#oneaday Day 696: Exclusive Preview!

I love making games — the main thing that stops me from doing it more often is the fact that I can't get my head around programming. Perhaps it's the fact that I didn't enjoy maths that much at school; perhaps it's the fact I have trouble relating the abstract code to what happens on screen; perhaps I'm just too lazy to learn properly. (I'm still badass at Atari BASIC.)

Regardless of all that, though, if an app comes along and offers me the tools I need to realise my visions, even partially, I'm all over it like a rash — and I'm normally able to push the boundaries of such applications to do unconventional things a little outside of their normal "comfort zone". Such was the case with Clickteam's excellent Klik and Play series, and such was the case with RPG Maker 2000, which I originally came across a good few years ago and decided that the best way to learn would be to put together a game using the built-in tools and resources.

Thus, The Adventures of Dave Thunder was born. Dave Thunder was the hero of the piece, named after a guy whose name we found in a person's lost phone at university. We were all a bit drunk at the time, so one of my flatmates decided it would be a good idea to phone Dave Thunder and tell him what an awesome name he had. He was at "The Golden Arches". A legend was born.

But I digress. The Adventures of Dave Thunder was quite popular among my friends because it was deliberately built as a big in-joke. I'm not sure if it would have appealed to anyone outside my immediate circle of friends had it ever been finished, but it was a lot of fun to make, and I still have fond memories of Sweary Link, tired of his life as a silent protagonist and revealing that he's a bit of a stroppy git underneath.

Sadly, The Adventures of Dave Thunder is lost to the mists of time and a failed hard drive. I'm a bit upset about this, as it had quite a lot of work put into it. Okay, I didn't make any of the graphics or music for it, but the writing was all mine, and I found it quite funny at least. What other RPG can you play where the healer in your party is Harold Bishop from Neighbours, who became an actual bishop after his wife Madge turned into a vampire?

I digress again. I acquired a copy of RPG Maker VX a while back and just recently have something of a hankerin' to make something new. Referring back to what I said yesterday, too, I have some ready-made characters to draw on, too, so I figured why not give them their very own game?

I've already started designing (well, scripting) what I want this game to be and I'm quite pleased with the direction I think it will take. I'm going to try and avoid cliche wherever possible and put together something that is amusing, entertaining and (mostly) unconventional. Sure, there'll still be standard RPG mechanics in there — I don't know enough about VX's scripting language to deviate too much from the standard engine, after all. That said, I'm using one excellent plugin to take a less-frequently seen approach to exploration, inspired by some recent titles I've been playing — more details on that once I have a prototype up and running. (No, it's not a roguelike — I haven't yet found a good script for that.)

So hopefully over the course of the next few weeks, months, years, I'll be able to share occasional progress updates on The Official RPG of Pete's Blog Stickmen, or whatever I end up calling it. For now, suffice to say that it is a thing that exists, and I will be using it as a Big Creative Project to do when I'm feeling bored or uninspired. The long-term intention is to put together the whole thing single-handedly with deliberately crude graphics (they're stickmen, after all) and a soundtrack composed by me. Whether all that will actually happen will remain to be seen, but it'll be an interesting experiment if nothing else. I'll be concentrating on getting the game right first, then adding polish like an original soundtrack afterwards if I feel it's worth it.

So there you are.World-first exclusive reveal and all that. BE EXCITED.

#oneaday Day 694: BUNNNNNNDLE

There's been some discussion recently over whether or not superdeals like the Humble Indie Bundle and IndieRoyale are beneficial or detrimental to the industry at large — particularly the independent developers whose work is featured in the packages.

For consumers, it's pretty much an unquestionable win. To be able to pick up substantial packages of games for a fraction of their normal cost (the latest Humble Bundle offers 7 titles, a value of approximately $100) is brilliant, and in both cases, those who want to pay more can if they desire. Likewise, those on a budget can pay the minimum without guilt. The Humble Bundle also has the added karmic bonus of an optional charity donation, too, so you can justify filling your Steam library with stuff you might not get around to for a few months on the grounds of it being "for the children".

For developers, though, you can see how it might be something of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, these bundles often take on a higher public profile than the individual component games themselves. This exposes a variety of quality, unknown titles to the world, encouraging consumers to step out of the comfort zone of triple-A titles to explore the wider world of gaming. Sick of hearing about Call of Duty all the time? Don't play it — check out the rapidly-expanding indie market and you'll never need to even think about Activision ever again.

On the other hand, all the time these bundles are selling games for a fraction of their normal price, developers are losing out on those sweet, sweet monies. And unlike publishing behemoths like EA and Activision, these developers are often counting on the income from their creations to ensure their continued existence as studios. In the case of some developers, your buying their game might even be helping to put food on their table.

You might be feeling a bit guilty for putting in that bare minimum donation now. However, you probably shouldn't — many developers, including Robert Boyd of Cthulhu Saves the World developer Zeboyd Games, report that strong sales actually continue for some time after a Steam sale or bundle deal — and the cheapest sale isn't necessarily the one where a title will sell the most. It's all about visibility — during Steam's Halloween sale, during which Zeboyd's titles were 33% off, the developer sold more copies than during the larger Thanksgiving sale, where they were 66% off. The difference? The Halloween sale was small enough that customers could see all of the titles on offer, while the Thanksgiving offering was a traditionally huge Steam sale, with a huge variety of content on offer for a fraction of its usual price.

Valve have often reported that sales of titles like Team Fortress 2 (before it went free to play, obviously) and Left 4 Dead took an upward turn after a sale in which they had been reduced by a considerable margin. The most likely explanation for this is related to the "visibility" issue that Boyd mentioned — once a sale is over and done with, players are going to be trying out all these weird and wonderful games that they took a chance on, and Steam being an inherently social platform, their friends are going to see what they're up to. Cue a number of conversations about "what on earth is that you're playing?" coupled with enthusiastic gibbering about how awesome Recettear: An Item Shop's Tale is and you can see how this "word of mouth" effect could have a powerful impact on sales, even after special offers are long gone.

So in summary, no, I don't think these indie bundles are bad for the industry. I'm happy they exist because they've certainly introduced me to a variety of wonderful games over the years — and proven that even if you find the way the triple-A sector does business to be somewhat distasteful, there's always something to play.

So if you haven't already, go pick up a copy of the latest Humble and IndieRoyale bundles now — links at the top of this post.

#oneaday Day 693: Endings

I finished L.A. Noire tonight. MILD SPOILER: It's somewhat bittersweet. I liked it, because it was entirely in keeping with the genre in question.

Endings are a tricky business, though, whatever medium you're working in. The temptation to have a happy ending where everything resolves itself nicely is always strong, because everyone likes things to be "resolved" and for characters they've spent a hefty amount of time with to have some degree of "closure". Leaving things hanging either leaves an author open to accusations of planning a sequel, or leaving the audience unsatisfied.

I wrestled with this particular conundrum throughout the course of the month-long piece of fiction I wrote over the course of November. In fact, for the final post, I rewrote the ending several times. I eventually plumped for a "happy" ending because I felt it was in keeping with the personal journey my protagonist had been on — to smack him down after everything he'd been through would be a bit harsh.

Well, yes, it would — but equally, a harsh ending isn't necessarily a bad one. In fact, a bittersweet ending where not everyone leaves feeling satisfied can actually be very effective and memorable. I'm not going to spoil L.A. Noire's ending here in case there are people reading who haven't played it yet, but instead I'm going to talk about the first game I remember to have a strikingly "bad" ending — and I'm not talking "bad" in the sense of "poor".

Rare's Conker's Bad Fur Day was a peculiar game. Starting out as one of the cutesy platformers that typified a lot of the N64's catalogue, it eventually morphed into something completely unexpected: a "mature" title. Now, by maintaining the game's original cartoony visuals, there was an element of immaturity about it, too, particularly when combined with the not-very-well bleeped out swearing, the grotesquely excessive violence and the crude situations (a bee cheating on his wife by humping a large-breasted sunflower (off-screen, but very audible) being a particularly memorable example). But there was an undercurrent of maturity about the whole thing, too — the game treated the player as an adult who enjoyed puerile humour but was capable of understanding pathos and an impressively wide range of references to movies and popular culture.

Most notably, though, it had a brilliant ending that not only spoofed Alien fantastically, it also managed to provide a genuine "What the fu–" moment in a game that prided itself on its ridiculousness throughout. By providing a sobering, heartbreaking ending after the hours of cartoonish insanity which had preceded it, the game was giving the player a very marked wake-up call. It was marking the end of your time in this brightly coloured world filled with chocolate, poo monsters and cogs which told you to fuck off. It was time to wise up and start being a grown-up again. It also mirrored Conker's own journey throughout the course of the game — the basic premise of his whole adventure was him attempting to get home and recover from the mother of all hangovers. The most sobering experience he could have was the loss of the one he loved.

This isn't to say that good endings aren't satisfying — who doesn't like to see the Death Star blowing up? But a well-made "bad" ending can be just as — if not more so — effective at tugging at the heartstrings and provoking an emotional response. To date, my favourite game endings include the aforementioned Conker along with Silent Hill 2, surely one of the most depressing interactive experiences you could ever sit through — but all the better for it. Heavy Rain, for all its plot holes and flaws, also had a great "bad" ending. Several, in fact.

So what makes an effective ending? For me, it's a sense of "closure", that this is most definitely and unequivocally "the end" — whether that's because everyone is dead, because the planet is saved or simply because our lead characters are closing one chapter in their lives and starting a new one. Get me invested in your characters and I'll care what happens to them — so make sure whatever shenanigans they're involved in reaches some sort of satisfying conclusion — even if you're planning a sequel.

#oneaday Day 692: Trailer Park

It was the Spike TV VGAs last night, supposedly one of the biggest nights of the year in gaming. As usual, the awards themselves took a back seat to misogyny, a lack of respect for what gaming has become and all manner of other nonsense, but that's not what I'm going to write about today — plenty of other people have already been commenting on the matter having actually endured the whole thing, so are in a better position to comment on the event itself than I am.

Instead, I thought I'd comment on the concept of trailers, and why the fact that some people will happily fill their pants over a trailer is such a mystery to me.

This fact was really hammered home to me as the Star Wars: The Old Republic hype train got into motion earlier this year. We saw some CG trailers with absolutely zero gameplay, and yet people were getting excited about the game. It was patently obvious that the game would not be anything like those trailers suggested, making them almost entirely useless as a "preview" of what is to come, and yet they still mustered up excitement. When gameplay footage for The Old Republic did eventually emerge, it turned out that it looked suspiciously like a World of Warcraft-style MMORPG with Mass Effect's conversation system. This is less exciting.

The same also occurred with Dead Island. Dead Island introduced itself to the world with a genuinely harrowing trailer that was beautifully shot and scored with the perfect soundtrack. But again, there was no gameplay in evidence, and it was depressingly obvious that the game would be nothing like the intimate, "personal" experience that the trailer appeared to promise. And when the game did eventually appear in the form of a first-person action RPG, it was a bit of a disappointment. Sure, it's not a bad game, but I've got all the "battering zombies around the head" excitement I need with Left 4 Dead and Borderlands' Zombie Island of Dr. Ned expansion pack.

A big part of the reason people watch the VGAs is for the trailers, judging by Twitter and a lot of the discussion which has followed. But should we be demanding more from our trailers? As it is, the games industry is following the template set out by movies — but they're two fundamentally different media. Games are interactive, movies are passive. So why are we advertising games in the same way as movies?

Well, apparently, because it works. Activision pay for high-profile slots during giant sporting events to promote Call of Duty. People jizz their keks over CG The Old Republic trailers that have nothing to do with the game. People hail Dead Island as "one to watch" based on an (admittedly excellent) trailer that, again, has nothing to do with the game itself.

Is this a bad thing, though? Will the fact that The Old Republic actually revolves around fairly traditional MMO play rather than the high-octane excitement implied by the trailers cause some people to cry foul? Did Dead Island warrant the amount of attention lavished on it by the press following the striking nature of its trailer? Should we be so quick to judge upcoming games as looking "great" or "crap" based purely on short snippets we see at awards ceremonies which otherwise insult our intelligence?

I don't have an easy answer for that, but I can tell you what I think personally: I don't give a crap about trailers. Give me a demo, an early version or even just some simple commentated footage of someone playing the game and I'll be much more excited. Don't insult my intelligence by showing me something which I know very well won't represent what the game is really about. Take a leaf out of indie developers' books and provide an interesting, well-cut trailer that shows what the game is and why I should be excited about it. Good quality work should speak for itself.

What do you think? Trailer buff or cynic?

#oneaday Day 690: Tickets, Please!

RememberTheme Park? That awesome sim from Peter Molyneux's pre-Lionhead studio Bullfrog? Good, wasn't it? Not only did it have bags of charm and character, but its attractive presentation (albeit with a few grammatical errors — "charity begin's at home" anyone?) masked an incredibly deep, immensely satisfying business sim.

And the things you could tweak and spy on! You could find out what an individual little person wandering around was thinking. You could adjust the amount of salt on the chips and inflate the prices of the conveniently adjacent drinks stand. There were tons of rides on offer. Even building your queues was a strategic challenge — how do you make them look shorter than they actually are? And when you had a badass park, you could sit back and watch the money roll in, satisfied with the knowledge of a job well done.

Fast forward to this week, and Theme Park has been released on iOS. "Yay!" you may be thinking, eager to sink your teeth into something with more depth than the ubiquitous Tiny Tower. "Finally, a true classic of PC gaming resurrected for the smartphone era!"

It's not an unreasonable thing to be excited about. Theme Park's mouse-driven interface would be ideally suited to a touchscreen, particularly a nice big one like an iPad, and the original game itself still holds up well today.

As you may already know, however, the version of Theme Park which has hit iOS is not the original Bullfrog classic. Very far from it, in fact. It's a brand new game.

No bad thing, you might be thinking. RollerCoaster Tycoon picked up the park management reins a while back and has been doing well since, so why not incorporate some advances in the genre?

Why not indeed. Instead, EA in their infinite wisdom have decided to turn Theme Park into a freemium social game with quite the most outrageously priced premium items I've ever seen.

Let's take the social game angle first. Aesthetically, many social games resemble the isometric 3D strategy games of the late 90s in terms of visual presentation, but that's where the resemblance ends. Gameplay is generally pretty free of any strategy, instead involving buying the most expensive/best item you can afford/have unlocked, and then clicking on everything you've built every few minutes to collect cash and experience points. As you level up, you unlock different items. Occasionally there are incredibly patronising quests to complete. The whole thing is one big Skinner box, designed to get you hooked enough to want to spend money.

Real money can be spent on the acquisition of "Super Tickets", which can themselves be spent on either speeding up lengthy build times, unlocking rides early or, and here's the kicker, purchasing some "premium" rides which can only be bought with Tickets. If you've played The Sims Social, it's just like the items that can only be purchased with premium currency SimCash.

So far, so freemium, you might think. But the real kick in the teeth is the price of some of these items. The most expensive rides cost in the region of £35 to purchase. £35. For one virtual item in one not very good game. That's £35 you could spend on an actual game in a shop. Or a large selection of actual full games on the App Store. You could even purchase several Square Enix titles from the App Store for that, which just goes to show how insanely priced it is.

Fortunately, App Store reviewers, usually imbecilic morons but for once seeing the Emperor in all his nudey glory, have been rightly panning the game for this. Unfortunately, it only takes one "whale" to buy even one of those premium items to make the whole thing worthwhile for EA.

So in short, I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed that such a beloved game franchise is tarnished with this nonsense. And I'm disappointed at the shameless money-grubbing that this title represents.

But am I surprised? Of course I'm not, and that's perhaps the saddest thing of all.

#oneaday Day 689: Noire Patterns

I've been playing L.A. Noire recently. I haven't finished it yet — I'm partway through the Vice cases at present — but I feel it's worth sharing some thoughts. I didn't play the game when it first came out for various reasons, and always fully intended to grab the PC version, especially once it was rumoured to come with all the additional DLC which had been released for the console editions.

The first thing is that that facial animation tech is absolutely gobsmacking. I've never seen character faces that look quite so natural. Sure, the bodies are sometimes a bit wooden, and occasional non-motion captured animations make themselves glaringly obvious, but the nuances in the facial expressions make it a sight to behold. So kudos for that.

Next up, there is waaaaay too much driving. I looked at my stats in the options menu and found that I'd spent well over 2 hours driving from place to place. Sure, you can skip over these sequences, but then you miss out on some of the conversations between protagonist Cole and his partner, which help with characterisation.

This leads on to the whole question of whether or not this needed to be an open-world game. It's cool to be able to drive around L.A. and see the sights, sure, but I tend to find myself ignoring the scenery and just trying to get to the destination as quickly as possible. I don't know L.A., either, so I don't have the benefit of being able to go "Ahhh, I recognise that!" along the way.

Further to the "open world" thing, there really doesn't need to be all the extra achievement-whoring crap. I have precisely zero desire to drive around looking for film reels, police badges and hidden vehicles because it's plainly obvious that is not what the game is about. It's a police drama, about solving crimes. And it does that job pretty well — so why is all the other nonsense in there other than for padding? Who knows.

In terms of the game structure outside of this nonsense, it's very good. I really like the idea of a game being structured as a set of "short stories" like L.A. Noire is. Each case stands by itself as a standalone story, but also fits into a bigger picture. In many ways, it's kind of like a TV series, with each of the "desks" Cole works on being like a season on a show. There's clearly some sort of overarching plot, too, though that hasn't made itself hugely obvious as yet, except through the newspapers you occasionally find around the place. At least, I'm assuming all that becomes relevant at some point.

The investigation and interrogation gameplay is all right, but there's a few flaws, particularly when it comes to the interrogation side of things. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation where you have an idea that a piece of evidence in your inventory would prove a suspect is lying, but upon pressing the "lie" button, Cole proceeds to make a completely different accusation. This is mildly annoying, but doesn't seem to impact things too much.

Then there's the glaring plot holes that come about if you do things in the wrong order. Trouble is, sometimes it's not clear what order you should do things in. I ended one case with a one-star rating and I'm not sure how I could have done things differently to provide a different outcome. And yet in another case, the villain wound up dead and my "review" screen said that there was no evidence or witness testimony. Bizarre.

Despite these flaws, though, I'm enjoying the game. The story is interesting enough to keep me playing and while the characters aren't necessarily what I'd call likeable, they're certainly interesting. It is a little jarring to continually hear characters refer to Cole's family and yet we never see them, however. Or perhaps that's a plot point — I don't know. I guess I'll find out as I get towards the end.

So far as evolution of the adventure genre goes, I'm not sure L.A. Noire presents quite the right way to do it. It certainly does a lot of things right — I'd love to see that animation tech used in a more traditional adventure, for example — but there's all this useless fluff in the middle. And stealth sequences are never fun, unless you're playing Metal Gear Solid or Thief — games specifically designed around the mechanic. Everyone knows that. At least L.A. Noire has the good grace to allow you to skip them if you fail them three times — a nice throwback to the days of the awful arcade sequences in Dynamix's adventure games such as Rise of the Dragon and Heart of China.

So I'll play it through to its conclusion, for sure. Game of the Year? No way. But it's certainly a solid offering that will be of interest if you enjoy adventure gaming or crime dramas.

#oneaday Day 687: E for Exploitative, A for Arseholes

EA and I are done. I will not be purchasing any of their future titles (with the possible exception of BioWare titles — though even those are becoming prone to the problem I'm about to describe) and I think the world should pay attention to what they're up to, rather than simply letting them get away with it.

What, then, is their sin?

Exploitation of consumers, to put it in simple, general terms. This accusation covers a variety of unpleasant behaviour, and none of it is good for people who like playing games and holding on to their money. Let's delve into these things one at a time.

Origin

Let's start with EA's digital distribution platform Origin. I don't have a problem with digital distribution platforms which aren't Steam, but EA needs to accept that I, along with many other gamers out there, choose to rely on Steam for the vast majority of our PC gaming needs.

There are a variety of reasons for this, not least of which is Steam's ubiquity and social functionality. If you want to see what your friends are up to in an Xbox Live style, chances are, you'll be able to see via Steam. Most people even add their non-Steam games to their Steam library, so you'll always be able to see what they're up to.

Origin has designs on this too, with its own integrated social functionality, but no facility to add non-Origin games. And given that the platform launched with only EA titles, few people are going to want to switch to Origin as their primary means of communicating with friends during gameplay. It's just silly to try. Steam works, no pun intended. It works well. That's why it's popular.

Alongside this, there's the shady business of EA removing its titles from Steam on the grounds of mysterious, non-specific "policies" that supposedly no other digital distribution services impose on poor little EA. Funny how these objections only arose shortly after Origin showed up.

And then there's the fact that increasing numbers of people are reporting that they're losing access to their games — even single-player titles — following often wrongful bans from the EA forums. Granted, some people who have been in touch deserved a forum ban (come on, do you really think making your username "TheGreatRapist" is really going to depict you as a fine, upstanding member of the community?) but even then, there is no way that behaviour on forums should prevent people from accessing the content they have paid for. Rock, Paper, Shotgun is running a good investigation into the matter at present.

And then there's EA's stubbornness even when it comes to online games. In their recent mobile releases (which we'll come on to shortly) all online functionality is handled not through Game Center which is, let's not forget, built in to iOS, but instead through Origin. This has the ridiculous side-effect of meaning that you can't use the Game Center app to do things like check high scores or compare games — something which it is designed for.

Anyway. Enough about Origin — except for the fact that EA's adoption of that particular name is like rubbing dirt into the good name of Origin Systems, who produced some of the finest games ever created.

Project Ten Dollar

This is all the rage now, and not just with EA. I blame EA for introducing it, however, since it was they who talked about it first. But it is not cool to lock off content from full-price games, whether it's single player or multiplayer. If I pay £40/$60 for a new game, I damn well expect to get what I paid for on the disc without having to enter a selection of alphanumeric codes. And if I buy a used copy of the game, I likewise expect to get full access to the game. People don't tear out the last five chapters of a second-hand book, people don't erase five random scenes from a second-hand DVD. So why should a game be gutted for those of us who didn't want to buy it new, whether that's due to financial constraints or simply being unable to find a new copy?

An episode of Extra Credits had a good solution for this which would be perfectly palatable to me. If they must lock off content, then charge less for the game in the first place. Sell me a disc with the single player gameplay on for considerably less than $60 and charge me an additional $15-20 for the multiplayer mode — a $15 to $20 that I don't feel obliged to pay, largely because I rarely play multiplayer modes, anyway — particularly in games that don't need them.

As it is, Online Passes are a transparent method of fleecing more money out of consumers. They are indefensible.

Drip-Feed DLC

This largely relates to BioWare games. I would much rather have a full-on expansion pack for $15-20 than drip-fed DLC which often adds very little to the experience. The few pieces of Dragon Age DLC I've played really weren't worth the money — they didn't even integrate with the main campaign — and they've put me off checking out Mass Effect 2's offerings.

Part of this is for pricing reasons. But part of it is, again, due to the fact that I'd much rather have the whole game up front. In the case of Mass Effect 2, why not hold the release back and include the content in the game? Answer: because it makes more money, which is kind of the root of all these problems. Money-making trumps consumer convenience and goodwill every time.

Thar Be Whales!

By far the most obnoxious behaviour that EA has been indulging in recently relates to its mobile games. First of all, they updated their iOS version of Tetris. This is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. All iOS developers update their games fairly regularly, whether that's with bugfixes or additional content. And, for the most part, buying that app in the first place means that developer is happy to provide additional content to you for free throughout the product's active development lifecycle.

Not so with EA. They removed the original version of Tetris from the App Store before replacing it with the new version, meaning that even people who had already bought the original and wanted to take advantage of the new features had to pay again. Dishonest.

Couple that with the fact that the game has added compulsive, manipulative social game features such as an utterly meaningless "rank bar" and virtual currency — both of which you can pay real money to jack up at a higher rate — as well as a subscription option (for Tetris! Seriously!) and you get something altogether unpleasant.

Then there's Theme Park. Theme Park was a brilliant strategy/building game which many people would love to play again today in its original form. It doesn't need anything changing. But no — EA decided that it really needs to be a gameplay-free social game, complete with aforementioned compulsive, manipulative mechanics such as an XP bar and purchasable virtual currency. Not only that, though, but some of the rides in the game cost up to $100 of real money to purchase. Let that sink in for a moment. To buy certain attractions in Theme Park, you need to pay more than the cost of one and a half full-price console titles.

The trouble is, there are just enough idiots out there who have more money than sense who will pay these ludicrous prices just to be "the best". These people are unaffectionately known as "whales", for obvious reasons — and it only takes a few of them to make such a business strategy worthwhile.

In all, I'm pretty ashamed of EA right now, and have no desire to give them any of my money for the foreseeable future. The trouble I have is that they're swallowing up otherwise reputable companies like BioWare and forcing them to fit in with their shady business practices. I have no doubt that Mass Effect 3 will be a great game, but I also know that it will have an Online Pass, it will doubtless have a "robust post-release DLC strategy", it will surely cut out content from the main game to sell back to me at a later date, and it will almost certainly only be available on Origin for PC.

I long for the days when EA were the ones with the funny logo that looked like EOA, and they make games like M.U.L.E. and Racing Destruction Set. I know you can't go back, but you can move in a direction which doesn't make you look like you just want to squeeze your customers for every penny they've got, rather than provide them with quality entertainment.

In summary: sod off, EA. Get back to me when you've had some humble pie.

Talking Point: What do you do when a favourite developer (BioWare) is an cahoots with an organisation like EA? I like BioWare games, as I've said above. But I'm strongly tempted to not buy any more for the reasons outlined above. I certainly won't be purchasing anything from Origin and especially if it's an Origin exclusive. Competition is good. Removing your products from the competition (Steam) is not.

#oneaday Day 686: The Times, They Have Changed

Been playing a selection of games recently. Besides the bullet hell joy I mentioned yesterday, I've also been playing L.A. Noire on PC and Neverwinter Nights 2 along with a bunch of emulated games that were absolutely totally positively legal to download. Between these games, I've been getting a pretty diverse gaming experience, and it's also allowed me to reflect on how much gaming has changed over the years.

Let's focus specifically on Neverwinter Nights 2 for a moment. Structurally, it's relatively similar to the RPGs we see BioWare coming out with today (despite being developed by Obsidian) but the pacing is completely different to what we see in something like Mass Effect or even Dragon Age, its nearest "modern" equivalent.

Remember the fantasy cliche of the lead character starting as a farmhand or something and eventually becoming some sort of godslayer by the end of the game? That's pretty much what Neverwinter Nights 2 does. You start the game in a small wetlands village in the middle of nowhere, just as their annual Harvest Fair is taking place. And before anything exciting happens at all, you have to go around the fair, complete several mundane tasks and, in collaboration with your party members, complete a number of simple challenges to introduce you to the basics of combat, magic and the like.

It works well mechanically, but in terms of that immediate "BAM!" factor that draws you in to the game, it's somewhat lacking. Gamers looking for some sort of immediate gratification or heroics will probably find themselves disappointed for at least an hour or two before Plot Starts Happening.

It was the same in the earlier D&D titles like Baldur's Gate. The first couple of hours of Baldur's Gate were spent inside the walls of Candlekeep, doing errands for wizards and clearing out basements of rats. RPG cliche stuff — and the sort of thing we don't tend to find ourselves doing too much these days because people want to get straight to the heroics. And that's fair enough.

What the snail-like openings for these games do provide, though, is a brilliant sense of unease once you finally get out into the world to embark on your quest. You may have been able to best the local hard men in the Harvest Brawl, but what are you going to do when something that actually wants to kill you comes lurching at you?

The answer, in all likelihood, is die. This particular breed of RPG isn't afraid to kick your ass right up until about level 5 or so — only then do you start getting to a stage where you can hold your own in a fight. And you level a lot slower than you do in a JRPG.

This is something of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, early combats become an exercise in managing your very limited capabilities, and simple victories over wild creatures feel like you've achieved something. This is realistic. Imagine if a wolf attacked you right now. Would you be able to handle it? If you did manage to survive the encounter without your throat being torn out, you'd feel pretty badass, right? That's what happens in Neverwinter Nights 2.

The flip-side to this is that the second your curiosity gets the better of you and you wander blindly through a door you perhaps shouldn't, you're immediately confronted by a dude who shouts "I AM AN EVIL WIZARD!" and promptly proceeds to obliterate you with spells you won't be using for a good 40 hours yet. This, too, is realistic (leaving aside the whole "magic isn't real" thing) but is also immensely frustrating, particularly as the autosave system in Neverwinter Nights 2 and, indeed, the Baldur's Gate series is best described as "erratic" and "unpredictable". It's very easy to lose lots of progress because of one stupid act if you don't get into the habit of perpetually whacking that F12 (quicksave) key when things start looking a bit hairy.

Is this good or bad? It's certainly different. In playing Neverwinter Nights 2, I've had to adjust my mindset to a somewhat more "hardcore RPG" configuration. Rather than being able to charge in blindly to a situation, safe in the knowledge that if it all goes horribly wrong, I'll simply resume from a moment before the fight and try again, I have to think. I have to pause. I have to strategise. I usually have to turn off the Party AI function because the other characters are overly fond of running in to the middle of a large group of enemies before getting their appendages hacked off within a matter of seconds.

It's certainly a different approach. Frustrating AI aside, it makes you a much more cautious player, which is sort of fun. The Souls series is based on this concept, after all, though executed somewhat differently. It also means that when you do reach the high levels of badassdom, you really feel like you earned them, rather than the more gradual trickle-feed approach which JRPGs' rapid levelling provides.

It's an approach that won't be to everyone's taste — and those who crave the immediacy of modern games will likely switch off the game the first time they're downed by a pathetic skeleton minion, never to return. But perseverance and patience are key, and once you get your head around that, there's a rewarding experience to be had.

Neverwinter Nights 2's basic campaign is regarded by some as "not great" — particularly in comparison to its expansion packs, which are supposedly excellent — but I've been enjoying it so far. Already we have some strong characterisation in the party members — something Obsidian is always good at — and a few hints of what the Big Plot might be, though no sign of whatever the Big Bad might be as yet. I am still only on the game's first act, however, so there's plenty of time for epic stupidity to occur along the way, and I'll be looking forward to it.

In the meantime, there's bandits to kill, skeletons to shatter into pieces and zombies to get diseased by.

#oneaday Day 685: I'm In Hell

Bullet hell, that is.

Despite not being very good at them, bullet hell shooters are rapidly becoming one of my favourite genres to unwind with. Actually, "unwind" might not be quite the right word, given the sense of tension they tend to provoke, but… oh, I don't know. They're fun, all right?

Most recently, I've been playing Gundemonium Recollection, which is available on PSN and Steam. It's cheap, too — at about £8 for it and two other excellent shmups, it's certainly one of the more low-cost entries in the genre out there. Hell, even Cave's iPhone games cost more than that.

Not only does Gundemonium Recollection have a fabulous title, it also exemplifies many of the things that I — as a relative newcomer — believe are "typical" for the genre. We have a cute, big-eyed anime art style. We have lots and lots of bullets. We have game mechanics that go a little beyond "move" and "shoot" but not by much. And we have beautifully, wonderfully cheesy music.

The whole aesthetic is one of the things I find most endearing about the whole thing. Speak to your stereotypical dudebro about what constitutes a "hardcore" game and, depending on how into their games they are, you'll get all manner of different answers. They will likely involve either first person shooters or MOBA games, however, and almost certainly will feature the colour brown prominently. What they likely won't feature is 18th century anime girls with Old West-style revolvers flying through the sky and shooting down everything from things that look like Angry Birds to scantily-clad women with massive knockers sitting astride gigantic rocket launchers.

And yet, from experience, I know what the more hardcore game is.

You can get good at, say, Call of Duty or Halo relatively quickly, and certainly be able to beat the games on their Normal difficulties without too much, well, difficulty. They're friendly to short, quick-fire play sessions in multiplayer, and even the single player campaigns tend to be split into bite-size, episodic chunks, with you running from one setpiece to the next — in Call of Duty's case, perpetually following along behind an NPC who gets to have all the fun while you watch — towards an eventual, inevitable conclusion.

Gundemonium Recollection, meanwhile, is hard with a capital ARRRRRRGH. While the whole game is no more than about 15-20 minutes in length, as is typical for the genre, reaching the end of the game is a significant feat, particularly as you're encouraged to attempt it without continuing. And once you do manage to make it through to the end, you then have your score to consider. How can you pump it up? How can you maximise your scoring potential in each stage?

Bullet hell shooters are less mindless than their name suggests. The stereotypical "shmup" involves dodging up and down while hurling increasingly-ridiculous weaponry at incoming enemies. And yet in bullet hell shooters, the actual "shooting" side of things is the least important factor. The skill you have to practice is dodging all those bullets — no easy task, but successfully pulling it off makes you feel like a badass.

In fact, achieving anything in the game, whether it's progressing twenty seconds further than you did previously or beating your high score, makes you feel like a badass. There is, in fact, quite a comic juxtaposition between how badass you feel having achieved something in the game and the incredibly cute anime art style and music.

Such is the way of Japanese games, though. The culture of "gamer" (whatever that actually means) is significantly different over there, meaning we get little gems such as Gundemonium Recollection and its two sequels springing up out of nowhere and providing something infinitely more fun that Brown Shooty War-Bang Soldier of Duty XIV.

Assuming you don't mind failing. A lot. Perhaps that's the key difference. In a title like Gundemonium Recollection, you can fail. You can fail embarrassingly quickly if you suck as much as I do. Conversely, to go back to our earlier examples of supposedly "hardcore" Western games, there's little to no consequence for failure. Die in a single player Call of Duty level and you just restart from your last checkpoint. Lose a multiplayer match and you can just try again — it doesn't matter at all, because you still got XP and a little closer to the next batch of unlocks.

In practice, you're actually achieving much the same kind of thing in Gundemonium Recollection, only the progress you've made isn't necessarily reflected with perpetually-filling progress bars and unlocks. Rather, you're making progress with your own skills, improving your own abilities at playing the game, and as a natural extension of that, you'll be able to get further, score better, or take on the more frightening difficulty levels. (I haven't graduated off "Novice" yet, and still felt like a badass when I finally took down the final boss.)

So, then, the next time you describe yourself as a "hardcore gamer" to someone, just consider that somewhere out there there's someone playing a game about flying magical girls with revolvers who is infinitely more hardcore than you could ever hope to be.

#oneaday Day 681.5: RIP GamePro

[Apologies for the interruption to the ongoing story — it will end tomorrow. This needed to be said today, though.]

Today, an era came to an end, as the announcement came that GamePro in its current form would be no more as of December 5, 2011. Both the website and the new quarterly magazine have been shuttered, and all of us on staff suddenly find ourselves without a job. The GamePro brand itself will be folded into PC World, where it will most likely die a quiet death, unnoticed.

This is, of course, suckitude of the highest magnitude, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. It is tough times in the super-competitive publishing industry, particularly in the overcrowded video games market. I shan't pretend to understand the business reasons behind the closure of GamePro when we were enjoying viewing figures the likes of which the site had never seen — but it seems to be something of a sad truth in today's games journalism industry that nothing lasts forever. If you want job security, it ain't the sector you should get yourself into.

What has been touching is the amount of support people have shown for GamePro on Twitter and various other social networks today. The magazine and site was a lot more widely-known than I thought — at times I'd wondered if UK journos and industry types were even aware of it — and everyone, it seems, was sorry to see the back of what had, after all, been a fixture in gamer culture for many, many years, particularly in the U.S.

GamePro, of course, has personal meaning to me, too. My brother spent ten months giving both the magazine and its web presence a much-needed shakeup (see his blog post today for more) and made it something that was interesting and relevant to the modern gamer. And once he left and I had the opportunity to jump in on news reporting duties, I know my contributions played a part in the site's growing success — growth that has been sadly cut short by today's news.

While I'd never met many of the GamePro team face to face, it was a close-knit bunch of people who got on well together, from what I could make out, anyway! I felt like a valuable member of the team despite being halfway across the world, and I always felt like my hard work was appreciated — which is why I continued to work so hard and contribute as much quality content as I could to the site. I made a distinct effort to not cover the same stories that all the big news blogs did — that's counter-productive. Rather, I took inspiration from sources such as GameSetWatch (which, coincidentally, also died today), Kill/Screen and numerous others to dig up interesting nuggets of information on fascinating indie titles, peculiar happenings in gamer culture and opportunities for discussion and debate. I was happy with the approach; I feel it gave GamePro a unique take on the news which wasn't just a case of rewriting press releases and rewording stories from other sites. And on the occasions where I did write stories based on press releases, I made a conscious effort to actually write a story rather than just reword the press release. I'd read up on the background of the companies involved, find out precedents for interesting events and throw in some interesting trivia if I had some to hand.

And now it's all over. I'm sorry to see GamePro go, but I'm hopeful that the staff will be able to find themselves suitably awesome positions to move on to. As for me? I couldn't say. Working for an American site has been a great deal of fun but it's had the side-effect that I'm known more in the States than I am in my own country. While I'd hope my experience and output would speak for itself regardless of the geographical location of the site on which it was published, I do wonder which side of the pond any future writing gigs might come from.

With that, then, ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses and toast the late GamePro. You'll be missed.