1110: The Collector

Reading this post from Matt Mason earlier made me think somewhat about my own game buying and playing habits and how they have evolved over time. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m becoming something of a “collector”, particularly when it comes to more obscure games that almost inevitably become hard to find if you don’t snag them immediately upon release.

This doesn’t mean that I pay over the odds to get “Collector’s Editions” of games, though, because I tend to think that for the most part those are a waste of time — or perhaps it’s just that I’ve never really had a Collector’s Edition for a game that I felt particularly passionately about. Had I known how much I was going to love Hyperdimension Neptunia mk2, for example, I might have seriously considered spending a bit more and picking up the swanky limited edition that came with a soundtrack CD, an art book and some playing cards. (Yeah, I know the cards are a bit lame, but I love soundtrack CDs.)

More often than not, though, the super-expensive limited edition versions are for games I have no interest in, like Call of Duty, Assassin’s Creed and Skyrim. For sure, these limited editions are often cool, but there’s only so many gigantic statuettes that you can scatter around your house before people start asking questions. (Particularly if one of those statuettes is a gory female torso… but let’s not open that can of worms again.)

I’m actually fine with this, though, because I’ve been tending to find that the games I’m most interested in playing are the ones that maintain their value the best — simply because they’re often not put out in particularly large quantities and thus often become quite hard to find after a little while. As such, I’ve come to accept that taking a chance on a new game like this often involves an outlay of at least £20 and may, in a few isolated cases, require payment of a price considerably inflated from what it would have cost when the game was first released. (I ordered a copy of Fire Emblem for Gamecube recently, for example… I’m pretty sure that’s not what it cost when it first came out.) The fact that I’ve had to hunt for these games and occasionally pay a bit more for them than something of an equivalent age that had a wider release makes them feel somehow more “valuable”, and makes me feel like my growing collection is something that I can be proud of. I know they’re “just” games, but they represent a hobby that I truly love and which inspires me to do other things.

What this “collector’s” attitude has meant in practical terms is that I’m now much more inclined to pick up interesting-sounding titles as soon as I become aware of them, rather than when I know I have time for them. This inevitably leads to an ever-growing backlog, of course, but it also means that I have things to look forward to. It’s also an approach which works for my personal circumstances at present. In other words, I don’t spend a lot of money on other “vices” — I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t buy DVDs (with the exception of anime that can’t be found for streaming online), I don’t tend to travel a lot and, by the end of this month, I won’t have any car expenses either (apart from any contributions I make to help Andie out with hers). This means that I tend to have a fair bit of disposable income that I don’t feel guilty about splurging on my collection, and still have plenty left over for living expenses and to do nice things for Andie.

I like having physical things that I collect. My bulging Steam library also counts as part of my collection, but somehow that big list of games inevitably acquired for a couple of quid during a holiday sale isn’t quite as satisfying as seeing that big shelf full of cases. Downloadable games feel more “disposable” somehow, like they won’t last; I often find myself worrying what will happen to all these games when, say, Steam or PSN or Xbox Live don’t exist any more. How will future generations be able to play awesome stuff like Flower, or Journey, or any of the other titles which everyone raves about now but which are only available via download? (I got around this issue with some of the visual novels I own by burning a copy to disc and printing my own inlay for the DVD case. Sad? Perhaps. But it means I can add them to my shelf with some degree of pride.)

The unfortunate side-effect of collecting physical things, of course, is that you have to find space for all of them, and if you get into full-on “hoarding” mode, where you don’t want to trade anything in, ever, then you need more and more space as time goes on. I’ve currently still got a few shelves free on the other bookcase, but it’s starting to get a little bit tight… and then what? Creative packing time.

If you’re curious, here’s my game shelf as it stands right now. (The fairy lights were Andie’s idea, but they are pretty sweet.) If you click to embiggen and zoom in on the image, you might even be able to see individual titles of at least some of the games. I haven’t played all of these, not by a long shot, but they each — even the array of PS2 SingStar titles — represent something with genuine meaning to me. And that’s pretty neat to think about.

#oneaday Day 880: Not Going To Make a “Livin’ La Vita Loca” Joke

I bought a PlayStation Vita today. I’d had my eye on one for a little while, but having successfully paid off my credit card for the purchase of my new Mac, I decided a little treat was in order, so I did a bit of research as to what the fine folks of the Internet thought was good games-wise, and grabbed one today. I was fortunate enough to be able to snare a preowned but unused model from Game in Southampton today, which cut down the price considerably, allowing me to also grab an (overpriced) 32GB memory card along with a copy of Everybody’s Golf to enjoy for about £270 in total.

I’ve only spent one round with the latter so far (but it’s bringing back pleasing memories of Tee Off on the Dreamcast) so I won’t comment on that too much, but I did want to talk a little bit about the system itself, as I believe it’s worthy of note.

The Vita distinguishes itself from its predecessor the PSP immediately with its touchscreen-friendly interface. Featuring an icon-based homescreen somewhat akin to modern smartphones, the Vita invites you to touch, swipe, flick, peel and all manner of other things. You can reorganise your homescreen icons as you see fit, and even set backgrounds for different pages. You can’t organise things into folders, though, which is a bit of a shame, but I can cope with that. PlayStation Network (sorry… Sony Entertainment Network, which still amuses me because its abbreviation is the same as Special Educational Needs) provides plenty of downloadable goodness, ranging from complete games that you could also buy as physical products at retail to smaller, cheaper, download-only titles and even free apps for access to Twitter, Facebook, Skype and Flickr.

The downloadable side of things has, for me, always been a big strength of Sony’s systems from the PSP onwards. The PlayStation Store is a veritable treasure trove of underappreciated and overlooked gems as well as some of the most memorable “art games” (for want of a better term) in the business — games like Flower and Journey, for example. PlayStation Minis, too, provide portable-friendly experiences akin to what you might play on a smartphone, only with dedicated controls to enjoy them with, which is a big boon to anyone sick of poorly-implemented touch controls.

Besides the games themselves, though, Vita has a number of interesting and intriguingly noteworthy features. For starters, the system actually does multitasking considerably better than both iOS and Android. A tap of the PlayStation button freezes whatever you’re doing and takes you immediately back to the “OS”. From here, you can “peel” the app off the screen to close it completely, switch to something else (like, say, the settings app, or Twitter) and then be back into your game without any messing around. This is particularly beneficial when you want to browse the PlayStation Store for addon content, for example — even the PS3 requires a quit out of a running game to access the Store, whereas Vita manages to seamlessly switch to it, let you browse as you see fit, then switch back. This functionality also allows you to effectively do what the Steam Overlay does for PC gamers — while running a game, you can pop open a browser window and, let’s face it, look at GameFAQs.

Vita’s interface is gorgeous, too. The big, high-resolution LED screen makes things look great anyway, but the design of the OS just begs to be played with, too. On the homescreen, flicking between screens causes the icons to wobble like they’re hanging on pegs. Rather than “slide to unlock” if the machine goes into standby, you use the same “peel” motion that is used for closing apps. And the soft keyboard is pretty good, too, with a decent predictive text dictionary built in — though the size of the screen and its position means that “thumb typing” as on a smartphone is next to impossible. Fortunately, as the Vita is primarily a gaming platform, you won’t be doing that much typing on it, so it’s a design flaw I can forgive.

The built-in apps are interesting, too. Near allows you to see other Vita owners in your nearby vicinity, see what they’ve been playing and their responses to them. (I was surprised to see quite a few Vita owners living near me — I was expecting it to be a virtual ghost town around here.) Welcome Park introduces the system’s little quirks — the multitouch screen, the rear touchpanel, the two cameras and the built-in microphone — through a series of simple but surprisingly engaging minigames, all of which have Trophy support for those who care that much. There’s also a pleasing number of free downloads from the PlayStation Store, including a selection of social apps, a simple finger-painting app and even some games, including the hilarious and WarioWare-esque Frobisher Says.

All in all, I’m very pleased with my purchase so far. I’ve become somewhat disillusioned with iOS gaming recently — perhaps due to the fact I get to see some of the very best and worst titles as part of my day job — so I’ve been surprised how good it feels to have a dedicated handheld system again, particularly one that doesn’t possess an app ecosystem that encourages developers to include “Get More Coins!!” options even where they’re not wanted/needed. I shall look forward to many Everybody’s Golf sessions on the toilet in the near future as well as a thorough exploration of the myriad joys the PlayStation Store has to offer me.

#oneaday, Day 7: Video Games: A Primer

A lot of my fellow One A Day bloggers are avid video gamers. Many of them even write words about them on a professional basis. But there are others, like Pete Fraser, who are understandably bewildered by the whole thing. Sure enough, it’s a fast-moving, exciting medium which many believe is difficult to penetrate if you haven’t been along for the whole ride.

To that I say: pish, pfaugh and nonsense. There’s never been an easier time to get into video games and find out more about them. Let me explain why.

It’s unfortunate that the early days of gaming were plagued with stereotypes (which some people, see the delightful Jeff Minter, pictured to the right, are still more than happy to live up to) and this put a lot of people off getting into the hobby. It wasn’t a “cool” thing to do. It was the thing that “nerds” did, and the sort of thing that could potentially get you beaten up at school if you were in a particularly rough and less-enlightened place.

The thing is, though, at least some of the stereotypes had partial basis in fact. Early gaming demanded many things. Patience. An understanding that you were dealing with a brand new technology that wasn’t particularly refined yet. In many cases, a mathematical mind. A willingness to practice things until you got better. Early games were frequently simple affairs that artificially inflated their playtime by being ludicrously difficult. This made the hardcore gamers very happy when they were able to finally beat a particularly difficult level, but for people who might be interested in passing? They didn’t want to spend that much time in front of a TV listening to the whining and squeaking of a cassette deck loading games.

Over time, though, games have become more and more sophisticated, family-friendly and accessible. A big part of this movement has come via games consoles, which have actually been around almost as long as home computers. Games consoles are made to be hooked up to “the big television” of the house and, in the early days at least, were often filled with experiences made to be shared—indeed, the very first gaming machines were primitive multiplayer “tennis” affairs. Later, we got many arcade conversions, and TV advertising, particularly the cringeworthy efforts from Atari, encouraged family participation and friendly competition.

As consoles became more and more sophisticated, developers started experimenting with a greater focus on developing narratives throughout their games. We saw titles such as the ambitious Final Fantasy series telling surprisingly mature, sophisticated (if now clichéd) stories through the SNES and PlayStation 1 periods having graduated from their primitive roots on the original NES. Graphics improved at a rapidly-increasing rate, giving us games that wanted more and more to be like the movies. But still they were tied to arbitrary control schemes that required practice; there was still a barrier of entry: “you must be this skilful to enjoy this medium”.

Until we get to this generation. This generation of gaming has exploded. We’re at a stage now where gaming is accessible to pretty much anyone. We’re at a stage where gaming is no longer confined to one specific demographic. We’re at a stage where you don’t even need a controller to work your Xbox if that’s the route you want to take.

Love them or hate them, several things have done a huge amount to make gaming more accessible to the masses. The Wii and the variety of plastic-instrument music games such as Rock Band brought family-friendly, “lifestyle” and party gaming back, reminding people how much fun it was to get together with friends and play in the same room. Kinect for the Xbox provides entertaining, active games that kids and adults alike can enjoy without having to remember which button does what. Facebook games like Farmville, while shallow to people who have been playing games for years, provide bored office drones and soccer moms with fun things to do on the Internet. Call of Duty lets the frat boys (and girl-equivalents) of the world blow seven shades of shit out of each other whilst shouting racial epithets at one another. And the blossoming independent development scene sees digital artists and creative minds pushing the boundaries of what “interactive entertainment” really means.

Games may or may not be art—that’s an interminable question that may never be answered conclusively. But one thing games aren’t? Just for teenage boys. Give ’em a shot. You might surprise yourself.

#oneaday, Day 64: Act Your Age, Fanboys

Why does the phenomenon of fanboyism still exist? And more to the point, why does it exist amongst men (and it pretty much is always men) who are old enough to know better?

The simple and easy answer is, of course, that it’s always been around. I remember growing up as an Atari-based family and all of the Atari magazines at the time belittling the competition with stupid names like Spectrash (Spectrum) and Crappydore (Commodore 64). Then came the schoolyard arguments – SEGA vs Nintendo. Sonic vs Mario. “We’ve got Street Fighter II! Hah! …Oh wait, now you have, too.” It got pretty silly.

Once the Dreamcast came out, it was hard to justify fanboyism because, certainly once SEGA’s wondermachine came out, it was so far ahead of its competition – the 64-bit Nintendo 64 and the 32-bit PlayStation – that half-hearted attempts to call it things like “Dreampants” always came across as more than a little desperate.

Things then kicked off again with Sony vs Microsoft, with Nintendo kind of relegated to “background observer” by this point. The PS2 and the original Xbox both had fiercely loyal supporters when, in fact, you’d have a far better experience if you bought both systems, played the relevant exclusives on their respective platforms and played multiplatform titles on the Xbox. That’s what I did, and I never felt the need to slag off any of the systems.

And it still goes on today, despite each of the consoles arguably offering a more distinct and unique experience from each other than ever before. The Xbox 360 offers its legendary ease of online play, the PS3 is home to a variety of unusual and interesting games (like Flower, flOw, Linger in Shadows, the Pixeljunk games) and the Wii is the family-friendly bundle of fun.

Still the hating goes on, though.

But nowhere is it more apparent than in the world of smartphones, particularly between the owners of iPhones, BlackBerries (let’s pluralise it properly, please) and Android-based phones. iPhone owners are either Apple fanboys who bang on about how great Apple is all the time or jailbreakers who bang on about which ludicrously-named hack they’re installing this week – and, of course, which apps they could get for free rather than paying for them on the App Store. BlackBerry owners seem to be updating their OS every night. And Android owners seem to be particularly sore about the iPhone for some inexplicable reason.

The question is: why? When it came to the early console wars, slagging off the systems your friends had was just schoolyard banter. You didn’t really think that the systems were inferior, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone around to their houses and played those games with them. The fact that this juvenile banter has grown up with people who have been using gaming and other consumer electronics for years is utterly baffling. Even people who started gaming at the same time as me – or before – are still bitching and moaning about how much better their handset is that [x]’s handset, and blahblahblah open source, blahblahblah build quality, blahblahblah BlackBerry Messenger, blahblahblah… You get the picture.

Am I alone in thinking that all of this stuff, without exception, is seven degrees of awesome and we should appreciate the brilliant things we have? Yes, some of them have more features. Yes, some of them are objectively “better” in terms of capabilities, power and technical specifications. But is that really any reason to act like 5-year olds telling each other that their respective Mums smell of wee?

No, it’s not. So why does it still go on?