Elementary, My Dear -- Professor Layton And The Diabolical Box Review

That famous puzzle-solving gentleman and his faithful sidekick are back in Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box from Level 5 and Nintendo. The sequel delivers nearly the same, familiar experience as in Professor Layton and The Curious Village, but still makes enough positive changes to keep players interested without sacrificing any of what made the first game great.

Like its predecessor, Diabolical Box is a hybrid of a point-and-click adventure and a collection of logic-based, visual, and mathematical brain teasers. The overarching goal is to follow the trail of the famed Elysian Box and an anonymous perpetrator whose involvement in the death of Layton's mentor is unclear, but like the first game, the story is less a focus than the puzzles players encounter along the way.

Puzzle difficulty ranges from confusingly simple (I found it difficult to understand why certain puzzles were even included, as they didn't seem like puzzles at all) to decently challenging. The average player should have no trouble breezing through the game, however, especially if they decide to take advantage of Layton's hint system. Hidden within the game's background illustrations are "hint coins," which are revealed by tapping on their hiding places and later exchanged for hints to puzzles that manage to keep players stumped. Also helpful is the new memo feature, which allows players to use an overlay effect on the DS screen as a piece of scrap paper while figuring out a puzzle's solution.

This time around, a greater number of the puzzles are better tied into the plot, creatively related to the current in-game situation and surroundings. This ultimately makes for more original puzzles and a more cohesive overall experience. There are also fewer difficult-to-find puzzles; most are discovered by talking to characters and tapping prominent background features as opposed to inconspicuous details.

Players advance smoothly through The Diabolical Box, which already feels like more of an adventure than the last game thanks to the variety of locations to which Layton and Luke travel over the course of their investigation. There is little time spent repeatedly wandering the same locales, and new areas add variety and obvious evidence of progress. Unfortunately, this makes the game feel more guided; players spend less time searching for the next plot trigger, but may also feel like they are just going through the motions to do so.

Aside from the puzzles and the main narrative, which includes many hand-drawn, beautifully animated cutscenes, excellent music, and stellar voice acting, there are a number of minigames that players can divert their attention to. These can be an enjoyable break from the puzzle grind, and have relevant in-game rewards, but end up feeling more like an afterthought than a legitimate pursuit because participation in these games is limited by progress in the main game. Players can't really do anything with these minigames until they have collected the prerequisite items from the main adventure.

Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box is essentially more of the same as last time, but is clearly the objectively better game in the series. The choice to pick up one or the other should be simple for newcomers, and Layton veterans will find plenty here to enjoy once again. A solid mix of story and puzzles make this a perfect game to enjoy in both small chunks and marathon "just-one-more-puzzle" sessions, which can be extended further with the help of weekly puzzle downloads over Nitendo Wi-fi.

Bridging The Gap With Adventure Games

Adventure games are arguably the least demanding of all videogame genres. Requiring minimal manual dexterity, hand-eye coordination, twitch response, and reflexes, they are likely the nearest thing in the videogame world to reading a book or watching a movie (save for MGS4, of course). I wonder then, if now, at the apex of the casual gaming boom, it is this [nearly] once-forgotten genre that will be the key to expanding the core videogame community as much as the fringe.

I feel that the current state of the videogame industry is perfect for a resurgence of the adventure genre, a type of game that hasn't been overly popular since the early days of gaming, and has only recently been anything more than a distant, infrequent blip on the radar. This genre is an important step in the graduation of new gamers from introductory, casual, Wii- and DS-type games into the realm of more advanced, involved, "hardcore" gaming.

The hangups faced by individuals who have the potential to become immersed in gamer culture are many, ranging from steep learning curves, to prohibitive financial barriers, to informational deficiency, as well as issues that may be invisible to those looking out at the challenge from inside the realm of experienced gamers.

The adventure genre can be a learning tool for new players that acclimates them to the basic problem-solving mechanics common to nearly all games... without the demands of more action-based selections. In order to play, you needn't have incredible manual dexterity, refined hand-eye-coordination, or lightning-fast reflexes, but you do need to be able to think. These games exercise and captivate the mind far more than those in the casual and party game departments.

Growing from a casual Wii and DS player into a seasoned videogame veteran takes more than simply adjusting to sophisticated controls. Players who are given no incentive, no compelling reason to WANT to dive into deeper, comprehensive gaming experiences, will never do so. This transition requires the help of a videogame genre that can act as a stepping stone between entry-level and advanced gaming not only in terms of gameplay, but also in terms of content, and adventure games can fill both of those roles.

The relative expense of developing and publishing a qualitatively acceptable adventure title also makes the genre more accessible to the consumer from a financial perspective. Most modern games cost exorbitant sums of money to create, and therefore cost gamers upwards of $50 per single unit. To a well-informed and experienced gamer, this is no sweat, but to someone just learning the ropes or figuring out if gaming is the hobby for him or her, this may be too big a gamble at the checkout counter. Fortunately, the savings in developing the less demanding adventure game can be passed on to the consumer, and that diminished risk is yet another incentive to take the plunge.

With the advent of Xbox LIVE Arcade and the PlayStation Network, snagging an adventure game couldn't be more convenient for the on-the-brink gamer. Not only are these games right at everyone's fingertips, but they also come with preview descriptions, and oftentimes demo versions, as well. Not coincidentally, these online services have become the primary breeding grounds for the adventure genre, and it is here that these games have enjoyed the greatest share of their recent success.

The videogame industry has expanded greatly over the past few years, but this growth has primarily been in the casual, fringe marketplace. There needs to be a way to close the gap between the highly segregated sectors of the videogame market. Adventure games may very well be that bridge.

Little King, Big Ideas -- Little King's Story Review

Maybe Little King's Story should have been rated M by the ESRB, because it is through mature eyes that Cing and Xseed's unique strategy adventure was certainly meant to be viewed. Behind the childlike veneer of bright, cutesy graphics, classical music, and simple gameplay mechanics lies a sophisticated game about imperialism, authority, greed, excess, self-loathing, gender roles, and other social dynamics. This game is not for children, as its colorful store-shelf appearance may suggest to consumers, but it is a highly playable and very enjoyable experience for more discerning Wii owners.

In Little King's Story, the player assumes the role of a new king in a strange, whimsical, fairytale land. The main goal is to expand the kingdom of Alpoko by amassing citizens, training each in one of many different occupations, and using them to venture into uncharted territories and conquer the eight other kings in the world. This foreign policy is of course heavily influenced by the king's ambitious advisor, who at times during cutscene conversation will slip and hint at his selfish motivation. The king's imperialistic goal is at once described as both "world unification" and the much less flowery "world domination." Either way, the player's objective is the same -- explore and take over the entire world.

Gameplay is reminiscent of titles like Pikmin and Overlord, where the player directly controls a single leader and issues simple commands to the small entourage that trails like a group of ducklings. Little King's Story adds depth to this premise by combining more traditional real-time strategy components with the basic charge-or-retreat mechanics of those games. Players will collect items throughout the land by defeating enemies or searching through various aspects of the environment (pots, holes, fallen logs, stones, etc.), and then take them to the castle to be exchanged for money. The king can use this money to initiate "Kingdom Plans," which are mostly projects to build citizen-generating residences or job-training facilities that will convert the "carefree adult" base units into specific job classes. Other kingdom plans include power-ups that improve citizen health, increase the size of the king's "Royal Guard," or allow the group to be arranged in different formations in the field.

The game features nearly 20 unique job classes, ranging from the hole-digging farmer to highly specialized units like the wizard and doctor. Each job is vital to the king's campaign -- carpenters build bridges, miners break through stone, lumberjacks cut down trees, soldiers fight battles... -- and he can take only a set number with him each time he ventures outside the kingdom's borders, so the Royal Guard will constantly change throughout the adventure, consisting of different combinations of citizens all the time.

The citizens of Alpoko all have names, personalities, and individual lives that play second fiddle to the will of the king. These folks may cultivate friendships with one another, fall in love, marry, have children, and even mourn the deaths of other members of their personal social circles (based on the communities in which they live and the members of the Royal Guard teams they are parts of). This is quite different from similar games, where the nameless peons seem to be entirely expendable, and players feel no connection with what is essentially just another group of tools. Here, players learn their citizens' names, watch relationships flourish, and may even feel some remorse when they die.

Being pulled from their comfortable lives to serve in the Royal Guard will often elicit complaints from citizens, but they will inevitably acquiesce to the king... and the good of the kingdom. While a part of the king's Royal Guard, citizens do just as they're ordered, but it's interesting to see how the members of certain occupations will behave if left to their own artificially intelligent devices. For example, the game describes the top infantry units, hardened soldiers, using the phrase, "All they know is violence." Indeed, not only are these meatheads useless for any constructive task (all they can do is fight or break things, including the fine craftsmanship of the kingdom's royal carpenters), but they also harass and push around Alpoko's carefree adults when they are not under the king's direct command.

Other citizens have quirks as well. Kampell, the 'prophet' to the god Ramen makes ridiculous claims about faith and prayer, citing his obviously fictional deity as the cause and effect of everything in the world. Conversely, the answer-seeking cosmologist Skinny Ray exhibits his paranoia about unexplained natural phenomena with wildly inductive, pseudo-scientific conclusions. The humor and candor with which Little King's Story's world is presented is refreshing and entertaining, and along with its mild visual stylings, compliments the more serious nature of the game's messages.

This game is crammed full of both the expression and criticism of many different societal views and beliefs. Within Alpoko, one might notice that only after building a church can citizens consecrate their love (via the player sending the couple into the institution together), and only after marrying will they have a child. However, the trend is most clearly evident in the characterization of the other kings and their followers. For example, one king preaches peace and love, but he and his citizens exist in a perennial drunken (and particularly violent) stupor, applauding the behavior all the while. Another kingdom is practically MADE out of culinary delights, and the king does little more than ceaselessly indulge. There is a kingdom where television is idolized, and others where pride or worry consume the people's lives. Each kingdom seems to have at least minor ties with some real-word counterpart, highlighting a specific aspect of the culture there. Even the nonsensical voices of the characters lean audibly toward a specific real-world language in each kingdom.

According to game director Yoshiro Kimura, under the actual gameplay, Little King's Story is an exploration of what it means to be noble, and whose sets of values are the most noble of them all. This game is as much about its words as its gameplay, and conversations with the other kings, letters from citizens, and the menus themselves combine with the game's imagery to deliver many of its messages. But this is still something that is meant to be played... and it does that fairly well.

While members of Royal Guard can get hung up on buildings, fences, and other obstacles fairly easily (navigating stairs is a daunting challenge until players acquire the single-file "evade" formation), and it is sometimes difficult to maintain a bead on targets with the loose lock-on system, running around the kingdom and directing the king's forces is relatively painless and enjoyable. Commands to charge, retreat, line up according to job, change formation, disband, and adjust camera angle are all housed on the Wii remote, with map, movement, and the king's piddly wand attack on the nunchuk. There are absolutely no motion controls involved, and I never found myself searching for such input methods. Other than the inability to split forces or temporarily dismiss a part of the group -- options that would make performing tasks and fighting battles less unnecessarily difficult -- there is little more to ask of the control scheme.

Little King's Story is one of the best in the Wii's library. It is fun to play for hours on end, and offers much more depth than your average title. It has a look all its own and the highly recognizable classical music is used very well. If you're looking for something good on the Wii, I recommend that everyone at least give Little King's Story a try.

Unwieldy Genius -- Trine Review

It's safe to say that videogame critics love to see novelty in the games they play on a day-to-day basis, so it comes as no surprise that the physics-based, 2D action-platformer Trine was met with open arms well before it was ever released. The question is whether the near-flawless visual spectacle and unique conceptual design presented by Frozenbyte serve to exemplify great gameplay or simply glam up an average experience. Or could it be a little of both?

The game follows the fantasy adventure of a wizard, a thief, and a knight, whose concurrent quests lead them to be physically bound to one another by a magical artifact known as the Trine. In order to be freed from this unified existence, they must reunite three ancient artifacts -- a task that, coincidentally, will also rid the kingdom of the evil force that has spilled across the land and polluted it with droves of undead (and bats... f'n bats). It's a storybook come to life, complete with colorful language and dark fairy tale narration between levels.

From the moment Trine graces the player's monitor, there is no denying its visual splendor. The three-dimensional fore- and backgrounds are so finely crafted that stopping to admire the multi-layered environments in the middle of play would not be at all inexcusable. From the soft glow and light smoke of the torches that dot dungeon walls, to pillars of light streaming through lush, waving forest canopies, to iridescent mushroom caps and damp, shining cavern rock formations, everything in Trine has been rendered with great care and attention to detail. The textures applied to trees, rocks, and other surfaces in the game are almost tangible, and special effects such as distortion around heat sources and the red filter that pulses when a character sustains damage draw players further into the game world.

This graphical glory comes at a price, though; combining the slick visuals with a resource-hungry physics engine, Trine and all its beauty can be very demanding of weaker systems, slowing the game to a slideshow unless settings are significantly lowered. In this game, especially, this is an issue because of its impact on gameplay. Unless Trine is running 100% smoothly, controlling the three characters becomes a nightmarish struggle. The loose, physics-engine platforming is already a bit imprecise, so any hiccups quickly transform the game from challenging fun into unenjoyable aggravation.

Conceptually, Trine is brilliant. Each character has unique, upgradeable abilities that will help guide the trio to their final destination, and switching from one skill set to the next with the touch of a button feels very empowering. The game's level design plays off of these abilities, cleverly intertwining a number of solutions to each "puzzle," and only occasionally requiring one specific character to proceed. For example, the same obstacle may be surmounted by using the thief's grappling hook, the wizard's magically conjured boxes, planks, and platforms, or the knight's ability to pick up and place heavy objects.

Checkpoints throughout each of the game's 15 levels are very useful for reviving fallen comrades, regaining lost health, or restarting after an untimely demise, but it is disappointing that the game doesn't allow players to save their progress and re-embark on their journey later from one of these markers. Trine forces players to resume their autosaved games only from the beginnings of each level, replaying what has already been done. Controller configurations aren't saved from one session to the next, either, so players who customize their mouse, keyboard, or gamepad will have to do so each time they sit down to play. This can become frustrating after a number of short forays into Trine's kingdom.

The way combat has been injected into the game is crude and unrefined, as well. Although picking off enemies from afar, aiming the thief's bow with the mouse or right analog stick, is well-implemented, and the rudimentary hack-n-slash methodology of the knight works, the virtually endless streams of spawning and respawning skeletons (and f'n bats) at very specific points kills the flow of gameplay through each and every level in the game. A much better option would have been to reduce the number of foes and disperse them somewhat evenly throughout the levels rather than impeding players for long periods of time and detracting from the overall experience. Trine is about traversing a beautiful fantasy kingdom and using interactive physics to manipulate objects and cleverly solve puzzles along the way. It's telekinesis, conjuration, and platforming, not button-mashing.

Trine is a blend of AAA concepts and design, underdeveloped gameplay architecture, and bits and pieces of whatever might fall in between, all presented on a beautiful 2D/3D canvas. Despite it's flaws, it is an enjoyable game, and is definitely worth checking out. For players in no rush to get started, however, waiting for the less expensive console version -- or a discount -- might not be a bad idea.