#oneaday Day 832: The Seven Wonders of Waterdeep

So, birthday number 31 has been and gone and it’s been a pleasant one. It’s been a rather more low-key affair than last year’s few days of awesomeness that Andie arranged, but it’s still been a fine day filled with good friends, board and computer games, cookies, coffee and Catan.

I wanted to talk a little bit about two of the board games we played today that weren’t Catan — 7 Wonders and Lords of Waterdeep. These two titles are relatively new to me (in fact, today was the first time I’d even seen Lords of Waterdeep, let alone played it) but I like them both a great deal. They’re very different from one another, so let’s take them one at a time.

7 Wonders is a card game based around the concept of civilisation-building. Unlike many other civ-building games, however, a game of 7 Wonders is over and done with relatively quickly thanks to its simple, elegant mechanics.

The game is split into three “ages”, each of which has its own deck of cards. These are dealt out equally to each player to give them a unique hand. Each player then picks one of the cards from the hand and passes the rest on to the next player. Some cards may be built for free, some require the payment of gold coins (represented by cardboard chits) and some require specific resources to use.

Resources are depicted in an abstract manner by cards — unlike games like Catan, though, they are not expended when used. Rather, they represent a player’s potential to produce a certain amount of that resource per turn. For example, if a player has two cards with “wood” symbols down on the table, they may play a card which requires one or two “wood” resources to use, but the wood is not expended in the process. In order to get the ball rolling, each civilisation has its own “starting resource” which it doesn’t require any cards to make use of — and player may pay gold to one another to “borrow” resources. Again, this does not expend the other player’s resources, nor does it stop them from using the same resources themselves.

Cards are split into several different types — basic resources (wood, stone, brick, ore), luxury resources (glass, silks, papyrus), trade buildings (which generally allow players to acquire resources from other players for cheaper), point cards (which simply score points), guild cards (which provide bonuses at the end of the game for certain specific cards), military cards (which represent a civilisation’s military strength in an abstract manner) and science cards. Science cards form the basis of the game’s most complex mechanic — collecting sets of the same type of “science” provides the player with points to the value of the number of cards squared, while collecting one of each of the three “science” symbols provides the player with a further 7 points.

Players may also choose to build a stage of their civilisation’s Wonder. This costs several resources and prevents the player from using a card that turn in the process — however, this can be a good strategic means of preventing the next player from getting a card they really want. Building a Wonder stage either provides the player with points or a special ability of some description. Some allow cards to be acquired for free, others allow players to rifle through the discard deck and build something which is already out of play, others still bend the rules in different ways.

At the end of each “age”, players tot up their military strength cards and compare them to the players on either side of where they are sitting. If their military strength is greater than their neighbour, they gain a point bonus that increases with each “age”. If it is weaker, they take a score penalty. This remains the same — -1 — in each stage of the game.

At the end of the game, all scores are totalled up and whoever has the most points wins. Simple.

7 Wonders is a fun game because it’s quick to pick up and understand (despite what my description above may read like to you, it’s actually fairly straightforward to learn even if you’re a complete board game newbie) and fast-paced. There’s little in the way of “analysis paralysis” as people agonise over which cards to play, and you can get through an entire game in well under an hour. Despite its brisk pace, it has plenty of depth, though, and various randomised elements provide each session with a degree of variety.

Recommended, then.

Lords of Waterdeep, meanwhile, is a Dungeons and Dragons-themed building game where each player is competing to score the most victory points by the end of a limited number of turns. Most of these victory points come from the completion of “quests”, most of which require the expenditure of resources and money — in this case, the resources being adventurers of various types. This is D&D, after all!

The basic gameplay is quite similar to Agricola. A variety of “action spaces” are available on the board, and players take it in turns to place one of their “agents” on a space to claim it and perform its action. These actions range from simply taking resources or currency to more complex activities such as playing “intrigue cards”.

Quests are completed simply by having the appropriate combination of resources on hand, at which point the player flips over the completed quest card and takes any rewards printed on it. Quests are divided into several different categories, and at the start of the game each player receives a secret card telling them which categories of completed quests will score them bonus points at the end of the game.

The aforementioned “intrigue cards” provide a lot more interaction than something like Agricola in that they are typically used to attack other players or benefit whoever is playing them in some way. Some cards allow the player to steal resources from others. Others simply force other players to give up resources, or allow the player playing the card an extra turn. They can turn the tide of a round completely almost immediately, and provide great scope for both laughs and wanting to throw chairs at your opponents.

Players may also build buildings in the city, which become extra action spaces but typically provide a bonus to whoever “owns” the building when used. The exact buildings which turn up in the game are randomised, too, so there’s an element of chance and uncertainty to what is coming up rather than the more predictable turn order of Agricola.

I enjoyed Lords of Waterdeep a lot. I’d need to play it a few more times to understand its nuances, but I felt like I understood what I was doing a lot better than Agricola. (I am constantly comparing to Agricola because mechanically it is relatively similar, though arguably less complex.) At no point did I feel I was “out of my depth” or being “left behind” — there was always something worthwhile to do, but it never felt like there were too many things to do and not enough time to do them in, which is my biggest bugbear with Agricola. It’s not a “beginners'” game by any means, but for those who enjoy a good Eurogame and have any fondness for D&D, it’s a worthwhile investment of your time.

Two great games, then; if you’re a board game fan, be sure to check ’em out. And if you’re at all interested in the hobby but perhaps don’t know a great deal about it, I strongly suggest you check out Wil Wheaton’s new YouTube show Table Top, in which he sits down with a variety of famous people (well, famous geeks, mostly) to play a game, explaining it along the way. It’s a good way to get a feel for how a game works — including the dynamic of group interaction during play. So far they’ve covered Catan and Small World.

And on that note, time for bed, I think. Night-night.

Pete, age 31

#oneaday Day 831: Another Year

So, as of the time of writing, I’ve just turned thirty-one years old. As becomes increasingly common as the years pass by, it doesn’t feel any different to being thirty.

I was mostly prepped for the supposed horror of turning thirty by my parents. My father in particular apparently didn’t take to turning thirty all that well, so I was expecting a semi-to-fully traumatic experience. It actually turned out to be a rather pleasant experience, as I was whisked off on a weekend to London by my girlfriend Andie, and then had the chance to see a bunch of friends for curry and good times.

A lot has happened in the space of the last year. Having been forced to move back home with my parents due to my shattered personal life from the year prior, in August I moved back out again. At the time I was working for GamePro and was earning a decent wage from it, too, so Andie (who was also living with her mother at the time) and I decided that we were both in a situation where we could get a house and move in together. So we did. And that was good.

Since that time, GamePro collapsed — in December of last year, to be specific. I was very sad about this, as I felt I’d found my “calling” — I did a great job of posting the daily news there, and my hard work was appreciated by the people I was working for. I was grateful for the opportunity, grateful to be accepted and appreciated in what I was doing, and grateful to, for the first time in my life, have a job that I actually enjoyed.

I was half-expecting the collapse of GamePro to signal another disastrous collapse in my own personal circumstances. At the time, I didn’t have enough money saved up to survive for very long and still be able to pay my tax bill at the beginning of next year. I started frantically applying for jobs and finding the same situation I had done prior to starting at GamePro — no-one was interested in me. I don’t know whether it was my lack of “relevant” qualifications for certain sectors, my wide-ranging experience that covered both teaching and writing positions, or something else. Whatever it was, it carried a significant risk of making me feel like absolute crap again.

Fortunately, I found myself with a new job before long, and I’m enjoying it. I’m constantly learning new stuff, too, which is a big bonus. My writing may not be quite so much in the “mainstream” public eye any more, but I’m find with that; it means that I have to deal with far fewer hormonal teenagers who can’t spell, punctuate or formulate an argument. I also haven’t had any accusations of being a paedophile since starting my new job, either, which is always nice.

What else? I’ve bought a new computer, bought an Android tablet, discovered My Little Pony, played all three of the “Operation Rainfall” role-playing games on the Wii, finally started playing Nier, started a few creative projects, started, stopped, started, stopped and started again at the gym lots of times… the list goes on. When put that way, it probably doesn’t sound all that interesting, really. But I can’t say it’s been a shitty year, unlike certain previous years I could mention. On the whole, it’s been a reasonably good year and hopefully things will just continue to improve.

Now it’s time to go to bed. I’ve had friends over playing TrackMania, Dungeon Defenders, 7 Wonders and Catan this evening, with more arriving tomorrow for further board game fun and frolics.

See you on my “proper” birthday.

#oneaday Day 830: Roguelikes, for the Adventure-Curious

I was having an idle discussion with a couple of people on Twitter earlier, at least one of whom I know reads this blog (hi Anne!) and the subject turned to that of roguelikes. This is a genre of gaming that I’ve got to know quite well over the last couple of years and while I’m still not that good at them (I’m yet to beat one, for example), I feel I know a bit more about the genre now.

Quick recap for the uninitiated: a roguelike is a (usually) turn-based role-playing game typically focused on exploring randomly-generated dungeons, killing as many monsters as possible and acquiring lots of lovely loot. Sometimes there is a plot or quests and usually there’s some way to “win”, but they tend to be monstrously difficult games and generally feature “permadeath” in that they delete your save game if you happen to kick the bucket during one of your (mis)adventures.

It’s easy to see them as utterly impenetrable, however, thanks largely to the fact that many of them are presented using purely ASCII graphics, making them look more like something from Teletext than cutting-edge interactive entertainment. The fact that some of the more popular ones have a key command mapped to literally every key on the keyboard (shifted and non-shifted) doesn’t help matter, either.

So what I’ve gone and done is pick out some of the roguelikes I’ve played over the years that seem to be pretty accessible and easily-understandable. Then, if you’re curious, you can try them out for yourself. If not, you can, I don’t know, go and harass a badger or something.

So let us begin.

Diablo III

Okay, technically it’s not a roguelike in the strictest definition of the genre, but Blizzard’s upcoming title shares a lot of DNA with the genre. Randomly-generated dungeons, a focus on combat and loot whoring rather than plot (though the game does have a story, and seemingly somewhat better delivered than in its predecessors) and even the option for permadeath if you’re feeling masochistic. The Diablo series has always been very accessible yet deep for those willing to invest some time and effort into it, and early indications seem to be that the third iteration will be no exception. It also has a great multiplayer mode, which is the highlight of the experience for many.

Where to get it: Buy it for PC here. It’ll be released on May 15, but you can preorder and pre-download now.

Dungeons of Dredmor

Dredmor is an independently-developed roguelike from Gaslamp Games. The game casts players in the role of a male or female hero with a custom combination of skills — some useful, some just plain bizarre. It’s then up to the player to battle their way down through the titular dungeons on their way to a confrontation with Dredmor himself. Dungeons of Dredmor is accessible in that there are not many commands to remember and the base mechanics are pretty simple. It also has attractive pixel-art graphics, a bizarrely cheerful soundtrack and an excellent sense of humour. The developers also regularly release updates to the game that improve the experience significantly.

Where to get it: Buy it for PC and Mac via Steam.

Hack, Slash, Loot

Hack, Slash, Loot differs from many other roguelikes in its scope. Its quests are short, there’s no level grinding for experience points and the only stuff the player character can carry is the stuff they have equipped. Potions and scrolls are used immediately, and equipment is swapped out when picked up, meaning players have to weigh up whether or not their newly-discovered loot is worth taking with them. The whole thing is wrapped in an endearing retro aesthetic and its difficulty level is fond of kicking you repeatedly in the face until you cry. As compensation, however, the more you die, the more characters and quests you unlock.

Where to get it: Buy it for PC and Mac via Steam.

Doom: The Roguelike

Doom: The Roguelike (or DoomRL as it is often referred to) is an excellent example of the creativity often seen in the genre. The game is quite literally a reimagining of the original Doom but rendered as a roguelike. Until recently, it combined the original music and sounds of Doom with ASCII art, but the most recent update has added graphics, new music and remastered sounds. It’s a simple but fun experience and works considerably better than you might expect. Best of all, it’s free.

Where to get it: Download it for PC, Mac or Linux for free here, though the Mac port is a bit dodgy.

Tales of Maj’Eyal

Tales of Maj’Eyal (formerly Tales of Middle Earth) is one of the more well-established names in the free roguelike sector. It’s a more complex game than some of its peers, but its interface is accessible and the mechanics are straightforward to understand. There are lots of different character classes to try, and lots of locations to explore. The game is relatively unusual in the genre for including a “world map” and towns to explore between dungeons, giving it a more traditional RPG structure while still punching you in the squishy bits with its difficulty on a regular basis.

Where to get it: Download it for PC, Mac or Linux here.

100 Rogues

The quintessential iOS roguelike, 100 Rogues combines attractive retro pixel art with simple mechanics and addictive gameplay. The quest is short enough that it could potentially be finished in one sitting, and you get the opportunity to battle the Pope. Like most of its peers, it’s incredibly challenging, but very addictive.

Where to get it: Buy it for iPhone and iPad here.

There are hundreds of other examples out there, but these are some that I’ve played and enjoyed as someone who is still something of a greenhorn in the genre. Why not check them out? In my experience, roguelikes are some of the best games for creating “emergent narratives” — that is, the stories that occur naturally through your play rather than an explicit narrative included by the developer. Stories like these, for example.

#oneaday Day 829: Nier: Some Early Impressions

I’ve been playing Nier, a game I’ve been meaning to try for absolutely ages and struggled to find a copy of. As it happens, my local second-hand games emporium had a copy, allowing me to sample its delights. Like many titles I’ve wanted to try for a while, I’ve managed to go into the experience with a relative sense of “beginners’ mind”, allowing me to enjoy it as if it were “new”, so to speak. This, I feel, is a key part of the Nier experience, since it continually throws you curveballs as you play, remaining constantly surprising.

At its heart, Nier is a simple action RPG, but to call it that is to do it a gross injustice. The hack-and-slash combat may be a bit simple, but when combined with the variety of bizarre magical attacks Our Hero gains the capability to perform over the course of his adventure, the gameplay is shaken up regularly enough to keep you questioning exactly what sort of game it is that you’re really playing.

So far I’ve experienced open-world “run around and kill shit to get their stuff” gameplay; lots of “fetch quests”; side-on platforming sections; top-down Zelda-style sections; fishing; “bullet hell” shooter sections… and I have little doubt that the game has further surprises along the way.

Nier subscribes to the “less is more” viewpoint by taking place in a relatively limited geographical area. Within these relatively few zones, however, lots of things happen. Locals have their own little questline stories to follow, many of which end in surprisingly bleak tragedy. Some people drop a few hints about Nier’s curious far-future setting. It’s quite a believable world at times, and your attachment to it as a player grows as Our Hero tries his very best to Do Good.

One of my favourite things about the game so far has been the stark contrast between the random errands you find yourself doing for locals and the more intense, “main story” stuff which tends to culminate in ridiculously over the top boss fights. For the best part of 10 hours, for example, I barely gained any experience points whatsoever, instead choosing to pursue quests. In the process I acquired plenty of items and money, but most importantly I learned a great deal about the world of Nier and its characters. It’s a vaguely similar approach to what The Last Story does with its completely optional, often seemingly reward-free sidequests on Lazulis Island. By immersing yourself in the lives of the characters going about their day to day life, their struggles carry greater meaning when things start to get a bit crazy.

The writing is worthy of note, too. Early in the game, Our Hero acquires a sentient magical book known as Grimoire Weiss, and there are some extremely well-scripted sequences between the two of them prompted by all sorts of things — starting a new quest, going fishing, coming across a new location. The very British-seeming sarcasm of Weiss is juxtaposed beautifully with Our Hero’s stoic determination — but Nier himself isn’t above the odd sarcastic comment. “Try not to get crushed!” yells Weiss during an intense boss battle that carries the risk of being crushed. “That’s good advice, thanks,” spits Our Hero sarcastically as he rolls to escape the aforementioned fate.

I’m given to understand that there are numerous endings to the game requiring several playthroughs to fully appreciate, so I’m going to reserve full judgement and further comment on the game until I’ve done exactly that. I will say, however, that I am having a blast with it so far, and am even enjoying running back and forth doing errands for the people of Nier’s world.

Expect further bulletins as events warrant!

#oneaday Day 828: It’s Time to Get Over the Graphics Thing

I read this piece on Game Informer tonight. It made me cross. If you can’t be bothered to read it yourself, the gist of the piece is that Xenoblade Chronicles, one of the best games of the generation (in my humble opinion, anyway) “deserved better than what [Nintendo] forced [it] to be.”

To be fair to the author Chris “Warcraft” Kluwe, he does commend the game’s strengths: its excellent world, its inventive, creative ideas; even going so far as to say that the game had the potential to be “this generation’s Final Fantasy VII“. But to say that the Wii “laughs at [developer MonolithSoft’s] dreams… and flushes them down the toilet of GameCube-era hardware Nintendo likes to call cutting edge” is a spectacularly blinkered viewpoint.

The fact is, it’s unlikely that Xenoblade Chronicles (and its spiritual successors The Last Story and Pandora’s Tower) would ever have been released had it not been for the Wii. The Wii’s lower demands in terms of asset production means that a sprawling, ambitious game such as Xenoblade Chronicles can be produced on a fraction of the budget of an HD title. Even then, though, MonolithSoft had to cut corners; the “gasping fish mouths bobbing up and down through beautifully crafted dialogue” that Kluwe refers to are a symptom of this.

The sad fact is that Japanese role-playing games are not the unstoppable juggernaut they once were. Where once they were a system seller, now they are a niche interest at best. The “mainstream” has shifted well and truly to the West; even Square Enix’s venerable Final Fantasy series is seen as little more than a particularly well-polished curio these days. Big-budget role-playing titles for HD consoles such as Lost Odyssey and, to a lesser extent, titles like Nier (aside: which I’m currently playing and is awesome) struggle to find a substantial audience (compared to “triple-A” titles, anyway) and, by extension, the ability to recoup the enormous spend necessary to craft a beautiful world in high definition and 5.1 surround sound. So developers and publishers simply aren’t taking the risk because it’s, well, too risky.

But the Wii gives them a platform to make these titles without having to spend as much money and time on the creation of assets. It’s not a case of Nintendo “shackling an obviously talented team like MonolithSoft to the ball and chain of the Wii because [they] want to sell waggle” (for just one of many things wrong with that statement, Xenoblade Chronicles features no waggle whatsoever). It’s a case of Nintendo giving talented teams the opportunity to do what they do best and then release them to a market of enthusiasts who are still clamouring for these titles. Yes, the Wii has a lot of waggle-based crap. But it also has an impressive library of Great Games That Absolutely Fucking No-One Has Ever Heard Of Ever Because They’re A Bit Weird Or Nichey And Have 480p Visuals.

Just because JRPGs don’t sell well compared to titles like Call of Duty and Mass Effect doesn’t mean that no-one wants to play them any more. In fact, the audience for the genre is probably actually the same size that it’s ever been; the difference is that the Call of Duty players have sprung up around them and outnumber them considerably. Given the simple choice between making something that will make fans happy and something that will make a metric fuck-ton of money, the vast majority of publishers will take the latter option. That’s simply “good business”, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all — developers gotta eat, after all. But to deride Nintendo for providing a platform eminently suited to developers who actively want to create niche titles for console — games which often provoke intense passion among their fans (as you can probably tell from this post) — is simply ridiculous.

It’s an age-old adage in the games industry that graphics do not maketh the game. Never has it been more true than in this strange period where we have two HD consoles and one SD system. Would Xenoblade Chronicles, The Last Story and Pandora’s Tower have been better games had they been released on the Xbox 360 or PlayStation 3? Absolutely not. (Pandora’s Tower, in fact, would have been considerably inferior due to the fact it actually makes good use of the Wii’s unique control scheme.) They would have been better-presented games, sure, but the core gameplay in all three cases is brilliant — and, to add insult to injury, the graphics for all three aren’t even what you could possibly describe as “bad” — just low-resolution. There’s a difference — sadly, one seemingly lost on many reviewers who describe their visuals as “muddy” or “poor” and, in many cases, knock a point off the final score in punishment. I defy anyone who has stood on the Makna Falls overlook in Xenoblade Chronicles, seen the beautiful afternoon sunlight and shadows in the castle courtyard in The Last Story or stood atop the Observatory gazing towards the Thirteen Towers at sunset in Pandora’s Tower to say that these games have “poor” visuals.

As such, I implore those of you who are gamers to stop caring so much about titles having pin-sharp graphics, fully orchestrated soundtracks and a voice cast of Major Hollywood Talent. Yes, these things make games more impressive and exciting to watch and play, but given the choice between a world made up of nothing but HD first-person shooters starring Morgan Freeman (with the world’s population of racist teenagers on backing vocals via Xbox Live) and a world where I can play 100+ hours of Xenoblade Chronicles in 480p with a selection of unknown (but excellent) British voice actors, I know which I’d rather spend my time in.

That’s just me, though. I illustrate my blog with stickmen, so take my word with a pinch of salt if you wish.

(Edit: Here’s an unedited picture of Pandora’s Tower running in 480p taken with my iPhone camera. Looks pretty lovely to me.)

#oneaday Day 827: You Should Back Republique on Kickstarter if You’re an iOS Gamer — And Perhaps Even if You’re Not

I backed the highly promising-looking project Republique on Kickstarter recently. Despite it looking like a high-quality endeavour from a reputable team (including former Halo 4 creative director Ryan Payton, no less) it’s struggling to reach its goal of $500,000 — as of the time of writing, it’s sitting at $86,477 with 16 days left to go.

For the unfamiliar, Republique is a bold attempt to create a “triple-A” game experience on iOS. The goals that the team hopes to achieve include designing a game specifically for touch-based devices; creating an intense action game without a focus on killing; creating a game with a believable, non-sexualized female lead; exploring “heavy” topics and saying something “meaningful”; and pushing cutting-edge graphics on mobile devices.

All reasonable ambitions, you might think. The thinking behind the game’s design is that “gamers will embrace iOS when more games are made for them.”

That, unfortunately, is where the problem lies — a lot of people are still resistant to the idea that a mobile device can play host to a “proper” game — i.e. one that you play for more than five minutes at a time, that doesn’t feature a three-star rating system on every level and doesn’t offer the possibility of purchasing in-game currency for faster progress. (That said, the ever-greedy EA has been sneaking the latter mechanic into some of its recent games, much to the chagrin of people who hate that sort of thing, particularly when they’ve already spent $60 on the game itself, but that’s beside the point.)

To look at the popular titles on the App Store, you’d be forgiven for thinking that these naysayers had a point. Of the top free iPhone games at the time of writing, pretty much all of them are either casual or social fare, riddled with microtransactions and designed more as a moneymaking “service” than anything with meaningful gameplay. (Yes, even the ridiculously popular Draw Something falls into this category.) Paid apps don’t fare much better, either, with the super-casual (and a bit rubbish) Angry Birds Space topping the charts, closely followed by numerous other lightweight titles.

This isn’t to say there are no “core” titles on iOS. Far from it, in fact — Square Enix, for example, has put out some excellent role-playing titles including Final Fantasy I, II and III, Chrono Trigger, Chaos Rings and Final Fantasy Tactics. Sega has rereleased a number of its old Genesis titles including strategy RPG classic Shining Force. EA has put out mobile adaptations of its popular franchises such as Dead Space, Mass Effect and numerous others. But why do these titles flounder — relatively speaking, anyway — when compared to more casual fare?

It’s a simple numbers game. Not everyone who owns an iOS device is a “core” gamer. Angry Birds et al have their place among those of us who don’t know what RPG, HP, MP or FPS stand for, or who think “bullet hell” refers to driving through a particularly unpleasant part of Manchester in the middle of the night. As it happens, these more casual players probably outnumber the more dedicated “core” types to whom “triple-A” titles such as Republique might be marketed to. As such, they appear to dominate the charts on a regular basis.

Does that mean that “core” developers should give up and not even bother trying to put together something impressive on mobile platforms? Absolutely not, though they should be aware of what they’re getting into and the problems they will have to overcome in the process.

Firstly, one of these “core” titles probably isn’t going to top the charts. The Angry Birds series, for example, has enjoyed well over half a billion downloads in its lifetime and made developer Rovio a worldwide phenomenon in the process. Its simple gameplay and premise mean that anyone can pick it up, play and have fun. (Unless you’re me. I hate that stupid game.) Conversely, a “core” title likely has a barrier of entry — “you must be this familiar with video games to ride”, if you will. Not only that, but its audience must be people willing to sit down with a game for more than a few minutes at a time while they’re waiting for a bus, waiting for the kettle to boil or waiting for their bowels to evacuate.

Secondly, iOS players are curiously resistant to what they see as “high” prices. Square Enix’s titles, for example, have caught frequent flak for being anywhere between $8.99 and $17.99. Compared to a new release on PC, console, Vita or 3DS, however, these prices are still eminently reasonable — but they’re expensive compared to the $.99 you pay for Angry Birds, and the fact that they’re deeper, more impressive, bigger-budget experiences than Rovio’s avian-flinging nonsense isn’t often taken into account.

The problem here is that in order for a “triple-A” iOS title with high production values to be successful, it will need to overcome that particular resistance that players feel to paying more than, say, $5 for a game. The Kickstarter for Republique will provide those who pledge $10 or more with a copy of the full game when it’s released — and going by the pattern of other successful video game Kickstarters, the full version will likely cost more than this “backer’s rate”. We’re likely looking at $15-20 at least, and that’s a price point that takes the game well and truly out of “impulse purchase” territory.

Or does it? Consider Thatgamecompany’s recent PS3 release Journey. This game costs $15 and lasts approximately two hours. People have been willing to part with this much money for what they already know is a two-hour experience simply because other people have said it is good. In many cases, people have done this without a second thought — going into the game with “beginner’s mind” is regarded as an important part of the experience. Does the virtue of the fact that Journey is a game presented on a large television screen make it inherently more valuable than a portable title for a multipurpose mobile device? It’s certainly perceived that way, but why on Earth should that be so?

As the Camouflaj team say on their Kickstarter page for Republique, though, developers need to take more risks if “triple-A” gaming on iOS is to be taken seriously. Lengthy, deep games can and do work on the platform, even if they don’t chart very highly compared to casual and social juggernauts. The most important considerations for any developer thinking about doing this, however, should be designing it specifically for the device. That means building a game around a touch-based interface, not putting in crappy virtual joypads with no tactile feedback. A game with touch controls needn’t be shallow — games such as Undercroft that recreate what would have been the mouse-driven interface of old PC games work well, for example, so there’s plenty of scope there.

From what I know of the team behind Republique, I believe that they have a good idea of what they’re doing. I believe that their game could prove to be an excellent example of what mobile platforms is capable of for “core” gamers. And I simply believe that the project should be supported, not because I want to see an end to the casual titles on mobile — they have their place — but because as a format, mobile devices’ capabilities are more than broad enough to cater to more than a “lowest common denominator” audience. It should be supported because it’s a worthwhile project that, if successful, will benefit mobile gaming in general in the long run — not just iOS. That means you embittered Android types upset that this title doesn’t mention your chosen platform at all should consider throwing a few quid their way, too. Vote with your wallet, as they say.

Check out the Republique Kickstarter and pledge a donation here.

#oneaday Day 826: No Kind of Atmosphere

I’ve been watching Red Dwarf on Netflix recently. In the process I’ve discovered that there’s actually a hell of a lot of that series that I’d never seen before, so I’ve been delighted to (re)discover it.

Red Dwarf was one of those series that That One Guy At University Who Endlessly Quoted Things endlessly quoted. Well, perhaps not endlessly — sometimes he was quoting Blackadder. I’m only just now, some ten years later, coming around to the idea that I can actually watch those shows again without hearing That One Guy At University Who Endlessly Quoted Things’ voice in my head.

That’s beside the point though. And the point is that Red Dwarf is still an excellent series, for more reasons than one.

First up, it’s quite simply an excellent comedy series. The small cast of exaggerated characters makes for some excellent comic situations. The fact that all of the characters have at least one major flaw in their personalities is what makes them entertaining, too — Lister is arguably the closest we get to a “straight man” in the show, but even he’s flawed; he’s gross, he’s selfish and his reliance on curry as his primary form of sustenance doubtless makes him rather unpleasant to live with. Rimmer, meanwhile, is by turns arrogant and crippled by self-doubt; The Cat is vain to a fault; and Kryten has difficulty with acting independently when it conflicts with his programming. Put these dysfunctional characters together and you have a recipe for plenty of comic conflict.

The less-considered side of the show is that it’s actually a surprisingly decent sci-fi show, too. While it doesn’t have anywhere near the budget of what we might be used to from more recent titles — or even shows like Star Trek: The Next Generation, which ran at a similar time — it manages to convey a convincing feeling of what Life Is Like In The Future. The show doesn’t batter the audience over the head with lengthy descriptions of what things do or how they work; rather, it simply drops things into conversation that make it clear that we’re absolutely not on 21st century Earth any more.

Part of this comes from the show’s use of language. Its use of terms like “smeg”, “gimboid”, “goit” and numerous other faux-expletives was initially to get around the fact that it wasn’t okay to say certain things on television, but over time these words became part of the show’s identity. Numerous other shows have taken a similar approach since — Firefly features Chinese swearing, for example, while Battlestar Galactica features the multi-purpose invective “frak” at regular intervals. (It’s not clear how much Red Dwarf’s use of fake swear words influenced these titles, if at all.) Initially, the presence of these words is jarring as you wonder what they mean and why they’re not simply using regular expletives. But over time, as you become invested in the worlds created by the writers, you begin to let these words wash over you and enter your vocabulary even though, in most cases, they’re completely made up, portmanteau words or “loan words” from another language.

Ultimately, Red Dwarf succeeds due to the fact it never tries to get ideas above its station. It knows that it’s a low-budget sci-fi comedy with a small cast, and rarely attempts to deviate too much from that formula. Some may argue that the later seasons do deviate from this formula and are consequently weaker as a result, but having not (re)watched them yet, I’m not going to comment on that right now. One thing the show doesn’t do, however, is rest on its laurels; each season has its own distinctive identity, and it’s quite fascinating to see the changes it goes through as the years pass by and the budget increases.

It’s still great, then, in short, and if you’ve never had the pleasure of watching it, then you should check it out. It’s all on Netflix (in the UK, anyway), so be sure to check it out if you’re a member.

#oneaday Day 825: Bull, Horns, That Sort of Thing

The Black Dog of depression has been rearing its ugly head a bit again recently for various reasons, and I’m sick of it. While there’s not necessarily much I can do about it showing up and being a pain in the arse, I can at least try and work on some things to make me feel a bit better about myself.

For starters, getting upset at one’s own reflection isn’t particularly great news, and it’s something that I can at least attempt to do something about. I have been fitness-ing off and on for some time now, but I figure it’s Time To Get Serious. That means I’m going to hit the gym every morning before I start my working day rather than leaving it until last thing in the evening when it’s easy to go “nah, fuck it”. (Of course, it’s easy to stay in bed and say “nah, fuck it” also, but I’m going to attempt to get out of this habit before it starts.) I won’t necessarily be doing everything every day, but I’m going to attempt to get at least an hour of cardio stuff in per day at the very least. This will likely mostly be done on the exercise bikes, where I can sit back and play Final Fantasy VI on my fancy-pants tablet while I’m sweating. At other times, I’ll use the crosstrainers and whack on a podcast — the Exploding Barrel Podcast from my good buddies Mike and AJ Minotti is always a favourite — or some inspirational music of some description.

As motivation and progress tracking, I’m going to be using Fitocracy, which I’ve posted about before here. I also considered resurrecting my Jedi Health Kick Tumblr from a while back, but given that Fitocracy provides the ability to post lengthy, blog-like status updates and has its own built-in community features, I’m going to stick with that. As well as tracking my workouts, I’m going to write a short post each day detailing how it went, how I’m feeling and what I’m aiming for. I’m also going to use Fitocracy’s excellent Quests feature to take on some challenges that I might not have otherwise thought of — this will help prevent complacency if I’m making a “game” out of it all.

I’d also like to eat better. I think I eat when I get depressed, and I get depressed a fair bit, which doesn’t help matters. I’d rather kick that particular habit in the face if possible — or at the very least change it so I munch on, say, carrot sticks instead of ALL THE BISCUITS, but that’s the sort of thing that will take plenty of teeth-clenching willpower to resolve. I have faith in my own ability to do this, however — if there’s one thing I’m good at it’s clenching my teeth and stubbornly resisting things. Sainsbury’s cream cakes are my most formidable adversary to date, however, so it remains to be seen whether I’ll be able to defeat them using the power of my clenched teeth (and/or buttocks) alone.

So that’s the plan. We’ll see how long I’m able to stick with it. I’m saying this publicly so I have a bit more pressure to follow through on it. If anyone would care to join me and work out alongside me or just offer some words of encouragement, come cheer me on over on Fitocracy — it’s free to sign up and there’s a nifty companion iPhone app too.

#oneaday Day 824: Pandora’s Tower: A Scoreless Review

Pandora’s Tower, the last of the three “Operation Rainfall” JRPGs for the Wii, is a beautiful game in many ways: visually, mechanically, thematically and in the simplicity of its execution. It’s a fitting sendoff to three of the finest games of the entire console generation — and, indeed, some might say, to the Wii itself.

In Pandora’s Tower, you take on the role of Aeron. Aeron is a quiet sort of chap, though not quite entirely mute. Aeron is in love with Elena, who is a singer from the “wrong side” of the war that our hero was involved with. She’s also, thanks to a series of events which come to light over the course of the story, cursed to turn into a slobbering monster unless Something is Done. That Something, as revealed by a peculiar frog-like woman named Mavda who inexplicably carries her gigantic, incomprehensible skeletal husband in a cauldron on her back, is to consume the flesh of twelve “Masters” who reside in the Thirteen Towers, a mysterious structure suspended across the top of a seemingly bottomless chasm known as The Scar.

Thus begins Aeron’s adventure, which is roughly equal parts dating sim, Ico and Shadow of the Colossus with a splash of Zelda here and there. It’s up to the player to guide Aeron through the Thirteen Towers in an attempt to lift the curse from Elena while simultaneously ensuring that his beloved still loves him by showering her with gifts and affection.

The exploration of the towers makes up the meat (no pun intended) of the gameplay in Pandora’s Tower. Unfolding from a series of non-controllable but dynamic camera angles, Aeron must work his way through the challenges that each tower confronts him with, smash the chains which lock the Master’s door shut and then kick some serious ass.

Aeron is initially armed with a sword and the Oraclos Chain, an implement that symbolises the bonds between people and the power held within them. Using the chain, it’s possible for Aeron to hookshot into far-off areas, tie up monsters, pull remote switches, tie things to other things and generally cause plenty of mischief. While it’s tempting to charge in and simply attempt to hack-and-slash your way through the game’s combat, the melee weapons Aeron acquires are in many way the least important things in his arsenal. Rather, the chain is the key to keeping Aeron out of harm and the numerous denizens of the Towers at bay.

By aiming the chain using the Wii Remote‘s pointer function (or the right analogue stick on the Classic Controller), it’s possible for Aeron to attach the chain to all sorts of things. Hook it on to a handhold and he’ll pull himself up Batman-style. Clip it on to a switch and he’ll be able to pull it from afar. Attach it to a monster and it’ll provide him with a suitably unfair advantage to exploit depending on which part of the monster it is hooked on to. Pull it taut and a “chain strength” gauge will gradually power up, enabling it to stay attached to things for longer or do more damage if jerked away suddenly with a flick of the wrist. It’s a relatively simple mechanic — point, shoot and tug — but executed extremely well, making brilliant use of the Wii’s unique control scheme without overusing any of its gimmicks. The variety of creative methods in which the chain is used throughout the game help keep it fresh despite the fact that Aeron doesn’t really learn any new moves over the course of the game.

It quickly becomes apparent after a short period of play that combat is not the main focus of Pandora’s Tower, however. Rather, it is an environmental puzzle game where the challenge is to determine how to reach a destination which is often in sight but tantalisingly out of reach. The fixed camera angles are used effectively to point the player in the direction of a puzzle’s solution, helping to eliminate the frustration of pixel-hunting found in some games with a freely-controllable camera. The only slight issue with these is that sometimes enemies like to hide off-screen in the “changeover” point between camera angles, but they can usually be dragged around to where the player wants them using the chain.

The puzzles gradually ramp up in difficulty with each new tower at a good pace but never feel unfair — and there’s an enormously satisfying sense of achievement when you figure out a particularly troublesome solution. This comes to a head with the game’s Master battles, which are similar in concept to the Colossus battles in Shadow of the Colossus — each Master has a specific weak point which must be exploited through manipulation of the environment, spotting the patterns in their attacks and sometimes figuring out a quicker way to achieve something that initially seems obvious. The battles are more puzzles than anything, with a big part of the challenge being in figuring out what on Earth you’re supposed to do, because the game certainly isn’t going to tell you or hold your hand — a real strength of the experience and a big contributing factor to the aforementioned sense of satisfaction.

The dungeoneering segments are exceptionally well-designed, in short. This is a good thing, because not only does Aeron have to find his way to the Master’s chamber alive, he also has a time limit to contend with. While he’s in the Towers, Elena’s curse is constantly progressing, with her inexorable descent into disgusting sliminess measured by an ever-ticking meter in the corner of the screen. Should this meter run out, Elena is beyond help and the game is over, so Aeron has to carefully manage his time between pushing forward in the tower he’s currently exploring, and returning to Elena to temporarily stave off the curse using meat acquired from the tower’s normal enemies.

Rather than this mechanic forcing the player to backtrack completely at regular intervals, however, the dungeons are designed in such a way that solving puzzles often opens up shortcuts to and from Elena. Find your way to a difficult-to-reach ledge and your reward will often be a ladder you can kick down or a locked door you can batter open, shaving valuable minutes off your time when you return to the tower once more.

Returning to Elena never feels like a chore, however, because Aeron’s interactions with her are as well fleshed out (again, no pun intended) as the dungeoneering segments. When back at the couple’s “home base”, Aeron is able to chat with Elena, ask her to translate books and texts he’s found in the towers and around their base, occasionally ask her specific questions about recent events and give her gifts. Most of these interactions have an effect on an “affection bar” at the side of the screen, which denotes how much Elena likes Aeron and also determines which of the game’s endings will unfold once the story comes to its conclusion.

Aeron doesn’t say much, but the player gets to know a great deal about Elena over the course of the story. She’s a well-defined character with her own history, likes and dislikes, all delivered in an adorable soft Yorkshire accent. She does have something of a tendency to slip into sexist stereotypes — one exchange between her and Aeron sees her asking what he’d like her to concentrate on in the base, with the available options being “cooking”, “cleaning” and “sewing” — but let’s not forget that she can turn into a slobbering evil monster at a moment’s notice, which does kind of undermine her “demure housewife” persona. To her credit, though, she does always feel bad whenever she makes a mess or breaks a gift as a result of her transformation.

Alongside interacting with Elena, Aeron is also able to call upon the mysterious Mavda between sorties to the towers. Mavda acts as a shop, crafting station, source of information and means of upgrading weapons, and there’s a surprising amount of depth to these mechanics. Upgrading weapons, for example, usually requires several different components. If the player hasn’t managed to find certain specific components, it’s often possible to craft them using other pieces of detritus that they’ve picked up over the course of their last dungeon crawl. Certain components may only be found in certain towers, as each is themed after a particular element and contains its own distinctive monsters. Finding all the pieces for a particular weapon upgrade becomes a sidequest in itself, though it’s a completely optional one that players don’t need to engage in in order to be victorious.

These mechanics are all very well and good, but in the “HD age” a big determining factor in whether or not a person will take to a new game comes in its presentation. Pandora’s Tower does not disappoint in the least: it is a lovely-looking game. Forget the fact it’s running in 480p resolution on the Wii; this ceases to matter within a few short minutes of starting to play. This is a game with exceptional art design. Aeron is a young, fresh-faced youth with intricately-designed armour. Elena is a pure-faced, simple beauty, which makes her monstrous transformations all the more traumatic to witness. Mavda and her skeletal spouse are by turns grotesque and compelling. Outside the observatory that Aeron and Elena call home during their quest, lush green grass and cloudless blue skies fade into golden sunsets and deep navy nights. Inside their temporary quarters, everything is suffused with a warm, homely sepia glow. Within the towers, beams of light pierce the gloom through long-broken windows, brightly-coloured crystal formations cast strange glows on everything around them and the emerald green of natural foliage contrasts starkly with the dull greys and browns of the stone bricks that make up the tower surrounding it.

And the sound. Oh, the sound. Based largely on classical themes including Dies Irae from Verdi’s Requiem and Liszt’s Liebestraum No. 3, the soundtrack to Pandora’s Tower is not the sort of in-your-face electronica-and-electric-guitars chaos typically associated with modern Japanese games — rather, it gives the game a unique atmosphere all of its own, filled with drama at some times, overflowing with love and tenderness at others. It perfectly reflects the small-scale, intimate tone of the game’s narrative and rounds out a complete package that is beautifully, distinctively presented.

Pandora’s Tower is a worthy successor to Team Ico‘s classic titles in many ways. It’s a well put together game with exceptional presentation, a touching, intimate story and a sense of personal drama and emotion far removed from the ever-increasing stakes of mainstream titles. It’s not just a fine Wii game, it’s a fine game, full stop, and deserves to be looked back on in the future as a title that dared to try something a little different from the norm, with great results.

Time will tell if that’s how history will treat Pandora’s Tower, or whether it’s doomed to be one of those increasingly-rare games that is always talked about in sentences that begin with “I wish I’d played…”

I know I’m glad I played it. If you get the chance, you should too.

#oneaday Day 823: Information Diet

Know what I hate? Chavs. Know what else? Teaching. Know what else? We could be here a while. I’ll tell you. Press embargoes.

I get why they happen, obviously — publishers and their PR people want to ensure that coverage of something is coordinated nicely so that everyone gets suitably whipped up into a frenzy all at the same time. But there’s an unfortunate side-effect if you happen to, say, follow a bunch of different video games outlets at the time a major announcement happens: everyone bellows the same fucking thing at the exact same fucking time.

It’s happening more and more nowadays, too. The most notable examples that stick in my head in recent memory are Assassin’s Creed III and Borderlands 2, both titles that I have a passing interest in but find myself becoming curiously resistant to the more and more I get battered in the face with the same information from slightly different angles.

I think, on the whole, this is the “problem” I have been having with mainstream gaming overall. There’s too much information out there — too much coverage, too many “behind the scenes” videos, too many “exclusive” interviews, too many press releases announcing a single screenshot (yes, that is a real thing I received today and I have no shame in naming Square Enix as the perpetrator). After a while, you become completely saturated with information about a product and subsequently have absolutely no inclination to want to touch it, ever. This was a big part of why I didn’t want to play Mass Effect 3, for example — EA’s appalling behaviour was just the straw that broke the camel’s back, really.

I feel for my friends who work in games PR for “B-tier” games, too. It’s hard enough to get a title like, say, Risen 2 noticed at the best of times but when you’re competing with everyone beating themselves into an orgasmic and/or angry frenzy over Mass Effect 3, there’s little hope for your title outside of groups of people like me who have forsaken the mainstream in favour of enjoying less heavily marketed titles.

Conversely, the games I have been playing and enjoying are the ones where information has been trickling out slowly, usually straight from the developers mouths without dribbling through the PR sieve. Take the “Operation Rainfall” RPGs Xenoblade Chronicles, The Last Story and Pandora’s Tower (which I’m currently playing), for example — these received very little in the way of press attention despite being fantastic games. The aforementioned Operation Rainfall, a grassroots campaign to get these three excellent games localised and released in Europe and the US, received plenty of press, but information on the games themselves was conspicuously absent. As a result, I was able to go into all three of them pretty much blind and have a fantastic experience in the process — a big part of what made all of them great is the sense of discovery inherent in all of them. That just doesn’t happen if you’ve been smothered in information for the six months leading up to the game’s release.

As a result of all this, I’ve come to a decision, and if you’re feeling the same way as me, I recommend you follow it too.

Cut back. Cut out the crap. If you follow a buttload of games journalists and outlets on Twitter, unfollow them. If you want some gaming news, pick one outlet and keep it on your follow list, but chances are if you follow lots of gaming fans, someone will retweet the news as it happens anyway. Otherwise, go seek out the news when it’s convenient for you. Check the sites when you feel like it. Subscribe to their RSS feeds. Use Google Currents or Flipboard to receive information in an easily-digestible format. Receive information on your terms, not that of a carefully-crafted PR campaign.

This doesn’t have to apply just to games — it can apply to pretty much anything that suffers from the problems described above. Film, TV, celebrity news, business, tech… anything, really.

I’m going to give this a try. It will doubtless initially feel somewhat weird to not see some familiar faces and logos in my Twitter timeline, but I have a strange feeling that I’ll be a lot happier, less frustrated and less cynical as a result. Check back with me in a week or two and we’ll see.

(If you’re one of the people I do happen to unfollow, it’s nothing personal. You just might want to consider getting separate professional and personal accounts!)