port of the game, Lunar: Silver Star Story Complete. Since people are kvetching that the game has not aged gracefully, I wanted to see for myself if that was the case, or if this is another instance of the internet being impossible to please.
First, a bit of background. Lunar: The Silver Star was originally released for the Sega CD back in 1992 (1993 in North America). That game was remade as Lunar: Silver Star Story for the Sega Saturn in 1996, and a year later, that game was "enhanced" (with added anime cut-scenes and a new soundtrack) and released again on the Saturn. At last (as far as we're concerned) the enhanced version of L:SSSC was ported to the PS1 in 1998 and renamed Lunar: Silver Star Story Complete. In 1999, Working Designs translated the game in its usual non-literal style, and brought it to the U.S. in a big, goodie-filled box. It was a game I always wanted back then, but its price tag was a bit prohibitive, and eventually I sort of just forgot about it and moved on. Fortunately, Maleficent recently picked up a copy of the L:SSSC collector's edition box (sadly lacking the cloth map), finally allowing me to play and write about it.
L:SSSC opens with a series of anime cut scenes that nicely introduce the three party members with which you'll start the game: Alex, Ramus and Luna. Alex is a somewhat archetypal JRPG hero, in that he is barely out of puberty and chomping at the bit to save the world. Ramus is a bit of an otaku type, who talks a big game about becoming an adventurer, but seems unlikely to ever make it. Luna is a bit of a mystery, as all we're really told about her up front is that she's a great singer and has been taken in by Alex's parents. She seems to be something of a big sister figure for Alex, which is going to make the inevitable romantic subplot really awkward; but then this is a JRPG, so stranger things could happen. We're also introduced to an NPC companion, Nall, who is a cute talking furry thing that follows Alex around, and basically plays Kero-chan to his Sakura (albeit with the genders reversed).
These cut scenes get a lot of grief, mostly because of Nall's voice, but given the standards of the time, the dub actors are really pretty good. Given all the big name and professional voice talent that ends up in video games these days, it's easy to forget that, as recently as ten years ago, most video game voice work was truly atrocious. Largely performed by Z-grade actors and the friends and family of the developers/publishers, it was even worse than anime dubs from the same time frame. The voice work in Lunar wouldn't be out of place in any Saturday morning cartoon, which puts it well above most of its contemporaries in that department.
I'm lingering on the cut scenes because they really worked as far as getting Lunar's hooks into me right off the bat. I don't have any interest in anime these days, but back in the early '90s, I was a big fan, and these scenes took me back to what I liked about Japanese animation back then. The characters are all pretty likable (even the bombastic and slightly greedy Ramus), not brooding and morally ambiguous, as is all the rage these days. The scene in which Luna is introduced is particularly charming--gentle and pretty, without any uncomfortable sexual overtones, despite the fact that the game obviously wants us to fall in love with her.
Alex and Luna are supposed to be working on a song for a festival in honor of the goddess Althena, but Ramus has the bright idea to go on an adventure to the White Dragon's cave, and since that makes for a much better RPG than hanging around singing all day, the trio (plus Nall) heads off right away. And we get our first chance to dig into L:SSSC's battle system, which has taken most of the flack from internet haters lately.
Once you get into a dungeon, L:SSSC looks a lot like Earthbound. There are no random encounters; enemies are represented by sprites wandering around the map, and for the most part you can elect to run past without fighting them if you want. The best part is that after you defeat them, they're gone until you leave and re-enter the floor, so grinding is pretty painless. Just walk from one end of the floor to the other, kill everything in sight, then leave, heal and repeat. You'll probably have a couple of characters die before you hit level 8 or so, since your party consists of kids initially equipped with ordinary clothes and puny weapons, but this introduces another cool feature, namely Nall's ability to revive fallen characters at the end of a battle. Add in the fact that you can save anywhere at any time (at least as far as I've played), and this actually feels incredibly forward-thinking for an RPG that originated in 1992. Even some of SquareEnix's most recent offerings (e.g. Crisis Core) are still clinging to save points that don't even have the courtesy to refill your HP and MP, and very few other games from the time frame of Lunar and its remakes cut out so many of the genre's annoyances.
Of course all this says nothing about the battles themselves. I won't go into great detail here, but basically you have the choice of manually controlling your party, or letting the AI run amock. I started by trying the AI option, and was dismayed to see my characters burning through MP against minor enemies and downing healing items any time they took a point of damage, so I quickly realized that was not the way to go. Still, though it's not well realized, it's a nice idea that didn't start popping up regularly in RPGs until just a few years ago. Manual control gives you the usual options of regular attack, magic/special attack, items, and running away. What gives the system a bit of character is that it sort of resembles a combination of a tactical RPGs and Chrono Trigger. Characters start off lined up on opposite sides of the screen, but actually move around the field as the fight ensues. It's fairly primitive (there are none of Chrono Trigger's combo attacks and you don't get any numerical bonuses for flanking), but still fun, as you have to think about getting in position for the best attacks while still being able to protect your weaker characters (i.e. Luna).
So far, I've actually had a lot of fun with the battles. There's just enough strategy to keep them interesting, but not so much that you get bogged down in plotting out every move. If there's any problem, it's that things can feel a little random. For example, stronger attacks have a tendency to knock enemies back a few steps, and since you have to physically be in range in order to attack, one character might knock an enemy out of range for the next queued attack, wasting a turn. So far, I've only had this happen one or two times, but it still feels a little archaic. On the whole, though, the battles feel pretty streamlined and enjoyable--enough so that all the talk about them being dull and outdated seems a little unfair.
At the end of the first dungeon, the party meets up with Quark, the white dragon, who turns out to be friendlier than one might expect. He sees potential in Alex, and sends him off on a short trial to prove his worth. The dialog here broke down a bit, and I wondered if it was an instance of Working Designs playing fast and loose with the translation. Nall, who's generally portrayed as sharp-tongued-but-kind, suddenly turns into an insufferable jerk, cutting off the dragon's attempts to praise Alex and demanding a reward for making it through the cave. It's a jarring moment from a cast that has otherwise been refreshingly pleasant. Once we completed the trial and got back to town, there was another of these weird moments. Ramus, as noted, is portrayed as not being adventuring material, but in battle, his attacks consistently do more damage than Alex's. Again, I'm not sure if this is sloppy translation, or sloppy programming, but it doesn't make Nall any more likable when she's disparaging the strongest fighter in the party for not pulling his weight.
After completing the first mission and heading back to town, Ramus wants to sell the treasure you've collected, but he learns that there's not enough money in the village to pay for it. So in the next edition of Back Catalog, I'll pick up with the party traveling to the city of Meribia to hawk a diamond, unless the game decides to throw me a curveball.
First, a bit of background. Lunar: The Silver Star was originally released for the Sega CD back in 1992 (1993 in North America). That game was remade as Lunar: Silver Star Story for the Sega Saturn in 1996, and a year later, that game was "enhanced" (with added anime cut-scenes and a new soundtrack) and released again on the Saturn. At last (as far as we're concerned) the enhanced version of L:SSSC was ported to the PS1 in 1998 and renamed Lunar: Silver Star Story Complete. In 1999, Working Designs translated the game in its usual non-literal style, and brought it to the U.S. in a big, goodie-filled box. It was a game I always wanted back then, but its price tag was a bit prohibitive, and eventually I sort of just forgot about it and moved on. Fortunately, Maleficent recently picked up a copy of the L:SSSC collector's edition box (sadly lacking the cloth map), finally allowing me to play and write about it.
L:SSSC opens with a series of anime cut scenes that nicely introduce the three party members with which you'll start the game: Alex, Ramus and Luna. Alex is a somewhat archetypal JRPG hero, in that he is barely out of puberty and chomping at the bit to save the world. Ramus is a bit of an otaku type, who talks a big game about becoming an adventurer, but seems unlikely to ever make it. Luna is a bit of a mystery, as all we're really told about her up front is that she's a great singer and has been taken in by Alex's parents. She seems to be something of a big sister figure for Alex, which is going to make the inevitable romantic subplot really awkward; but then this is a JRPG, so stranger things could happen. We're also introduced to an NPC companion, Nall, who is a cute talking furry thing that follows Alex around, and basically plays Kero-chan to his Sakura (albeit with the genders reversed).
These cut scenes get a lot of grief, mostly because of Nall's voice, but given the standards of the time, the dub actors are really pretty good. Given all the big name and professional voice talent that ends up in video games these days, it's easy to forget that, as recently as ten years ago, most video game voice work was truly atrocious. Largely performed by Z-grade actors and the friends and family of the developers/publishers, it was even worse than anime dubs from the same time frame. The voice work in Lunar wouldn't be out of place in any Saturday morning cartoon, which puts it well above most of its contemporaries in that department.
I'm lingering on the cut scenes because they really worked as far as getting Lunar's hooks into me right off the bat. I don't have any interest in anime these days, but back in the early '90s, I was a big fan, and these scenes took me back to what I liked about Japanese animation back then. The characters are all pretty likable (even the bombastic and slightly greedy Ramus), not brooding and morally ambiguous, as is all the rage these days. The scene in which Luna is introduced is particularly charming--gentle and pretty, without any uncomfortable sexual overtones, despite the fact that the game obviously wants us to fall in love with her.
Alex and Luna are supposed to be working on a song for a festival in honor of the goddess Althena, but Ramus has the bright idea to go on an adventure to the White Dragon's cave, and since that makes for a much better RPG than hanging around singing all day, the trio (plus Nall) heads off right away. And we get our first chance to dig into L:SSSC's battle system, which has taken most of the flack from internet haters lately.
Once you get into a dungeon, L:SSSC looks a lot like Earthbound. There are no random encounters; enemies are represented by sprites wandering around the map, and for the most part you can elect to run past without fighting them if you want. The best part is that after you defeat them, they're gone until you leave and re-enter the floor, so grinding is pretty painless. Just walk from one end of the floor to the other, kill everything in sight, then leave, heal and repeat. You'll probably have a couple of characters die before you hit level 8 or so, since your party consists of kids initially equipped with ordinary clothes and puny weapons, but this introduces another cool feature, namely Nall's ability to revive fallen characters at the end of a battle. Add in the fact that you can save anywhere at any time (at least as far as I've played), and this actually feels incredibly forward-thinking for an RPG that originated in 1992. Even some of SquareEnix's most recent offerings (e.g. Crisis Core) are still clinging to save points that don't even have the courtesy to refill your HP and MP, and very few other games from the time frame of Lunar and its remakes cut out so many of the genre's annoyances.
Of course all this says nothing about the battles themselves. I won't go into great detail here, but basically you have the choice of manually controlling your party, or letting the AI run amock. I started by trying the AI option, and was dismayed to see my characters burning through MP against minor enemies and downing healing items any time they took a point of damage, so I quickly realized that was not the way to go. Still, though it's not well realized, it's a nice idea that didn't start popping up regularly in RPGs until just a few years ago. Manual control gives you the usual options of regular attack, magic/special attack, items, and running away. What gives the system a bit of character is that it sort of resembles a combination of a tactical RPGs and Chrono Trigger. Characters start off lined up on opposite sides of the screen, but actually move around the field as the fight ensues. It's fairly primitive (there are none of Chrono Trigger's combo attacks and you don't get any numerical bonuses for flanking), but still fun, as you have to think about getting in position for the best attacks while still being able to protect your weaker characters (i.e. Luna).
So far, I've actually had a lot of fun with the battles. There's just enough strategy to keep them interesting, but not so much that you get bogged down in plotting out every move. If there's any problem, it's that things can feel a little random. For example, stronger attacks have a tendency to knock enemies back a few steps, and since you have to physically be in range in order to attack, one character might knock an enemy out of range for the next queued attack, wasting a turn. So far, I've only had this happen one or two times, but it still feels a little archaic. On the whole, though, the battles feel pretty streamlined and enjoyable--enough so that all the talk about them being dull and outdated seems a little unfair.
At the end of the first dungeon, the party meets up with Quark, the white dragon, who turns out to be friendlier than one might expect. He sees potential in Alex, and sends him off on a short trial to prove his worth. The dialog here broke down a bit, and I wondered if it was an instance of Working Designs playing fast and loose with the translation. Nall, who's generally portrayed as sharp-tongued-but-kind, suddenly turns into an insufferable jerk, cutting off the dragon's attempts to praise Alex and demanding a reward for making it through the cave. It's a jarring moment from a cast that has otherwise been refreshingly pleasant. Once we completed the trial and got back to town, there was another of these weird moments. Ramus, as noted, is portrayed as not being adventuring material, but in battle, his attacks consistently do more damage than Alex's. Again, I'm not sure if this is sloppy translation, or sloppy programming, but it doesn't make Nall any more likable when she's disparaging the strongest fighter in the party for not pulling his weight.
After completing the first mission and heading back to town, Ramus wants to sell the treasure you've collected, but he learns that there's not enough money in the village to pay for it. So in the next edition of Back Catalog, I'll pick up with the party traveling to the city of Meribia to hawk a diamond, unless the game decides to throw me a curveball.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
More Imagery With a History
Last year when the first footage of Resident Evil 5's African locale (and equally African zombie hordes) caused an uproar in the video game enthusiast press about supposed racist overtones, I started to wonder if I was losing my mind. The whole issue struck me as a tempest in a teapot. While most members of the enthusiast press heaped scorn on the contention of many non-journalist commentors that it was disingenuous to complain about the African hordes in RE5 but not the Spanish hordes in RE4, I always thought there was something to that argument. The most repeated charge in the gaming press was that the game did not make it clear enough that the villagers were already infected when Chris Redfield arrived on the scene in the game's opening moments; that the villagers looked like they were not far from zombies even before the infection. Upon actually playing the game, I thought that the opening cinematics made it abundantly clear that Chris had arrived too late, and if they didn't, the fact that it doesn't take long for the whole population to attack Chris and Sheva en masse erases any doubt. But even if this hadn't been cleared up, how were the mechanical, soulless farming activities of the Spanish villagers in RE4 any less offensive? N'gai Croal's contention that the imagery in RE5 "has a history" rang hollow to me. Both RE4 and RE5 feature a white, male hero venturing into an exaggeratedly savage unknown land to gun down throngs of uncivilized natives. Yes, imagery of black "savages" menacing a white minority has a history in America. But so does imagery of technologically superior interlopers wiping out hordes of natives. To say that only the former is cause for alarm in a video game is to minimize the suffering of thousands throughout history, and the refusal of most members of the gaming press to acknowledge this deeply disappointed me.
I'm also disappointed (but not at all surprised) that the same people who found RE5 so irresponsible are largely laughing off Nintendo's upcoming iteration of the 8-bit classic Punch-Out, which allows players to pound the crap out of a parade of cartoonish ethnic stereotypes. To repurpose Croal's slogan, this imagery has a history within the Punch-Out franchise: one which gamers and games journalists alike have long found particularly amusing. Maybe such absurd stereotyping can't be excused, but it can be understood. Punch-Out was born in the mid '80s, and by and large, people were simply not as enlightened then as they are now. Look at any Saturday morning cartoon, any comic book, any toy line, any pro-wrestling show, from the same era, and you'll see much the same treatment of the subject of race and nationality. All Asians are martial artists. All Russians are fanatical communists. All Native Americans are shamen. As a kid who grew up playing Punch-Out, I can attest that at least some people without racist tendencies did not bat an eye at characters like Piston Honda and Great Tiger, just as we didn't bat an eye at the superhero Apache Chief, the wrestler The Iron Shiek or the G.I. Joe character Quick Kick. All these portrayals are astoundingly insensitive in retrospect, but one can't reinterpret the past through the lens of the present. Still, the present is when Punch-Out for the Wii is being released, and little has changed. In fact, most of the ethnic stereotypes from the original game look to be present in the series' newest iteration, from the French pushover Glass Joe to the overweight islander King Hippo. They've even added a gay stereotype, the effeminate Disco Kid. And this brings me to the point I want to make. Now that the player's avatar, Little Mac, has been redesigned to look vaguely Hispanic (or maybe Italian), can't we say that, when he wails away on Disco Kid, we're once more watching a video game exploit imagery with a history--this time for laughs rather than horror?
Now Punch-Out is a cartoon, and, by definition, cartoons exaggerate mannerisms, vocal inflections, etc. in order to create a world full of larger-than-life characters. True, but that doesn't preclude them from being offensive. Take a stroll through the "propaganda extravaganza" section at Superdickery.com if you don't believe me. Perhaps it's better to say that the stereotyping in Punch-Out is anything but mean-spirited. It works as comedy precisely because we know better. In the original NES version of Punch-Out, when Piston Honda spouted random Japanese words as his between-rounds dialogue, few members of the game's intended audience would have thought of it as crass and unfunny. Many of them probably wouldn't even have recognized it as a joke. If it happens in the upcoming release, it will be seen as ironic, an invitation to laugh at how far we've come. But this doesn't get Disco Kid off the hook. To our collective shame, our society is yet to progress beyond gay bashing, both physical and psychological. There are still religious nuts who think that homosexuality is a disease to be cured, idiot 14 year-olds on Xbox Live using gay slurs as pejoratives for their opponents in Halo deathmatches, and deeply insecure (possibly closeted) men who physically attack other men because of their sexual preferences. Maybe Piston Honda (or, as he'll be called in the new game, Piston Hondo) is a relic of a bygone era when Americans worried about the Japanese economic menace. As awful as it was then, now we can look back on our past ignorance and have a self-effacing laugh. But some of the game's stereotypes seem still to be a little too close for comfort.
I haven't played Punch-Out yet. As a huge fan of the original, I definitely intend to. Until I have, I don't plan to make any final judgments about its content. And in this post, I mean only to raise questions that I think people need to consider. Why was the imagery in Resident Evil 5 cause for concern, but not the imagery in Punch-Out? Should we feel guilty for laughing at humor that employs insensitive imagery and language, even in a tongue-in-cheek way? Are gamers lagging behind the rest of society on these issues? None of these questions can be answered in a blog post; maybe they can't be answered at all. One thing is certain, though: we have to stop burying our heads in the sand, and confront these possible hypocrisies, not just as gamers, but as responsible individuals.
I'm also disappointed (but not at all surprised) that the same people who found RE5 so irresponsible are largely laughing off Nintendo's upcoming iteration of the 8-bit classic Punch-Out, which allows players to pound the crap out of a parade of cartoonish ethnic stereotypes. To repurpose Croal's slogan, this imagery has a history within the Punch-Out franchise: one which gamers and games journalists alike have long found particularly amusing. Maybe such absurd stereotyping can't be excused, but it can be understood. Punch-Out was born in the mid '80s, and by and large, people were simply not as enlightened then as they are now. Look at any Saturday morning cartoon, any comic book, any toy line, any pro-wrestling show, from the same era, and you'll see much the same treatment of the subject of race and nationality. All Asians are martial artists. All Russians are fanatical communists. All Native Americans are shamen. As a kid who grew up playing Punch-Out, I can attest that at least some people without racist tendencies did not bat an eye at characters like Piston Honda and Great Tiger, just as we didn't bat an eye at the superhero Apache Chief, the wrestler The Iron Shiek or the G.I. Joe character Quick Kick. All these portrayals are astoundingly insensitive in retrospect, but one can't reinterpret the past through the lens of the present. Still, the present is when Punch-Out for the Wii is being released, and little has changed. In fact, most of the ethnic stereotypes from the original game look to be present in the series' newest iteration, from the French pushover Glass Joe to the overweight islander King Hippo. They've even added a gay stereotype, the effeminate Disco Kid. And this brings me to the point I want to make. Now that the player's avatar, Little Mac, has been redesigned to look vaguely Hispanic (or maybe Italian), can't we say that, when he wails away on Disco Kid, we're once more watching a video game exploit imagery with a history--this time for laughs rather than horror?
Now Punch-Out is a cartoon, and, by definition, cartoons exaggerate mannerisms, vocal inflections, etc. in order to create a world full of larger-than-life characters. True, but that doesn't preclude them from being offensive. Take a stroll through the "propaganda extravaganza" section at Superdickery.com if you don't believe me. Perhaps it's better to say that the stereotyping in Punch-Out is anything but mean-spirited. It works as comedy precisely because we know better. In the original NES version of Punch-Out, when Piston Honda spouted random Japanese words as his between-rounds dialogue, few members of the game's intended audience would have thought of it as crass and unfunny. Many of them probably wouldn't even have recognized it as a joke. If it happens in the upcoming release, it will be seen as ironic, an invitation to laugh at how far we've come. But this doesn't get Disco Kid off the hook. To our collective shame, our society is yet to progress beyond gay bashing, both physical and psychological. There are still religious nuts who think that homosexuality is a disease to be cured, idiot 14 year-olds on Xbox Live using gay slurs as pejoratives for their opponents in Halo deathmatches, and deeply insecure (possibly closeted) men who physically attack other men because of their sexual preferences. Maybe Piston Honda (or, as he'll be called in the new game, Piston Hondo) is a relic of a bygone era when Americans worried about the Japanese economic menace. As awful as it was then, now we can look back on our past ignorance and have a self-effacing laugh. But some of the game's stereotypes seem still to be a little too close for comfort.
I haven't played Punch-Out yet. As a huge fan of the original, I definitely intend to. Until I have, I don't plan to make any final judgments about its content. And in this post, I mean only to raise questions that I think people need to consider. Why was the imagery in Resident Evil 5 cause for concern, but not the imagery in Punch-Out? Should we feel guilty for laughing at humor that employs insensitive imagery and language, even in a tongue-in-cheek way? Are gamers lagging behind the rest of society on these issues? None of these questions can be answered in a blog post; maybe they can't be answered at all. One thing is certain, though: we have to stop burying our heads in the sand, and confront these possible hypocrisies, not just as gamers, but as responsible individuals.
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