2315: RPGs are Weird

0315_001

In case you hadn’t noticed, my favourite genre of game is the RPG or role-playing game. Which is kind of a weird type of game, when you think about it, particularly from a modern perspective.

Computer RPGs (hereafter “CRPGs”) have their roots in tabletop roleplaying systems like Dungeons and Dragons and its ilk — indeed, the Dungeons and Dragons inspiration is very obvious even in Japanese titles like the original Final Fantasy, and we’ve also had a swathe of outright Dungeons and Dragons titles for various platforms over the years. Where CRPGs and tabletop systems diverge, however, is in their main purpose.

Tabletop role-playing is about different things according to who you speak to, but there are two broad things it allows its participants to engage in: firstly, it allows them to play-act a fantasy of some description, be it ruling the night as a vampire in modern-day New York, exploring the Planes and fighting otherworldly horrors or battling the Empire alongside Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. This is, for many people, the biggest attraction of tabletop role-playing: the chance to be someone else for a little while, and enjoy the experience with other people. Tabletop role-playing rules tend to be deliberately a little fuzzy around the edges, allowing for some bending here and there in the name of making a more entertaining experience for the participants; indeed, some of the most successful, effective systems have some of the most straightforward rules.

When those rules come into play, though, that’s the other big strength of tabletop role-playing: they allow for all manner of things to happen. If you really want to boil it down, they’re a means of using mathematics to create an abstract depiction of some sort of action, whether it’s something that is possible to depict literally (attempting to use diplomacy to prevent a war) or something that is pure fantasy (infusing yourself with the power of the Gods to leap 50 feet into the air and stab a demon in the left nostril with your holy sword). But for most groups, these rules are in service to the main attraction: the roleplaying; the communal storytelling; the shared fantasies.

CRPGs, meanwhile, focus almost exclusively on this latter aspect: the use of mathematics to abstractly represent things happening. It’s pretty rare to find a CRPG that affords you complete freedom to do what you want, and where they do exist, these experiences often feel a bit “empty” thanks to the lack of true human interaction — plus perhaps the awareness that the “freedom” you’re enjoying is just an illusion: all it really is is the game designer having thought of more things that you might do than some other people would have.

Because truly freeform role-playing doesn’t really work when you don’t have other humans in the equation, we get a focus on mechanics and rules, with perhaps a story of some description overlaid on the top as justification for the rules and mechanics you’re following. But it’s still a little strange, as I say — particularly through modern eyes.

Why? Because we’re at a stage where we don’t need to abstractly represent things as much as we used to. In the early days of video games, the abstract, mathematical mechanics of CRPGs were in part a response to technological limitations: they allowed for the representation of things that it simply wasn’t possible to render believably on the screen. Now, though, graphics hardware has come along to such a degree that there’s not much we can’t depict completely visually, given a talented art and animation team to bring these things to life. Not only that, but with the advent of motion control and virtual reality, we can even put ourselves among these things: these strange and fantastical locales; these weird and wonderful creatures. And we can interact with them physically.

So why, then, do we still have turn-based role-playing games that are deliberately and heavily abstract and unrealistic in their depiction of anything from battle to relationships?

Well, for a number of reasons, the first being that not every development company has infinite resources to be able to produce a game that depicts your every action literally on the screen. But there’s also the matter that engaging in abstract mechanics and learning how a game’s systems work is part of the fun. You can learn how to take full advantage of a real-time system, sure, but that takes practice and, frankly, not everyone has the physical dexterity to be able to do that. A mathematical-based system like a CRPG, though; that’s accessible to pretty much anyone, though of course it does favour those with a bit more of a mind for numbers over those with twitch reflexes.

And then on top of all that, there’s the fact that even though it is possible to depict a lot of things visually in games nowadays, there are still certain things that it’s hard to represent in anything other than an abstract manner. Take the combat in something like Dungeon Travelers 2, for example: the concept of this game is that you’re playing the role of a non-participant in combat, issuing orders for what up to five people should be doing, the results of which then unfold in front of you through a combination of visual effects, numbers popping up and text messages. By keeping to a simple representation of what would be an altogether chaotic affair if depicted literally — five people attacking up to five monsters — Dungeon Travelers 2 and its ilk allow the player to engage in enjoyably tactical, strategic gameplay that would be highly impractical to show in real-time.

The other thing that appeals to me personally about games like this is that they stoke the fires of the imagination. I know that Dungeon Travelers 2 doesn’t depict things literally — there’s very little animation in the game, even outside of combat — but I also know that it is keeping visual representations to a relative minimum in order to let my mind do the work. It provides just enough — the overall theme of the dungeon I’m exploring; music to support that; the voices and visual appearances of the girls in my party; the appearances and behaviours of the monsters we fight — to get my imagination fired up and fill in the blanks for myself. When Monica fires a Spiral Arrow and hits for 3,000 damage, I don’t think “ooh, 3,000 damage!” — I think “Wow, that was an amazing shot.” And I like that.

The bigger-name, bigger-budget CRPGs are starting to move more and more away from this sort of abstract depiction of what is happening — look at BioWare’s games, for example, or Square Enix’s approach to Final Fantasy XV (although in that case, it’s a peculiar middle ground between a truly literal depiction and abstracted mechanics) — but I’m pretty sure there will always be a place for imagination-stoking, presentation-minimal CRPGs for people like me. At least I hope so!

1992: The Essence of a Great RPG

I’ve been playing some Omega Quintet and Final Fantasy XIV today. I’ve technically “finished” both of them from a story perspective, but both have an “endgame” that you can keep playing after the main story is completed. In Omega Quintet’s case, it’s an opportunity to take on some challenging quests that require you to defeat very strong enemies as well as clean up any loose ends you might have left behind such as the optional “Training Facility” dungeon; in Final Fantasy XIV’s case, it’s a matter of gearing up and/or levelling other classes, largely in preparation for future content additions such as the imminent raid Alexander.

Playing both of these games from this perspective today made me come to something of a realisation: the essence of a truly great RPG — or, perhaps more accurately, one that I will doubtless think back on particularly fondly long after I’ve finished, even if it might not be critically acclaimed or widely beloved — is twofold: firstly, it has to draw me in and captivate me with its story and/or characters, then after that, the mechanics have to stand up to hours of play. If both of these things are true, I will happily spend hundreds — even thousands, in the case of Final Fantasy XIV — of hours on the game in question.

There are quite a lot of games that have fallen into this category for me over the years. Gust’s Ar Tonelico series is one, for example; while there’s not really an “endgame” in any of its three installments, they do have multiple endings that necessitate additional playthroughs (or strategic saving). Compile Heart’s Neptunia series is another; with pretty much all of the games in that series (with the exception of the very first and the idol sim Hyperdimension Neptunia PP, which I fully intend to go back to at some point soon) I’ve seen fit to exhaust absolutely everything they have to offer rather than playing them through once and being done with them. Both Hyperdimension Neptunia Victory and Hyperdimension Neptunia Re;Birth1 took up well over a hundred hours of my life, for example.

Most recently, as previously noted, Omega Quintet has been keeping me busy in this regard. Omega Quintet has such a pleasing blend of story, characterisation and hugely enjoyable mechanics — its battle system is one of my favourite takes on turn-based combat I think I’ve ever seen — that I find it fun to just boot up and have a few fights in. The fact that the endgame section rewards you with massive amounts of experience for many of the battles, allowing you to level the girls up to ridiculous power levels — there doesn’t appear to be the usual level cap of 99 in place — makes for a hugely satisfying experience. Enemies that once caused me considerable grief can now be defeated relatively easily — though pleasingly, Omega Quintet, particularly on its hardest difficulty, isn’t afraid to smack you about a bit every so often if you get a bit cocky; I think I’ve had more “Game Over” screens in the endgame than I did throughout the whole story, and it’s usually been because I made foolish assumptions that I was then punished for.

The only trouble with finding games that I want to spend hundreds of hours with in this way is that it means beating a single game to my satisfaction takes a hell of a long time. Still, I guess it means I shouldn’t run out of things to play any time soon, huh? And that’s quite a nice feeling.

1878: Would You Like Dinner, A Bath or Me?

Spent a bit of time reading through the rulebook for Maid: The Role-Playing Game today. It’s an interesting one in that the actual core rules for the game only take up about 20 or so pages of a 200+ page book, so it’s pretty straightforward to play; the remainder of the rulebook consists of “replays” (apparently a common inclusion in Japanese role-playing game books, essentially taking the form of a transcribed game session — a good means of getting a feel for how everything works) along with scenarios and optional rules to make the game more interesting than it already is… which is very interesting indeed.

What’s most intriguing about Maid is that it offers the potential for a wide variety of experiences. Most role-playing games can boast this owing to the fact that they’re essentially improvisatory theatre with a bit of dice-rolling involved, but in many cases they’re tied to a specific style of play. Dungeons and Dragons, for example, is geared very much towards Western-style fantasy (and, in the case of 4th Edition in particular, a very combat-heavy experience), while Vampire: The Masquerade is designed for modern-day intrigue and role-playing, with combat being somewhat more incidental. Maid, meanwhile, is flexible enough to cater to pretty much any setting you can think of, and to involve scenarios that range from the mundane to the ridiculous. It is indeed possible to play Maid as a straight-up simulation of being a maid for the master of a household, but I get the impression it’s a lot more fun when you start throwing in some of the more ridiculous elements.

Even this is flexible, though; you can put in some lightweight nonsense purely through the character creation process, which provides the opportunity to create everything from demure gothic Lolitas to hammer-wielding robot women with sexual perversions that would make the Internet blush. You can jack up the ridiculousness by including some of the optional rules — such as the “Seduction” rules, which allow maids to gain “Favour” points from sources other than the master of the house through… umm… various means — and truly take things to the max by including the rules for random events. The game explicitly warns you that using random events is very likely to throw anything vaguely pre-scripted completely off the rails, and indeed it’s even possible to run a complete game purely through random events if you see fit.

Chaos appears to be a central part of Maid, and it’s often player-led. The aforementioned random events can be triggered by players when they spend the “Favour” points they’ve earned throughout the course of the game, meaning that the players can wilfully cause chaos for the poor GM almost at will. It’s part of the character and theme of the game — it’s supposed to be inspired by wacky, slapstick anime comedy, and indeed maid-type characters in this sort of show are often somewhat chaotic in nature, with strange things happening around them. (In the optional rules, the chaos of the maids is sharply contrasted with the orderly nature of the Butler character, who isn’t allowed to trigger random events and is often penalised for certain things that maids might be rewarded for — like taking advantage of the Seduction rules.)

I’m really interested to give it a go at some point. Question is, will I be able to find players open-minded enough to explore it with me, or will it be a case of some Skype-based sessions with my Final Fantasy XIV/PAX friends, whom I know all appreciate it for what it is…?

1875: Ohayou, Goshujin-Sama

Third day of PAX East today, but the main thing I want to talk about tonight is what we’ve been collectively doing for the past couple of hours: creating characters in Maid: The Role-Playing Game, an anime-inspired tabletop roleplaying game that I hadn’t even heard of this weekend.

Maid is a peculiar and hilarious game, heavily based on random generation. Of course, you can pick and choose the characteristics you want to customise things a bit more, but the true joy of character creation in Maid comes from rolling dice and seeing what on Earth happens.

For example, the character I rolled was a boyish lolita (who actually is a guy) with an overactive imagination who was born into a hereditary line of maids and who binge eats when she has a “stress explosion”. Another character rolled by one of our number was a super-cool blind ninja maid who wields a raygun (called Ray Charles… work it out) and who is actually a traitorous infiltrator of the master’s household. There’s a huge combination of characteristics, which make for some hilariously complex and deeply flawed characters.

We’ve spent about two hours creating characters and haven’t actually tried playing the game at all yet, but it’s been an absolute blast. From what I understand, it can be played in three different ways: purely based on randomly generated events, as a more structured “adventure” or in a competitive manner where all the maid players are attempting to win as much “favour” from the master as possible.

I’ve ordered my own copy of the game, since when I went to try and pick it up today at PAX it had sold out — apparently it’s been a popular product for the past few years ever since it first came to light. Fortunately, I found that Amazon had a copy for a pretty cheap price, so I’m looking forward to perusing it at my leisure when I get home. And perhaps — hopefully — convincing some of my more open-minded friends to give it a try at some point!

It’s a fine example of the creativity that you’ll come across if you head a little bit off the beaten track — not just in video games, but also in tabletop games and other media, too. It’s a gloriously chaotic game that doesn’t take itself anywhere near as seriously as some of the more established tabletop role-playing games — not that that’s anything negative in itself, but sometimes you don’t want the hardcore “weight” of a Dungeons and Dragons and just want to play something a little… ridiculous. And Maid certainly appears to cater to that.

Can’t wait to give it a proper try.

1795: Thoughts on Roll20 and Other Board Game Apps

Longstanding Internet friend Matt Mason sent me this link earlier. For those too lazy to click, it’s an article about an app called Roll20 that is, so far as I can make out, designed for two main things: to facilitate online “remote play” of tabletop role-playing games between players who are scattered around the globe, and to support the “local” experience of those playing together in the same room by making the housekeeping and paperwork required for playing and running a tabletop role-playing game electronic.

It’s a good idea, and indeed many role-playing groups already use various electronic solutions to support their sessions, whether it’s simply firing up iTunes or equivalent to provide a musical backing to a dramatic encounter, or having an indexed, searchable copy of the rules on hand to save leafing through weighty tomes in the midst of what is supposed to be frantic combat.

The Kill Screen article is a little confused, so far as I can make out; it goes on to mention what it calls “Boardgamegeek-type board games” (with the implicit definition that these are things somewhat more complicated than entry-level fare like Ticket to Ride and Settlers of Catan) and suggests that an app such as Roll20 would provide an adequate solution to what a “pain” many modern boardgames are.

I can’t argue that there are certain games out there which are a bit of a pain at times. Stuff like Arkham Horror and Descent have so many cards, chits and tokens that it’s 1) difficult to keep the box organised and 2) rather time-consuming to set up and put these games away. Arguably, though, the setup and pack-away time is part of the experience: there’s the tactility of punching out all those tokens in the first place, and the satisfaction of laying them out in pleasing arrangements on the table during play — there are plenty of people out there who “pose” their game boards to make good photographs. There’s also something inherently satisfying about picking up and playing with physical items: slamming down a card in front of an opponent when you pull off a satisfying move; shuffling through a treasure deck to get your reward from a tough encounter; hoping that the deck of event cards will be kind to you this time around.

I also have mixed feelings about electronic versions of board games. It’s cool to be able to play many titles online with far-off friends, but the experience just isn’t the same, particularly when playing asynchronously. A single game of Ascension or Carcassonne can take weeks if you let it — and it’s very easy to let these things slide, even when they’re right there in your pocket on your phone — and it just ends up feeling more like work than fun, particularly if you have a number of games on the go at once. These days, if I’m going to play a board game, I want to do it face-to-face.

That doesn’t mean that apps like Roll20 don’t have a place, however. In fact, we’re already starting to see some interesting examples of technology being used to support — not replace — game components, the most notable of which is the upcoming board game adaptation of classic PC strategy game XCOM, which effectively casts an app in the role of the antagonist “player” or “game master”, deals with all the heavy lifting with regard to tracking things and provides suitably randomised elements for which no-one can complain that the decks of cards haven’t been shuffled well enough.

There’s scope for plenty of other types of things, too; the aforementioned Arkham Horror and Descent would both benefit enormously from phone or tablet character sheet apps, allowing players to keep track of their health, fatigue, equipped items, treasure and all manner of other things without having to gradually take over their corner of the table with cards, chits and all manner of other gubbins. Games like Mage Knight would benefit from their randomised elements being automated and made truly (or as near-as-dammit) random.

I’d never want to give up the physical element of board games altogether. But I think we’re starting to move into an interesting new era where traditional physical components and digital elements will come together to produce truly interesting experiences. I’m excited to give them a try.

1629: Are Pee

I’ve long been an enthusiast of role-playing games — the pen-and-paper kind in this case, not just in the world of video games, though as regular readers will know they are also my favourite form of video game — but I’ve had one consistent problem over the years: I’ve barely had the chance to actually play any.

I’ve bought the Dungeons and Dragons rulebooks from Second Edition onwards and read them cover to cover; I used to have an extensive collection of Vampire: The Masquerade sourcebooks (which I kind of wish I still had); and, this week, toilet reading has been provided by the freely-downloadable Basic Rules for Dungeons and Dragons’ Fifth Edition.

And yet, I’ve not played any of them, outside of a brief 2nd Edition Dungeons and Dragons campaign back in my school days, another brief campaign early in my university career, and a memorably “freeform” campaign run by a friend using his own simplified, custom system that had an enormous amount of flexibility.

This is a real shame, since as a creative type who greatly enjoys the act of creating a story, role-playing games are an ideal fit for me, combining, as they do, collective group improvisation and storytelling with a set of structured rules for satisfying, gradual progression over time. The exact form of those rules varies from game to game — Vampire: The Masquerade is very different from Dungeons and Dragons, for example — but the core is the same: it’s a group of people getting together, led by a chief storyteller, Dungeon Master, Game Master, whatever you want to call them, and having journeys through their imaginations together. What could be more fun than that?

I would really like the opportunity to get involved with a game of Dungeons and Dragons (or indeed any other role-playing game) at some point, but times I’ve attempted to raise the subject in the past with a friend whom I know plays a regular game seem to have fallen on deaf ears. (I’m not entirely surprised; campaigns that have been running for a while can be difficult to slot in new additions partway through, and certain groups prefer to limit their numbers to specific sizes to keep things manageable.) This leaves me with a somewhat more daunting prospect: planning and running my own game, and as someone who only has fairly limited experience of actually playing the game as a player character, the idea of putting together an epic, sprawling fantasy adventure for a group of players to potentially break with their own creativity is something that I’m not sure I’m up to just yet!

Or perhaps I am. The new 5th Edition of Dungeons and Dragons promises a “Starter Set” with an introductory adventure included, so when that becomes available I might just check it out. And even if I don’t play it, it can join the Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition and GURPS rulebooks on my shelf, providing occasional entertaining reading material when I fancy perusing it — I like reading rulebooks, don’t judge me — and hoping that one day they might actually get played.

Will they? I have no idea. I can dream, though. And if I can just roll a 20, perhaps I can make it reality.

#oneaday Day 791: Give Me More J

The Squadron of Shame recently tackled the subject of Japanese role-playing games in the first of a new format show that we’re experimenting with. You can check out the show here, or if you’re on something Flash-enabled, you can use the fancy-pants player below. (If you’re not, you’ll simply see a white space, for which I apologise.)

If I had to pick a favourite genre of interactive entertainment, it would, without doubt, be the Japanese role-playing game. I came to the genre relatively late (yes, I was one of those people who discovered RPGs in general through Final Fantasy VII) so I didn’t really have the NES-era epiphany of realising that RPGs were the only genre of games that were attempting to tell a story — for a while, at least. I also didn’t discover the earlier Final Fantasy games until much later, though I have, to date, played every one of them (except XIV) and have finished most of them. I still have V and VI outstanding. Shameful, I know.

There’s something about the JRPG genre that has resonated with me ever since I first got off that train in Midgar and that awesome music started up, though. For one, I find the sort of over-the-top wackiness and melodrama that typifies the genre to many people to be entertaining and fun to get invested in. For another, I have absolutely no objection to a bit of moe in my games, and generally find anime characters of this type very appealing despite the fact that in many ways they’re just as generic and widespread as the bald space marine with no neck. And for yet another, I enjoy the creativity frequently on display in the genre, both from an artistic and a narrative perspective.

It’s a cliché to say that Japanese RPGs are clichéd, and a lot of people who accuse the genre of that probably haven’t played one for a while. Sure, there are certain thematic elements and tropes which many of them have in common, but all are unique in some way. I can remember pretty much every JRPG I’ve played over the years in great detail — contrast this with the fact that there are a whole bunch of shooters I struggle to distinguish from one another, and it’s pretty rare than I can even remember characters’ names from Western RPGs like The Elder Scrolls. Each JRPG has its own unique cast of characters who are (in most cases) well-developed and display plenty of growth and change over the course of the story. Sure, some of them start their journeys as unlikable arseholes (Squall from FFVIII and Neku from The World Ends With You spring immediately to mind) but having a strong emotional reaction to a character — “I really don’t like this guy” — is surely a sign that the writers have done their job well. It’s sometimes a difficult experience to play a game with a seemingly dislikable protagonist, but often this is a sign that he’s going to go through some experiences to soften that stony heart of his, and I’m a big fan of that particular narrative trope.

Leaving narrative aside, I’ve always been a fan of the often abstract, creative battle systems that populate Japanese role-playing games. This is perhaps best exemplified by the Final Fantasy series, which significantly shakes up its core mechanics with every single instalment. Don’t believe me? Here’s how the battle system and related mechanics differ from game to game:

Final Fantasy — Traditional D&D-style turn-based combat without movement. Spells split into levels, like D&D, and characters have a limited number of casts per level that increases with their character level. Characters have set classes and, later in the game, may promote these to “prestige” classes.
Final Fantasy II — Turn-based combat, but progression is tied to an Elder Scrolls-like system whereby using something makes it improve. Whack things with a sword and your sword skill will increase. Take a lot of damage and your hit points will increase. Use a lot of magic and your magic points will increase. This system proved rather divisive at the time, and predated Bethesda’s implementation of a very similar levelling system into its flagship Western RPG series by six years.
Final Fantasy III — Turn-based combat, with progression tied to a “Job” system where characters could switch classes almost at will, allowing players to dynamically build a party to fit the situation at hand.
Final Fantasy IV — The first appearance of “Active Time Battle”, the almost-real-time-but-not-quite system which has been present in most of the subsequent titles. Progression and skill unlocks were static and unique for each character.
Final Fantasy V — The Job system returns in a much more well-implemented fashion. Players may develop Jobs at will, and may also equip certain skills that they have learned from another Job to build multi-purpose characters.
Final Fantasy VI — Each character has unique special abilities but everyone has the opportunity to learn the same spells by fighting with “Espers” equipped.
Final Fantasy VII — The Materia system allowed for deep customisation of characters with a slightly puzzly element — how best to fill the available slots in a character’s weapon and armour?
Final Fantasy VIII — By drawing magic out of enemies and “junctioning” these spells to statistics, players could create powerhouses that made their character level practically irrelevant. A bizarre and abstract system that didn’t quite work.
Final Fantasy IX — Characters learned skills from their equipment. Once they had learned the skill, they could use it any time, otherwise they had to keep the equipment in question in use to perform the action.
Final Fantasy X — A brief break from the Active Time Battle system brought a clever turn-based system where certain actions could rearrange the turn order. Also saw the first appearance of a non-traditional levelling system in the form of the “Sphere Grid”
Final Fantasy X-2 — A return to the Active Time Battle system and a variation on the Job system came with X-2’s Dressphere setup, whereby each of the game’s three playable characters could equip several Jobs and switch between them mid-battle.
Final Fantasy XI — The first MMO entry in the series had another variation on the Job system whereby a single character had levels in every Job, but could only have one active at a time, with a “Sub-Job” becoming available after some progression had been made and allowing characters to use skills from this second Job.
Final Fantasy XII — Taking the combat of XI and applying it to a single-player game allowed XII to have a real-time feel while still feeling strategic, as players were able to pause the game to issue commands to characters while battling without being sent to a separate screen. Progression was split between a traditional levelling system and the “License Grid”, whereby characters had to purchase licenses to use specific pieces of equipment and abilities, then purchase the equipment and abilities separately.
Final Fantasy XIII — Active Time Battle on a separate combat screen returns, this time with players taking control of a single character in fights that focus more on carefully-timed Paradigm Shifts (effectively Job changes by another name) rather than using specific abilities. Had a distinctly unconventional levelling system whereby characters could gain levels and abilities from six different classes independently.
Final Fantasy XIII-2 — Similar to XIII, but with only two characters available. Players could catch various monsters to fill the third party slot. Characters could once again develop down the six different paths, though monsters had a fixed class which could also be developed. Unlike XIII, where you were stuck playing as the party leader, in XIII-2 you could switch between the two characters at will, and one of them getting knocked out did not mean failure.

As you can see, Final Fantasy is a series which has evolved significantly over the years, and yet many accuse Square Enix of letting it stagnate. Sure, they’ve arguably made a few missteps over the years — XII, XIII and XIII-2 have all proven somewhat divisive in particular (though I enjoyed all three of them) — but one thing that the Final Fantasy team really can’t be accused of is sitting on their laurels and churning out the same old thing year after year. The same is true for many other JRPG developers. It’s one of the richest, most creative genres out there.

So why has it fallen from grace? A combination of factors. With the increasingly-busy lives people lead today, a 100-hour game is no longer necessarily seen as a good thing. Budgets for high-definition games spiral out of control, making the production of an HD JRPG an impractical prospect for many studios, particularly when they can’t necessarily count on huge sales numbers to recoup their expenditure. (This is perhaps why MonolithSoft and Mistwalker chose to release the gobsmackingly brilliant Xenoblade Chronicles and The Last Story on the Wii rather than the more popular/”hardcore” Xbox 360 and PS3.) And the eye of “the average gamer”, whoever that might be, has drifted towards the West these days for the majority of their gaming fixes, rather than the East as once was.

There’s still a rich back catalogue of excellent titles out there to explore in this deep genre, however — even more so if you learn Japanese. I’m making a point to go back and revisit some titles I missed the first time around at the moment — having recently played Shadow Hearts I’m now on to its excellent sequel, for example — and I’m having a great time. For the vast majority of these games, they’re a reminder of a simpler time — no “Your friend is online!” notifications, no party chat invites, no DLC, no controversy over endings even when they sucked — and they’re great.

So while the rest of the Internet yells and screams about each other about Mass Effect 3 (still!) I’m more than happy to immerse myself in a world of HP, MP, Attack, Magic, Item, Escape.