2238: Mobile Games Aren't Always Shit: Mister Smith Edition

A lot of mobile games are shit. Some are just a little bit shit. Some are really shit. The upside of this unfortunate situation is that when something enjoyable and fun comes along, it's all the more noteworthy as it becomes as a sparkling diamond, floating majestically atop the sea of shit that is the mobile games marketplace in 2016.

The trouble with a lot of mobile games is that they try to be something they're not: they try to be big-budget, triple-A experiences — inevitably using the term "console quality" somewhere in their description — but then more often than not ruin the experience in two major ways: firstly, by hobbling the player experience by making it free-to-play and consequently limiting their enjoyment unless they repeatedly pay up (or, in some cases, grind until they want to kill themselves), and secondly, by using god-awful touchscreen approximations of joypad controls, which never, ever work because touchscreens don't have buttons you can feel and consequently you can't do the "muscle memory" thing you can do with an actual controller in your hand.

No indeed, the best mobile games out there make the best use of the platform that they're on and the context in which people use them. Mobile phones these days are used 1) when you don't want to talk to people around you, 2) when you're on the toilet, 3) when you're waiting for some form of public transport and/or friends to arrive and 4) when you can't sleep. As such, the ideal mobile gaming experience is something that you can do during any of these activities without having to think too much, display any sort of manual dexterity beyond tapping a few clearly indicated things with your fat, greasy fingers or commit yourself to any sort of lengthy play session — that train might turn up any minute, after all, despite the automated announcement assuring you that it is "very sorry" for the delay to this service.

Anyway. I found a good mobile game the other evening while I couldn't sleep. It's called Mister Smith and His Adventures, it's published by Ayopa Games and penned by Scotland-based comedy writer Steven McDade whose work, in his own words, "hasn’t quite crossed the line to allow for fame, fortune, adulation or comedy legend status". Based on Mister Smith, however, McDade should have a bright future ahead of him, as his breezy, conversational writing style is immediately appealing, and an excellent fit for a game such as Mister Smith and His Adventures.

But what is Mister Smith and His Adventures? Put simply, it's a very straightforward interactive novel with quizzes. Telling the story of Mr Mister Smith [sic], it unfolds over the course of several distinct stories, during which you have the opportunity to make a number of choices to determine how things unfold, and how farcical the outcome of Mister Smith's various adventures will be. Along the way, based on your choices, you'll be presented with a number of quiz questions in various categories, which will ultimately score you in the fields of Knowledge, Bravery, Friendship and Love and present you with a final score for the story based on how many questions you got correct and how quickly you answered.

To be honest, the quizzes seem a little forced at times, but McDade recognises this and lampshades them effectively during the narrative, and given the light-hearted, silly tone to the narration, it's not a big problem; it gives the game a degree of replay value, after all, particularly as it's riddled with achievements for making different choices and answering certain particularly challenging questions correctly. For those who particularly enjoy the quizzes, there are some "stories" that focus exclusively on the quiz aspect, though these are still written in McDade's distinctive authorial voice, which makes them a lot more entertaining than other, drier quiz apps on the App Store and Google Play.

McDade's business model for the game is a good one: you can download it for free, and play the tutorial and first story without paying a penny, after which you have a few choices. You can unlock new stories by repeatedly playing the ones you've already done to earn "Smiths", which can be spent on the new stories and quiz packs currently available. You can purchase bundles of Smiths to selectively purchase stories without grinding. Or you can slip McDade a couple of quid to unlock the game completely, remove all advertising (mostly for itself) and gain immediate access to all new stories as McDade writes and publishes them into the game through automatic updates.

After playing the first two stories, I was more than happy to take the latter option; McDade's writing is very readable (although there are a couple of typos here and there), the game presents it in short, easily digestible sections with endearing stylised illustrations, and each story is enjoyable and self-contained while helping us to build up a more complete picture of who Mister Smith (and Paul) really is as a person.

It's an extremely simple idea, and one that works very effectively. It's a well put together, well-presented game that uses the mobile format well, and I hope to see a lot more of in the coming months; I sincerely hope that McDade finds some success with it, and that it helps him to kickstart his comedy career.

You can download Mister Smith and His Adventures for iOS here, or Android here.

2237: The Insufferable Frame-Rate Obsessives May Have a Point

0237_001

I upgraded the processor on my PC yesterday. It was the last bit that needed upgrading to make it decently up-to-date, and I'd been meaning to do it for a while. It was also a good excuse to wipe everything, reinstall Windows and have a nice fresh, clean system that wasn't clogged up with all manner of crap. For a little while, anyway.

PC gaming, for many people, is the relentless pursuit of ever more impressive frame rates, preferably at ever more impressive resolutions. I've never felt particularly strongly about either, given that my PC is hooked up to my TV and thus is limited to a maximum of 60 frames per second at 1920×1080 resolution; in other words, anything above 60 simply wouldn't benefit what was on screen at all, and in fact would often result in unsightly "screen tearing", where different parts of the screen update at different times. Consequently, I habitually play everything with VSync on, which limits the frame rates to 60 and completely eliminates any tearing. It's kind of deliberately hobbling performance to look better.

That said, even with a theoretical maximum frame rate of 60, my old processor couldn't quite keep up with some of the more modern games. I have a decent graphics card, so nothing was actually unplayable, but I knew that I could probably get more out of said graphics card with better base hardware. Final Fantasy XIV, for example, ran perfectly well at anywhere between about 30 and 60 frames per second depending on how much was going on at the time — it would be pretty damn smooth in the relative peace and quiet of instanced dungeons, while the frame rate would drop a fair bit in densely populated areas or busy battle scenes with lots of players. I'm not someone that these frame rate disparities bothered a great deal, but they were noticeable.

So with some degree of curiosity, after assembling the new bits and pieces and putting my computer back together, I fired up Final Fantasy XIV to investigate if the performance was any better. After a little fiddling with settings — previously, it ran better in "borderless windowed" mode, while now it runs better in dedicated full-screen mode — I was very pleased to discover that it was now running at an absolutely rock-solid 60 frames per second, constantly, regardless of what was happening on the screen at the time. It didn't make a massive difference to the visual fidelity of the game, but it was nice.

Then I jumped into a dungeon, and the true nature of the improvements better hardware brought on became apparent. While the graphics had never really struggled much in dungeons — except with the bizarre bug in the old DirectX 9 version of the game where facing certain directions would cause your frame rate to tank, presumably because the game was trying to render more "out of sight" stuff at once — what really became obvious as I was running with my new hardware was how much more responsive everything was. While the background graphics never really struggled much on my old rig, you could occasionally see things like the interface elements juddering a bit, particularly the damage numbers and status messages that scroll up and down the screen during combat, keeping you informed of what's happening.

Now, those messages are just as smooth as the animations and effects. More importantly, the controls are significantly more responsive, because there aren't any "dead frames", for want of a better word, where the game doesn't register a button input for whatever reason. It was a minor issue before; now it's completely absent, which is lovely. I hadn't anticipated quite how lovely it would be, but it really is; knowing that my performance can no longer be hampered by the complexity of the visuals on screen or how much is happening at the same time around me is a thoroughly pleasant feeling, and, surprisingly, makes the game more enjoyable.

So okay, I'll admit it; frame rate does make a difference. Sometimes. I maintain that "cinematic"-style experiences such as adventure games and their ilk don't particularly benefit from 60fps visuals — they can look nice, but if you're going with realistic imagery, 30fps can sometimes look more "natural" as it's closer to the frame rate of film and TV — but in games where precision and split-second timing are important — fighting games, shoot 'em ups, arcade games, MMOs such as Final Fantasy XIV — smoother hardware performance leads to smoother player performance. Which is kinda cool.

Oh, and no, I haven't tried Crysis yet.

2236: Games You Probably Haven't Tried But Should: Croixleur Sigma

0236_001

I'm a big fan of the Japanese doujin (indie) scene's work and have been ever since I first came across the rather wonderful Recettear by EasyGameStation and its equally wonderful localisation by Carpe Fulgur. Much like the Western indie scene, the Japanese doujin scene is the home of the type of games that men in suits decide "won't provide a good ROI or conversion ratio" or whatever shit they talk about in boardrooms these days.

Unlike the Western indie scene, however, which has a strong tendency to err on the side of "art games" — works that make use of gaming conventions in the service of telling a story or delivering some sort of message to the audience — the Japanese doujin scene has a strong tendency to make very "pure" gaming experiences that, while they sometimes have strong narratives, are primarily concerned with being fun to play and feeling like classic console and arcade titles from the PS1 and Dreamcast eras.

Croixleur Sigma by Souvenir Circ is one such example. I've had the pleasure of following Croixleur's development since it was first released as a rather simplistic, albeit enjoyable, arena-based brawler a good few years ago now, and over time it's blossomed into a genuinely excellent arcade-style game with a surprising amount of depth. With its recent PlayStation 4 release by publisher Playism, we finally have what is probably the definitive version of Croixleur, and it's well worth your time and £11.

As previously mentioned, Croixleur is an arena-based brawler specifically designed to channel Devil May Cry's Bloody Palace mode, in which the protagonist fights their way through increasingly challenging waves of enemies with a mind to completing the challenge 1) as quickly as possible 2) without dying and 3) scoring as many points as possible. In Croixleur's case, you take on the role of one of four charming young weapon-wielding ladies and hack and slash your way through various types of monsters, hopefully before the 15-minute timer or your two arcade-style continues run out.

Croixleur initially seems disappointingly simple. Tapping the attack button unleashes a basic combo, but this isn't altered by moving directions or changing weapons or anything. You can jump and do the same combo, or you can dash.

You can probably make it through the game just mashing the attack button, but it would be very tedious. Thankfully, that isn't all there is to Croixleur, not by a long shot. No, Croixleur is very much based around being as fluid and elegant as possible; every action is possible to "cancel" into another — in other words, while one animation is going off, you can hit the button combination to do something else and that thing happen a lot sooner than it would have if you'd let the animation finish and set it off from a standing start. Effective fighting in Croixleur, then, becomes a combination of hitting weak enemies with your basic attack, dashing to other enemies to get into position, and using the unique special attacks each of the collectible weapons offer in order to best deal with the situations in which you find yourself. There's also a "smart bomb"-like ability that has a limited number of uses; this is particularly useful against the stronger, larger enemies that less frequently show up.

There are only three basic enemy types in Croixleur: a goblin thing, a goblin wizard thing and a flying eyeball bat thing. While you might think this would cause the game to lack variety, things are mixed up a bit by a couple of palette variations of each: brown ones are weakest, blue ones take more hits and are more aggressive, red ones are strongest and most dangerous. The advantage of there only being three basic types of enemy is that you can learn their attack patterns and "tells" in their animations and be able to deftly avoid their attacks in order to keep up your own assault; in order to get the best scores — and indeed to survive, full stop — you'll need to avoid taking damage as much as possible.

Alongside the basic three enemies are a few larger types, too: there's a big monster thing, a gold knight, a silver knight and a fuck-off massive dragon as the final boss. Having significantly more HP — and usually being accompanied by a horde of the basic enemies — means that you have to deal with these powerful foes is somewhat different ways, zipping in and chipping away at their health before they can wind up a powerful attack, or using a special move to pelt them with magic from afar.

Further variation to the game is added through the weapons that you collect as you progress. You can equip up to four of these when you start a new game, effectively allowing you to customise your heroine's choice of special moves according to how you like to play. There are also a variety of entertaining visual accessories you can purchase with the coins you collect by defeating enemies, and these all have various benefits to gameplay. Plus they look fun.

Croixleur is not a complicated or long game, but it's surprising how much depth it has. It's very much an arcade game, and wouldn't feel out of place on the Dreamcast, with its large, Sega-style countdown timer, ludicrous scores to attain and wonderfully fluid, 60fps action. Plus there's a ton of unlockable stuff to uncover as well as the ever-present challenge of besting your own high scores — and those of your friends, too, of course.

Give it a try!

2235: Give Flame Over a Go with This Month's PlayStation Plus Games

0235_001

Idiots, as we all know, love complaining. And some of the loudest, most complain-happy idiots are those who whinge about the monthly games on offer via Sony's subscription service PlayStation Plus.

For those unfamiliar, PlayStation Plus is a service you pay a monthly fee to for, among other things, the privilege of playing multiplayer games on the PlayStation 4 platform. Unless you're a die-hard multiplayer gamer, though, the far more attractive things that PlayStation Plus gets you is discounted prices on PlayStation Store digital downloads, and "free" games every month — I put "free" in inverted commas since you only get to keep them for as long as you keep paying the subscription; they deactivate if you stop paying, though you can get them back again by resubscribing.

In recent months, the aforementioned complain-happy idiots have been very keen to point out that the monthly games on offer have tended to err on the side of smaller-scale, independently developed titles rather than triple-A games, the latter of which were originally positioned as a selling point for the service. However, I actually prefer things this way around, since it gives me the opportunity to give games a go that I've perhaps liked the look of, but not enough to want to drop £10-£15 on them at the time.

Enter Flame Over from Laughing Jackal, a firefighting roguelike that I've had my eye on for a while, but somehow never got around to picking up. This month, it's one of the PlayStation Plus games, so now I don't need to agonise over whether or not it will be a worthwhile purchase for me: I just have a copy for as long as I'm a PlayStation Plus member, and since it's a digital download-only game, it's not a game I feel obliged to pick up a physical copy of — I do love my physical copies, as regular readers will know — because a physical copy doesn't exist.

As it turns out, Flame Over is a very good game indeed and I should have picked it up sooner, but oh well; I have it now.

Flame Over casts you in the role of a firefighter with no visible eyes, a big helmet and an impressive moustache. It's your job to enter a 16-floor building with your trusty hose and extinguisher, put out all the fires and rescue as many people and cats as possible before… well, dying. It is a roguelike of sorts, after all, so yes, despite the cartoonish, slapstick visual humour, the overall tone is oddly bleak, if truthful: fire doesn't care who you are, and it will kill you if you don't respect it.

Gameplay is simple and reminiscent of a classic computer or console game from the 8-bit era. You have a ticking clock, you have a maze-like level to negotiate — randomly generated, hence the "roguelike" descriptor — and you have high scores to beat, here represented as money that you can subsequently spend on powerups and permanent improvements to make your future runs a bit easier.

Putting out fires is a simple case of squirting them with your hose or extinguisher. The hose has a longer range and makes things wet so fire is less likely to spread, while the extinguisher covers a wider area and is the only way to put out electrical fires, which are prone to flaring up again after you've put them out once. You can also completely negate electrical fires by finding the fusebox on each floor, but this will inevitably be beyond a room that has come to resemble one of the lower circles of Hell, so you'll need to clear a pathway through first.

The interesting thing about Flame Over is that it makes things deliberately just a little bit awkward for the player to keep things interesting. The camera angle isn't quite top-down, which means that things on the "bottom" wall on-screen can often be hidden, necessitating rotation of the camera in order to make sure you haven't missed anything. This is an additional thing to think about in the heat (no pun intended) of the moment, and with flames flaring up all around you, it contributes considerably to the rather wonderful growing sense of panic that the game creates.

That timer is a distinctly old-school touch, too; you can extend it by rescuing people, and when it runs out it's not immediately the end of the game: rather, in a manner somewhat similar to seriously old-school games like Spelunker and Bubble Bobble, running out of time triggers the appearance of a difficult to avoid (but absolutely avoidable) enemy who will immediately end your game if you come into contact with him. In this case, said unavoidable enemy is Death himself, further driving home the game's point about mortality.

Oh my goodness me is it an addictive little bugger, though. It's simple to play, repetitive, sometimes awkward and regularly frustrating — but it's fun. It's a "pure" game, designed not to tell a meaningful story or make bold, sweeping sociopolitical statements; it's a game designed to test your skills and patience, and as someone who grew up with games when they were nothing but tests of your skills and patience, Flame Over feels like a rather wonderful callback to those good old days; a game that, were it not for its 60fps 1080p polygonal graphics, would probably have been eminently at home on the Atari 8-bit computers or Commodore 64. And that is absolutely a compliment.

So anyway. Next time you're disappointed that PlayStation Plus isn't giving you a free copy of Call of Duty or some other such shit, take a moment to check out the things you might not have heard of: you might just find yourself pleasantly surprised by the charming games on offer, and discover some new favourites in the process.

2234: Is VR Really Going to Take Off?

0234_001

I have, believe it or not, a friend. I have several, in fact, but this friend's name is Tom. Tom primarily spends his money on bits and pieces for his PC, and is extremely excited about the impending virtual reality revolution — so much so that he's bought an incredible "gaming chair" with attached steering wheel, pedals and HOTAS (Hands On Throttle And Stick) control scheme, ready to play everything from Elite: Dangerous to a variety of racing games in glorious, stereoscopic, head-tracking 3D.

Me, I'm yet to be convinced by the value of VR. I know that theoretically it should be enormously exciting, but at present, there are two big things that put me off: firstly, the cost, which, for however much HTC and Oculus might try to argue that they're making VR more mainstream, is well out of the budget of most people; and secondly the fact that there's still a fundamental disconnect between yourself and the virtual reality into which you're trying to immerse yourself.

There's not a lot to say about the cost, really — it's a lot, I can't afford it, because I'd have to upgrade my PC as well as buy all the hardware, that's about it — so I'll focus on the latter aspect, because that's what bothers me about the technology long-term.

There are certain applications for which VR seems ideally suited. Something like Elite: Dangerous, for example, will likely be very good indeed, because the entire Elite experience is based on you sitting in a chair in your spaceship cockpit, flipping switches and jiggling joysticks in order to fly around and do spacey things. Likewise, driving games will also be very good, since again, the experience is based around you sitting in a chair holding on to a steering wheel for dear life. In other words, the experiences that my friend Tom is already pretty much set up for will probably be pretty good, though I do still find myself wondering how you'll find the right buttons to press with a bloody great helmet attached to your face — particularly if you're not using a fancy-pants HOTAS setup.

It's when we get into other types of experience that I feel the disconnect between the real and the virtual will be somewhat more jarring. Anything first-person would theoretically be excellent in VR, were it not for the fact that you're not actually going anywhere; the lack of physicality to motion through the world seems like something that would be very disconcerting indeed. There are companies that are attempting to get around this very issue, most notably with a big-ass treadmill-like thing that allows you to actually physically walk in order to control your motion through the game world, but at this point you're escalating the already substantial costs of VR even further just to get the feeling of immersion that VR is theoretically supposed to provide.

I don't know. I think my issue is that I'm yet to see a true "killer app" for VR; something which, without a doubt, shows that VR is the absolute only way to do this. Until that killer app comes along — or technology improves to allow things like true haptic feedback and a true feeling of physically inhabiting "another world" — then I shall remain both cautious and skeptical about the whole thing, and very surprised if it takes off with anyone but the most dedicated enthusiasts of expensive lumps of plastic wired up to their computer.

2233: MegaNep's True Ending: A Love Letter to the Dreamcast, and to the Player

0233_001

I cleared Megadimension Neptunia VII's True Ending path this evening, after a horrible moment where I thought I hadn't triggered it and would have to do the whole thing through again (which is actually not quite as monumental an undertaking as you might think) — and I was very impressed with one of the most satisfying finales I've seen in a story-based game for quite some time.

Mild spoilers ahead.

At the core of MegaNep's overarching narrative is the story of Uzume Tennouboshi, a new character to the series who, like the series regulars, embodies a games console — in this case, Sega's ahead-of-its-time Dreamcast. For those unfamiliar with their gaming hardware history, the Dreamcast was a 128-bit console that came out towards the tail end of the console generation that was primarily 32- and 64-bit: that of the original PlayStation and the Nintendo 64. It was astronomically powerful in comparison to its contemporaries and was home to some wonderful games, many of which are still fondly remembered today. But for one reason or another, it was regarded as a commercial failure, and both it and its games dropped out of mainstream distribution after just a couple of years, with the 128-bit era only starting in earnest once the PlayStation 2 shattered all expectations of what console gaming was all about following its launch in 2000.

Uzume's identity and background is initially a mystery to Neptune and company, but over the source of MegaNep's complete story, her past comes to light. Having once been a goddess to what is now Neptune's domain of Planeptune, she was voluntarily sealed away due to the fact that she was unable to control her "illusion" power and largely forgotten about; an allegory for the Dreamcast being released onto the market too early and developers and publishers alike arguably not being sure how to make best use of this new power on offer.

The main villain of the piece is revealed very late in the story to be the darker side of Uzume, representing her irrational hatred and bitterness at feeling abandoned by her people. Through a complicated series of happenings too twisty-turny to describe in detail here, Neptune and her friends eventually manage to help Uzume come to terms with her past and realise that her memories have become tainted by hatred and regret; her people, in fact, loved her and cherished her, and it was with a heavy heart that they saw her sealed away for the protection of everyone.

There are two endings to MegaNep: one in which Uzume sacrifices herself to ensure her dark counterpart is not able to send a horde of monsters from her delusional "Heart Dimension" into Neptune's Hyper Dimension, and another in which Neptune and her friends refuse to leave her to die, and ultimately help her to overcome her darkness. This latter one is the True ending, and it demonstrates beyond a shadow of a doubt that the team at Idea Factory and Compile Heart hold the Dreamcast in considerable esteem; the truth about Uzume's past is described with such a wonderfully warm feeling of fondness that it's hard not to feel extremely nostalgic if you happened to be there when it all happened in our world, and the Neptunia series' biggest strength — characterisation and the feeling of bonds between these characters — really shines through as everyone expresses their love for Uzume and she, likewise, expresses her love for them.

What also made the ending satisfying, aside from this wonderfully genuine-feeling appreciation for the Dreamcast and its games, was the Neptunia series trademark "Thank You Corner", where the cast completely break the fourth wall and address the player directly, thanking them for playing and showering them with praise for beating the game. This is always a lovely moment in every Neptunia game, but in the case of MegaNep it feels particularly heartfelt; it's obvious that the words coming out of the mouths of the characters are actually those of the series' creators, expressing their gratitude for the series having gone from strength to strength over the years, overcoming the adversity of its early installments' poor reviews, widespread ignorance from the press and self-professed RPG "experts" that persists to this day, and ultimately becoming a genuinely rather wonderful franchise that I really don't want to see the back of any time soon.

In many ways, it was like a "curtain call" for the game, and while previous Neptunia games have handled this in much the same way, there was something about this moment in MegaNep that made it more satisfying and touching than it's ever been before. It's a rare and wonderful feeling for a creative work to seem like it's talking directly to you, but the Neptunia series has always felt that way, and never more so than with Megadimension Neptunia VII.

Onwards to the post-game, then; I have trophies to clean up and Colosseum battles to fight! (And in the meantime, I promise I'll find something new to write about soon.)

2232: Pondering Postgame

0232_001

I feel like I've become much more conscious of a lot of single-player games incorporating an almost MMO-like "endgame" these days, though pondering the matter a little further I'm not sure it's as new a concept as I initially thought it was.

My musings on this subject are inspired by my second playthrough of Megadimension Neptunia VII, which is going considerably quicker than my 62-hour first playthrough of it thanks to its myriad of rather lovely New Game Plus features — faster run speed, higher jump height, ability to turn off random encounters and a bunch of other things besides, including the ability to instantly skip story scenes you've seen before — and in which I'm taking aim for the "true" ending and the subsequent postgame, which allows you to continue playing after the credits have rolled to clean up whatever it is you still want to get out of the game.

In the case of Megadimension Neptunia and numerous other games like it — largely JRPGs, with a few exceptions — the postgame is often designed with trophy collecting in mind, with some of the most challenging trophies requiring dedicated effort well above and beyond what the main story of the game demanded. In most cases, you're not actually missing out on any story by pursuing these additional objectives; you're simply expressing a desire to see everything the game has to offer, and to push your knowledge of its mechanics to the limit.

This is where the MMO endgame comparison comes in. Take my particular brand of MMO poison as an example: Final Fantasy XIV has a linear main scenario that takes you from level 1 to level 60 naturally, telling an interesting tale while equipping you with the skills you'll need for high-level play. Once you reach level 60 and beat the main story you have a few choices: you can put the game down, satisfied that you've "finished" it; you can keep playing it to see what the new episodes of the story added in each new content patch add to the overall narrative; or you can delve into the endgame proper, which often relies less on story and more on mechanics and grinding, with the promise of significant increases in your character's power as a reward.

This is exactly the case with modern single-player games that offer postgame content, too. In the case of Megadimension Neptunia VII, there are hidden treasures to hunt down, additional monsters to fight, challenging dungeons to clear and collectibles to… you know. There's no actual obligation for you to take these extra challenges on if you're satisfied with how the main story concluded, but the option is there for those who want to spend a bit more time with the game without having to worry about whether they'll lock themselves out of something by advancing the plot too far.

As I say, I'd got into my head that this was a somewhat recent concept; when I think back to titles that I spent a lot of time with in years gone by, in many cases you had to take care of any and all of your business before you beat the final boss and rolled the credits. Take something like Final Fantasy VII, for example; once you unlock the final dungeon, pretty much the whole world is open to you, and there are a bunch of optional sidequests you can go and complete for some fairly significant rewards if you see fit, though none of them are essential to the plot, and none of them are necessary to beat the final boss. Once you do beat that final boss, though, that's the end of the game — in RPGs of that era, you often didn't even get to save a "clear file" to start a New Game Plus and carry over some of your achievements to a new runthrough.

But when I consider things in a bit more depth, the idea of the postgame — of an ostensibly narrative-based game remaining relevant and interesting to play even after you've seen the story's finale — has been around for quite some time. Konami's PS1 and PS2-era games, for example, often featured a ranking/score screen at the end of the game, challenging you to try it again, but do it faster/better/taking fewer hits. Other games unlocked new difficulty settings, or unlocked alternative (sometimes joke) endings. Capcom's Resident Evil 2 took the ambitious approach of having multiple ways to experience the narrative: you could play it once as Claire, then see what Leon was up to while Claire was doing her thing; then you could play it "for the first time" again as Leon, then see what Claire was up to while Leon was doing his thing. Each of these four playthroughs, while similar, had its own unique content, making the game worth replaying — and once you'd done all that, there were the super-secret paths such as Hunk and Tofu, which mostly acted as a reward for those who had put in enough time and effort to master the game.

MMO players often describe reaching the level cap of their game of choice as "just the beginning" of your experience. And it's very much true; pre-Heavensward Final Fantasy XIV sat at level 50 for a good couple of years, but managed to feel like it was progressing at a regular, steady rate, both in terms of new content and character power levels — and it's doubtless the same with other MMOs that keep adding new stuff to keep level-cap players interested and engaged.

What I find interesting is the idea that a game designed primarily to tell a story — to have a clear end — can have so much beyond that story content, even if it's a single-player game that isn't expanded over time with new content, DLC or the like. It's one of the many things that sets games apart from non-interactive forms of entertainment, and it's an opportunity to enjoy a different side of a game you've taken pleasure in engaging with: having worked your way through the narrative, you're now focusing on mastering the mechanics until you're satisfied you've got everything you're going to out of the game in question.

I never used to do multiple playthroughs of games — except for Final Fantasy VII, which my friends and I were borderline obsessed with in our teens — but these days, I very much enjoy exploring the postgame, trophy hunting and seeing multiple endings. Once I'm done with Megadimension Neptunia VII, I'm particularly looking forward to Dungeon Travelers 2's postgame; from everything I've heard about it, it very much takes the MMO approach of "finishing the story is just the beginning… now prove you really know how to play this game. If, you know, you want to." — and that is something that has come to appeal to me very much over the years, even as many of my peers are getting less and less patient with lengthy, time-consuming games. I wonder what made me go the other way?

Oh well. Time for bed now; tomorrow I will find out if I've actually done all the arbitrary triggers that ensure I will get Megadimension Neptunia VII's "true" ending, or if I need to do the whole bloody thing through for a third time. (That's not actually too bad; to put it in context, while my first playthrough took 62 hours, my second playthrough has probably been no more than 3 hours so far, and I'm just coming into the third and final story arc, which puts me maybe an hour away from the "ending".)

2231: Initial Impressions on Alexander: Midas

0231_001

Tonight, we cleared the last area of the new raid dungeon in Final Fantasy XIV… in its "normal" incarnation, anyway. Savage is likely to prove a somewhat stiffer challenge, but regular ol' vanilla had plenty of hurdles to overcome, too.

Now that we've been through all four of the new raids, I thought I'd ponder how I felt about them, and about Alexander as a whole compared to The Binding Coil of Bahamut.

The first thing to note about Alexander is that the overall tone of the whole thing is very different to Coil. Coil represented one of the most serious, dramatic parts of Final Fantasy XIV's story, and over its entirety revealed some very significant background lore about the Allagans and the Meracydians, both of whom we'd seen mentioned (and occasionally explored the relics of) but never encountered, mostly due to them both being long dead.

Alexander, meanwhile, largely concerns the goblins, and much like their Final Fantasy XI counterparts, goblins in Final Fantasy XIV are rather silly, afflicted with distinctive speech patterns and, for the most part, there for comic relief. They're not very threatening, in other words, so for them to be introduced as the main villains of the new raid cycle was… interesting, to say the least.

The overall aesthetic of Alexander is very different to Coil, too. Coil began as an expedition into the bowels of the earth and gradually gave way into a combination of fantastic, otherworldly scenery and pure sci-fi, futuristic environments, many of which were absolutely breathtaking in their scale. Alexander, conversely, has a pretty consistent "steampunk" look throughout its entirety, though Midas does a somewhat better job than Gordias in terms of presenting a bit of variety in the way things look.

This difference in aesthetic extends to the main attraction of the raids, too: the bosses. In Coil, you fought a wide variety of foes, ranging from a giant genetically modified snake to a fearsome dragon god via technologically advanced defence systems, a bioengineered lamia, a robot treant and, of course, the reincarnation of Final Fantasy XIV 1.0's main villain, Nael van Darnus, now going by Nael deus Darnus having apparently changed gender and gone a bit, well, dragonish.

Alexander, conversely, sees you fighting a lot of things in a similar mould: in Gordias, you fight a large steampunk robot thing, followed by a swarm of goblins and large steampunk robot things, followed by a squishy Pepsiman wannabe in what appears to be a sewage outlet, concluding with a battle against The Manipulator, which is a large steampunk robot thing. Midas is a bit better: first you fight a mad scientist goblin who keeps drinking his own concoctions and growing to Hulk-like proportions, then you fight a series of four large steampunk robot things, then you fight the main villain of the plot arc (and his cat), then finally you fight five large steampunk robot things — four of which you fought earlier in the raid — that then combine to make one enormous steampunk robot thing.

While I still like Alexander less than Coil in terms of its aesthetic and enemy designs, Midas is a big step in a better direction. Everything about it is better, from the variety between the four areas to the background plot that is revealed as you progress, which was rather lacking and forgettable in Gordias. It still lacks some of the outright drama that Coil had — the final boss of this particular cycle is an intense fight, but it's more chaotically humorous than terrifying like Twintania, Nael and Bahamut were — but things are improving a lot.

Of particular note is the boss music for the final boss, which I present with some pleasure for you below, in all its '70s anime glory:

Happy with how things have turned out with 3.2. I was getting concerned the game was losing its magic, but it's well and truly back on target.

2230: A Reminder that Dungeon Travelers 2 is Excellent

0230_001

I forget why I paused my playthrough of Dungeon Travelers 2 a while back, but it certainly wasn't because I didn't like it. On the contrary, I absolutely love it, and have been really enjoying getting back into it sporadically in the evenings over the last week or so.

For those who missed my previous enthusings on the subject of this game, allow me to explain.

Dungeon Travelers 2 is an old-school "gridder" dungeon crawler for PlayStation Vita, developed by Sting and published by Atlus. Absolutely no-one would have heard of it were it not for Polygon's Phil Kollar writing an indignant article called "Atlus can do better than this creepy, porn-lite dungeon crawler" a while back, after which everyone who thought Kollar was being a shallow, judgemental douchebag promptly preordered the game and eagerly awaited its arrival. While a lot of this immediate backlash was simply to spite Kollar's terrible article — which didn't even make an effort to understand anything about the game beyond "it has somewhat suggestive images in it" — those in the know were quick to point out that developer Sting has an impeccable pedigree when it comes to mechanically solid and interesting role-playing games that are often just a little bit unusual, making them very memorable.

Structurally, Dungeon Travelers 2 is fairly business as usual for the gridder genre; it's the moment to moment gameplay where it shines, and particularly the variety of ways in which it's possible to play. Heavily based on party composition and character classes, the frequent combat in the game is not the sort of thing you can get through by mashing the "Attack" button — indeed, this is a game that will happily obliterate your entire party in the very first dungeon if you don't take appropriate precautions and play cautiously, remembering that in dungeon crawlers, it is usually inadvisable to attempt to clear out an entire dungeon in one single expedition.

No, rather Dungeon Travelers 2's combat is based very much on making appropriate use of your party's abilities, both active and passive. There's a certain amount of MMO-style conceit in there, too; unlike many turn-based RPGs, it is absolutely possible to have a tank up front maintaining the attention of the enemies as much as possible, while the back row rains down death from a distance.

Timing is absolutely key, too, even though the game is strictly turn-based. Spells and certain abilities don't cast immediately; they have a period of time during which the caster has to chant the spell or song, and it's only after this that it activates. Spells can be interrupted by a significant amount of damage or being afflicted with a status effect such as Stun or Silence — see, told you it was MMO-ish.

A lot of the passive abilities are really interesting, too. There's one of the Berserker tank abilities that afflicts enemies with some significant stat debuffs when they hit you, and others that counterattack with nasty status effects or even outright damage in return. Certain buffs and debuffs can make these procs (there I go with the MMO lingo again) more or less likely to trigger, so effective combat is a case of judging the situation and making your party handle it in the most efficient manner.

A good example comes from the Girimekhala boss I fought in my last play session. She had a bunch of really unpleasant abilities, including a heavy physical attack on a whole row of party members, another heavy physical attack on characters adjacent in the turn order, a dance that lowered party stats and inflicted damage every round, and an ability similar to the Berserker's counter-debuff mentioned above.

The first couple of times I fought Girimekhala, I went all-out attack and was quickly obliterated; tanks can't tank very well if their stats are shot to shit, and once they went down, the back line quickly followed.

What I ended up doing was have Alisia the Valkyrie (defense tank) use her Cover ability for a one-off (until recast) chance to take damage in place of a party member, her Parry ability to completely nullify damage from one physical attack, and her Material Barrier ability to shield the entire party against physical damage. I then activated Grishna's Blood Rage ability to boost her maximum HP so she could soak up some damage, too; as a Berserker, her defence isn't anywhere near as good as a Valkyrie, but she makes up for this with her auto-debuff ability and strong offensive abilities which, while not very useful in this battle as they would always be countered, are often a big help.

Meanwhile, the back row got to work. Melvy the Witch (one of the strongest caster classes) repeatedly cast heavy damage single-target spells on Girimekhala, and acted as the main DPS (or DPT if we're being picky, I guess) of the group. Fiora the Priestess, meanwhile, simply acted as a healbot, throwing out Circle Heal every turn to cure any damage that had managed to get through Alisia's monstrous physical resistance. And Conette the Diva (support class) sang a song that helped Melvy and Fiora to chant their spells more quickly as well as using her Cook ability from her base Maid class to keep everyone's TP (needed to use abilities or cast spells) topped up.

Puzzling this out and putting the plan into action was extremely satisfying, and much more interesting than simply throwing attacks out and occasionally healing. This fight simply wasn't possible to win with an all-out attack strategy; as you'll see from my description above, only one out of my five party members was inflicting damage on the boss, with the others all simply supporting the group in various ways. Thankfully Melvy's magic damage as a Witch is absolutely astronomical, so her burst damage more than made up for the relative infrequency of hits on the boss.

To cut a long story short, Phil Kollar could not have been more wrong about Dungeon Travelers 2. While it is filled with suggestive artwork and distinctly ecchi scenes both involving the main characters and when you defeat the monstergirl bosses, that's certainly not a reason to write it off or wag your finger at publisher Atlus, telling them they "can do better". In fact, it's absolutely one of the best examples of the dungeon crawler genre I've had the pleasure of playing to date, although be ready for a seriously stiff challenge, particularly once you start getting into the optional dungeons and boss fights.

2229: The Fist of the Son and The Cuff of the Son

0229_001

Been taking my time getting through the new Alexander raid (just the normal version) in Final Fantasy XIV over the last couple of evenings, and thought I'd write down a walkthrough for the first two floors, largely to refresh my own memory and perhaps to provide a convenient service to anyone passing by who wants to know such things.

As with Alexander: Gordias, Alexander: Midas is split into four areas, each of which allows you to get one piece of loot per week. These pieces of loot are tokens that can be exchanged for gear in Idyllshire in the same place you turn in Allagan Tomestones of Esoterics and Lore; like the gear from Gordias, you need varying numbers of tokens for different pieces of gear. Accessories require one bolt, so are the easiest to get, but are also often the smallest upgrade.

The Fist of the Son

Available loot: Bolt (1 needed for accessory), chain (1 needed for belt), pedal (2 needed for boots)

Run through the first area, and use the steam vents to jump up to the top of the room. Pass through the doorway and you'll be confronted with not one but two Fausts. They're much easier to handle than the one in The Fist of the Father, though; one tank take each, keep them together, focus down one at a time.

It's not over, though! After the second Faust drops, a pulsing AoE marker will appear on the floor. Get away from it, as Hummelfaust is going to drop down, dealing more damage the closer you are to its drop spot.

One tank should take Hummelfaust, the other should switch to DPSing and simply batter him down as quickly as possible. Much like OG Faust, this is designed as a DPS check to ensure that your group is going to be up to the job of toppling the subsequent bosses.

Once Hummelfaust is down, hop onto the conveyor belt to reach the boss room.

BOSS: Ratfinx Twinkledinks

This fight initially seems utterly bewildering, but it's actually fairly straightforward. You need to pay close attention to what is happening at all times, though; you might find it helpful to Focus Target Ratfinx to help keep an eye on what he's up to in case you need to target something else.

Before you start, mark the back-left corner of the room as A and the front-right corner as B. You'll be tanking Ratfinx at A, while B is set aside as a no-go area for a later mechanic.

Start the fight. Ratfinx will be reluctant to move as the battle begins, so take the opportunity to establish solid aggro if you're a tank. Once he transforms into his giant form, then you can move him over to A.

Ratfinx will proceed to pummel the main tank about the head, inflicting stacks of Headache, which increases damage taken. When Headache reaches 4 stacks, it becomes Concussion, which stuns you completely. When this happens, you'll see Ratfinx wind up for a big punch much like the one Sephirot does; at this point, the off-tank should immediately use Provoke and hit Ratfinx to take aggro from the original tank, and take the imminent big hit, which is slightly less big if you don't have Headache or Concussion.

Throughout the fight, Ratfinx will cast Bomb's Away, which brings one or more large bombs into the arena. When this happens, someone near the centre of the room should stand in the purple circle to activate the machinery, then at least one person should run to the red pool that forms to the side of the arena. Stepping in this turns you into a gorilla with just two abilities, the first of which allows you to punch bombs away with ease, and the second of which allows you to transform back into your normal form. Punch the bombs to B to keep them safely away from everyone, then change back and return to your normal role.

At various points throughout the battle, Ratfinx will mark a player and cast Glubgloop (or something similar). The marked player should get well out of the way of A, B and where the pools form under the syringes; after the AoE marker appears, a persistent puddle of goop will drop on the floor and stick around for a little while, so keep it out of the way, probably in one of the unmarked corners.

From his second giant transformation onwards, Ratfinx will start casting Boost. When he does this, a player needs to activate the machine in the middle and all players (including the tank) need to rush to the purple puddle to turn into a bird. By flying, you avoid his devastating ground-pound attack; once he's finished doing this, you can use Apothecary to change back into your normal form once again.

Repeat the process, with tanks keeping a careful eye out for Concussion and everyone else watching for Bomb's Away and Boost, and it won't be long before he's down. There are a few additional beasties that show up throughout the fight, but the off-tank can pick these up easily and they don't present much of a threat.

The Cuff of the Son

Available loot: Bolt (1 needed for accessory), pedal (2 needed for boots), lens (2 needed for headpiece)

Run forwards and engage the initial group of enemies. To take a bit of pressure off the main tank, the off-tank may want to take one of the two Gobwalkers. Burn down the enemies as quickly as possible and proceed down the corridor, where you'll be accosted by a number of Goblin Gliders. Tank and spank these, then jump down the passageway on the right of the corridor to be flung into the boss room, where you'll fight four bosses in succession. Don't worry; if you take one down, it stays down.

BOSS: Blaster

Blaster has two main attacks. The first is to drop mines in the arena. These will show AoE markers where they drop, and will continue to pulse afterwards. Do not stand on them, as they deal heavy damage and inflict various status effects in an area.

Blaster's second attack is to mark players; after a moment, he'll drop a Mirage version of himself on them, and after another moment or so, these will charge across the arena in the direction they're facing. Don't be in their way.

DPS down Blaster while avoiding these two mechanics and he'll fall easily.

BOSS: Brawler

Brawler has three attacks that don't have cast bars: you have to rely entirely on visual cues. These cues are related to the fists he holds up when he charges himself with energy; after the blue flash of light around both hands you'll see him have either a red fist, a blue fist or both fists, and you'll have a couple of seconds to handle the mechanic appropriately.

If he raises the red fist, a random player is going to get targeted and damaged. Everyone move away from the boss to minimise this damage; it declines with distance.

If he raises the blue fist, the off-tank should use Provoke to take aggro from the main tank, while the main tank gets behind the boss. Shortly after, the new main tank will take a big hit, but not as massive as the one the original tank would have taken with the Vulnerability debuff Brawler applies!

If he raises both fists, the current tank should turn Brawler around to face the rest of the party; he'll fire a massive dual laser whose damage is split between everyone it hits.

Best way to handle this is to have everyone stacked or lined up directly behind Brawler as the main tank tanks him, then move according to the mechanics. After a mechanic is finished, get back into position and continue.

BOSS: Swindler

This is a weird one that requires you to be observant, but it's not that complicated.

The main mechanic here is Swindlers High and Low Mathematicks debuffs that he applies to various players. High Mathematicks is a purple-coloured debuff icon, while Low Mathematicks is a red-coloured debuff icon. When you receive one of these, stand on a floor tile according to your debuff: if you have Low Mathematicks (red), stand on a red, elevated tile; if you have High Mathematicks, stand on a grey, normal tile. Note that the arrangement of the tiles will shift several times during the battle.

The only other mechanic for this fight sees a player marked with a circle around themselves and a number of orbs above their head. A number of people matching the number of orbs need to be in the circle to prevent horrible messy death.

Dance around according to the debuffs and you'll be good for the final battle.

BOSS: Vortexer

Vortexer will inflict a stacking Vulnerability debuff on whoever is tanking it; the off-tank should use Provoke and take aggro when this reaches two stacks.

Circle AoEs indicate that pools of fiery sludge (similar to Bahamut's attack in Turn 13) will be dropping in these places. Stay out of them, and don't run through them, as they debuff you while you're in them. Also make sure you don't have your back to one.

Super Cyclone is a massive knockback on everyone, centred on the boss. Position yourself so you won't get knocked back into a pool of sludge.

When a player gets marked, they'll drop a waterspout after a few moments. Position this somewhere near-ish and behind the boss.

Several players will get Shiva-style blizzard markers on and around them. At least one person needs to drop this with its circle over the waterspout to freeze it into a block of ice. These will leave a patch of Frostbite-inflicting ice on the ground for a short period, but these will dissipate after a few moments.

When Vortexer starts casting Ultra Flash, everyone (including the tank) needs to hide behind the frozen waterspout and break line-of-sight with Vortexer to avoid being instakilled. After this, the ice block will shatter and the process repeats. Once Vortexer is down, you're done!