Game Log Archive
Game Log is dedicated to the games I've been playing recently that encourage some degree of thought that I'd like to share. I cover games by their mechanics, narrative, and all other manner in which a game evokes emotion and engagement from the player.
A design choice I first found frustrating has ultimately helped me understand my feelings towards survival-horror.
[This essay will contain gameplay spoilers for the 2019 Resident Evil 2 remake.]
I haven’t entirely clicked with the survival horror genre. I have a great fondness for the Resident Evil and Dead Space franchises, but both games have always had an action-oriented element to them. The closer you step towards actual horror and strip away the empowering capabilities of the player, the more shaken up my heart becomes.
Alien: Isolation is a perfect example. I’ve always blamed my inability to complete it on the first-person perspective, but in truth I might simply find great discomfort in being so obviously outmatched. Options and resources are few and if the Xenomorph so much as spots you it’s game over. I still recall setting the game down each night after having reached a suitable stopping point. The excitement and adrenaline continued to flow through my very veins, providing a sense of ceaseless vibration as I sat in my chair. I could not go to sleep in such a manner. I needed to swap out to Destiny so that I could “calm my nerves”, relaxing into the empowerment of a constantly resurrecting guardian.
I find the description of games being a power fantasy – a specifically masculine one at that – tiresome and reflecting a misunderstanding of the medium’s appeal. A game is not truly satisfying if it is not challenging. If the enemy A.I. and behavior demands I better understand the tools at my disposal or pay the consequences, then it is encouraging me to think and learn. The game only rewards those that adapt. The adaptation is what provides the satisfaction. In my mind, a “power fantasy” provides no challenge. It simply lets the player wade through the game, standing proud atop a hill although they did little more than show up.
So theoretically I should be absolutely on board with the disempowering demands of the survival horror genre.
Shadow of the Tomb Raider wants to make a statement. Shadow of the Tomb Raider makes its statement very poorly.
Leading up to release I was under the impression that Shadow of the Tomb Raider was intended to be a criticism of white colonialism. The developers were very clear early that Lara Croft would be the one to cause the Mayan apocalypse. The message received was that it was not her intentions but her arrogance that would lead to such grave consequences.
Swiftly the story moves into the legendary city of Paititi, a Mayan civilization untouched by and hidden from the modern world. There is a superficial reverence for the culture, trying to depict the attire and mannerisms of the indigenous peoples as accurately as possible. The game seems intent on making the player understand that the ancient Mayans weren’t “the savages” that cultural stereotypes might assume.
Then Lara violates the Prime Directive to “save” a little girl from being made a blood sacrifice at the hand of her father – an act the daughter professes to be an honor. The mother, in the meantime, is completely accepting of the murder of her husband by Lara’s hand so that her child may be saved from the ritual.
All of the improvements in climbing are a bit wasted on this iteration of Tomb Raider, but could lead to a potentially fresh new chapter for Lara Croft in the future.
Despite its many combat woes, Shadow of the Tomb Raider still manages to provide a rich world littered with hidden caverns and secrets. While the franchise as a whole has suffered a bad habit of just dropping ancient scrolls and relics on the ground for any passerby to pick up, the devoted explorer will still have plenty of hidden gems and artifacts to seek out more intently.
Nevertheless, the designers seemed to only partially comprehend the draw of such exploration. A number of tombs and caverns are only accessible once you’ve accepted the relevant side quest from a local. It does not matter that you know where to go or have all the necessary tools required to access the cavern. The game will either place an artificial obstacle in your way until the quest is accepted, or removes any relevant tool prompts until an objective marker hovers over the offending blockade.
Side quests were largely unnecessary in Rise of the Tomb Raider, but they never interfered with the player exploring at their own pace.
Shadow of the Tomb Raider's additions to stealth could have made it a far more enjoyable game than its predecessors... too bad it's too often too poorly implemented.
I don’t think Eidos Montreal had the best grasp of what made Nu-Raider work.
...what? Don’t ever use that phrase again? I mean, I thought it was clever, and… okay, okay! I won’t write or say it ever again! Cripes…
I stand by my point of Eidos Montreal’s slack, slippery grasp of the new Tomb Raider games, however. While I wouldn’t say either game is exceptional, there is a heart to those titles that could have been something phenomenal. I think half of Shadow of the Tomb Raider manages to tease us with what could be, but the end product is tarnished with the everything that no one was asking for. This week I’ll be focusing on the combat, where it excels, and where it disappoints.
I haven't had this much fun with a Mega Man game since the Super Nintendo.
I’m not sure I can call myself a proper fan of Mega Man. I hold no dislike for the games, and in fact enjoyed any I had managed to play. There was some sort of magic to combatting the robot masters in the appropriate sequence, inflicting the weaponry of their comrades against them. However, I also missed out on the discovery of this sequence by relying on Nintendo Power to clue me into the best order to approach each stage.
Which left me with having to master each game’s obstacle courses. Having to learn to time jumps while fending off hordes of enemies was never my favorite activity, ultimately leading me to throw the controller into the ground. I owned Mega Man 6, but for all that I played it I rarely beat it. I couldn’t stand the difficulty of Wily’s – pardon, I mean “Mr. X’s” – castle due to its increased obstacle course difficulty.
On the other hand, Mega Man X became one of my most beloved games of all time. I preferred the more action-oriented approach over the tricky obstacle courses of the NES games, and the levels hid secrets more akin to The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past and Super Metroid than its own predecessors. Gathering health boosts, rechargeable energy tanks, and pieces of armor were a lot more satisfying to me than 1-Ups and E-Tanks. In fact, any attempt at a 1-Up or an E-Tank in the prior games could result in the loss of a life itself!
Marvel's Spider-Man tries to tackle the webslinger's most recognizable slogan from different angles.
Warning: This essay will contain spoilers for the villains and ending of Marvel’s Spider-Man on PS4.
It seems every time someone takes their turn making a new Spider-Man story, they have to lean heavily into that theme of great power and great responsibility. Seeing as Insomniac chose to make their Peter Parker an eight year veteran of web-slinging through New York, it wouldn’t quite do to have him learn this particular lesson. Instead, they chose to tackle this concept in three separate ways. Focusing on characters that were corrupted by the great power they’ve been given, by teaching Peter he doesn’t have to shoulder the responsibility on his own, and forcing him to test his conviction in how committed he is to that responsibility.
Unfortunately, each theme seems to be sort of tackled at separate times rather than coming together in a properly cohesive manner. It’s also possible that the open-world nature of the game interferes with the narrative’s pacing, shifting my focus away from what the game is trying to tell me so that I can collect baubles and conquer challenges. When your attention is so easily pulled free from the story’s stakes, it’s hard to feel the intended emotional resonance.
Marvel's Spider-Man is a fusion of the Arkham franchise's accessibility with a dash of Devil May Cry and Bayonetta's mobility and freedom of options.
At first blush Spider-Man seems to draw its inspiration from Rocksteady’s Arkham series of Batman games. This is especially true once you find yourself sneaking about the environment, snagging crooks and stringing them up in the rafters of a warehouse or the lamp posts of a construction site.
I’d say the two combat systems each have different goals, however. The Arkham games are reactionary first, focused on timing counter-attacks and dodges until the player has a suitable opening. The second goal is to remove any potential advantage the opponents have over Batman himself, be it in the form of stun batons, shields, or guns. While expert players of the franchise’s challenge mode will no doubt point out additional depth to the system, I would say the combat system emphasizes Bruce Wayne’s lack of superpowers and focuses instead on gaining the upper hand – even if you can argue that Batman always has the upper hand simply by being Batman.
In Spider-Man, Peter Parker’s superpowers mean he always has the upper hand. So while there are still elements of that reactionary system, it encourages the player to be more aggressive and acrobatic. The combat in Spider-Man is effectively what happens if you evolve the Arkham combat to more closely resemble pure action games like Devil May Cry or Bayonetta.
As close as it gets, Marvel's Spider-Man still fails to quite be the superhero game possible.
There’s a lot that Insomniac Games got right when interpreting Spider-Man into a digital, interactive medium. The rush of cars beneath as you swing like a pendulum above, lashing out another sticky tether to catapult towards danger. The acrobatic mid-air freedom as you net one thug to the wall before snatching a manhole cover from the ground, careening it off of a gunman’s head before pulling yourself into a fist-first greeting with that jerk and his rocket launcher.
“You really feel like Spider-Man!” is the common quote hailed by games writers whose creativity is depleted by time pressures and collection of other deadlines they need to hand in. Certainly, these moments are what any fan of the cowled arachno-boy could hope for. They also allow the game to stand apart on a raw mechanical level. From swinging between skyscrapers to pummeling punks, Marvel’s Spider-Man offers an experience like no other. At least, as long as we’re talking about maneuverability.
There’s a lot more to being Peter Parker – and a superhero at that – than your powers.
Despite being another enjoyable Tokyo RPG Factory title, Lost Sphear manages to disappoint.
Perhaps my expectations for Lost Sphear were a bit too high. Not to begin by giving the impression I disliked the game. I am actually quite looking forward to whatever Tokyo RPG Factory is next tinkering on… supposing Lost Sphear’s Western sales were to Square Enix’s liking.
It seems I was a bit of an outlier in my love for I Am Setsuna. Despite the flaws of its systems I really enjoyed what it did with its story. Popular opinion seems to be colder due to the gameplay not capturing the same je ne sais quoi of obvious inspiration Chrono Trigger. Such frozen reception means not many were looking forward to the follow-up, whereas my experience with I Am Setsuna turned Lost Sphear into a must-play of 2018.
Even if God of War has something for everyone, the something for me is completely optional.
Pure objectivity is an impossible standard of evaluation to achieve. The odds of someone being capable of analyzing a piece of art in such a manner are astronomically low. You’d need to first cast aside the heart necessary to appreciate expressive works in the first place. A critic must first love the art being evaluated enough that deeper study and efforts of understanding become a natural compulsion.
To that end, God of War is a pain in my critical butt. I hold no substantial familiarity with the prior games aside from marketing, E3 gameplay demonstrations, and the opening level to the debut title. I was not excited for this new entry at all, and even found its new direction an obnoxious plea to be perceived as meaningful and mature. I was upset on behalf of fans that Sony would try and force a bloody action franchise into a trendy new presentation rather than craft an all new property or maintain the series’ spirit.
The endless adulation of the press did nothing to budge my interest meter. It was only through the adamant nagging of my titular podcast co-host Steve that I relented. I finally played God of War.
I fell in love.
Why is the Infinite Forest in Destiny 2 so bland and tedious? What made the Prison of Elders good fun?
I hope you like the aesthetic of rock, because everything here is rocks.
Why is the Infinite Forest in Destiny 2’s expansion, Curse of Osiris, such an affront when compared to the Prison of Elders from the prior game? This question dug into my brain like a tick after writing last week’s Game Log.
Boiled down to their very basics, each is a modular experience composed of repetitive environmental assets where the player is tasked with little more than fighting opponents. In regards to the Prison of Elders, the repetition is apparent as you’ll largely fight the same foes and bosses every time. Unlike the Infinite Forest, the Prison of Elders was such an enjoyable co-op experience that a new variant is at the top of my most wanted list in Destiny 2’s future expansion.
I think the plain and overused visual assets are a misdirection of the senses. Everything in Destiny 2 becomes repeated content, and therefore familiarity with the environments is bound to happen. Moreover, every mission and strike will make use of the planet’s public world. Repeated visuals is pretty par for the course. I simply think the bland and simple rock formations are an easy substance to latch onto. “It all looks so boring”, one might say. Indeed, the only part of the Infinite Forest worth admiring for its aesthetic is the entrance and exit.
A deeper look into how I Am Setsuna's mechanics can empower the player... as long as they can figure it out for themselves.
"Wait, huh? How do you make all those numbers appear?!"
The problem with writing an essay is that anything unrelated to your thesis becomes superfluous. The problem with traditional reviews is that they are awkward and scatter-brained, much like a teenager undergoing the changes of puberty. As I prefer the style of the former, I sadly had not spent much time discussing the mechanics of I Am Setsuna for this week’s feature. They are, for the most part, unrelated to the thesis I held regarding the narrative.
Let us correct that oversight here as the mechanics certainly deserve evaluation. Last week I compared the game’s presentation to its 16-bit ancestors, but this fails to truly capture how I Am Setsuna feels to play.
Why kill someone that's just going to die anyway?
What is a life worth?
Leaning back in this uncomfortable wooden coffee shop chair, teeth gnawing at my lower lip as prog-rock beats and melodies pump into my ears, I ponder what the point of I Am Setsuna was.
I’ve skimmed, glanced, and hummed over a number of forum and blog responses to the game, and it turns out the disappointment experienced over on GamersWithJobs was rather tame compared to the rest of the Internet. For many, the ending seemed pointless, confusing, and lacking in concrete closure. For me, the final shot elicited an obnoxious laugh and declaration that it was “Japan as f**k”.
It’s only in ruminating on one simple choice that I realize what simple idea envelops I Am Setsuna like a blanket.
Swing your sword.
Do not swing your sword.
Does nostalgia also negatively impact our perceptions of throwback games like I Am Setsuna?
With the new design of GamerTagged.net will also come a new series of columns designed to encourage me to write more, at the very least as a “warm-up” to more substantial material. I’m also hoping the regular practice helps make it easier to “get into the writing mood” and further hones my knitting together of phrases, words, and sentences. Giving people more reasons to actually check the site regularly helps, too.
I first tried to play I Am Setsuna a couple years ago on the PS4. Something about the presentation at the time just wasn’t doing it for me. After playing the Lost Sphear demo on Nintendo Switch, I feel like there’s some lack of urgency or kineticism in Tokyo RPG Factory’s presentation that the old-school games they’re emulating possess. While I disagree with much of Jeremy Parish’s conclusion regarding the Secret of Mana remake, there’s one thing I partially understand.
Secret of Mana’s characters possessed a sort of floppy intensity on Super NES, somehow conveying the sensation of your heroes throwing themselves into every action with just a few simple frames of animation.
While I personally feel this is Jeremy’s nostalgia talking, I can certainly perceive his meaning in certain swings of the blades of Mana. When the hero lunges in the original title for that level-one charged attack with the sword, his body doesn’t just leap forward. His head ducks down aggressively, leaning forward as the sword is held high. I think the lack of frames in the animation allows the player to create an intent and intensity that is not actually there. Meanwhile, in the remake, these animations are running at 60 frames-per-second, filling those previously empty gaps with silky-smooth movement.
Neither great nor awful, the Secret of Mana remake is... fine.
Is it accurate to compare nostalgia to a hallucinogenic drug? Or is it merely a defensive act to preserve the least-jaded part of ourselves? That ignorant innocent of childhood that saw no blemishes, just the wonderment of new experiences. Every scar and scab was a point of pride, and broken bones became future stories of youthful adventure.
Or, in regards to games, we brushed away all the poor design in favor of the things we loved.
Like everything on the Internet these days, I feel response to the Secret of Mana remake has been limited to binary extremes. Either this remake is precisely what people wanted – a response seeming to be limited to the consumer spectrum – or it is a disservice to the original and would be better off not existing – the common conclusion of members of the press.
It’s amazing this title hasn’t sparked another bloody battle in the eternal feud between Dead Gamers and press.
