1070: Victory and Answers at Last

I finished Persona 3: The Answer. I won’t lie, I am more relieved than anything, but after such an ordeal I find myself glad that I have now played the complete Persona 3 experience from start to finish. (This is, of course, excluding the female protagonist’s path through the PSP version, but I think I may need a bit of a break from Shin Megami Tensei for quite a while now — so that will have to wait!)

The Answer is a curious beast. All the while I was playing it, I had a big question in my mind, appropriately enough. That question was “should this exist?”

It’s a fair question. Does it need to exist? I certainly wasn’t unsatisfied with the way Persona 3’s original story ended, but I was also excited by the prospect of it continuing, which is why I immediately picked up a copy of Persona 3 FES as soon as it came out, despite having bought the original at full price. (Both are still on my shelf. And yes, it has taken me this long to finally get around to actually beating FES. For those who aren’t keeping track, FES came out in 2008. It is now nearly 2013.) I was excited by two things: firstly, the prospect of a “director’s cut” of the main Persona 3 story, and secondly, by an additional 20+ hours of gameplay that resolved more than a few unanswered questions posed by the ending.

On balance, I think I am glad that The Answer exists, because the story that runs through it and particularly its ending are very satisfying — at least, they are if you’ve played through all of The Journey beforehand. I just wish that the execution was better.

It’s sort of difficult to imagine how they could have done it differently, however. The core concept of The Answer is that the party have trapped themselves in the situation they’re in through their own regrets and desires, which means that they’re literally stuck in the same place at the same time on the same day until you beat it. This means none of the awesome “life sim” aspect of Persona 3 — no going out and going to school, no balancing whether or not you should go to Track Team or Music Club after school, no hanging out with the drunken old monk in the bar in the evening, no singing karaoke to build up your Courage statistic. Just dungeons. Fighting. Lots of fighting.

I like Persona 3’s combat system. (I prefer Persona 4’s ability to let you take direct control over all your members, but I still like Persona 3’s.) There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with the idea of an add-on campaign involving a whole bunch of fighting using what is a very good JRPG combat system. However, what is wrong with The Answer’s gameplay is that it is regularly cheap, unfair and controller-flingingly frustrating, particularly when it comes to boss battles, and especially later in the game.

A key part of the Persona 3 combat system is learning the various weaknesses of enemies and then exploiting them to knock them down. Knocking all the enemies in an encounter down at the same time allows the entire party to unleash an “All-Out Attack” for massive damage, so generally speaking your aim in any battle is to knock down the enemies as efficiently as possible to trigger one of these, as they will usually if not finish the battle immediately, they will certainly tip the scales in your favour.

Here’s the annoyance with The Answer’s bosses, though — many of them have these weaknesses as in The Journey, but they also have passive abilities that allow them a not-insignificant chance of automatically avoiding any attack with the attributes they are weak to. For example, in one encounter there are three enemies — one is weak against fire, another is weak against ice, another is weak against wind. The one who is weak against fire has the “Evade Fire” skill, which means that on a significant number of occasions when you attack it with fire and attempt to knock it down, you will simply miss. The other two also have the corresponding “Evade [x]” skills, making it very difficult to actually knock them over and deal damage. I’m all for a bit of a challenge factor, but because these mechanics are so heavily based on luck rather than skill or strategy, it just felt incredibly cheap any time I died because of them.

To add insult to injury, The Answer’s final boss, while spectacular to look at as all good final bosses should be, was almost insultingly easy to beat, making the big finale more of a test of patience more than anything else. Actually, I can’t be too mad about this, because if I had to repeat the cutscenes leading up to that final battle as I had to repeat the cutscenes leading up to numerous other boss battles on a number of occasions earlier in the game, I would have probably been very annoyed. As it happened, I was able to take it down in one attempt, meaning the story kept flowing nicely at the moment when it needed to be pacy.

So after completing the whole shebang I am left with somewhat mixed feelings. On the one hand, I am happy that I saw the story end conclusively. I am satisfied that I successfully beat a very difficult game. But at the same time I am a little annoyed that a game as brilliant as Persona 3 has been slightly soured in my memory by the amount of annoyance The Answer gave me.

Am I glad The Answer exists? Yes, I think I am. Will I ever play it again? No fucking way!

#oneaday Day 965: Geometry Makes the Best Games

Being “in the zone” is a curious experience. On the one hand, it’s enjoyable and satisfying, whatever the context — sports, games, music, writing — but on the other, it can be terrifying. The second you become aware of your own “in the zoneness”, panic strikes. Your pulse races and you worry that you will fall out of said zone any moment. You struggle to maintain your “in the zoneness” but as you become more and more stressed, you get more and more likely to make some sort of critical mistake until, eventually, you give up and go and do something else.

This is the feeling you are constantly battling against while playing Super Hexagon, a new iOS game from Terry “VVVVVV“ Cavanagh.

In Super Hexagon, you play the role of a teeny-tiny triangle attempting to not meet a sticky end against the various walls that are being inexplicably flung at it from outside the screen. Or perhaps it’s attempting to escape a maze without crashing into any walls. Or… well, it doesn’t really matter what it actually is. It’s an abstract, “pure gameplay” game in which the aim is simply to survive as long as possible. In essence, it’s similar to those “endless running” games that are so popular on mobile platforms right now, with the difference being that you’re rotating a shape around a point rather than jumping, ducking and sliding.

In your first couple of games of Super Hexagon, you’re likely to last a matter of seconds — five at most. This brutal level of difficulty will likely be enough to put many people off immediately, and that’s fine. Stick with it, though, and you’ll find yourself increasingly slipping into “the zone” as you survive just a tiny bit longer each time, your skills consistently improving as you learn to spot the various patterns that come your way — and how to deal with them.

Then, of course, you make the mistake of thinking “gosh, I’m doing quite well this time” and plough straight into a wall while 0.05 seconds away from beating your high score. Then, you will immediately tap the screen to try again and be unable to break this cycle for at least half an hour. (Consequently, I do not recommend playing Super Hexagon on the toilet.)

The simple, addictive, abstract nature of the game brings my love affair with Geometry Wars 2 to mind. Both are completely different types of game, of course, but both also have a lot in common. Both tend to have relatively short play sessions, both have an aesthetic so abstract that it stirs the imagination to a surprising degree, and both have a relatively low “penalty” for failure. Mess up and you’re back in the game within a second or two to try again.

This latter quality is one of the most important factors in making a game “addictive”. Super Meat Boy is another game that understands this — fail a level in that and simply by pressing a button, you’re trying again, with no loading breaks, no obtrusive “You Failed” screens or statistical breakdowns, just a tap of the “Retry” button and an immediate response. Geometry Wars 2 did this; Super Hexagon does this. Because it’s so simple and habit-forming to just tap the screen to retry after a failed attempt, you get locked into a compulsive cycle, determined that this time is the one, that this time you’ll be able to progress just a little bit further and hear Jenn Frank’s voice whispering the name of a shape with even more sides at you.

Super Hexagon is out now for just 69p. Grab it from the App Store.

#oneaday Day 809: PAX Pact

Disclaimer: I’m aware that I wrote almost exactly the same post as you’re about to read at this time last year, and for that I make absolutely no apologies.

It’s PAX East time! Yay! I’m not there! Boooo.

I’ve not been to many conventions or big shows like that over the years, so I have very fond memories of those I have been able to attend. My decision to attend PAX East in 2010 was very much a spur of the moment thing — I’d decided I wanted to leave my primary school teaching job because I’d given it a chance and determined it wasn’t for me, I was trying as hard as I could to pursue a career in the Writing Words About Games industry, and I was feeling a bit miserable and lonely. So, with a little financial help, I flew across the pond to Boston and went to my first big show in America.

It was an exciting time for a number of reasons. I’d just started working for Kombo.com which, while it didn’t pay particularly well, provided me with a position where I could legitimately say I was a professional member of the games press. I knew that a large number of my buddies from communities such as Bitmob and The Squadron of Shame would be in attendance, so I’d have the opportunity to meet some people face to face. And I always love the opportunity to visit the States. I’d never been to Boston before, and while I was under no illusions that I’d be seeing much of the city while I was there, I was looking forward to being Somewhere New.

It was also terrifying. As a sufferer of social anixety at the best of times, the prospect of meeting people I’d only ever talked to on the Internet in the past was a scary one. What if we didn’t get on? What if it was a massive disaster and it destroyed the carefully-cultivated relationships we’d built up with one another? What if I had nothing to say? What if I got lost and it was actually because they wanted to lose me? All these thoughts whirled around my head as I was on the plane, but I was very happy to discover that PAX was, in fact, a happy, inclusive and wonderful place for geeks of all descriptions to call home — whether they were someone who just liked video games or was also into collectible card games, role-playing games, board games, cosplay, the history of technology… anything like that.

That word — “home” — is an important one. Because it felt good to be there. It felt like a world which I wanted to belong to, surrounded by people that I wanted to be with. It was a world that accepted and embraced each other’s differences and brought people from many different walks of life together in the name of common interests. Perhaps most importantly, it made friendships real. It’s all very well chatting to people online on a regular basis, but once you’ve spent time with those people in person — seen them, heard them, hugged them, tickled their beards in a homoerotic manner where applicable — your friendship is on a different level. I haven’t seen some of those people I met at PAX East 2010 in person since that weekend two years ago, but in many ways I feel closer, more connected to them than many of my — for want of a better word — “real” friends. Perhaps it’s because they’re also “Internet friends” that I speak to most days via Twitter, Facebook and G+.

Whatever the reason, knowing that lots of people I know are at PAX East right now and undoubtedly having a great time (and/or queueing for hours) makes me a bit sad — not that they’re there, obviously, but that I’m not there with them.

I propose a pact, then, faraway friends: PAX East 2013. Be there. You have a year to prepare. Get cracking.