#oneaday Day 666: Togetherness

I sometimes wonder whether I should try and get "into" a multiplayer game. All the positive buzz around Marathon at the moment has me mildly intrigued, but at the same time, it's an extraction shooter; a type of game in which the main point of things seems to effectively be bullying other players, and thus I'm not convinced I would actually enjoy it.

There was a bizarre piece on Rock, Paper, Shotgun earlier desperately attempting to convince fans of single-player games — and particularly stealth games — that they should give Marathon a go. I found it rather unconvincing. While I sort of get the core conceit — that you can play solo, and that you can treat the other players as if they are particularly intelligent "enemies" — it just rang hollow to me, and it bothered me a bit.

Thing is, I often tend to find I like the idea of multiplayer games more than the actual execution of them — because more often than not, I've found that out of necessity, multiplayer games have to cut out things that I specifically like about single-player games, like, say, lengthy story sequences. Final Fantasy XIV eventually had to make certain cutscenes non-skippable to prevent impatient players racing ahead while others were trying to enjoy key story moments, for example — and many other multiplayer games simply eschew ongoing narrative altogether, lest the people you're playing with get bored waiting for you to watch a cutscene.

I just haven't found a game that really clicks with me, other than my early years with Final Fantasy XIV a while back. And so many of them are designed to be timesink "lifestyle" games that are desperate to be the only thing you play. Battle passes, experience levels, lootboxes, all that junk — all of it's designed to keep you playing that game and that game alone, and honestly, I get to a point where I find repeating the same thing over and over again, which is what you end up doing in a lot of multiplayer games, to be rather tedious.

And yet I still feel like I would enjoy playing something together with a like-minded group. I still feel like it would be nice to have a group of online friends that I can enjoy something alongside. I just don't really know what that game would look like at this point, because I suspect the sort of thing that fulfils what I'm looking for — something reasonably social, not based on bullying, and which doesn't demand you make that game your entire personality if you want to have a good time with it — doesn't really exist.

Oh well. It's not as if I'm short of single-player things to enjoy. It'd just be nice to find something I enjoy that would help me make some friends — or indeed be able to have fun with my few remaining existing friends.

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#oneaday Day 564: The lost art of playing together

There are many things I mourn about Times Gone By, but I think the biggest thing I miss is being able to enjoy video games together with other people. Oh, sure, you can play online with anyone in the world, but getting someone in the same room as you to play something with you — or even just sit and watch while you play! — feels like a distant memory at this point. And yet it used to be such an important part of our daily lives!

When I was growing up, I used to spend a lot of time "going on the computer". This was primarily a solitary activity, though I do recall my Dad and brother getting involved in the very early years, giving me an introduction to programming in Atari BASIC and teaching me how to use both the Atari 8-bit and ST machines.

One of the things I loved doing when I either went to a friend's house or had them over to my place was "going on the computer" together. At my friend Matthew's house, we'd play on his BBC Micro when we were younger, and later on his Archimedes. His Dad worked for Acorn, so these were the computers in his house; although I was an Atari fan by virtue of the computers we had in our house, I enjoyed the unique experiences that both the Beeb and the Archie offered, since they were often completely distinct from what I could enjoy at home.

I believe I went to my sometimes-friend Dale's house on just one occasion, and I remember that was the one and only time I played on a Sega Master System as a kid, but I remember really liking the few games he had. My friend Mike, meanwhile, had an Amiga, and we had a lot of fun with that — not just playing games, but also fiddling with creative programs like Deluxe Paint and the like.

Once we got to secondary school, my closest friends went to one another's houses a lot, and we would play on both computers and consoles together. At my friend Edd's house, we'd play on his Amiga and Mega Drive; at my friend Andrew's house, we'd play on his MS-DOS PC and Super NES; later, we'd all get Nintendo 64s and PlayStations, and we'd play together on those.

At university, we spent a lot of time going to one another's houses to play Nintendo 64 in particular, as that console remains unmatched for the sheer breadth of multiplayer titles on offer. But a little later, when the next generation of consoles rolled around, I would have friends over and we'd play Grand Theft Auto III together, despite it not being multiplayer, and we'd play through entire cooperative campaigns of games like Halo and Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance. I have some truly wonderful memories of enjoying games like that.

Today, though, it is almost unimaginable to play through an entire game with a single co-op partner in the same room as me. Hell, at this point, it's unimaginable to even have a few friendly matches on a fighting game, first-person shooter or racing game.

And this sucks! I've got easy access to more games than we have ever had at any point in our lives, but getting anyone to actually want to come play them with me is like pulling teeth from a particularly bloodless stone. That makes me intensely, terribly sad, and I wish things could be different. But the world has, apparently, moved on from this sort of thing as a regular, normal thing to do; I just have to take whatever opportunities I can get — which very occasionally come up, but not often — to enjoy this long-lost art of having fun together.

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2451: GTA Online: Simultaneously Amazing and Shit

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There are few things in this world that are simultaneously quite as amazing and quite as shit as Rockstar's Grand Theft Auto Online.

Every few months, I boot it up to see what's been added, and there's always been some pretty significant new content bolted on for free since I last tried. I get excited to try it, maybe even actually get to try it… and then before long I remember why I'm not playing Grand Theft Auto Online all day every day.

The most recent additions to the game — or new to me, anyway — are the Stunt races and the Motorcycle Clubs. The former provides a series of TrackMania-esque building blocks for track designers to construct physically improbable/impossible tracks using the game world as a backdrop, while the latter offers a new means of progression for small groups of up to eight players.

I haven't yet raised enough money to purchase a hideout for a Motorcycle Club yet, which is why I was doing the Stunt Races — conveniently, there's a trigger point for one right outside my in-game apartment. And I've been having an absolute blast participating in these races, which make the best of Grand Theft Auto's exaggerated vehicle physics with lots of jumps, switchbacks, corkscrews and all manner of other funtimes — plus, of course, the inevitable playing dirty that tends to come with the territory.

This was all absolutely great until the "host" of the session either went away from their keyboard or crashed, leaving their game logged in but not responding. Not only did this mean that we had to wait a long time between every event because the host wasn't there to manually press the "start event" button, but it also meant that at the end of one session in particular, everyone was left stuck as the results screen with no means of leaving the event or quitting back to the free-roaming mode short of completely quitting the game altogether then logging back in again. And with Grand Theft Auto V's astronomical initial load time, this is not a particularly appealing prospect.

I've run into this problem before, and I'm surprised it hasn't been fixed. Actually, no I'm not, because Grand Theft Auto Online is still missing a variety of features that a lot of other online games have had for a very long time.

Chief among the missing features is a "party" system whereby you and other players can form a group that sticks together, regardless of whether you're doing events or free-roam stuff. The game does keep people from the same event together if they vote to continue on to a new map, but if anyone chooses to exit to free-roam mode, they're immediately separated from all of the people they were just playing with.

Couple this with the fact that setting up a "friends only" game is a faff and a half, involving booting up Grand Theft Auto V's single-player game, then entering Grand Theft Auto Online from there — there's no means of starting a "friends only" session once you're already in Grand Theft Auto Online — and you have an online experience that is a real mess, particularly if you want to play with friends. And for those who think what I just described isn't a particular faff, you obviously haven't endured GTAV's load times.

It's kind of baffling how these features simply haven't been added to the game since it was launched, because I can't be the only one keenly feeling their absence. And it's frustrating, because the activities on offer in Grand Theft Auto Online are many, varied and a whole lot of fun. It's just such a monumental pain to get it working properly that I often give up out of sheer exasperation rather than wanting to stick with it.

GTA Online should be an absolute masterpiece. And it has the potential to be just that. But short of a fundamental revamp of how the whole online functionality works, it's doomed to remain an admirably fun and varied, yet ultimately frustrating and irritating experience that, for my money at least, often ends up feeling like more trouble than it's worth.

2426: If You're Going to Play Multiplayer, FFS Stick it Out Until the End

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I played my ten placement matches for season 2 of Overwatch's Competitive mode earlier. Nine out of those ten games featured at least one salty asshole quitting the game early because their team lost a round — both on the team I was on and on the opposing team on different occasions — and in Competitive mode, the game doesn't backfill positions with people queued up to play like it does in Quick Play; when you queue for a Competitive game, you're put into a game from the very beginning rather than immediately joining one in progress if a space is available.

This was mildly annoying the first time it happened, but with each subsequent time it got more and more irritating. It's not only bad sportsmanship to strop off in a sulk if you're losing, it's also a major pain in the ass to the rest of your team. It would be akin to Wayne Rooney suddenly deciding that he doesn't feel like playing any more and wandering off the pitch in the middle of a football match. Except in Overwatch, the teams are only six people, so the loss of just one person is keenly and immediately felt.

The trouble that these early leavers have is that they can't handle losing. They're unwilling to accept the possibility that the team who just "lost" could enjoy a comeback in the subsequent round — this can and frequently does happen in Overwatch, which is mostly very well balanced like that — and instead ditch the match altogether, leaving their team a man or more down and on the way to what is now pretty much a guaranteed loss rather than something that could be fought back from.

What's particularly dumb about early leavers is that when they leave a game, the match is counted as a "loss" in their records anyway, so they're taking the worse option — a 100% chance of getting a loss versus a less-than-100% chance of getting a loss by staying and trying to help the rest of the team to a comeback.

I sort of understand. It can be demoralising to feel like you were steamrollered by another team who perhaps genuinely were more skilled than you. But it's the very height of special snowflake syndrome to believe that you are entitled to win every game you play — perhaps these players were the kids who grew up in schools that had sports days with "participation trophies" rather than actual winners. And clawing your way to a victory when the jaws of defeat were closing on you is immensely satisfying — my favourite games of Overwatch are the ones that end up being really close, not the ones where my team smashes our opponents into the ground.

Blizzard have penalties in place for those who leave matches early, but they're clearly not severe enough. For the Competitive scene in Overwatch to succeed, early leavers need to be actively discouraged through harsh punishments. I hope that the Overwatch team are paying attention to this problem and that it gets resolved in the next season of Competitive play.

In the meantime, if you're an online player, do the decent thing and see your matches through to conclusion, even if they don't seem to be going all that well. As I say, you keep playing, you have a less than 100% chance of getting a loss recorded on your all-important statistics. Leave early, however, and you absolutely definitely will get that loss. So stop being selfish pricks and play your damn matches to completion.

2353: Be a Better Sportsman, Online or On the Field

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One thing that I don't think school P.E. lessons focused on enough was good sportsmanship. The people who were good at sports did well and enjoyed themselves; the people who were bad at sports (like me) got picked last for teams and put in places where they didn't have to do much, like goalkeeping. (Which always seemed a bit weird to me, given that the goalkeeper is the last line of defense in a football match and consequently should probably be quite good at protecting the goal. I was not.)

The upshot of this unfortunate tendency was the reinforcement of these positions: the people who were good at sports continued to be good at sports and grew to expect everyone on their team to be on their level and would sometimes even become abusive towards those who they perceived to be not pulling their weight; the people who were bad at sports grew increasingly bitter and resentful of games that, while competitive, should be fun.

Bad sportsmanship hurts everyone. It means the good players don't get to nurture up and coming talent, help people improve and introduce new players to the activity they love, making them more likely to be able to get a good game. And it means the less skilled players feel ostracised and like they will never have an opportunity to learn more about something they might actually be quite interested in.

It's unfortunate that this happens in online games, too. I don't play a lot of competitive multiplayer games, but I can comment on it a bit with regard to Blizzard's new title Overwatch, whose ranked competitive mode launched late last night.

For the most part, the Overwatch community actually seems pretty good; the game is a team game with variable character skills and statistics, so everyone needs to cooperate to achieve a common goal. If you don't, you lose; it's pretty simple. Unfortunately, there are players out there who seem to believe that if they just make unhelpful comments and call the rest of their team "noobs" that they somehow have the moral high ground and are justified in complaining and whining.

The trouble, I think, is that this particular type of player doesn't like to lose. It's more than that, even: this particular type of player thinks that they have a right to win every game they play. Whether this is due to overconfidence in their own abilities, a misplaced sense of entitlement or having grown up in the obnoxious "everyone's a winner!" culture of many educational establishments these days, I don't know, but it's not a helpful way to be.

A competitive, two-team game by its very nature has a winner and a loser. Every time. You cannot rely on always being the winner — more than anything, that would make the game itself pretty pointless if the outcome was already known before you started. And being on the losing side doesn't make that game a bad experience, either; some of the most interesting, exciting Overwatch matches I've had to date have come when I've lost, but it's been close. And in those matches where it wasn't close, I can usually learn something from the experience. You take it on the chin, you try again, you get better — perhaps you even help out people you were playing with that you know could do something differently.

What you don't do is rage and piss and moan at the rest of your team (or worse, just say "………", which is pretty much the least helpful thing you can possibly say — literally saying nothing is more helpful than that) because that sure as hell isn't going to make them want to play with you again.

And what you absolutely shouldn't do is go off in a strop because you're not absolutely dominating the other team, which is what happened to me in one game I played earlier today. Said player decided he had the "perfect" way to play and wanted everyone to fall into line with him, regardless of where his teammates skills' and expertise lay. The match was pretty even — our opponents scored 2 points on offense, then we scored 2 points on offense, then our opponents scored another 1 point on their final round of offense, meaning we still had the potential to win, or at least draw and push the match into Sudden Death… and Salty McSaltyson decided that no, he wasn't going to stand for having to actually put in some work to winning, he would, instead, leave the match altogether, leaving us down a team member and thereby at a significant disadvantage. Shortly afterwards, another player left in frustration, putting us two people down and therefore completely unable to be competitive at all. The rest of us, to our credit, carried on playing until the "you can leave without penalty when this timer expires" timer expired, but then it fell apart, leaving our team with a loss that could have been avoided. It was a shame, since it had been a great match up until then; our opponents were gracious and apologetic about it, so at least it wasn't a completely negative experience, but still.

That one player being a twat spoiled the match for eleven other people. I doubt he even thought about that when he clicked "leave game" and accepted the penalty the game gives you for leaving Competitive games early — but it really did spoil the whole match which, like I say, could have gone either way in that last round.

Be a better sportsman. Accept that sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. And if you think you're better than other people — you might well be! — how about actually offering them some advice and help to get better rather than just being a dickhead? Everyone benefits in the long term.

2328: Play of the Game

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I'm really enjoying Overwatch. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I think it's the first competitive multiplayer game that I've actually wanted to "git gud" at enough to be truly competitive in the online sphere. I don't know if I actually have the skills or the talent to be able to do that, of course, but I've been performing reasonably well in the current "Quick Play" mode — effectively a "pre-season" warm-up — and getting a good feel for characters. So much so that when the proper Ranked Play mode makes an appearance in the near future, I feel confident stepping in and attempting to prove my worth.

Overwatch is also helping me to understand the appeal of e-sports. I'm still not entirely sure I would ever want to sit and watch a game of Dota 2 or something (as opposed to actually getting stuck in and playing it) but, playing Overwatch, I certainly feel something while I'm playing. It's particularly thrilling to claw back victory from the very jaws of defeat, and all of Overwatch's various game modes are well constructed to always make this a distinct possibility, meaning it's pretty rare to feel like you're being completely dominated unless your team is particularly incompetent.

It's quite entertaining to see the varying reactions of people you play against. Competitive gaming culture has, for the most part, instilled the impulse to type "gg" (Good Game) after a match has concluded — the online equivalent of a friendly handshake after a sports match — and more often than not you'll see this shorthand pleasantry being exchanged once the victor has been decided. (It's occasionally accompanied by "wp", which means "Well Played").

But there are some people out there who don't like losing. Some people like the guy who responded "no" to my "gg" after one match because he lost, and he didn't like losing. People like the guy who, in all caps, told his entire team to uninstall the game and that they were a "useless fucking team" after losing; he didn't like losing, either. And people like the guy who judged everyone on which character they picked, with sniper Widowmaker obviously being "for noobs".

Then, of course, there was the Chuckle Brothers my friend James and I encountered earlier, who starting sniping at each other in chat during the match and gradually escalated to threats to "wreck" each other. I may have prodded the fire a bit, but it was too hilarious not to troll a little bit; by the end of the match they'd both made themselves look like complete douchebags to the other participants, and one in particular (who was on the opposing team, who lost against me and my comrades) seemed to think that the fact he'd killed my character several times somehow made him superior than me and the rest of my team.

Me, I don't mind if I win or lose, because games of Overwatch are good fun, and the game is balanced well enough that I've only had one or two matches that I felt were completely imbalanced, and that was largely because the opposing side was using unconventional tactics that none of us knew how to counter. (Six Torbjorns is a force to be reckoned with… until you figure out Roadhog and Pharah.) It's a competitive game, after all, so by its very nature there has to be a winner and a loser in each and every match. If you want to win more, you practice and get better, just like anything — just like real sports. There's no sense getting angry and throwing a tantrum over it, because, more likely than not, that's just going to alienate you and make you less likely to be able to put a coherent team together — and coherent teams with good communication will always perform better at this sort of game.

I'm very interested to see how Blizzard plans to implement the ranked system into Overwatch; while I've never played Starcraft 2, I understand its online ranking system is pretty comprehensive and gives you a good idea of where you stand in relation to the rest of the community, so I'm expecting something similar here. I'm also expecting the game to have a good, long lifespan; Blizzard has a good track record of continuing to support its games over time — particularly those with multiplayer components — and with Overwatch proving as popular as it apparently has been so far (the amount of fan art out there already is insane!) I think we'll be seeing Overwatch tournaments and leagues for a good few years yet. And, for the first time, I want to be part of them.

2305: Fighting Talk

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I spent a bit of time playing some Dead or Alive 5 Last Round online with a friend from Final Fantasy XIV earlier. (Hi, Neon!) I've never really played a fighting game online before — it's a genre that has something of a reputation as being brutally unforgiving to newcomers, and with good reason, since the fighting game genre is one that attracts significant numbers of people good enough to actually get paid to play these games.

Thankfully, my friend Neon appears to be of a roughly equal level of skill to me, since we had a series of matches and we both came out roughly equal in terms of victories and losses.

So far in Dead or Alive 5 I'd been focusing on the Training mode, attempting to learn some combos and moves for characters I liked the look of, because I'd love to get past the "button mashing" phase that everyone goes through when they first pick up a fighting game. As such, I was a bit hesitant to even jump into the story mode, because I didn't feel like I knew any characters well enough. But I thought I'd give fighting another person a go — and I'm glad I did.

Fighting Neon gave me a potent reminder of exactly why I've always liked the Dead or Alive series in preference to perhaps more established, popular fare like Capcom's Street Fighter series. It's kind of hard to describe the exact feeling, but I think it's best described as the game feels instinctive, almost primal. You can spend hours learning the specific button combinations to pull off specific moves at the right time — and doubtless the really good players do that — but at a fairly rudimentary level, which is where I'd generously put myself, the fighting system works in such a way that you can look at what's going on on the screen, push directions and attack buttons and have something that "feels" right unfold in front of you. Opponent blocking high blows? Get in there with some low kicks. Taunting you? Charge in and tackle them with a running throw. Knocking you off balance with a flurry of blows? Block, block, block dammit, oh for fuck's sake. (I never have quite mastered blocking in fighting games; given how important and helpful — and tied to the series' iconic countering system — it is in Dead or Alive, I should probably do something about that.)

I haven't yet picked a "main" to play with. I will almost certainly end up going with Kasumi, at least initially, because Kasumi is hot and I vaguely know some of her effective moves. Today I also particularly enjoyed playing as Hitomi (who appears to have wonderful reach with her kicks) and Momiji (though I haven't done any training with her yet, so I was taking wild stabs at her moves). I also discovered that, as I previously thought, I want to steer clear of slower, heavy-hitting characters, because I very obviously don't know how to handle them effectively and tend to get my ass handed to me if I try and fight with them in the same way as the Kasumis and company of the world.

My few games today were an eye-opening experience, then. I'm definitely up for playing some more; if you, too, suck at fighting games and would like a punching bag to play with, feel free to hit me up on PSN under the ID Angry_Jedi.

2251: GTA Online: More Fun Than I Originally Gave it Credit For

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Some friends and I have managed to spend most of today playing Grand Theft Auto Online, the sprawling multiplayer mode for Grand Theft Auto V on… well, everything, but we were playing on PC, because we all have excellent gaming rigs and like it looking lovely and running at 60+ frames per second.

Anyway. Regular readers will know that my reaction to Grand Theft Auto Online has been somewhat lukewarm in the past, but today we had a ton of genuine fun, both in the free-roaming mode and in the more structured activities. I think it's finally won me over as something I want to play more of — I'm still unconvinced that I want to play it with strangers, as popular triple-A game multiplayer modes tend to attract the very worst kind of person, but I definitely want to do a lot more with friends.

It has problems, though; fairly significant ones for an online game. Mostly the issues relate to the overall clunkiness of setting up and managing online sessions. There's no party system, for instance, which makes sticking together with the same group of players when moving from activity to activity a little troublesome at times, though the addition of the "Remain Host" option alleviates this somewhat by ensuring whoever initiates an activity remains in control of the session's options after it's over.

The problems with the party system are further compounded by Rockstar's insistence on using its own proprietary login system for online IDs — the Rockstar Social Club. I can understand why they've done this — there's some nice detailed stat-tracking and suchlike on the Social Club website — but it's a shame it doesn't integrate with something like Steam. On consoles it integrates perfectly with Xbox Live and PlayStation Network, making it straightforward to find and invite people, whereas the addition of an extra layer of user IDs and accounts on the PC version makes it a bit of a faff to get set up to play with friends. Social Club is also a bit of a temperamental beast; we spent nearly an hour at the start of our session earlier with one of our friends steadfastly appearing offline despite him being logged in to GTA Online; turned out the solution was just to open the Social Club interface in game, and then he magically appeared online. Dumb. Broken.

Fortunately, once it works, it seems to stay working for the most part, and while there are a few aspects of the experience you miss out on when playing in small, private sessions rather than in large public games, we certainly didn't feel like we were being deprived of anything to do. Pleasingly, there are a lot of activities tuned for 4 players, which is typically the number of people we manage to have available at any one time, so there were plenty of options for us.

Over time, Grand Theft Auto Online has expanded with a veritable fuckton of new game modes and ways to play, too; open-world activities in Free Mode might challenge you to capture and control an area on the map; "adversary" modes give you unconventional and sometimes asymmetrical ways to compete against each other; missions provide relatively freeform objectives for you to complete as a group. And then, of course, there are the Heists, which we are yet to see one through to its conclusion, but which promise to be a ton of fun.

Particular highlights for us today included the "Hasta la Vista" adversary mode, in which the four participants are split into two teams: two on pedal bicycles, two in big rig truck cabs. The players on the bikes have to reach the finish line. The players in the trucks have to stop them by flattening them. The huge difference in weight, size and manoeuvreability between the two teams makes for a really fun, silly experience that is much more interesting than a straightforward race.

We also had great fun with the air races. In our first race, which gave us free reign to choose our aircraft, I ill-advisedly attempted to fly a small passenger jet and failed miserably to complete the course. In the second, we all flew small, nimble aerobatic planes, and — particularly when played in first-person — it was thrilling and terrifying.

Even just straight deathmatches are fun. The realistic city environments in which the game takes place make for great places to play cat-and-mouse (with shotguns), and it's immensely satisfying to battle your friends for ultimate supremacy, or at least bragging rights.

Grand Theft Auto Online feels like what Grand Theft Auto has always wanted to be: a realistic-looking but chaotic, silly, cartoonishly violent and darkly humorous playground for people to let loose in using a variety of methods: driving, flying, boating, skydiving, cycling, shooting, bombing, robbing, running, climbing, jumping… while I don't think anyone will ever make the argument that it's great art, it's not trying to be; it's a stark contrast from the single-player mode, which does tell a good story and tell it well. Rather, it's a game where the stories are, for the most part, emergent; the stories are the things you reminisce about with the friends you've been playing with, and most of them start with "do you remember that time when…?"

So yeah. Grand Theft Auto Online, your interface sucks and you need to hire people who understand how multiplayer games work. But despite all that, you've won me over. I'm greatly looking forward to the next time I can flatten my friends in a dump truck and blow them up with a rocket launcher.