Category: Video Games

2224: Megadimension Neptunia: 50 Hour Report

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50 hours deep in Megadimension Neptunia VII and I'm just starting the third and final "episode", Heart Dimension Neptunia H. So far I haven't set foot in the titular Heart Dimension, but the plot has been set up; in the meantime I've been doing a little bit of questing and grinding with the CPU Candidates, who are the focus of the initial part of the H arc.

The game continues to be the most enjoyable Neptunia game yet. Everything about it is honed and refined to round off the scrappy edges of the previous installments; while the Re;Birth remakes provided small, incremental improvements on the format set in place by Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory, MegaNep is, as I've previously noted, a complete overhaul of pretty much every system in the game, from the battle mechanics to the way "shares" work.

Perhaps one of the best changes is how unique each character now feels to play in battle. Rather than all essentially working in the same way outside of the SP-powered special skills and super-powerful EXE Drive attacks, now each character very much has their own distinctive feel and circumstances in which they are useful. This is achieved in several ways, largely to do with the weapons and combo attacks they are able to use.

Each weapon in MegaNep not only has the usual stats, but it also has a specific arrangement of combo slots, split into three categories: Rush, Power and Standard. (Break attacks have gone the way of the Guard Points bar that they were used to damage; I can't say I miss the system, since it became largely irrelevant after a certain power level in the old games.) As in previous games, Rush attacks focus on a high hit count, with less power per individual hit, and also have a more significant impact on the EXE Drive meter, which now, incidentally, resets between every battle rather than carrying over as in the previous games. Power attacks, meanwhile, have fewer hits, hit harder and in many cases carry an elemental affinity, allowing you to exploit weaknesses. And Standard attacks are somewhere in between the two.

Where things get interesting is in trying to arrange these combos optimally. Characters learn new combo moves as they level up, but each can only be put in a single slot. Moreover, the first attack a weapon performs is fixed and not tied to the character's unlocked skills; this comes into play when considering the individual combo moves' Combo Traits, which, if fulfilled when you use them in battle, means that the combo move that triggered it will 1) be guaranteed to hit and 2) be guaranteed to crit with every hit, increasing overall damage considerably. Combo Traits vary from "All previous attacks did not use a Combo Trait" to "Haven't used Power attacks" and numerous others besides. The challenge when customising a character is to give them as many workable combos with Traits as possible, enabling them to respond to different situations in an optimal manner. It seems to be impossible to build the "perfect" combo — every move triggering a Combo Trait — at my current level, but I wonder if it will be an option with later weapons and/or combo moves.

Anyway. Given that each character has their own set of combo skills and their own set of weapons (each of which has its own arrangement of combo slots as well as its own area of effect) there's a considerable degree of flexibility in how you set up your party, particularly with the sheer number of playable characters on offer in the game. And you'll want to rotate them around, too; back-line characters no longer gain experience points (with a couple of exceptions) and there are certain circumstances where you're obliged to use one or more specific characters in a fight, so they better be suitably set up when that time comes! The series' Lily Rank system is back, too, only this time Lily Ranks are gained by characters fighting together in the front row, making them somewhat easier to gain — at least it feels that way so far — and in order to max these out you'll need to tweak your party arrangement every so often, particularly if you're Trophy hunting.

Elsewhere in the combat, while there are a lot of disposable popcorn enemies — particularly on the world map, where after a certain point random battles become more of an inconvenience than an actual hazard in getting to your destination — the highlights of the game are the boss fights. The game knows this, too, presenting you with unique interface elements, including one thing that I oddly like very much and can't quite explain why: the boss HP meter with multiple bars. Yes, rather than depleting one bar very slowly while battering down a boss-level enemy, MegaNep takes a Final Fantasy XII-esque approach of having a number of "lights" beneath the main HP bar for a boss, with a light dimming each time you empty the bar. Dim all the lights and you've won. It's essentially a variation on the system that was used in titles like Shining Force and Senran Kagura, where different coloured HP bars represented how many "extra" bars a character or enemy had over the maximum possible to display on screen proportionally.

Outside of my rather specific, peculiar tastes in HP meters, though, back to the boss fights themselves: a lot of them are pretty good, and this is largely thanks to a couple of new mechanics introduced in MegaNep. One is the "Parts Break" system, whereby certain enemies have breakable sections with their own durability counts. In order to damage the part, your character needs to be standing in an appropriate place when they either unleash their combo or a special move. Break the part and you get extra XP, credits and a chance at some extra drops. In many cases, breaking the part also has an effect on the boss, either reducing an aspect of its defences or removing the capability for a particular attack. In one particularly memorable confrontation, a boss is completely immune to all damage except Parts damage until you break the cape on his back — to make matters more challenging, the cape can only be damaged by attacks with an elemental affinity. The fight quickly turns into an entertaining dance as you decide whether to try and break his gauntlets and the horn on his head to cripple his special attacks, or whether to focus on trying to get behind him to destroy his cape and be able to deal some real damage.

The new EXE Drive system works well, too; rather than encouraging you to get into a bunch of random fights in a dungeon just to charge it up before a boss fight, the fact it 1) resets at the start of combat and 2) fills much more quickly than in past games means that you're much more likely to be using the spectacular, entertaining EXE Drive moves, which is good, because there are a lot more of them, including several multi-character ones that necessitate surrounding an enemy in appropriate formations. Transforming the CPUs and their sisters into their HDD (and, later, their Next Form) incarnations also costs a bar of EXE Drive rather than SP, meaning you can pretty much guarantee the ability to transform in every fight if you need it — to discourage spamming this, however, transforming now costs Shares, though getting KO'd costs significantly more Shares, so you'll want to weigh up the pros and cons before doing anything rash. Shares work like their original intention in the first Hyperdimension Neptunia game: the more shares one of the nations has, the stronger their CPU (and her sister) is. They're no longer a zero-sum game, however; increasing one nation's shares no longer means taking them from someone else; it's possible to have all four nations with maxed-out share bars, all enjoying the benefits of being Top Nep.

Anyway. I've waffled on for over 1,300 words on the systems in this game and not even mentioned the story and characters, which are still my favourite bit of the series. I'll save that for another day, though, perhaps when I've finished my first playthrough: there's a lot to talk about, with this being by far the most interesting Neptunia game story-wise as well as in terms of mechanics.

It's pretty good, in other words. Very good, in fact. Buy it. Support it. I want to see more Neps. (At this point, I don't think we have a lot to worry about there.)

2223: Exploring Record Keeper a Little Further

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On the assurances of others who have played it a lot further that it does get a lot more interesting and challenging later, I've been idly trying a bit more of Final Fantasy Record Keeper. And I'm starting to "get it", I think.

One of the issues I have with mobile games of this type is that they often throw too much content at you at once, much of which is well out of your league and is just a waste of the limited "stamina" resource to participate in. Record Keeper does suffer from this to an extent, but it is at least pretty up-front about the fact that you should probably play what it calls the "core dungeons" first in order to upgrade your stamina bar, then challenge either the Elite versions of the core dungeons or the daily event dungeons.

Record Keeper takes a slightly interesting approach to powering up your "account"; rather than having experience points and a level, in order to increase your maximum amount of stamina — and, consequently, the amount of dungeons you can challenge in a session without spending the "Mythril" currency to recharge — you simply need to repeatedly collect five "Stamina Shards", which are crystals awarded to you when you finish a dungeon. Normally you get one the first time you finish a dungeon and another the first time you "master" the dungeon by completing various rather straightforward objectives along the way; this usually means that the first time you run a dungeon, you're pretty much guaranteed two Stamina Shards, which means you can upgrade your stamina bar and keep playing fairly easily, especially as your stamina completely replenishes when you upgrade the bar.

So clearly the "best" way to approach the early game in Record Keeper is to grind your way through the core dungeons to get your stamina as high as it can possibly go, then once you have a decent stock of that — and, in theory, some good characters and equipment by then, too — you can challenge the game's more, well, challenging content. Makes sense, for sure.

Trouble is, the core dungeons… well, they're quite boring, or rather they're painfully easy. When you can get through each one almost entirely by using the "Auto-Battle" function, perhaps unleashing a special Soul Break ability from a character you've borrowed from another player on the boss to one-shot it in most circumstances, that's not particularly compelling gameplay, though I suppose it does allow you to play the game almost as an "idle game" a la those endless "clicker" games that infest Steam.

This isn't all that unusual for mobile games, though. Mobile games, despite their reputation for being disposable, throwaway experiences, are often designed with the long tail in mind. That means being as accessible as possible to as many people as possible. That means catering to all ability levels, including "dribbling idiot". That means if the early game of your mobile game isn't easy as fuck, the "dribbling idiot" end of the spectrum — which, I theorise, is the end of the spectrum most likely to spend money on the game in order to ease their progression — will lose interest and drop off quickly. More hardcore gamers, meanwhile, are used to piss-easy early games in RPGs and MMOs, and are usually willing to put up with this for the promise of challenging content and amazing rewards in the endgame. I can't speak for Record Keeper's "endgame" at present, but there's certainly scope for the collecting aspect to become rather compelling.

So that's where I am quite now. It's proving to be quite a nice diversion for while I'm, say, queueing for a dungeon in Final Fantasy XIV, and a suitable toilet game in that I can set them off battling on auto-mode while I'm having a shit, then reap the rewards afterwards. Unlike Brave Frontier, the mobile game that previously grabbed me, Record Keeper's dungeons and battles seem to be kept reasonably short and snappy, at least in the early game; eventually, I tired of Brave Frontier because it became too time-consuming for something I originally only started playing to "fill gaps" in time, but if Record Keeper remains pacy I can see it being a nice thing to have on my phone for quiet moments.

We'll see if it maintains my interest. I'm intrigued to start looking at the Elite Dungeons and the daily events, but I'm going to continue grinding my way through some more core dungeons first of all; while the depth of gameplay in these early battles is nothing special, it is nice to revisit monsters and locales from classic Final Fantasy games from a new angle, and getting loot and XP is always fun, isn't it?

On the offchance you want to "follow" me in the game, my Friend ID is rfEj.

2222: I Can't Decide if Final Fantasy Record Keeper is Good or Not

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I've been having a sporadic go at Final Fantasy Record Keeper on mobile recently. I sort of like it, but I also sort of think it's rubbish. It's hard to say which opinion carries the greater weight at the moment.

For the unfamiliar, Record Keeper is a Final Fantasy fanservice game in that it allows you, as an original (and rather dull) character created specifically for the game, to venture into the worlds of most of the mainline Final Fantasy games from I-XIV and engage in some of the iconic battles from the series. Major plot beats are presented as "dungeons" in which you have to complete several different stages concluding with a boss fight against a boss from that point in the original game, complete with its original attack patterns.

As you progress through the game, you unlock various characters from Final Fantasy history, and you're encouraged to swap them around and experiment with different party combinations, as a character running a dungeon from their "own" game gets significant bonuses. You can then get equipment — again, sourced from all the various games — and give them to characters to power them up and make them stronger, as well as crafting "ability orbs" that allow them to cast spells and skills that deal more damage or have special effects.

There's actually quite a lot to it, but the fact that it's a free-to-play mobile game means that it's riddled with irritating features. Firstly and perhaps most significantly is the fact that it's entirely dependent on being online, with painfully sluggish menus and lengthy load times, even when the game has cached its data. Worse, if your network connection flakes out while you're playing, the whole game freezes until connectivity is restored, even if you're in the middle of battle.

Then there's the social features, which actually weren't in the game when it originally launched. As is usually the case in mobile games of this type, you have the opportunity to "borrow" another player's showcase character when you run a dungeon, and make use of their special ability a limited number of times during the dungeon. A nice idea, for sure, but completely unbalanced; most other players are well above my current level and consequently inflict one-hit kills on bosses, making strategic play unnecessary. It would perhaps be better if you were matched with players who were of a similar level or amount of progress through the game to you.

Free-to-play also means gacha, and in this case that comes in the form of the "relics", the equipment you give to your characters. Rather than purchasing these from a shop, you "draw" them, either one crap one for free per day or a chance at better ones if you spend money or use the rarer "Mythril" currency you acquire through playing. Relics can be levelled up and upgraded in rarity independently of characters, so the main metagame comes from collecting and fusing these items together to form a powerful (overpowered?) party to challenge the content in the game.

There's a lot to dislike about Final Fantasy Record Keeper, but a lot to like, too; the developers are clearly very much in love with Final Fantasy as a whole, incorporating authentic graphics, sound, music and animations into the game. The fact that the boss fights make use of authentic attack patterns — even from less "conventional" Final Fantasies such as XIV — is a really nice touch for longstanding fans of the series, and the Relic and Ability systems provide plenty of scope for customising and upgrading characters.

It's a nice idea, in other words; I'm just not sure that a free-to-play mobile game was quite the optimal way to do this. Still, it's significantly better than many other mobile games I've fiddled with in the past, so I'll give it a chance for a bit longer and see if it holds my interest.

2218: Megadimension Neptunia: Report from 21 Hours In

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Good Lord, this game is good.

As I mentioned the other day, Megadimension Neptunia V-II marks something of a watershed moment for the series in that it's no longer "good, but [insert caveat of your choice here]" and is just plain good. Great, even.

I'm about 21 hours in so far. I've finished the first of the three main stories that make up the complete experience — Zerodimension Neptunia Z — and am now in the second, Hyperdimension Neptunia G. This part — at least the first bit of it; I don't know how long it is in total — is split into four distinct scenarios, each of which focuses on one of the four main goddess characters (and one of the four new "Gold Third" characters, who personify various Japanese game companies from Capcom to Square Enix), and so far I've played through Blanc's route from start to finish.

Like Compile Heart's previous game Omega Quintet, MegaNep spreads out its mechanics over the course of quite a few hours. 20 hours in, I'm still getting tutorial messages when I'm afflicted with a status effect I haven't suffered before, though I think that most of the main core mechanics of the game have now been introduced by this point. Unlike Final Fantasy XIII, which often draws the ire of commentators for taking a similar approach to spreading out its new mechanics, MegaNep never feels like it's artificially constraining you, though; the new systems I've seen so far were all introduced at the changeover between Zerodimension Neptunia Z and Hyperdimension Neptunia G, which was an eminently sensible way to do things, since it allows Z to stand by itself as a complete-feeling experience, then G to move on and feel distinctive in its own right thanks to the additional things you have to juggle.

What of those additional things, though? Well, aside from the things that Z already shook up — the world map is now node-based a la Final Fantasy Tactics, and you can have random encounters while moving from place to place; the battle system has been completely revamped from previous installments — G introduces (and, in some cases, reintroduces) a number of new systems.

First is the Scout system originally seen in Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory. Essentially, this is a small army of chibi characters (series veterans will recognise them as the "Chirper" characters who fulfil the role of incidental NPCs) that you can send out to dungeons, and they will then report back with what they find. Whereas Victory's Scout system simply required you to enter and leave locations a certain number of times before the Scouts would return, MegaNep's Scouts head out in real time and then report back with items, money, new dungeon features (boss monsters or clues to hidden treasure) or whole new dungeons. There's still a heavy degree of RNG involved, but it's a fairly painless process, and the real-time element means you can easily leave it running while you're doing other errands in-game. Scouts also provide passive bonuses to you if you're exploring the same dungeon they're deployed to, so they're helpful in ways other than just finding stuff, too.

Next is the Investment system, which allows you to develop towns by spending your hard-earned Credits in three areas: Commercial, Industrial and Public Relations. Upgrading Commercial increases the stock in the shops; upgrading Industrial gives you access to new crafting recipes; upgrading Public Relations triggers events that can reward you with items, new Scouts or simply an entertaining scene. That's pretty straightforward.

Then you have the Route Building system, which is also reasonably straightforward. Discover a new dungeon and you can't just click on it on the map like in the older games; you have to build a node-based pathway to it first, which costs money.

Then you have the Hidden Treasure system for each dungeon, which replaces the old games' spamming the "sonar"-type ability to find invisible items. Here, to find a hidden treasure, first of all you have to have a Scout discover a clue to its location, then fulfil the conditions in the clue, then collect the treasure. Sometimes dungeons have more than one treasure, which means you have to do the process twice, though the conditions are usually different. The conditions make the dungeon-crawling a bit more interesting, because they have a decent amount of variety in them: some require you to collect all the regular treasures in a dungeon (some of which may be in awkward places or behind barriers that require the "Breaker" ability to smash) while others require you to execute 8 "Symbol Attacks" in a row without getting spotted by any enemies, which challenges your stealth and pattern-spotting skills. Others still require you to defeat each and every enemy symbol in the whole dungeon at least once — they don't all have to be dead at the same time, but you do have to keep track of what you've already killed and what you haven't.

In Blanc's route, we get a number of different characters to play with, each of whom handles rather differently, fixing the issue from the older games where most of the characters felt rather interchangeable with the exception of their special skills. Blanc herself has a marked disparity between her physical and magic defense, for example, while her sisters Rom and Ram have half of Blanc's HP but much stronger magic resistance and the ability to attack both at range and over a wider area. The brief time you get to play with Capcom personification C-Sha is a ton of fun, too; her combo skills are all named after fighting game terminology, and it's more fun than it should be triggering Rush attacks called simply "PPPK" then seeing her doing a punch-punch-punch-kick combo on the enemy.

The story is proving to be surprisingly compelling so far, too. The Zerodimension episode had a mixture of lightheartedness and post-apocalyptic bleakness and worked well. Blanc's route of the Hyperdimension story deals with a plausible view of a dystopian society where everything and everyone is controlled by the state, and how revolutionaries fighting against this sort of regime aren't always in it for the right reasons. Neptunia's stories have always been far more clever than most reviewers give them credit for, being heavily allegorical for the most part, but so far MegaNep seems to have taken things to a new level. The writing and localisation is good (aside from a few easily ignored typos here and there) and, crucially, the new characters — of whom there are quite a few — fit right in to the world without breaking a sweat.

It does feel very different to previous Neptunia games, but after the three Re;Births that all had the same basic mechanics, it's refreshing to have a game that feels both comfortingly familiar and fresh at the same time. I'm delighted with the experience so far, and am looking forward to playing it to death over the course of the next few weeks. Expect further reports to follow.

2214: Blue Estate: A Love Letter to Lightguns

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The lightgun shooter is a genre of gaming that has been pretty much dead for a long time — at least partly because the tech that made lightguns work doesn't work with modern LCD or LED TVs. That said, there have been a few attempts to bring it back using alternative methods, most notably motion controls which, while not quite the same as pointing a gun at the screen and pulling the trigger, at least have the "aim and fire" aspect handled nicely, and arguably in a more accessible manner than traditional light guns.

A while back, I picked up a game on PlayStation 4 called Blue Estate. It was on sale for something ridiculous like £2, so I thought I'd take a chance on it as it sounded interesting. It's based on a comic, I believe, though I hadn't heard of it, and it doesn't appear to be necessary to be familiar with the comic to enjoy the game.

That's because the game is very much an old-school arcade-style lightgun shooter. And it's cracking fun.

In the absence of a next-generation GunCon peripheral, Blue Estate uses the motion sensors in the DualShock 4 controller to move a gunsight around on screen, coupled with the L1 or D-pad up buttons to recentre the crosshairs if they drift off a bit as a result of you moving your hand position. They drift off quite frequently, but the ability to snap them back into position means that this isn't really an issue. (This wouldn't be an issue with the Wii Remote, which recognises its position relative to the television rather than just responding to movements; the DualShock 4, however, doesn't work in the same way, and thus this method is necessary.)

Playing Blue Estate is extremely simple. You point with the motion controls, you shoot with a squeeze of the R2 button. Occasionally you'll be tasked with swiping the DualShock 4 touchpad in a particular direction to perform an action like a melee attack or dodging an incoming projectile, but for the most part this is a game about blasting hordes of goons as quickly, accurately and efficiently as possible in order to rack up 1) a big combo and 2) a big score.

Shooting games of various descriptions were often maligned in the early days of gaming as being the most simplistic, mindless types of games, but this absolutely isn't true; even Space Invaders taught players the importance of performing quick quasi-mathematical calculations in their heads in order to fire their shots at an appropriate position to intersect with the moving aliens as they descended the screen. In Blue Estate's case, the quick thinking required is less mathematical and more observational: it's about prioritising targets and responding to things quickly.

One thing lightgun shooters used to struggle a bit with is how to handle presenting a risk to the player without looking silly. Older lightgun shooters tried several methods — enemies not shooting particularly quickly to give players time to hit them before they got a shot in; enemies focusing on melee attacks; in more advanced games like Time Crisis, a cover system — but it could still sometimes seem a bit convoluted. Blue Estate goes for a hybrid approach of these techniques: as you proceed through each level, sometimes you'll have the opportunity to pop in and out of cover Time Crisis-style, while at others you'll simply have to prioritise your targets appropriately to avoid taking damage. The latter case is handled reasonably elegantly with an on-screen "warning" system showing which enemy is going to score a hit on you next, allowing you to pick a suitable order to blow your foes' heads off.

Blue Estate is, despite its extremely silly story, which I won't go into here, a surprisingly skilful game that has a ton of replay value for score attack enthusiasts. The combo system rewards accurate, skilful shooting, and star ratings in various categories at the end of each level encourage you to try and better yourself in various ways. The basic blasting action is also broken up with several challenge-style objectives in the middle of each level, which task you with everything from quickly shooting enemies that pop up from one of several marked locations to killing a group of enemies in the correct order. There are also some rather wonderful boss fights, which are heavily pattern-based but a ton of fun to fight your way through.

The whole thing has the feel of an old-school arcade game: one that you can "learn" in order to get better at. Learning the position and order of the enemies that show up in each level; learning the bosses' attack patterns; practising your ability to prioritise and quickly respond to targets in order to chain an entire level together — all of these things prove rewarding and fun, even once you've seen the story through to its conclusion. And the story provides good incentive to play through the whole thing at least once, even if you have no intention of score-attacking: it's genuinely amusing but convincingly written with some solid, fun characters and sufficient justification for each of the game's characters to blast their way through scores of henchmen.

If you haven't given it a shot — no pun intended — and you're a fan of the more arcadey side of life, I recommend Blue Estate highly. It may not be a game you've heard of, nor may it be a game that many people are talking about, but it's a whole lot of fun, and worth your time.

2213: Paying Not to Play vs. Games That Let You Break Them

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I'm currently grinding my way through to the Platinum trophy on Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth 2, and in the process I've unlocked a considerable number of the "Plans" in the game's "Remake" system. For those who haven't played any of the Re;Birth games, these are essentially a crafting system that allow you to bolt various bits and pieces onto the base game. These bits and pieces range from a boost to the amount of experience points you gain from battle to new items being available to purchase in the shops.

Re;Birth 2 goes further than its predecessor did with the Plans by pretty much allowing you to break the game altogether. Between the Plan which allows you to automatically defeat enemies you outlevel on the dungeon screen without having to actually do the battle and the "Symbol Attack Gains" Plan, which allows you to still get experience, credits and items as if you had done the battle, grinding to the game's various endings is arguably a little too easy, particularly if combined with boosts to experience and suchlike.

At least, I'd say this was a little too easy were it not for the fact that I've played a bunch of Compile Heart games now, and their endgame is always like this: characters continuing to level after the usual cap of 99, stats increasing to ludicrous levels, superpowered equipment boosting them still further. In Neptunia's case, the exaggerated power levels of the endgame is arguably all part of the satire and parody that the series is based around: RPGs are known for having big numbers in them in their final hours, so here are bigger numbers than you've ever seen (outside of the Disgaea series, that is) popping out of enemies as you batter them around the face and neck repeatedly with various sharp implements.

In the case of the Re;Birth games, how much you break the game is entirely up to you. You don't have to turn any of the plans on if you don't want to, but if you do so, it makes working your way through the alternative endings considerably easier — and manages to remain fun in the process, since there's more to the game than just battles. It's inherently satisfying to see Nepgear closing in on level 400 as I approach the "True" ending on my third playthrough, and I'm fully intending on blasting through the other endings after this too.

Hyperdimension Neptunia U allows you to completely break it, too, particularly in its endgame. As you clear various components of the game, you unlock various cheats which range from having infinite EXE Drive power for super-special moves to not actually taking any damage from enemies, essentially making you invincible. And yet that game managed to remain fun despite the option to completely break it; testament to its overall charm and the fact that it had a metagame structure that I found enjoyable to grind through in the name of a Platinum trophy.

As I play these deliberately broken games, I can't help but compare them to what a lot of mobile games do. In the case of mobile games — free-to-play ones, anyway — you generally have the option to pay real money to break the game in some way, be it eliminate grinding, get an overpowered new character/item/weapon or somehow otherwise break the usual rules of the game. Some games are more aggressive than others in trying to convince you to part with your cash, with the most egregious technique being the vile "Energy" bar that throttles how much you're allowed to play in a single session without either waiting or paying up.

In essence, by paying up to get an advantage in mobile games, you're more often than not paying not to play the game: paying not to have to collect things, or grind experience points, or earn money, or fuse cards to make better cards, or whatever. Most well-designed free-to-play mobile games do have a means of earning the premium currency required to do most of these things, but in many cases this is painfully slow — fast enough to give you a taste, but just slow enough to make you think it can't possibly hurt to pay 99p for 15 gems or whatever. And once you do that, any sense of achievement is gone, because you know you didn't really "earn" whatever you got from it: you just bought it.

Contrast with, say, the Plans in Re;Birth 2, which are also providing the opportunity to not play part of the game — battles with enemies much lower level than you — but demand that you earn the right to do that before you're able to take advantage of it. Or contrast with Neptunia U's cheats, which unlock by completing aspects of the game: again, you have to earn your right to make the rest of your grind easier.

In the latter cases, it's still a player-friendly move that helps save them some time while still being able to explore and enjoy everything the game has to offer, but it carries with it a sense of achievement: the feeling of having earned and unlocked something, rather than just reaching for the credit card when things get a bit tough.

I sincerely hope free-to-play games don't become the norm, simply for this reason. Paying to skip things or acquire things without having to earn them makes the whole thing feel rather meaningless to me. I know not everyone feels this way, but so long as there are still full-price premium games that don't want to keep charging me to keep playing — or to not play — then I'll keep buying 'em.

2212: The Stat Connection

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"Go to your Stats page and check your top 3-5 posts. Why do you think they’ve been successful? Find the connection between them, and write about it."

Daily Post, February 9, 2016

All right. Let's have a look, then. Since we're not that far into 2016 and WordPress doesn't appear to have an "all time" function to search top posts, I'll provide the top five posts (excluding the homepage, which makes up the majority of pageviews but doesn't tell me much) for both 2016 so far and 2015. In other words, these are posts that people saw the title of (probably on social media or via a search engine) and directly clicked through to, rather than simply checking my front page each day.

Here's 2016 so far:

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And here's 2015:

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All right. So let's get analysing.

Since I write about a wide variety of topics on this blog — regular readers will know that it's my personal outlet for venting about whatever is on my mind on any given day rather than any attempt to provide a coherent editorial experience — it's perhaps not surprising that not all of the entries in these two lists have something in common, but there are a few common themes along the way.

How to Do Stuff

Let's look at 2016, first. Both How to Win at Omega Quintet and Helping your Squad in Xenoblade X were written in 2015 (indicated by them not having the orange bar next to them), yet have remained consistently popular since I wrote them. The reason for this is that they are instructional content: guides for video games. Instructions or guides are consistent traffic magnets, regardless of the subject matter of your site, because one of the most common things people search the Internet for is how to do something. Video games sites often use guide content for current popular games to attract visitors to their site and guarantee a baseline of ad revenue, then cross their fingers that readers will click through to other, less "baity" content. It doesn't always work like that, of course, which is why we've seen a rise in deliberately provocative "clickbait" content across the board, not just in games journalism.

Anyway. The reason that my guide content for both Omega Quintet and Xenoblade X proved popular is that these were both games that had a specific audience, but neither of them were "big" enough for a commercial site to want to devote time and column inches to them. In other words, those searching for help when playing Omega Quintet and/or Xenoblade X would be out of luck when searching the big video games sites, but a cursory Google search would doubtless throw up my posts here fairly early on — indeed, at the time of writing, my post on Omega Quintet appears sixth in my (admittedly personalised) Google search results, embarrassingly with a typo in the preview text which I have now corrected:

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It's for this reason that a couple of my other previous posts have proven popular over time: my post on How to Play Pocket Academy, for example, detailing the baffling and frankly illogical mechanics of Kairosoft's mobile-based school sim, rode high in my rankings for quite some time. I tell you: if you want traffic, write posts that tell people how to do stuff, and preferably how to do stuff that mainstream sites haven't covered.

The Power of Sharing

My most popular posts are always several orders of magnitude more popular than their nearest rivals, with perhaps the most impressive example being 2015's An Open Letter to Paul Glass, Slimming World Consultant, Upper Shirley. This post was pretty far from my more regular subject matter on popular media, particularly video games, and yet it was my most popular individual post for 2015. Why? Because it had the absolute shit shared out of it.

Paul Glass was the consultant at our local Slimming World group when I first joined, and his enthusiasm and belief in the programme was and is a big part of why I've stuck with it and had so much success over the course of the last year — I've lost six stone in a year, hopefully with more still to come off. When he revealed that he would be leaving the group to spend more time with his family in far-off climes, I felt it important to express my feelings about what he had helped me accomplish in such a way that I could be clearly understood. I'm shy and socially anxious by nature, and at the time I wrote this I'm not sure how confident I would have felt saying all those words in person, but writing them down on paper is no big deal: I can "fire and forget" that way.

Something told me that I should probably share this post a little wider than just my Twitter followers, though, and so I decided to make one of my extremely irregular visits to Facebook to post a link to the letter on the Facebook group for the Slimming World group in question. That one simple action caused that one single post to absolutely explode in popularity, as it was shared by group members, Paul himself, and subsequently by other people I'd never met involved with Slimming World in various capacities, either as group members or staff.

You never can quite tell what the next big viral sensation is going to be, but there is one thing that all my popular posts do tend to have in common:

The Passion of the Post

It is, I feel, no coincidence that my most widely shared, most popular posts are those in which I feel most passionate about the things that I am writing about. I am a person who, I feel, can express their passion for something pretty clearly through my writing. And indeed, due to the aforementioned shyness and social anxiety mentioned above, I find writing to be the easiest means through which I can express that passion to an audience that can — hopefully — appreciate what I'm saying, or at least respect it.

2015's most popular posts were all about passion, from my letter to Paul to Perhaps We Should Stop Insulting Fans of Japanese Games. Four out of the five posts above were about video games — four out of the five posts were pretty much about the same thing, in fact, which was critics' regular dismissive and unfair treatment of both Japanese game developers and the fans of the games they make — but these posts all resonated deeply both with myself and with the circle of friends I've cultivated on social media, most of whom share the same interests as me.

Consequently, much as my letter to Paul got shared far and wide, so too did The Joyless Wankers of the Games Press (actually written the year before in response to an absolutely atrocious review of Fairy Fencer F on my former stomping grounds of USgamer), Some Thoughts for Critics (a response to Jim Sterling's dreadful and ill-informed review of Senran Kagura 2), Hi Games Journalism, It's Time We Had Another Chat (a response to Mike Diver's equally dreadful and ill-informed review of Senran Kagura 2, a game which is a ton of fun but which proved to be a whipping boy for self-described "progressive" types on the grounds of the female characters' big jiggly breasts) and the aforementioned Perhaps We Should Stop Insulting Fans of Japanese Games (a response to an extraordinarily narrow-minded editorial on USgamer by my former editor Jeremy Parish, and almost certainly the reason he has me blocked on Twitter). I saw these posts get shared and reshared, not only on Twitter, but also on Facebook and Reddit, the latter of which I don't really use myself.

The things I had written had clearly got the strength of my feelings across, and other people felt like they could relate to them in some way — either agreeing or disagreeing — and this caused them to explode in popularity, at least in terms of numbers. The same, too, can be said for 2016's Why It Would Be A Mistake to Not Localise Valkyrie Drive Bhikkuni, an impassioned plea for the progressive loudmouths not to stop Senran Kagura creator Kenichiro Takaki's new game making it over to Western shores.

Bovril?

I'll be honest, I have no idea why a post from 2013 about beef-and-yeast-extract black sticky substance Bovril is my third most popular post this year so far, but oddly enough this post has been consistently popular: it finished 2015 in sixth place, just after my various rants at the games journalism industry and also ranked sixth in 2014, but only managed 19th place in its original year of publication.

It's not even a particularly exciting post: it simply describes what Bovril is and how I feel about it. It doesn't even appear on the front page of Google results for Bovril. But I guess it meant something to someone somewhere. Perhaps not many people write about Bovril on the Internet, and my post offered a safe space for Bovril fans to convene and share in silent contemplation of salty beef drinks. Or perhaps it's just one of those things that can't quite be explained.

So what can we learn from this?

There are a few things you can probably see my most popular posts have in common. To my eye, these things are:

  • A clear, conversational title that makes it clear what the post is about — i.e. a simple subject line rather than a "title" that tries to be clever or funny
  • Passion for the subject — clear emotion, either positive or negative, is infectious and relatable
  • Scope for sharing — be it a topic that a lot of people feel strongly about, or something that is written in such a way that presents a strong argument in favour of or against something
  • Complete honesty — even at the expense of a few "bridges" if necessary
  • Instructions on how to do stuff — particularly if nowhere else has published instructions on how to do that stuff

Not all of my most popular posts have all of the above elements — although I do make a specific effort to apply the "complete honesty" element to everything I write — but these are, by far, the most common factors that all of my most popular posts have between them.

I hope that's proved as enlightening for you as it has for me: it's certainly given me some food for thought with regard to what to write about going forward from here, so I'd say both as a writing exercise and an analytical investigation, this post has been a great success.

Thanks, Daily Post!

2211: On "Burn in Hell, Yarny"

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A videogame called Unravel will be released tomorrow. It may be a good game, and it is certainly a good-looking one, with a soft focus and hazy depth of field; tree leaves rustle convincingly and thick snowflakes pile up as the camera pans ever right-ward. It appears to make use of this tactile world for a series of physics-based puzzles, like moving rocks to get up on ledges and creating makeshift vines with which to soar across little ponds. These may be very clever puzzles, building toward a resolution that is very satisfying, but I will never know, because I will never play Unravel, and that is because its protagonist, a little red yarn-man named Yarny, can go fuck himself.

This was the opening to an article from Kill Screen, a site that originally positioned itself at the very spearhead of "new games journalism", boasting both a print magazine and an online component that would offer something a little different from the usual consumer advice/PR/news, previews, reviews cycle that most games-focused sites had provided up until that point.

I remember Kill Screen launching; it was actually at the first PAX I went to — I even still have a copy of their "Issue Zero" that I picked up at the show somewhere. It looked like it was going to be a great read, and a bold new frontier for games criticism.

Look at that opening paragraph again. Look at the last half of the last sentence.

"I will never play Unravel, and that is because its protagonist, a little red yarn-man named Yarny, can go fuck himself."

Needless to say, I do not feel the same way about Kill Screen as I did when it was first launched. I hadn't felt the same way for quite some time, to be honest, since its take on intelligent criticism had started to veer rather too heavily in favour of heavily ideological-based arguments rather than actual analysis of the art on its own merits — a scourge that the entire games press has been afflicted with for the past few years — but this article today has cemented my feelings.

What I did want to talk about, though, is the staggering hypocrisy of some people — within and outside games journalism — when censuring this article, and it most certainly has received almost universal censure from all angles. Deservedly so.

The key thrust of the article is that the author has no plants to play Unravel because he doesn't like the look of it. He doesn't like the look of the protagonist, and he doesn't like the fact that the game looks like it's going to be a narrative-centric, emotional experience that emphasises artistry (in the traditional sense) over game design.

You know what? Those are perfectly valid reasons to not want to play a game. There are lots of games I don't want to play because I don't like the look of them, because I don't like that type of game, because the subject matter doesn't appeal or because I know people I don't like love them. Rational or not, pretty much any reason you can think of not to play a game is an absolutely valid one from your own personal perspective: we're already living in an age where it's literally impossible to play every single game out there, even if all you did all day every day was play games, so everyone, consciously or not, has their own set of selection criteria for what they put on their plate at any given moment.

What isn't okay, though, is then picking on something that 1) you confess doesn't appeal to you and 2) you admit you have no intention of playing (and therefore speaking from a position of authority on) anyway — and then writing a critical article about how it's symptomatic of everything wrong with modern gaming. The author has some fair points — that some developers believe emotional manipulation of the player is an end unto itself, and that this isn't the same as creating something truly artistic — but they are completely invalidated by the position of ignorance from which he is speaking: he's criticising Unravel and games like it without any knowledge of what they're actually like — he's speaking on the basis of assumptions, not taking the time to research it for himself.

Where else have we seen this happen? Oh, right, with pretty much every niche-interest Japanese game released over the last few years. We've seen series like Senran Kagura berated for having boobs in them, but little to no discussion of their more progressive aspects such as homosexuality, sexual kinks, forming friendships across ideological barriers and accepting people for who they are. We've seen my longstanding favourite Hyperdimension Neptunia all but rejected from any cultural significance for being "hypersexualised" and having characters that both possess breasts and breathe, with little to no mention of the series' perpetually on-point satire of games and game culture, excellent writing and characters strong enough to carry games in a wide variety of styles. We've even seen people branding the "Amie" feature from the Japanese version of Fire Emblem Fates as "creepy" and expressing pleasure that it had been removed, despite displaying no understanding of its context, either in-game or within the Japanese cultural context of "skinship" or "naked association". And I could go on. For pages.

Sound familiar? Why, yes, in all the above cases, the critics of these titles were speaking from spectacularly ill-informed, ignorant positions — in some cases not even playing the games, or barely playing them for more than a few minutes in the instances where they did bother to boot them up at all — and, thus, were speaking from a position where they were unqualified to offer meaningful, trustworthy criticism of these games. And yet because games journalism is very much a cult of personality, people who didn't know about these games already take these critics' words at face value — assuming they're a high-profile critic like Jim Sterling, or at least from a site seen as "reputable" (i.e. big) by the masses — and don't bother to question them. And this leads to these games being pushed further into the niches they're already in, and to a lot of people missing out on experiences that they may well find themselves pleasantly surprised by.

The worst thing it does is contribute to the overwhelming air of negativity and cynicism that pervades modern games writing. Many members of the press are extremely burned out on the increasingly penny-pinching tactics of triple-A publishers — day-one DLC, preorder incentives, platform-exclusive content, betas-that-are-not-betas-they're-demos-that-you-can-only-play-if-you-preorder — and this causes the exhaustion and cynicism to infect their explorations of anything that might be just slightly outside the norm. Oh, sure, there's plenty of indie darlings that get elevated to "gaming Messiah" status — Undertale, The Witness and Firewatch all spring to mind in recent months — but poor old Japan repeatedly gets shafted by people who, like the author of the Kill Screen piece, have no intention of exploring them in sufficient detail to provide adequate comment and criticism on them.

Life is too short — and there are too many games out there — to waste time on negative articles about "why I don't like this" or "why I don't want to play this" or "why this doesn't appeal to me". So why does it keep happening? I'd much rather read a games press that is more positive in tone: willing to criticise where appropriate, but where the thing first and foremost in every critic's mind is the celebration of this amazing, growing, constantly changing medium that shatters cultural borders into something the whole world can truly understand and enjoy together.

You don't have to love everything. I certainly don't. But how about we think about keeping our mouths shut about the things we hate, let the people who do love them enjoy them, and we focus on the things that we love, too. Doesn't that sound much nicer than "I have no intention of playing this game because I don't like the look of the protagonist"?

(Oh, and for the record, I have no interest in playing Unravel either; Braid and Limbo were enough to put me off arty platformers for quite some time. I would not, however, dream of attempting to offer criticism on it having not played it — and I wouldn't even feel comfortable commenting on Braid and Limbo because I don't feel I played them enough to be well-informed before tiring of them. Now, I'm off to go and play some disgusting degenerate pervert Japanese role-playing games and probably fap myself into a frenzy in the process. Or perhaps just enjoy the things I love rather than bitching about things I hate and have no intention of trying to enjoy.)

2209: Exploring the Cosmos

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Been playing a bit of Elite Dangerous: Horizons this evening and realising the "dream" of something I've wanted to do since I started playing: hop in a ship, point it in a particular direction and just go see what's out there.

I haven't got that far yet, to be honest — I'm still in populated space, albeit getting down to the dregs of the tiny factions rather than the warring empires of the PowerPlay system — but I can see interesting things on the galactic horizon, and I fully intend to check them out and see what's there.

The nice thing about Elite is that you can do this and it's a viable way to play the game. Its exceedingly freeform nature — more freeform than pretty much any other game I think I've played outside of Minecraft — allows you to play how you see fit, and enjoy it how you want. If you want fast-action combat dogfighting, it's there. If you want to run courier missions, that's there. If you want to collaborate with other players to strategically expand the influence of one of the major powers in the galaxy, that's there, too. Or, as previously mentioned, if you just want to hop in a ship, point it in a particular direction and just go see what's out there… well, you can do that too, because the galaxy is one hell of a big place.

Exploration gameplay is relatively straightforward. Equip a ship with the appropriate scanners — basic versions of which come as standard — and when you hyperspace into a new system, you can scan for astronomical objects. Once you've located some, either via your scanners or visually, targeting them and flying close-ish to them allows you to run a detailed scan of them and record the information in your ship's computer. You can then sell this information when you get to a suitable space station or colony that is at least 20 light years away from where you acquired the data — it's assumed that most areas are familiar with the region immediately around them — and profit accordingly. It's a valid career path with its own progression and the opportunity to make your own distinctive mark on the game universe: whenever someone visits something that you were the first one to discover, they'll see your name there, proudly recorded for all time as the first person to find that thing, whether it's a big burning ball of fiery sun, an unremarkable lump of rock or a spectacular planetary system.

I haven't travelled far enough to be one of these pioneers as yet, I don't think, but I'm already getting into a region of space that is less populated, both with the computer-controlled factions and players. The station my ship is currently parked at as I type this has seen just 12 player-controlled ships pass through in the last 24 hours, compared to the hundreds or thousands the more "core" stations in the centre of the populated area see every day.

I find the exploration aspect inherently satisfying for some reason, despite the fact that objectively speaking it's quite boring and repetitive — although I did get interdicted by an unpleasant NPC called "Starquake" earlier, who battered my ship about a bit before I was able to activate my Frame-Shift Drive and jump away from him — but mostly I'm curious to see what's out there, if anything. The original Elite had some strange things going on in the far reaches of the galaxy — most notably the spectacularly irritating Thargoids, who had a habit of pulling you out of hyperspace and killing you horribly — so I'm curious to see if there's anything interesting hidden in the furthest reaches of the galaxy.

There are a bunch of places I'm just curious to see, too. The "Coalsack" area looks most intriguing, what with its ominous black cloudiness, and, of course, the immense density of the galactic core is surely worth trying to see. Of these places, the Coalsack is probably reachable relatively easily; the galactic core perhaps less so, but I'm interested to see how far I can go. Theoretically, my current ship has infinite range thanks to its Fuel Scoop hardware, which allows me to refuel by harvesting the gases of appropriate stars, so as long as I don't get stranded in a region with crap stars and/or blown up by pirates or aliens who are hiding deep in "unpopulated" space, I should be good to go for quite some time. And think of the money I'll make when I eventually get back to human space to sell all this exploration data.

Oh, God, I have to fly back as well, don't I… Maybe I shouldn't go too far…

2207: Proudly Flying the Flag for the Magazine Format

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Ladies and gents, I'm pleased to announce the very first issue of Digitally Downloaded: The Magazine, put together as a collaborative effort between me and Matt Sainsbury, head honcho of the site of the same name.

You can read the issue here for free, or hopefully it will embed below if the magic of the Internet does its thing properly:

The magazine is something Matt and I have been kicking around for a while now. We both have a background in print publications, and both have a strong preference towards the sort of long-form pieces you get in magazines. This kind of format is something which clickbait sites tend to discourage these days unless they're being particularly provocative with the things they're saying at length, so really starting this magazine was an opportunity for us to create something that we would want to read.

The broad intention behind the magazine is to "theme" each issue around a particular subject, then focus in on that subject with a main feature and a series of articles about games that typify the subject. In the inaugural issue, we went for the concept of the unreliable narrator: an established trope in literature, but one that games are just starting to get to grips with. Our investigations took us across the world, from Japanese visual novel Steins;Gate to "walking simulator" Everybody's Gone to the Rapture via the chaotic genius of Deadly Premonition.

There are doubtless some kinks to work out (most notably the fact that the web-based reader appears to inexplicably cut some of the letters off on some of the page footers, seemingly at random, despite the source PDF looking just fine) but we're planning on making this a regular — hopefully monthly — thing going forward, and we hope you'll support and enjoy it.

A pre-emptive thank you for taking the time to read through our hard work, then, and we look forward to having more to share with you in the near future!