Teeming With Demons -- Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey Preview

Did you ever feel like a black hole was opening up over some remote corner of the world, allowing demons and other strange supernatural creatures to cross over into your peaceful realm of existence? No? Well then this is going to be a strange journey.

That is indeed the basic story behind Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey, Atlus' newest addition to the SMT franchise. In this unique role-playing experience, which can aptly be categorized as arcane science fiction, players will find themselves exploring an alternate dimension where demons prepare to destroy the world as we know it. In the demon's eyes, humanity poses a threat of armageddon to itself, so the process may as well be hastened. According to the developers, the demons are at the same the story's external antagonists and a representation of humanity's destructive flaws.

Strange Journey puts a unique spin on classic JRPG mechanics, making players form a party, level up, fight in turn-based battles, use skills and items, swap equipment, etc. over the course of a 40-to-50-hour adventure. Missions tabs on the game's menu screen present the next steps in the journey, as well as approximately 60 side quests players can embark on. The special Demonica Suit the main character wears allows access to new areas by adding special "unlock" apps to its interface, and "sub-apps," which each take up a specific number of the suit's 10 slots, will provide special effects and bonuses for the party. Non-usable "forma" is another important part of the game, and is found via exploration of the game world. An area scanner points to new forma on the overworld map, which can then be collected and brought to the weapons dealer in town to produce new equipment for the party.

What really sets Strange Journey apart from the standard RPG is its focus on demons; demon collection, negotiation, fusion, and trading (the game's demon compendium lets you output passwords to give specific demons to friends) are all central to the game's mechanics. In fact, only one member of the 4-character party is human, so it will be wise to diversify and improve the group by enlisting the help of various demons and investing time in their development.

Whenever players encounters a demon, they're given the opportunity to talk to it and avoid a fight or even gain a new ally. Brief dialog choices and the effects of alignment on the interaction determine the outcome, and if the demon doesn't like the player, the fight is on. During combat, all commands are given at beginning of each round, to be executed all at once following the menu selection process. Because of this, battles play out quickly, and strategy is required to anticipate the results of mid-round actions. Of particular interest are the elemental strengths and weaknesses of all characters, which must be discovered by trial and error and can be exploited via the demon co-op system. Whenever an attack is made on an enemy using an element it is vulnerable to, all of the player's party members whose alignment matches the attacker will get a bonus attack for that round. By involving the three components of skill type, enemy weakness, and character alignment in the demon co-op formula, Atlus has created the potential for a great deal of strategy in how to be most effective in battle. At the same time, an "auto mode" button is included for fights with weaker foes who require no effort to vanquish.

From what I saw during Atlus' convenient web demonstration earlier this week (which was awesome in an E3-in-my-living-room sort of way), Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey doesn't look like it will be slacking with the SMT name, and seems expansive and immersive for a DS title. Look for it to hit North American shores on March 10, 2010, each copy shipping -- in true Atlus style -- with a soundtrack CD included in the box.

Inglourious Race Car Drivers -- The Saboteur Review

Pandemic Studios may have fallen victim to Electronic Arts' improved "cost structure" back in November, but before drifting loudly away on the late autumn wind, the Mercenaries and Star Wars: Battlefront series developer had one final message for Nazi Germany in its swan song title, The Saboteur. This visually striking open-world action title's atypical and interesting World War II story is offset by dated gameplay mechanics and slow development, making it easy to have mixed feelings for it. This is exactly how I felt while playing, but revitalizing Paris in the face of Nazi occupation grew on me throughout my time with the game.

In The Saboteur, players step into the role of Sean Devlin, a tough, bar-dwelling, Irish race car driver, who is persuaded to join the French resistance against Nazi Germany during the occupation of the early 1940s. He's in it principally for revenge, but this more noble cause is what finally gets him wound up enough to spring into action. This is one of the best WWII stories in gaming, told from a very different perspective than what we've seen in the past, and is far more appealing than the typical beach-storming, infantry-inundated military tale we've played through time and time again. The characters are interesting because they're flawed and human, but I found their individual personalities, superficial relationships, and sophomoric dialogue to be generally unlikable. This feeling was enough to make it difficult to relate to or become emotionally invested in them outside of the fact that they were fighting off the Nazi occupation... and blowing things up.

Blowing things up is indeed one of The Saboteur's main appeals amid gameplay mechanics whose roots lie squarely in the realm of earlier 3D Grand Theft Auto games. It's a familiar mission-based open-world structure, where various non-player characters pinpointed on the main map set objectives for Sean, either to drive the story forward or offer up some side-questing action. The missions seem to cover a wider spectrum than one would find in a GTA game, expanding upon the typical car theft, chases, shootouts, and sniping with stealth and disguise elements, climbing mechanics, and freeplay targets, which are specific Nazi structures throughout the game world that can be demolished at any time during gameplay. There is no obvious or immediate reward (aside from feeling like a champ) for setting off the fireworks on the freeplay targets, but doing so will have subtle effects on the game, reducing Nazi presence in the area and making Sean's life a little bit easier in the future. While the combat, driving, and climbing controls all feel clumsy and substandard when compared to contemporary titles in the genre, those moments where you jump out of your car and plant a bundle of dynamite on a fueling station or sniper tower and slowly walk away from the explosion are immensely satisfying and play out without the game engine trying to stop you from enjoying them.

The Saboteur's other calling card is its "will to fight" feature. In the beginning, the entire (and quite large) game world is a black-and-white, film-noir-reminiscent, depressing, and oppressive place, the visual style heavily impacting the player and reinforcing what is essentially the collective emotional state of the citizens of France under Nazi control. As missions are completed and specific Nazi strongholds and control points are retaken and/or depopulated courtesy of Sean's trigger and lighter fingers, color is restored and hope returns to the people in the face of adversity, a little at a time. As the will to fight increases, the dark, dingy, and spectrally desaturated neighborhoods formerly characterized by packs of roving Nazi guards and persistent rain turn to welcoming city streets bathed in warm lamppost light for strolling French citizens, and where the will to fight is low, only the bright Nazi flags, muzzle flashes, blood, fire, and other select elements stand out in vibrant color. Throughout the game, this extreme visual contrast has a powerful effect, and the Okami-esque revitalization of France is motivational and rewarding.

Unfortunately, The Saboteur at the same time suffers from many technical issues that detract from its superb aesthetics and unique style. Frame rate drops are frequent, as is shadow pop-in and a fair amount of clipping. Other glitches, such as enemies and NPCs spawning in ridiculous places or failing to carry out their prescribed mission-dependant routines, happen less frequently, but they still adversely affect the gameplay experience, at times preventing the player from completing missions without restarting. Enemy AI leaves much to be desired, as guards can detect, pursue, and raise the alarm on Sean from what seems to be a mile away during stealth sections, but in the midst of firefights they do little to save their own hides from incoming bullets, often standing in the open, just begging to be shot. When Sean has to run instead of fight, The Saboteur's simple, yet silly system of escaping Nazis comes into play. To escape, players must simply get outside of a red circle indicated on the radar, at which point they are instantly liberated from the alert. Taking a page out of the Assassin's Creed book, there are also hiding spots scattered throughout the city that will clear the alert status. Because of the frequency with which the alarm is sounded in this game, it all seems to balance out, but I feel a better system would have been less frequent, more intense hunts.

The Saboteur isn't a great game, nor is it a terrible one, although its constituent parts can be characterized using such descriptors. Great visuals, a unique approach to WWII-era storytelling, the "will to fight" system, and explode-and-run fun made me love what I was taking part in, but the actual nuts and bolts of the gameplay -- shooting, driving, climbing, stealth -- made me want to choke myself instead. Over time, though, I became acclimated to the sub-par mechanics and did enjoy my time with The Saboteur, and I think many players with the free time and cash can do the same. Unfortunately, the game had the potential to do great things with the foundation provided by its unique features and style, but it ends up feeling dated among a sea of competitors that all handle the gameplay end of things far better.

The Zombie Invasion Of Floria: A Plants Vs. Zombies Virgin Experience

So it's the end of the year again, and that means that now is the time that I, instead of playing new games for review or compiling various other collections of lexemes and such, sit and play everything that I've missed throughout the year in hopes of being able to look at year-ends awards from an honest and informed perspective. This year I came across a delightfully click-tastic little gem of a game from the developers of what would probably be my videogame nemesis, Peggle. (Yes, I think Peggle is awful.) This time, though, PopCap has done something right, and has delivered to us the excellent Plants vs. Zombies.

"So what is Eddie writing right now? Is this a review?" You might be asking yourselves questions like these right now, but I can assure you that this is not a review at all, but a look at one man's virgin experience with a seven-month-old game that just about everyone was already well-versed in, and an utter reversal of opinion over the course of a single fervent hour of gaming (probably less, considering the time I paused the game).

I have obviously been aware of PvZ for some time, but only yesterday did I actually try my hand at the game, and the following is my excited, reactionary, AIM conversation with fellow GN director Ryan Maffit.

This should be fun (offensive language and poor writing advisory in effect)...

[23:38] Eddie: i have to record a short clip tomorrow
[23:38] Eddie: about the year's most overrated game
[23:38] Eddie: and i'm stumped
[23:38] Eddie: i wish i played Killzone 2
[23:39] Ryan: he
[23:41] Eddie: ok, time to look at gamerankings
[23:41] Eddie: sort by 2009
[23:41] Eddie: best to worst
[23:45] Eddie: AWWW shit... Plants vs Zombies...
[23:45] Ryan: haha
[23:45] Eddie: 89%
[23:45] Ryan: that was a good 1 too
[23:45] Eddie: i bet i think it's overrated
[23:45] Ryan: :P
[23:45] Eddie: jeeze, i hope i do, anyway
[23:45] Ryan: haha
[23:45] Eddie: or i'll have no answer
[23:45] Ryan: its good I have it on my steam
[23:46] Eddie: now that batman is awesome
[23:46] Eddie: :-/
[23:46] Ryan: :P
[23:46] Ryan: ha
[23:55] Eddie: ok, so can i judge PvZ by the online demo?
[23:55] Ryan: link?
[23:56] Eddie: http://www.popcap.com/games/free/pvz
[23:56] Ryan: the actual game
[23:56] Eddie: this shit is boring
[23:57] Ryan: has a lot more stuff
[23:57] Ryan: haha
[23:57] Ryan: I think it starts off real slow
[23:57] Ryan: but it gets tricky
[23:57] Ryan: well in terms of similarity to the actual game
[23:57] Ryan: this is pretty spot on for the first level
[23:57] Ryan: lol
[23:58] Eddie: well this IS PopCap
[23:58] Eddie: it's the real game
[23:58] Eddie: just online
[23:58] Ryan: haha
[23:58] Ryan: even down to the music its the same :P
[23:58] Eddie: and it's a bunch of clicking
[23:58] Eddie: and dumb
[23:58] Ryan: >< [23:59] Eddie: i mean, Peggle Deluxe got an Xbox 360 release this year
[23:59] Eddie: but that's an old game
[23:59] Ryan: true
[23:59] Eddie: otherwise it would be my pick
[23:59] Eddie: i think Peggle is the most overrated game of all time
[23:59] Eddie: haha
[23:59] Eddie: maybe i'll say that
[23:59] Ryan: haha
[00:00] Eddie: PvZ is far better than Peggle
[00:01] Ryan: ya
[00:01] Ryan: haha
[00:04] Eddie: i'm actually enjoying it now
[00:04] Ryan: :P
[00:04] Ryan: Ya
[00:04] Ryan: first 3-4 levels are mad boring
[00:04] Eddie: if a zombie touches a plant does the plant die?
[00:05] Ryan: no
[00:05] Ryan: it starts attacking it
[00:05] Ryan: then it eats it
[00:05] Ryan: haha
[00:05] Eddie: ok
[00:05] Eddie: not so fast
[00:05] Eddie: but yes
[00:05] Ryan: takes a lil while
[00:08] Eddie: oooh a shovel
[00:08] Ryan: haha
[00:08] Ryan: ya u get power ups and shit
[00:09] Eddie: oh cool
[00:09] Eddie: bowling level
[00:09] Ryan: haha
[00:11] Eddie: ooooh
[00:11] Eddie: a squash
[00:12] Ryan: :P
[00:13] Eddie: i'm using that shit IMMEDIATELY
[00:13] Ryan: lmao
[00:13] Eddie: YES!
[00:13] Eddie: THWOMP
[00:13] Ryan: :P
[00:15] Eddie: wtf
[00:15] Eddie: a high-jumping zombie!
[00:15] Ryan: LOL
[00:15] Ryan: yup
[00:16] Ryan: told ya it takes strategy
[00:16] Ryan: haha
[00:17] Eddie: i think i left way too much space for sunflowers that time
[00:17] Eddie: i LOOOOOOVE sunflizzles
[00:17] Eddie: i Love SUN. I love lamp
[00:17] Ryan: haha
[00:17] Eddie: i'm getting a THOUSAND text messages right now
[00:17] Eddie: wtf
[00:18] Ryan: :S
[00:18] Eddie: i just got 4 in 4 seconds from 4 people
[00:19] Ryan: nice
[00:21] Eddie: oh shit
[00:21] Eddie: The Hero of Time
[00:21] Eddie: is in a tab
[00:21] Eddie: you sent me that link ages ago
[00:21] Ryan: lmao
[00:21] Eddie: and i clicked it
[00:21] Ryan: yes
[00:21] Ryan: haha
[00:21] Eddie: and now it's still here
[00:21] Ryan: yup
[00:21] Ryan: haha
[00:21] Ryan: its like
[00:21] Ryan: a full movie
[00:21] Ryan: haha
[00:21] Eddie: that was so long ago
[00:21] Eddie: when i first heard about it
[00:21] Ryan: haha
[00:21] Ryan: ya
[00:22] Eddie: did you watch it?
[00:22] Eddie: i probably will tonight
[00:22] Eddie: but wait.... first i have to fucking blast undead with snow peas
[00:22] Ryan: hehe
[00:29] Eddie: awww sheeeeeiiit
[00:29] Eddie: piranha plant
[00:29] Ryan: :P
[00:29] Eddie: oh
[00:29] Eddie: i can only have 6 to choose from
[00:29] Eddie: cool
[00:30] Eddie: "LET'S ROCK"
[00:32] Ryan: :P
[00:32] Ryan: hehe
[00:35] Eddie: ooooh
[00:35] Eddie: the rePEAter
[00:35] Eddie: 2 peas at a time
[00:35] Eddie: win
[00:35] Eddie: i fucking love this
[00:35] Eddie: haha
[00:35] Eddie: why am i still playing?
[00:35] Eddie: i thought it was a demo
[00:35] Eddie: this is a healthy ass demo
[00:42] Eddie: haha
[00:42] Eddie: damn
[00:43] Eddie: FUCKED them up
[00:43] Eddie: MY LAWN IS INVINCIBLE!!!!!
[00:43] Eddie: i have 2 full columns of sunflowers
[00:43] Eddie: then one of snow peas
[00:43] Eddie: then one of sunflowers
[00:43] Eddie: then TWO of rePEAters
[00:44] Eddie: CRUSHING FOES
[00:59] Ryan: LOL
[01:00] Eddie: holy balls
[01:00] Ryan: the full game gets crazier
[01:00] Ryan: haha
[01:00] Eddie: those little yellow fuckers are POWERFUL sun-spreaders
[01:00] Ryan: lmao
[01:00] Eddie: the shroomies
[01:00] Ryan: Yes
[01:00] Eddie: YEESSSS
[01:00] Ryan: haha
[01:00] Eddie: i just had about 6759865q8965248 sun
[01:00] Eddie: and 6 rows of super shooting shit
[01:01] Ryan: :P
[01:01] Ryan: and u thought it was an overrated game pshh
[01:01] Ryan: haha
[01:04] Eddie: i can't stop
[01:04] Ryan: ya it's a good game
[01:09] Eddie: DAMN
[01:10] Eddie: excellent
[01:10] Eddie: the demo's over
[01:10] Eddie: and i think i may post this chat session in my column
[01:10] Eddie: haha
[01:10] Ryan: haha
[01:10] Ryan: lmao :P

I really enjoyed that. Go try out Plants vs. Zombies here.

Needs More Gaga -- Just Dance Review

I recently broke from my regularly scheduled action/adventure/shooter/platformer/fighting/sports/strategy/rpg playing to take a critical look at a game that I can honestly say I never expected to see in my Nintendo Wii. Fortunately, though, I did try out Ubisoft's Just Dance, because I ended up having a pretty good time gettin' down, just dancing.

Although my level of embarrassment when first beginning to play was unprecedented for a videogame -- I was alone in my house and still felt awkward about mirroring the on-screen moves -- after a little loosening up, I got into the groove and started putting forth the true effort the game demands. Soon I had danced through 30 songs and worked up a decent sweat.

The game's basic premise is to mimic the on-screen professional dancers who demonstrate each song's choreographed moves in time with the music while holding a motion-tracked Wii remote in one hand. Because of the Wiimote-only input, the upper body is the most important part of each dance, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover that being lazy and trying to focus solely on the Wii remote position without doing the dance moves was less conducive to a high score, while really getting into the songs and bustin' moves yielded much better results. Overall the game does a good job of figuring out how you're performing, but sometimes gestures are not detected for whatever reason -- likely because there are many ways to hold the Wii remote that differ from the way the game shows players at startup, and it's easy to do it incorrectly. Each new move is telegraphed by a little silhouette sliding along the bottom of the screen, so no, you don't need the reflexes of a reflection to do them correctly. Points are awarded based on timing and accuracy, with chains of well-executed moves netting extra. Bad, good, and great moves are tabulated at the end of each song and displayed as percentages along with each player's overall score.

Unlike other rhythm games, there is no progression, advancement, or unlocking later songs by completing earlier ones; everything is available from the very beginning. To seasoned gamer-types, this is a flaw, as we've come to expect the former design from games in the genre, but immediate availability of all of the game's content also makes Just Dance a ready-to-go party-maker in a box. Players can jump right into either Quick Play mode, where you simply pick a song and dance, or Challenge mode, which has three gametypes designed for multiplayer competition. In challenge mode, players will choose songs and either have a standard battle for maximum points, play a "red light, green light"-style Strike A Pose game, or compete in a Last One Standing contest, where all players begin with seven lives and lose one for every mistake they make. In all modes, songs come in either "full" or very truncated "short" versions.

The game features 32 danceable tunes from the 60s to today, and each is rated according to the difficulty of its moves as well as the energy level of the dance. The game features plenty of disco, techno, pop, and rock music, but I found the absence of my personal favorite popular genres to dance to -- latin, reggae, reggaeton -- quite conspicuous. Otherwise, the mix was good and the tracks were almost all recognizable hits. I think that anyone who truly enjoys dancing (college girls, I'm looking at you) will absolutely have fun with this game, especially with a group of friends. I was only able to test it out with one other dancer, but that yielded lots of laughter, so a four-player session (the game's max) would most likely be completely off the wall.

Just Dance's biggest flaw is its lack of depth as compared to other games in the music genre. As mentioned earlier, there is little forward progression within the framework of the game, and the 32 included tracks are far less than what gamers have come to expect from offerings from the Rock Band and X Hero franchises. Downloadable content would certainly help fix the problem, but unfortunately, no such DLC is in sight. The game's biggest asset, however, is that it can be a whole lot of fun for the right audience, and that audience is sure to love it despite its very basic nature. In any event, it's at least worth renting to laugh at with your friends.

Gameplay's Uncanny Valley: It's More Than Visual

Many of us are familiar with the uncanny valley -- the idea that at a certain point, the more closely the visual representation of humans resembles reality, the more objectionable minor discrepancies will become until this "valley" (as seen on a line graph) of repulsion is passed. Since its original postulation, which was applied to humanoid robots, the hypothesis has been expanded to cover CG character design in film and videogames, and even the virtual worlds constructed for those mediums. But can this concept also apply to gameplay mechanics that aim to recreate the complexity of real-world behavior and interaction, or that aim to emulate other games that exist outside of the virtual realm?

In the beginning, videogames couldn't dream of recreating anything with a respectable degree of realism in terms of graphics nor gameplay, but with the advent of 3D, the gameplay's uncanny valley began to emerge. In the early days of 3D, invisible walls vexed gamers with their absurd and inexplicable prevention of players to fully traverse the new, "realistic" worlds whose scale and substance just begged for exploration. As visuals continued to approach realism, suspension of disbelief became even more difficult when players' characters could carry too many (or too few) items at once, when they couldn't aim at two targets simultaneously, when they continued to take turns attacking in battle, or when they were forced to find keys for doors instead of using alternate routes or simply smashing straight through to their goal destinations. The visual elements of these games were met with their own criticisms, but it is ultimately gameplay that matters most to a majority of the audience; dissatisfaction with the way games "feel" has troubled gamers throughout gaming history.

One might think that videogames have reached a plateau with the current console generation, wherein realism is as acceptable as it will ever be. But if that were true, then why are complaints seemingly more common now than ever before? Why are there more voices decrying the flaws of every new release, week-in and week-out? It's uncanny, unbelievable how we continue to find fault with them, no matter how much improvement is shown by our newest and most finely crafted games.

It seems that the more a game offers, the more obvious are the smaller things it doesn't bring to the table. An example of this is the recently released Dragon Age: Origins, a western RPG from the talented people of BioWare. This game, as evidenced by its roughly 92% average review score, is an enjoyable and laudable gaming experience, however, I find my fun stymied by a few of my figurative steps through the aforementioned valley, both vague and specific. The general feeling I get from Dragon Age, after the realization and understanding that it does a good job incrementing the evolution of the genre it clings so loyally to, is a forlorn emptiness about my connection with the game's mechanics and general flow. As a one-time tabletop RPG player, I can relate Dragon Age to those gaming experiences (upon which the base western-RPG template is based) as a work that admires them, tries to re-imagine them for a digital age, and ultimately -- sadly -- fails to do so in a comprehensive way.

Summarily, it comes down to the apparent freedoms afforded to players by the game's broad design choices that turn out to be less free than one would hope. From minute inconveniences as trivial as not being able to use an item directly from a specific part of the menu, to fundamental systems of player-influenced character and plot development, gameplay's uncanny valley clearly reveals itself. Specifically regarding dialog, players are confined by the restrictions of the pre-programmed text responses and conversation arches, but are simultaneously allowed to loop around and through these limited selections, repeating, retrying, and retreading the essential core of the role-playing experience. The concepts of choice and consequence are at once bestowed and withheld. This has been a drawback of heavily conversationally driven RPGs for as long as they have existed, and until the technology of videogames can rival the creativity and adaptability of the human mind as it receives, perceives, and responds to players' unique and diverse input, the shortcoming will remain.

Players may not be able to say the things they would truly like to say in games like this, and even more frustrating, they may be asked to choose from lists of responses comprised entirely of things they don't want to say. Free will is drained from these virtual interactions, and players are forced to settle for behavior that falls outside the theoretical maps of their characters or personal play styles. The same effect is exhibited in facets of gameplay other than simple chit chat. Games often require players to carry out certain tasks before they can proceed at all. There are no options in these situations for players to simply not do what the developers want them to do. More appropriately, there are no options in these situations for players to do anything the developers haven't considered as viable alternatives. While real life or human-governed game settings potentially have 30-odd solutions to a given problem, videogames are considered "open-ended" if they offer a meager three or four. Again, as we are given greater freedom to explore the possibilities of our virtual worlds, the impossibilities of those worlds become more painfully obvious thanks to the uncanny valley of gameplay.

Do not misinterpret this line of thought as suggesting that game developers are at fault in such situations, or that the games in question are "bad"; this is more a matter of technological limitation and relativity in human perception when assessing these games. We can't help but feel this way about smaller and smaller problems as gameplay nears perfection. Just as in the uncanny valley of visual realism, the quality of the surrounding content will always magnify the weakest links in gameplay's uncanny valley, and gamers will always take note. "Nit-picking" has never gone out of style.

Bird Of Prey -- Assassin's Creed II Review

Two years ago, I called Assassin's Creed "the foundation for future games to build upon," with the potential to be considered among the best games of all time. With Assassin's Creed II, Ubisoft has taken leaps and bounds that rival Altair's and Ezio's own free-running acrobatics, and have created a game to rival most any other that I have had the luxury of experiencing. Assassin's Creed II is not a work of perfection, but taken as a whole it so satisfyingly delivers upon every aspect first laid out in its prequel, as well as a broad spectrum of new gameplay elements and non-gameplay additions that transcend the medium, that it is difficult to offer anything but praise for this superb title and the development team behind it.

The game is quite clearly a visual masterpiece, rendering the cities of Renaissance Italy in beautiful detail so rich that comparisons to their real-life counterparts yield only minor differences, inside and out. Standing atop the campaniles and church spires treats players to expansive cityscapes, and walking the old-world streets provides a romanticized look at what life (or at least tourism) may have been like at that time. Ezio's eagle vision very usefully changes all of this to a dark, cloud-covered void, revealing hidden secrets, mission objectives, friends, and foes in bright highlights, and when dealing with the latter, the game's combat animations, action-camera adjustments, and focal targeting heighten the tension and improve the cinematic experience. It is here, in the midst of such graphical achievement, that my primary complaints about Assassin's Creed II lie. Screen tearing and shadow pop-in, where nearer shadows are rendered more smoothly than distant ones, are common, and those shadows rendered at lower samples often appear to fluctuate until brought into the higher-quality range. These can be annoying initially, but even so, the effects tend to disappear with prolonged play.

Improvement over time becomes a theme as one plays Assassin's Creed II; the characters, the plot, the gameplay mechanics, and the player all grow steadily from beginning to end. In doing so, the game's pace remains as steady or as segmented as the player wishes, because aside from the linear organization of the "memories" that comprise the story, the game features many side missions and personal ambitions for players to partake in. Unlike the previous game, where repetition was unavoidable, only these optional enterprises based on contract assassinations, races, message delivery, et cetera show any signs of monotony, and are all entered into by choice. The assassinations in particular are actually very varied, and can be approached from a number of imaginative angles.

Ezio himself is a solid lead to the finely crafted and intriguing plot. Along with the game's mechanics, he begins as an unrefined version of what he matures into over the course of roughly 20 hours of play; from a young, rash, untrained hothead, he develops into a skilled, tempered, and discerning assassin. He learns new ways of approaching and eliminating targets, such as leaping from above, ambushing from hiding places, ordering hired groups of thieves or courtesans to distract guards, or swimming below the water's surface and reaching up onto the deck of a ship to seize his prey. Even the simple act of blending with the crowd has become entirely natural, allowing Ezio to simply walk in and out of groups of people to avoid detection, stopping on benches when moving, human cover becomes unavailable to him.

Ezio also learns to use new weapons through the deciphering of Altair's lost codices by friend and ally Leonardo da Vinci, and can use money found throughout the cities of northern Italy (and plucked from the pockets of its inhabitants) to purchase new arms and armor, poison vials, dyes for his clothing, and medicine to heal his wounds. Weapons are rated according to their strength, speed, and ability to deflect enemy attacks, and armor improves health and reduces damage, but can be damaged itself, requiring occasional repair at the blacksmith's shop. These are more than just numbers, and they influence the game's combat mechanics to varying degrees. Of particular note is the deflection rating, which subtly widens the window of opportunity players have to counter incoming strikes as it improves. Details such as this connect players to the game in a way such that they are sharing in the development of the character and directly benefiting from the newest tools at his disposal, and also motivate the player to continually perfect the art of combat... from the controller end. The game rarely fails to reach out and include players in what is happening within its virtual walls.

The concept of the assassin stronghold returns in Assassin's Creed II, but unlike the perfunctory existence of Masyaf in Assassin's Creed, the Auditore Villa is yet another aspect of the sequel that grows by the player's hand. By building upon the many shops and other, less gameplay-related establishments in the town, its value increases and Ezio is allowed to buy new items at discounted prices. The art shop, which has no ties to the core gameplay but is slyly connected to certain aspects of the conspiracy theory plot, offers up a great many real paintings from the era in question, as well. Feathers found throughout the land and returned to Ezio's mother earn weapon and outfit rewards, and stone tablets from each of six hidden assassin's tomb locations in the various cities unlock special armor passed down from Altair himself. It is in these locations that old Ubisoft Montreal fans will find a vary special treat, because the environmental puzzles and swift, organized navigation of interior spaces experienced within mark a return to the Prince of Persia: Sands of Time formula sorely lacking from the newest PoP game, if only for six short -- but impressive -- segments.

Every aspect of Assassin's Creed II is seamlessly integrated into the game world and woven into the intricate story about murder, revenge, religious and political corruption, betrayal, and global conspiracy (I'm being deliberately vague in this area, because anyone reading this review should buy the game and experience it for him- or herself). Everything from the menus, to player deaths, to the mixed English and Italian dialog, to subtitles (which display both the spoken Italian and its English translation), to the ability to continue playing after the credits roll, etc. is explained through the story. Perhaps equally impressive is the painstaking detail with which real historic landmarks and personalities are cataloged in a part-fact, part-fiction database. Together with the aforementioned art shops, Assassin's Creed II uses this extensive database to take itself to a new place, where a videogame can be at least somewhat academically significant in a highly palatable and accessible (and once again, optional) way. It is simultaneously a game, a story, a history lesson, an art gallery, and an architectural archive -- no small feat -- and it is good at everything it aims to do.

Without even mentioning the minutia of combat and platforming, Assassin's Creed II is quite an impressive piece of work, and one can rest assured that the game's "puppeteering" control scheme for free-running across rooftops is smooth and liberating, while its attack, defense, counter, and newly added disarm functions in combat are precise and empowering. In all, Assassin's Creed II is simply one of the most engaging, enjoyable, rewarding, and complete videogame experiences I've ever encountered. My highest honors....

The Games Industry Is Doomed? Not Really.

The chart pictured above has been making its way around the internet over the past few days, and seems to be causing a stir among videogame publications seeking to... cause a stir. The general message from most outlets is the cataclysmic claim that "teh gam3z r doooomed" in light of the current economic climate.

They obviously can't read and interpret charts very well.

When you look at this chart, the first thing you notice is obviously the foreboding downward slope of the data points from month to month, but the most important information here is what these points actually represent. These are not concrete sales figures, but, as listed at the top of the chart, "Y/Y % Change." This little term is a more abstract way of saying that each month's sales data is a comparison to the sales from the same month in the previous year, presented as a percentage.

Also worth noting is that the chart's y axis (the vertically arranged part) ranges from a 40% decrease to an 80% increase, leaving the no-change line of 0% relatively close to the bottom, and that the time frame under observation begins at September 2007, 10 months after the last entries into the current console generation landed at retail. So, this means that the chart is dealing with mostly POSITIVE numbers and is only looking at a very small part of modern gaming history.

If we examine the dips in the data, it's easy to see that between March and August of 2009 appear to have been be the roughest times for the industry, but let's not forget how the information is presented -- these numbers are a comparison to the previous year. Looking back at the same period in 2008 shows that for most of that time, videogame sales maintained a steady and sizable 40-60% increase compared to those months in 2007, dipping to only a 10-30% improvement at the period's tail end. It stands to reason that the numbers would show a decline in the following year when compared to such a boom, but still, even a 20% decrease from what had been a 50% increase in the previous year remains a net improvement.

To make this concept clearer, I've edited the chart, overlaying the September 2007 - September 2008 data with those from September 2008 - September 2009. Comparing the blue and red lines makes it even more obvious that the number sets from each successive year will naturally oppose one another simply as a result of the type of data we are looking at -- a percent change.

Even without the decades of sales figures preceding September 2007, it shouldn't be difficult to estimate the change from 2007 to 2009. Simply splitting the difference between the red and blue lines above gives an approximation of where sales from 9/08-9/09 stand as compared to those from 9/07-9/08. The purple line below represents that estimate, shifted into place on the chart for the later time period. Notice that all but the last few months show % increases, meaning that videogame sales have indeed gone up since 2007 and earlier.

If anyone bothers to take a look at where the videogame industry stood in the early part of the century, the 1990s, or the 1980s, I'm sure they will find that it is far from being "in decline." Unless of course you call anything other than skyrocketing a decline, that is -- in that case, sure, this is a decline from the astronomical growth the industry has consistently experienced over the last 25 years.

To Da Moon, Alice! -- Rabbids Go Home Review

Modern video games often feature epic narratives and cinema-worthy production values, seeking to immerse players in magnificent fictional worlds that will help brand those titles games the next big things in gaming. Ubisoft's Rabbids Go Home just wants everyone to have fun, and by keeping players engaged and smiling, it more often than not succeeds at making that happen.

Rabbids Go Home is a departure from earlier games starring the crazy critters, and it abandons the minigame-filled party structure in favor of a more cohesive "comedy adventure" design. It's arguable whether or not the game is any more complex than its predecessors, as it can most aptly be described as a collect-a-thon with a singular goal and repetitive gameplay, but it manages to maintain a Katamari-esque sort of appeal, regardless of (or perhaps because of) its elementary design.

The game's premise is this: The Rabbids' usual gig of tormenting Earthlings is old news, so now they're dead set on venturing to the moon. Their only idea for getting there, however, is to build a giant pile of miscellaneous objects high enough to reach it. So a few Rabbids set out with nothing but a shopping cart and an unwaveringly maniacal sense of enthusiasm to grab anything and everything they can find, and that's where the player comes in. Players control the Rabbids as they collect thousands of toys, clothes, clocks, radios, animals, food items, and any other loose junk they can find throughout 30-plus levels in what plays like a blend of platformer and kart racer with a case of ADD.

As they wheel, slide, and scream through settings such as office buildings, airports, hospitals, and department stores picking up the objects that are strewn about everywhere (and conveniently circled on the screen for easy identification), their feverish grab-and-go tendencies are matched only by their gleeful affinity for terrorizing the conformist, cardboard personalities who spend their days wasting away at these institutions. Those feeble folks are horrified by the little monsters, and just one of the Rabbids' "bwaaah!" screams scares them clear out of their clothes. The "bwaaah" attack, which is triggered by shaking either the Wii remote or the nunchuk, is the Rabbids' primary form of defense against hostiles, and can also knock the "stuff" out of cabinets, dumpsters, vending machines, and other such containers. Skills learned later on include a brief turbo boost for jumping gaps or running people down, and the ability to occasionally pick up and toss bombs. The game's controls are super sharp, and despite the wild carting action, players will feel like they are firmly in the driver's seat the entire time.

Each level contains one large, 600-"stuff"-worth, "XL stuff" object that must be flushed down the toilet at the end (everyone knows that Rabbids transport their junk through the sewers) in order to open up the next area, but by grabbing more of the smaller "XS stuff," the pile grows faster and more places open up for ransacking. Players also earn gifts for gathering specific amounts of "stuff" in each location. These are mostly tattoos, headgear, and face-manipulating tools that are used in the Rabbid customization portion of the game, which is accessible between levels. Once you've unlocked enough options there, creating zany, multicolored, deformed Rabbids can be a real hoot, even if it's completely pointless to do so.

The biggest drawback I encountered while playing Rabbids Go Home is that many of its levels, though different from one another, take place in the same locations and end up feeling recycled. If the game offered a bit more variety, it'd do a better job of sustaining its massive initial appeal. On the other hand, the few race-based and tube-sliding levels thrown in to mix things up were refreshing, and it would have been nice to see this aspect of the game expanded upon, or other, differing gameplay segments included. Stages range from moderately free-roaming to completely linear, but the game works best during the latter, when the pace is quickened and progress is streamlined to match the Rabbids' frantic and straightforward personalities; it's the more open levels that have the greatest potential to weary players.

Aside from the action, much of the game's fun comes from watching and listening to the humans populating the game world, especially the female voice that can be heard over the PA system throughout nearly every level. It's through these characters that the game's satirical humor shines brightest. Clever jokes and criticisms of society, commercialism, religion, etc. are found throughout (I got a kick out of the soda-filled dumpsters with radioactive spills surrounding them in the nuclear facility), making the game more interesting to those who pay attention.

Similarly, the soundtrack seems chosen to portray the very play-it-safe nature of the human citizens, with a selection of recognizable classics offset by the Rabbids' wildly uproarious brass band, but even those licensed tunes are great. From the opening "Come Go With Me" by the Del Vikings (a 50s doo-wop band nobody from recent generations has ever heard of), to the elevator jam, "Rivers of Babylon," with plenty of John Denver in between, every song that drifts along the airwaves seems perfectly selected for the game. Then the Rabbids come trumpeting and tuba-ing through on a high-speed spring mattress to kick things up a notch. Excellent.

Although Rabbids Go Home may be simple and repetitious, the game's efficient and responsive play control, comedic subject matter, and eternally likable protagonists will keep players coming back for more. Some added variety in the level locales, a greater focus on faster-paced gameplay, and a more pronounced difficulty curve would improve the experience, but overall, players will be sure to have fun and stay smiling with the Rabbids' first "comedy adventure."

Not A Happy Ending -- Fairytale Fights Review

The thought of taking traditional fairy-tale characters, warping them, and throwing them into a twisted and violent storybook world is clearly a great idea. Who wouldn't want to play a game based on such a premise? Well, if the only way to do so is via Playlogic's Fairytale Fights, then maybe the answer to that question is you.

Fairytale Fights is a 3D beat-em-up action title with platforming elements that places players in the roles of Little Red Riding Hood, Snow White, Jack (of beanstalk fame), or the Naked Emperor, and sets them off on an adventure through a linear world that is inspired by children's books, but is as demented as the psychiatric ward. Characters like ginger bread men, gnomes, and wolves attack at every turn, so players must make use of an extensive arsenal of blunt, sharp, ranged, and magical weapons to brutally (yet somehow seemingly light-heartedly) massacre them all.

The game has its own little brand of humor, most evident in the sarcastic quips in characters' speech bubbles, but also a bit more discretely present in the background goings-on in each of the game's levels. As for the buckets of brightly colored, smoothly polygonal blood that spills everywhere as Little Red Riding Hood cuts lumberjacks in half with a swordfish skeleton, it's mostly just gratuitous, pointless, and immature. I tried to tap into the most childish centers in my brain to appreciate it, but came back with a response that more closely approximated something like, "Is this really happening? Is she skating on a puddle of blood? Is that necessary?"

This lack of willingness to entirely acquiesce to the game's humor most likely stems from the limited fun to be had with the actual gameplay. The controls feel awkward and unnatural in nearly every way. To start, movement is floaty, and characters too easily get caught on the layered and uneven, albeit interesting, terrain. Swapping weapons is a chore because there is no way to know if a weapon on the ground is better than the weapon in hand without hurling the latter across the screen to make room. Attacking is mapped to the right analog stick, but only ranged attacks are influenced by the direction in which the stick is pushed; melee attacks always go straight ahead in the direction the character is facing, and are not very precise. Characters get caught in unbreakable attack chains that send them swinging in the wrong direction, often leaping uncontrollably forward and plummeting to their doom. Either a regular attack button or consistency across weapon types would have at least helped a little.

The game features an "arena mode," which pits characters against one another in deadly, bloody combat, but because the controls are such a struggle to begin with, even playing against other local or online players is just a wild mess of stick wiggling. Drop-in/drop-out multiplayer works better in the game's story mode, so long as friendly fire is turned off and you can't go flailing into one another; playing with a friend makes this mode slightly more enjoyable... or rather, less painful.

The game's visual style is colorful and bright, and creates a strange and warped world of fairy tale settings and characters, but the overall quality of the graphics is sub-par by today's standards. the game looks dated, and sounds the same way. There is no voiced dialog in Fairytale Fights, and only some of the background tunes redeem the game's soundscape... if players make the effort to pay attention.

Fairytale Fights is built upon an interesting premise with great potential, but sprouts something far inferior to a magical beanstalk. While it can be briefly enjoyable and provide a few giggles and chuckles, it quickly becomes repetitive and boring. Cooperative play helps, but in the end, the poor controls and lack of genuinely entertaining qualities will drive most players away.

Fallout 3 Arcade -- Borderlands Review

When developers attempt to combine video game genres, the resulting creation more often than not turns out to be at least an interesting piece of software, if not a wholly enjoyable one. In the case of Gearbox Software's new RPS (role-playing shooter), Borderlands, the final product is both interesting and enjoyable, even if it isn't as much of a comprehensive or diversified gameplay experience as other games at either end of its genre-blending spectrum.

Initially, Borderlands feels familiar yet novel. The game asks players to select one of four characters who each excel at a specific type of combat, based on their starting weapon and the skills that they will learn later on. The model follows traditional RPG and squad-based shooter conventions, with characters representing the heavy-hitting tank, the sniper, the all-around soldier, and a more unique infiltrator type. Any character can be specialize however the player chooses, though, because skills with the various weapon types improve based on usage, rather than pre-determined, level-based increments. Building characters that deviate from the normal archetypes may be ill-advised, considering their unique class skills won't be as relevant or useful, but because their skill trees include three differing branches and additional choices within each, it is possible to develop a character that focuses on a particular class-specific skill set, but also incorporates other classes' fortes (like my personal sniper/falconer with a minor in shotgunning).

Gameplay revolves primarily around accepting and completing quests for various non-player characters inhabiting the game world, Pandora. Many of these quests advance the game's main plot, and a greater number are available tangentially via bounty boards and at the whims of the aforementioned NPCs. While the satisfying shooting mechanics, solid-feeling weaponry, and copious loot collection provide plenty of fun, the goal-driven gameplay eventually wears on the player. Missions involve many similar objectives, like collecting varying numbers of items, reaching specific locations, or killing particular enemies, and the paths to these goals are filled with fundamentally enjoyable but inevitably monotonous gunfights against mostly the same enemies with very predictable AI. Perhaps the most detrimental aspect of the campaign is that the plot is paper-thin and players will rarely be eager to see where the narrative goes next, aside from meeting a few genuinely humorous characters.

When it comes to guns and equipment, the "bazillions of guns" claim is in no way a lie -- there are more variations of the seven basic gun types, grenades, and shields than anyone dare attempt to count. Finding new weapons is always an adventure, as players will constantly compare the power, firing rates, accuracy, capacity, zoom capabilities, and elemental effects of any new pickups, at the same time enjoying the different guns' visual appearances. The game also incorporates a color-coded rarity rating system for all equipment, with less common items usually performing better and banking more money when sold. Fortunately, inventory management is streamlined and simple, so weeding through this immense arsenal won't become a laborious process.

In fact, very little in Borderlands is a huge challenge, and players can muscle through much of the game. A number of factors contribute to this, including the aforementioned AI and marginally-complex mission structure, which let players essentially run and gun straight through to their mission objectives in a relatively straight line at a mostly unreserved pace. Additionally, players will rarely find themselves strapped for cash because of the incredible availability of weapon drops, all of which can be sold at any in-game vending machine, and the caches of money that litter the landscape.

Cooperative play is a huge part of Borderlands, and can either make things easier and more enjoyable or frustrating and difficult. In local split-screen mode and online games where players have headsets to communicate, working together is great fun, even when the game ramps up the difficulty to account for the added team support. Using complimentary character skills and team-affecting abilities is very satisfying, and if you're like me, the constant desire to be the most productive and deadly on your squad will be motivational and engaging. On the other hand, playing with no means of communication is like hammering your toes to the floor (that means it's not fun). Some players are clueless, will behave counter-productively, and will make you want to quit the game. Luckily, you can do just that and hopefully find a game with less impaired teammates.

No matter how you play the game, Borderlands' striking animated art style, with bright, high-contrast visuals, is immediately appealing, and makes Pandora a place that you want to dive headlong into. Everything, from enemies to items to environmental structures, is clear and easily distinguishable, even though many of the game's assets lack truly intricate detail. The style is very similar to the newest Prince of Persia game, but with less epic background vistas and less impressive special effects. It looks great overall, but one glaring issue in Borderlands is the disturbingly obvious texture pop-in, which makes each new area look like someone simply dumped watercolors onto every surface until the definition improves many seconds later. It's a jarring effect that happens upon entering a new area or starting the game; if it occurs at other times, it's far less conspicuous.

Borderlands will suck players into a huge world that is just begging to be explored, but exploration isn't one of the game's strong suits. Players will undoubtedly have a great time with the different character builds, weapons, and multiplayer squad configurations, but will also be served lackluster narrative and mission structure that temper the experience. Overall, it's absolutely worth playing, however, as there is no other game that achieves cooperative RPS gameplay equivalent to what's presented here.

Let The Wild Rumpus Start -- Where The Wild Things Are Review

If you were ever a child (and somehow I'm willing to wager that you once were or currently are one), then you've likely encountered Maurice Sendak's award-winning tale, Where the Wild Things Are. Being one of the most acclaimed children's books of all time, it comes as no surprise that this story of a child's imagination and anger has been adapted into a Hollywood film. The film, of course, has given rise to a video game... and it's actually not bad. Although it is in every way a simplistic take on often-recycled video-game concepts and gameplay mechanics, Where the Wild Things Are is still an enjoyable platform adventure that will keep many players -- children and adults alike -- interested until the end.

As one might expect, Where the Wild Things Are more closely mimics the movie than the original book, but takes plenty of liberties in creating its own original plot. The game is about a boy named Max who lands his boat on the island of the Wild Things. The monsters, with some resistance and a mixture of hospitality and distrust, crown him the "King of All Wild Things," and enlist his help in escaping the island before it is destroyed.

While it is presented as a kids' game, the tone of Where the Wild Things Are is just a few shades darker than your average children's title. Max's relationship with the Wild Things is not all love and cuddles, despite what the game's "hug," "dance," and "roar" buttons might suggest. The themes of anger and loneliness aren't on display here as in the source material, but players will certainly question whether the Wild Things can be trusted, or if they will just as soon kill Max as exalt him. Watching Wild Thing Island fall apart on screen is also notably less flowery than the average children's tale. The game's atmosphere, like Spike Jonze's film, is somewhat reminiscent of Team Ico's work, and is peaceful, mysterious, and foreboding at the same time. The score and setting contribute equally to this, with orchestrated compositions playing over desolate island backdrops throughout the adventure.

Gameplay will be very familiar to most players, as it borrows from popular titles such as the Prince of Persia, God of War, and the 3D Mario games. The primary action consists of running, jumping, climbing, and swinging, as well as basic one-button melee combat with a few modest enemy types. Special actions such as flying and gliding are also possible with the help of temporarily equippable items. The controls are generally smooth and responsive, and the lengthier platforming segments full of falling pillars, ledges, vines, branches, and other obstacles are very satisfying. Max's less-than-Olympic jumping skills will make some maneuvers more frustrating than they should be, though, and the more combat the game adds -- particularly the frequent fights with "gunk" creatures toward its later stages -- the less interesting things become.

Although exploring the island is an enjoyable experience, it is also a very guided one. The range of Max's exploration feels very obviously and artificially limited, with only a few hidden places off of an otherwise well-beaten path. The Wild Things' village is a more open area, but there is very little to do there beyond collecting objects for the monsters. Max will collect items throughout the story segments, too, but the process never feels forced, unlike many other games. By the same token, however, this natural collection process rarely challenges players.

Where the Wild Things Are isn't about to win any awards for pioneering new technology or gameplay mechanics, but by borrowing from well-established franchises and settling into a genre designed for fun, Griptonyte Games has managed to create a charming film-to-game adaptation that many people will surely enjoy.