Killing several birds with one stone, which is animal abuse at this point
After completing a review, I use a random number generator to select three games for my next article. Player 2 and I then vote for which game we think would be the most entertaining, with Editor One serving as our tiebreaker. Outside of this process, I will review games which I have recently featured in a video, such as Drowning and Fractured Minds. Through this process, I am generally able to review games which interest me.
My system also creates a growing cesspool of games I don’t want to acknowledge. With the more reviews I complete, the more the random number generator is likely to grab these unwanted names. With the really bad games, I haven’t played or thought of them in so long, I’ve forgotten how they play exactly. Only my core hatred of them remains. My Super Bomberman R review took less time writing it than it did replaying it and understanding how updates changed the gameplay. If I had just reviewed the game after I had finished it, the kidney stone would pass so much more easily.
A logical person would change their reviewing system, but I can’t break this arbitrary Rambling tradition. Instead, I will invite you for a closer view into my neurotic tendencies. For this review update/blogitorial, I will touch upon both my past reviews and the games I have yet to review. Through this, if you have been waiting for a particular review, you’ll understand why I’ll never write it.
The Unfinished Games
Normally, I like to have only five “new” games at any one time. It prevents me from overbuying. However, every Black Friday, I will splurge on the sales. I also succumb to consumerism and break my rules from time to time, like I did with Xenoblade Chronicles. Consequently, I’m chiseling at 9 games currently, listed as follows:
Disgaea 1 Complete
Lego Marvel Super Heroes 2
OTTTD
Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Rescue Team DX
Rock of Ages 2: Bigger and Boulder
Rogue Company
Stardew Valley
Turok
Xenoblade Chronicles Definitive Edition
When reviewing games, it is best practice to start a game, work on it steadily, and complete it before moving onto another. Taking two-month breaks between play sessions, conversely, is like cleaning a car using a cat as a loofah: you can theoretically get the job done, but the process is illogical, ineffective, and infinitely more painful. In eight months, I have devoted three hours a piece to Disgaea 1 and OTTTD. I dislike both of them, so I avoid them in favor of the other games on my to-do list. When I feel guilty enough to play them, I spend 20 minutes re-learning the concept and another 20 making progress before I abandon it again.
Although I will eventually complete both of them, my experience will have been so fragmented that I won’t feel able to give it a proper review. The likes of Astral Chain and Okami (both of which, incidentally, involved Hideki Kamiya) won’t see my front page unless I receive death threats from fans. When that happens, that means I will finally have fans, and I will gladly review both of them.
The Updated Games
As I have mentioned before, I generally dislike DLC, be it free or paid. I would much rather have all the content at once so that I can enjoy it in one serving. When a developer releases DLC post-launch, they essentially shove their game back on my to-do list.
I don’t want to play your game again. Once it’s off the to-do list, I cleanse myself of it, allowing my maiden body to court another game. I wish to stay pure.
As a reviewer, however, I can’t ignore the updates, at least the free ones. The updates could fundamentally change the game. Hell, the Town of Lightcould actually be playable. Not good, mind you, but playable. If I were to review a game without testing out the changes, I would be publishing a flawed opinion. If content comes out after my review, my review is still fine because it represents an opinion of that game at that time, but to do this, I would have to review games after they comes out. I never do that.
Dead Cells is not the same game I played when I first bought it. One of its 2019 updates decreased the difficulty for your first run, allowing me to beat the game on my first try after tens of failed attempts pre-update, and I haven’t looked back. Other free updates have come out since, and although I have enjoyed the game, I’m not eager to have my ass handed to me. Reviewing the game would require me to complete a few more runs to familiarize myself, which sounds like a lot of work.
Minor updates which don’t drastically impact gameplay – like with Animal Crossing: New Horizons and Human: Fall Flat – don’t require me to replay the game, making them easier to review. I actually look forward to those reviews, diving into how the updates improve or hurt the overall gameplay. Conversely, games like Enter the Gungeon or Hypercharge have changed too much since I last played them and frighten me.
The Boring Ones
There are also those games which are nothing special. Usually, these games score between 6 and 8.5, so they aren’t inherently bad. They just don’t lend themselves to unique review ideas. Assault Android Cactus+is a great game but makes for a straightforward review. Neurovoideralso deserves praise, but I’ve written enough about rogue-lites. Hidden in Plain Sight – another favorite in my house – is so simple that there’s little to write about it.
Take Gato Roboto, a game I have avoided. I’ve randomly rolled it at least four times, but the other games rolled have deserved the review more. Why? Because this is Gato Roboto’s review:
“Gato Roboto is equal parts Metroid and Blaster Master, but you control a cat in a mech suit, which is meme funny. Your mech controls like a bulky Samus, and the cat acts like her morph ball, with some added maneuverability. The cat can wander away from the suit to access new areas but is more vulnerable in this state. You will adventure through a standard Metroidvania map which employs basic yet clean 8-bit graphics. The developers made a competent game which does absolutely nothing new, and you’ll be done with it in three hours. Even if you’ve exhausted all of the other competent Metroidvanias on the Switch, this game won’t give you the fix you need for your apparent genre addiction.”
It’s a throwaway 6.5 game which appeals to a niche group. People don’t need more than 120 words and three pictures to know if they’ll want it. When my average review runs around 1,100 words, only filler and irreverent jokes would fill the extra 980 words to describe Gato Roboto.
Gato Roboto is among a family of games which could be reviewed in a paragraph or two. Stikbold! is your “wacky” local multiplayer party game with a unique gimmick and shallow gameplay. South Park: The Stick of Truth plays like the original Paper Mario but with vulgar humor instead. Hidden Through Time is I, Spy and Where’s Wally. I could describe these games in more detail, but these single-sentence reviews could almost suffice.
Now, I believe that each game deserves a full review because the developers generally worked hard to make a full game. These games just don’t tickle my creative muse. I could do “mini reviews” as other sites have done, but this format seems like a shortcut to lazier writing rather than a way to reinvigorate my writing style. As such, these games will eventually get reviews, but they also may share the fate of Gato Roboto, serving as gimmicks of a larger work.
The Exciting Ones
Roger Ebert remains my favorite critic. He managed to make almost each of his reviews unique and entertaining, and he wrote whatever the hell he wanted to. He wrote a review from the perspective of Garfield, and that’s ballsy, intimidating, and slightly arousing.
My favorite games to review allow me to break from my standard structure. My standard structure exists to organize my key points, allowing my readers to pick which sections interest them. Having a common framework also makes my unique reviews feel that more different. If every review was a Top 10, a break-up letter, or a history of the Mushroom Kingdom, readers would get exhausted. In essence, consistency exists for a reason.
I rarely know which games will lead to interesting reviews, and admittedly, I have not experimented with my review structure as much as I would like. Sometimes, an uninteresting game (like Gato Roboto) can result in a crossover article, and other games can be bunched together to create a larger message. These reviews do tend to be more difficult to write, but they almost always rank among my favorite articles.
The Dreaded Ones
Apart from friends, family, and a few weirdos, I seldom get visitors to my website. My Twitter page is similarly ignored. Despite this, I’m terrified of upsetting potential readers. I don’t tag developers when I post unfavorable reviews. I write excuses in my articles for why my opinions may break from the popular consensus, giving me an out in case someone was offended by what I had said.
The reviews I dislike writing most are for those games which I view as trash but others view as treasure. The saying goes that everyone has an opinion just like everyone has an asshole, but sometimes a certain combination stinks and deserves to remain where the sun doesn’t shine. What if my opinions are odious? What if I’m missing what makes the game good and by publishing my inaccurate review, I’ve exposed my ass to everyone?
Yes, I sometimes do have nightmares about being naked in front of others. Why do you ask?
Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus is a tastelessly offensive FPS which doesn’t know if it wants to ham it up or make grown men cry. It only knows how to be a muddy, straightforward shooter. Warframe delivers gorgeous landscapes and combat animations which help to hide its gameplay which never emerges from its shallow kiddie pool. Pixeljunk Monsters 2 sold its soul and simplicity for fancy new visuals and ungodly load times. Aegis Defenders just sucks outright. Somehow, all of these games are beloved by critics.
For these games to receive a review, we’ll need a small miracle. That could be a random fan specifically requesting for one of these games to be reviewed. A random fan also doesn’t mean you, Mom. I know you’re reading this. Yes, I know you think I’m cool.
A Review of the Reviews Article
Based on my current pace, I won’t be able to write a review for every Switch game before we inevitably move onto the next console. At that point, I’ll pretend the Switch never existed and fawn over whatever underpowered system Nintendo creates next. Having written over sixty reviews, I’ve long since exceeded my expectations for this website. Everything now is just gravy, and if you have any suggestions for gravy, I’ll gladly review it.
Now roll the “Arbitrary Statistics.”
Gato Roboto
Gato Roboto is harmless. It plays exactly as it should and doesn’t aspire to be anything more. Metroidvania fans will have fun with it the same way we enjoy our thousandth game of Spider Solitaire: it’s simple, and we’re mostly playing on auto-pilot. For those looking for an easygoing adventure with a few good boss battles, Gato Roboto may be a good buy. It just won’t ever be a great one.
A Guide for How to Be Better, Written by a Man Who Doesn’t Know Better
I put little faith in New Year’s resolutions. If you haven’t made the change already, it’s
unlikely an arbitrary day will encourage you to make it now. To actually encourage a new habit, you need
to create a schedule for yourself and include both intrinsic and extrinsic
motivators. True change grows from
preparation, and throwing back a bottle of tequila will prepare you for little
more than your first hangover of the year.
That said, I don’t mean to discourage anyone from
improving their lives. If anything, I
encourage you to do so! When you get
better, it indirectly improves my life.
Along this line of thinking, I’ve been brainstorming a few resolutions
of my own. They’re not intended for me,
mind you, but for everyone else, and if you all stick to them, I imagine things
will be better for all of us. We’re
still on the tail end of the season of giving, so I present my gift to all of
you, whether you’re Nintendo, a game developer, or a random reader.
Resolution 1: Nintendo will address the laundry list of
changes we’ve already requested
Let’s begin with the dead horse we’ve been
mutilating since March 2017:
Nintendo still hasn’t made folders to sort our
games.
It hasn’t improved the home menu with much of
anything, much less the themes people have been requesting.
The Switch eShop dawdles on like an obese, infected
opossum, vomiting out an endless stream of games whenever you want to search
for a few.
Most streaming services (like Netflix) are still not
supported.
Lag and lost connections are Nintendo Online’s prime
features.
The NES and SNES libraries no longer receive routine
updates, and the Nintendo dragon still fiercely protects its N64 and Gamecube
libraries.
Amiibo have become little more than Funko Pop
figurines.
Fans know that Nintendo does what it wants, when it
wants. It’s an adorable, loving cat who
periodically refuses to get near you, scratches you, or coughs up hairballs
into your shoes. We love it, but holy
hell, it could it at least be more predictable.
I imagine two or three of these above issues will be addressed this
coming year, and it would be a dream if Nintendo actually listened to our
feedback and resolved all of these issues.
Resolution 2: All multiplayer games will have competent
bots
This resolution is in honor of young Solomon, who played Star Fox Assault’s multiplayer by himself by hooking up a second controller and letting that character do nothing until he killed it. He played for hours this way in order to unlock more multiplayer content in the hopes that someone would eventually play with him. Poor naïve Solomon, no one ever would.
Obvious comment of the day: multiplayer games need multiple players to work. However, bots exist to ensure you still have the option to play by yourself. Great multiplayer games like Super Smash Bros., Mario Kart, and Bomberman are still fun by yourself because computer opponents can play just as well as humans. Online multiplayer has certainly helped the solo gamer, yet sometimes the online community doesn’t exist or is so toxic that local multiplayer is the preferred way to go. Because of this, competent bots should be a no-brainer for most multiplayer games. When indie games like Crawl, Treadnauts, and Rocket Fist can program solid AI, I see little reason why other developers (big or small) can’t do the same.
With bots, Headsnatchers could’ve been a bit more tolerable (probably not). The lack of bots prevents TowerFall from being my go-to multiplayer game. Killer Queen Black has bots, but they’re good only for grasping the basics, not for training or filling in for humans. DOOM’s online community is nearly dead, but I’d still be playing it if I could include bots in my friends’ matches for any mode other than Team Deatchmatch. Even Splatoon 2could be improved by allowing bots to replace disconnected players.
Resolution 3: Games will no longer have unnecessary
collectible doodads
I’ve already written a blogitorial on this, so let’s cover this quickly. Collectibles are well-designed when they encourage the player to take on a new challenge (Celeste, Rayman Legends) or reward the player immediately upon finding them (Guacamelee! 2). Poorly designed collectibles are those randomly thrown on the map or locked behind an obstacle you cannot cross until you to replay the level later. These collectibles only add playtime because you’re retreading over old ground or combing every crack for shiny bobbins.
The collectible conundrum has existed for decades, yet it’s been more noticeable to me the more I play games without them. Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrificewas a beautifully linear game, focused on its story. Monaco may force you to collect gold yet restrains itself from hiding anything else. What Remains of Edith Finch hides cool stories and memories for those who explore, not hidden teeth needed for Grandma’s dentures. Compare these games to Pikuniku, Unravel 2, Hotline Miami Collection, Luigi’s Mansion 3 and Astral Chain. Those games purposely remove you from the main gameplay to grab something unrelated to your progress, offering a less enjoyable experience even if you may be rewarded later for collecting all of the developer’s trash.
Resolution 4: Developers will playtest their games before
releasing them
One of the most memorable articles I read this year came from Johnnemann Nordhagen, the developer of Where the Water Tastes Like Wine. In it, he described the reasons his game became a failure, commercially and critically. Because he needed to rush the product to launch on time, the game was not playtested thoroughly, and critics and gamers ravaged it for what they saw as easily fixable issues. My own experiences as a writer have taught me how readers will notice problems I had never anticipated, but I have also learned I would’ve caught some issues if I had read my work more closely. The same goes for video games.
Some games could benefit from a little editing, like Moonlighter with its occasional typos and glitches. For other games, it seems they needed a second opinion from someone outside the dev team to see the problem. Killer Queen Black’s UI is terrible but likely seemed adequate to the developers who messed with it constantly. In other instances, either the developer was lazy or did absolutely zero playtesting because nothing else can explain why the game’s issues are so glaring. Bury me, my Love features broken touch controls; Headsnatchers is just broken overall; and Super Kirby Clash punishes its players for Nintendo’s own internet issues. Maybe all of these developers actually playtested their games rigorously, and if that is the case, this resolution will be for developers to actually listen to their playtesters.
Resolution 5: We will not be tempted by ridiculous sales
for crappy games
Leading up to the holidays, QubicGames ran a promotion, offering ten free games to anybody who had previously purchased one of their games. It was a resounding success despite many of the titles being mediocre to bad. We like cheap things, and unfortunately, we fall prey to sales that cut 99% off the original price, even if the games are garbage When you have classics like Skeeball, Mecho Tales, and Quest for the Golden Duck going for less than a dime, why would you ever want to buy a full-priced AAA game?
We cannot complain about the influx of garbage on the eShop if we’re sucking the sludge from every 25₵ or $1 game, especially when we are letting them hit the bestsellers list. I don’t fault developers for trying to make their games more visible to consumers, but we can exercise a little more restraint. Your wallet is your voice, so support the developers actively trying to make good games. Don’t buy from the publishers/developers who are simply producing bad clones of established IPs. Otherwise, they’ll be tempted to release more.
Resolution 6: We will strive to stop shoving sticks up our
butts
At the risk of being called a boomer, I will declare
that we, as gamers, are entitled, whiney, and arrogant idiots. Now that I’ve vented that steam, let’s look
at our offenses (and I’m at fault for some of these as well):
We demand that games include what we want, regardless of how much manpower or money it would take to meet our demands. Pokémon Sword and Shield don’t allow you to catch every Pokémon. It was bound to happen eventually, just like the next Smash will likely not feature every fighter from Ultimate. And no, you can’t delay a game to add more Pokémon when money needs to be made.
We are frustrated when certain games are exclusive to consoles or services. Epic is trying to compete with Steam, so of course it’s going to lock in exclusives. Astral Chain is a Nintendo exclusive because Nintendo wants people to buy a Nintendo Switch, not buy games for other consoles. You can bemoan capitalism all you want, but capitalism is partly why we have so many games in the first place.
We complain about the prices of games as if a price tag is a personal insult. Nintendo rarely offers huge sales, and it makes sense, considering people are still willing to pay full price for the evergreen titles. The Switch tax sucks, so wait until a sale happens. Some indie games may cost you over ten dollars for a three-hour game, but the developers need to make money. Unless you’re unfathomably rich, you can’t buy every game on the Switch, so make your purchases matter.
We get flustered when a game is delayed. I would say the large majority of gamers ultimately understand why a game is delayed, but there is a vocal subset who loves to criticize a developer/publisher for their decision. These gamers rarely understand what making a game entails, but they are more than glad to pretend they do.
We are meanspirited in our comments and interactions online. I understand that anonymity brings out the jerk in us, but it is pretty amazing to track the derogatory comments, the political debacles, and general cruelty that is allowed on message boards or chatrooms. I may be getting old, but that just ain’t how you talk to folks, you hear?
Now, let’s make this clear: you are more than justified to have an
opinion, set an expectation, make a complaint, or give feedback. On this website, I do all of these, and most
of the time, I believe I am right to say what I do. However, when we start believing that we are
absolutely right and someone else deserves to pay for what we perceive is
wrong, then we need to get off our high horse.
The Golden Rule applies here: if
you wouldn’t want others to fling crap at you, stop pulling arguments and
complaints from your ass.
Resolution 7: Nintendo will tell us which IPs are dead to
them
As with many of my blogitorials, I include a pipe
dream: I wish Nintendo would give us an
honest answer about which IPs will appear again and which won’t. Ideally, Nintendo could tell us which
franchises will have an entry on the Switch.
They could also let us know which series will never see the light of day
again. It could be something like this:
You looking forward to
another F-Zero? It’s
not coming soon, but it will before the Switch dies.
You want Pikmin 4? Sorry, Miyamoto
only gardens every five years, so you won’t get Pikmin until the Switch
2.
Another Wave Race? Unfortunately, Mario
Kart has forever killed that IP.
What? Cubivore? Seriously? We
didn’t even want to publish the game in the US.
Mother 4?
Nintendo will never do this because they live off of our anticipation. You tell people there won’t be another Golden Sun, and a fanbase becomes less interested in your console. Once other companies hear you won’t make another WarioWare, suddenly a crappy indie game is calling itself a “spiritual successor” to the franchise. You say Odama 2 will never be a thing, and at least five people will be somewhat sad for a day.
Nintendo won’t release this information, but just
imagine how happy I would be if they did.
Get to work
As we start this new decade, we can be optimistic,
knowing that 2019 was an incredible year for Nintendo fans. With the Switch still churning out money, we
will hopefully continue to see interesting new IPs from Nintendo, much anticipated
sequels, and plenty of support from third-party companies and indie
developers. Then the next Xbox and
PlayStation will be fully revealed and released, and we’ll be sent back to the
stone age. However, until then, Nintendo
gamers can enjoy the current wealth of content and make 2020 another great year
for video games, even if the rest of the world is keen on destroying itself.
A video game can be a work of art. Papers, Please trapped players in the mundanity of an immigration officer’s life while working under a corrupt government. The Stanley Parable and Thomas Was Alone both tackled existential quandaries, with the former delving into absurdity while the latter experimented with minimalism. Journey provided a powerful emotional experience packaged in a pleasing aesthetic, and Spec Ops: the Line forced players to plunge into the horrors found in Heart of Darkness. These video games, alone, should be proof enough that the medium can stand next to fine art, literature, drama, and film.
Certain
people will still claim video games cannot be art, but these people also wear
their liberal arts degrees on their sweater vests and savor their farts like a
fine perfume. Normal humans, however, are more likely to argue which video
games deserve the art label. Super Mario Bros., Fallout 3, Doom, and Final
Fantasy VII have been heralded as art based on their contributions to
gaming and their strong presentations. These games may have historical
significance, yet I argue they don’t function as art.
To
define what art “is” will take more words and creativity than I am capable of
imagining. Instead, we will have to work with general parameters. For this article, I’ll claim art stirs
emotion, alters our perception of nature/life, and displays superior technique
on the part of the artist. Anything can have one or two of the components, but
all three are needed to create art. In
other words, art has a lasting impact on our emotions and lives because the
creator was flipping good.
From there, art can either appeal universally or to a select niche. This is where we find the divide between critics and the general audience. Most people can appreciate Beethoven’s ninth symphony or Romeo & Juliet (or you’re forced to in high school). Can the same be said of the maddeningly-modern Finnegan’s Wakeor the drunken fractal paintings of Jackson Pollack? All of them are heralded as works of genius yet some attract larger crowds.
For
video games, the art element has similarly ostracized gamers and courted them.
In this article, I will review Firewatch, Gone Home, and Hellblade:
Senua’s Sacrifice. Each has garnered praise from critics to some extent,
but gamers have taken issue with them as well. I have specifically chosen this
bunch because they all could be labeled as “walking simulators.” The guided
narrative allows the developers to flirt with fine art, drawing a story which
impacts the audience on a deeper level. In doing so, however, they have
sacrificed gameplay. Whether that sacrifice can appease the masses, that’s our
focus.
We
wander into the land of spoilers next, so be careful of secrets.
The Art in the Narrative
Although
music and visuals can constitute art in video games, for the three games in
this article, their plots separate them from mindless entertainment. To
appreciate these narratives, you have to be willing to shove a stick up your
butt and channel your inner critic. These stories can certainly be enjoyed at
face value, but the art lies in the themes and metaphors kept just beneath the
surface. Dissecting these elements shows us complexity and depth, even if it
causes flashbacks of English class.
In
terms of a core story, Hellblade
probably has the weakest in regards to originality, but its use of Norse mythology
and psychosis offer an unnerving perspective. You play as Senua, a Pict
warrior, who ventures into Helheim to save the soul of her beloved who was
murdered by the Vikings. “The Darkness” haunts her, plaguing her with auditory
and visual hallucinations along with the trauma she suffered as a child. She
must overcome spectral warriors and giants, and each death causes an infection
to overtake you.
Ultimately,
Hellblade captures the stages of grief, a concept portrayed several times
previously, even in video games like Majora’s Mask. Senua denies the
illusions of a tricksy spirit, grapples with an angry fire giant, bargains with
her memories to attain a god-killing sword, falls into a depression when she
loses her lover’s head (the vessel for his soul), and finally accepts that she
cannot bring him back. The Norse mythology makes a monster of the grief
process, demonstrating just how painful and crippling it can be to lose someone
close. Some may think God of War’s (2018) and Hellblade’s lore
skim too closely to each other, but Hellblade came first, so nyeah.
The
psychosis element allows this game to transcend to the level of art. Voices
constantly chatter inside Senua’s head, ridiculing her and questioning her
actions. These, in turn, make you question your own, heightening your level of
paranoia. Almost every environment plays
like a labyrinth, disrupting your sense of direction. Combine these aspects with
terrifying imagery of gore and grotesque creatures, and you experience the
overwhelming, frightening world which only Senua sees. Reality and
hallucination are indistinguishable, and Hellblade forces us to see how
we have made death part of a collective psychosis. We create afterlives and
cling to the concept of souls so that we can avoid accepting death. We fail to
see death for what it is: death. This revelation is only soured partly when
Senua appears to be miraculously cured from psychosis toward the end of the
story.
Gone Home has gained
notoriety for its story, largely because it was billed as being a thriller of
sorts in which you have to discover what happened to your family. The main plot focuses on your younger sister,
Samantha, as she comes out to her family and leaves home to escape the
intolerance around her. The opening
begins with a dark, empty home, unfamiliar to your character (Katie) who has
just returned from abroad. With a storm
crackling outside, you are made to feel a level of suspense and mystery. For players expecting horror or twists, the
game’s reveal of your sister’s sexuality comes as a huge disappointment, a
cheap stunt to deliver a supposedly-progressive message.
Ironically,
gamers would likely enjoy Gone Home more
if they read a synopsis before playing, like I did. Knowing this information, I could focus on how
the game unraveled the story. Your
sister’s process of coming out depicts the prejudice and hardship the LGBTQ+
community faces, in which a vital component of one’s identity and way of life
is considered a “fad,” “inappropriate,” or a “damnable sin.” Samantha isn’t simply a token character for
the community; you experience her interests, her internal thought processes,
and her hopes and opportunities. The
process is depicted tenderly enough while maintaining the youthful spirit of a
young woman finding herself.
This
core story may have had more of an impact back in 2013, and since then, other
movies, books, and video games have arguably done it better. However, Gone
Home has not grown irrelevant because Samantha’s story is but one side to a
complex, murky plot. The parents, Janice
and Terry, are away “on vacation,” which is later revealed to be the equivalent
of a camp for marriage counseling.
Unfortunately, Janice gets relatively little attention in the game apart
from a few notes which explore her romantic feelings for a coworker. The truly horrifying story comes from Terry
in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it section in the game, one which I had to read
online to even discover. As a child,
Terry was molested by his uncle (suggested to have occurred over several years)
in the same house which Terry inherited and in which the family now lives. Through his books and notes, we see how this
trauma has affected Terry’s ability to write, his drinking habits, and his
happiness.
I
could easily spend pages upon pages dissecting Gone Home’s intricate story, how vignettes hide inside household
trinkets and letters. Overall, all of
the storylines converge into a theme of secrecy and the pain it causes. Each family member (except your character)
has maintained a shaky façade of stability, but the process of doing so has
fatigued them, causing their lifestyles to crumble. Each character copes in their own way—be it
healthily or not—and Gone Home does
not indicate how they should have acted.
Rather, it merely documents it for us to experience it for ourselves.
Theme-wise, Firewatchwas the most intriguing to me. You control Henry who has recently accepted the position of a fire lookout in Wyoming. His coworker, Delilah, keeps him company by radio while guiding him in his responsibilities. Although the job supposedly offers a laidback experience, Henry encounters situations which lead him to believe something is afoot. Two girls are believed to have gone missing; he is attacked by a mysterious figure; and he discovers recording equipment and notes which indicate he and Delilah are being monitored. All the while, a forest fire starts nearing his site and grows more dangerous.
This
suspense culminates to a disappointing conclusion when it is discovered another
watcher, Ned, has been messing with them.
Ned went into hiding after his son died in a nearby cave in a supposed
“climbing accident.” Fearing that police would assume he had killed his son, he
abandoned society and lives in the wilderness, stealing food and materials from
camp/research sites to sustain himself.
Unlike
Gone Home, which was advertised as a
thriller but did not play like one, Firewatch
pretends it is a thriller based on its tone and sequencing of events. I couldn’t help but feel deceived when the
ending was little more than, “Oh, hey, this guy was messing with us, and most
of mystery was in our heads.” It mirrors
the “it was all a dream” trope, leaving the audience to wonder what the point
of the story was if most of the spooks were misunderstandings.
Although
I may dislike how the story was delivered, I admire its exploration of how its
characters do everything to avoid accepting the pain in their lives. Henry takes the job to flee his wife who
struggles with early-onset dementia. Delilah
sabotaged her relationship with a loving partner, and now she flirts casually
with coworkers but shies from meaningful interpersonal interactions. Ned drank heavily to escape his trauma from
the Vietnam War, and after his son dies, he removes himself even further from
society. Delilah doesn’t accurately
report the disappearance of two girls because she does not wish to deal with
the police, and she and Henry create a fantastical narrative of government
observation to explain Ned’s actions.
Their reaction to the ever-growing forest fire captures this avoidance. They do nothing to stop the fire or their problems; they simply watch. When the fire has grown too dangerous, they again flee. Firewatch shows us human beings who are as despicable as they are relatable, and we are left to ponder how we avoid things—just like they do—while we play a form of entertainment which acts as an escape.
The Art with Gameplay
For
each of these games, we could call their stories, “art.” However, for the video game as a whole to be
considered art, it must merge its plot with player interaction. Put in another way, it has to have gameplay,
and it should be good. Each game has
received criticism for this crucial aspect, each struggling to give control to
the player when the plot requires a fixed pace and direction. Players will question why a grand message
matters if the game is barely a video game in the first place. Some argue that these games are better off as
movies or short stories.
Firewatch
should
have been a book. Its gameplay devolves
into moving from Point A to Point B, waiting for dialogue or a cutscene to
occur. You can theoretically explore
your environment, but it has little impact on the gameplay, apart from
discovering a few morsels of information regarding side characters or
locations. You have to know your
cardinal directions and how to read a map, but that is about as much skill as
you need.
The
bigger problem relates to Firewatch’s illusion
of control. At the beginning, Henry’s
past is determined through a bunch of either-or options. You can choose your dog, where you live, what
fetish appeals most to you, and all of them amount of bupkis. None of your choices change the overall plot.
Neither do your dialogue options. The alternate ending hinges upon a single
decision at the end of the game, and it amounts to a few seconds of a different
cutscene. That’s it. The developers claimed each player’s
experience would be individualized by their choices, and this would be true
only if we were all carbon copies of each other.
Without player autonomy, Firewatch is a glorified light novel. Some could say the same for Gone Home, and I agree with this to an extent. In my opinion, the game acts more like an interactive art exhibit. Your character will wander between rooms, fiddling with objects and notes while searching for a key, device, or door to move onto the next section of the house. You can look and touch, but you cannot really change the environment like you would in a typical video game.
I can appreciate Gone Home’s gameplay more than Firewatch’s, however, because how you venture throughout the home determines how much you learn. Think of it like an I, Spy book. Your main goal is to find the listed objects, but part of the fun is seeing what secrets Walter Wicks has hidden in his gorgeous photographs. As I mentioned in the last section, you will only learn about the younger sister if you purely focus on moving between beginning and end. The family’s dynamics come alive to you if you wander along and enjoy your surroundings.
It
still isn’t much. I could tell you an
art museum is more fun if you really look at all of the exhibits. If you expected the zoo, no painting is going
to make the experience enjoyable.
Hellblade
is
the closest any of these titles actually get to a zoo/typical video game,
largely due to its combat system. Senua
will see herself fighting waves of enemies, most often found in pairs or trios. She can execute combinations of fast and
heavy attacks, dodge, and activate a slowed-down Focus Mode. Hellblade throws in a few bosses to
vary the pace, and these characters have more attack patterns to get the
adrenaline pumping. Outside of battles,
you have some light puzzle elements to impede your progress, and most involve
exploring the area.
You
still have to walk a lot, although Senua can fortunately run throughout most of
the game. After plugging a few hours into Hellblade, you’ll also
discover that combat serves as intermissions between the walking and story
elements. Hellblade is very much
a linear game, and apart from those few battles which introduce new enemy
types, fighting makes sure Senua’s adventure lasts more than two hours.
Neither the combat nor the puzzles have the depth or complexity to justify their own games but this does not necessarily constitute a fault in game design. The developers intended for a short experience, around six hours. The story carries gamers through that run time, and the combat and puzzles help keep us engaged. We also need to recognize that no game emphasizes each of its components. Super Mario Odyssey has a subpar story, but the plot was designed only as an excuse to have Mario travel the world. Similarly, Undertale lacks the side missions and content that define traditional RPGs, but it eschews them in favor of a streamlined quest. As such, we can give Hellblade some leeway for simplifying its combat and puzzles.
The
Art Hindered by Errors in the Medium
With
all three of the games thus far, I have been able to criticize their story and
gameplay. This does not preclude them
from being art. Even the most famous
works of art have their detractors and grumpy critics. Opinions inevitably
shift; it is only a matter of whether the creative work can endure.
Video
games seem to struggle with “enduring appeal” more than other mediums, be it
film, writing, or otherwise. This is
largely due to the fact that video game technology is still evolving. Developers are often working with limitations
set by the current system, and consequently, they must compromise their overall
vision in order to get the final product to work on the console/computer. The other mediums continue to advance with
technology as well, but their quality does not seem as disrupted by limitations
as it is the case for video games.
Additionally,
mistakes in video games love to broadcast themselves. You may need a degree in film criticism to
notice if the directing in a movie is poor.
You may not even know what to look for when evaluating sound
editing. Video games have elements which
only programmers may appreciate, but when there is poor programming or design,
we can typically see it. Slowdown, shoddy
camera, buggy controls, framerate, repetitive gameplay, and unfair difficulty can
destroy any sense of immersion. When you
wear your problems on your sleeve, it’s hard for people to take you seriously.
Nowhere is this more evident than with Firewatch. In their effort to create a seamless experience, developer Campo Santo attempted to load upcoming environments as you walk through certain hidden checkpoints throughout the forest. With this, you’ll never hit a real loading screen. However, the framerate dives in these sections, causing your character to stutter along until the game catches up with you. Later in the adventure, you will pass through multiple of these checkpoints, and the intermittent picture shows will make you wish they had just implemented loading sequences. With loading screens, you’ll be forced to recognize you’re playing a game, but it’s better than pretending you have periodic seizures.
I
experienced one crash while playing Firewatch as well. This means little in the age of day-one
patches and early access, but for an “engrossing” narrative journey, a single
crash murders the flow, especially when you have to replay upwards of 15
minutes of a section. Crashes, in
general, are a unique illness in the video game world. A painting never fails to load. You don’t have to reread a chapter of a book
if you lose your place. Only a video
game would mess up and make you pay for its mistake.
Gone
Home,
conversely, runs smoothly but is an old lady at the ripe age of six. The graphics have grown lackluster, looking
on par with some shovelware titles these days rather than What Remains of
Edith Finch. The house’s layout
deserves accolades (creating a labyrinthine atmosphere which is equal parts
unsettling and metaphorical), yet the developers lost some of that creativity
filling the rooms. Certain textures and
objects repeat, doing little more than occupying empty space rather than adding
character.
These issues then carry over to the gameplay. Earlier, I explained how Gone Home succeeds by allowing you to discover as much story as you would like based on what you observe. However, looking over each item is discouraged because so much of it means nothing. The sheer number of worthless objects needlessly pads out the game, resulting in you wanting to rush to the important pieces. This, in turn, reduces the immersion.
Hellbladealso falls into
the bog of repetition. Senua will only
encounter a handful of different enemy types, and these foes will randomly pop
up, often in conveniently-large clearings.
Their difficulty only comes from how many are thrown at you, which will
be a lot, especially by the end. Puzzles
segments also reappear—albeit within different environments—and this
particularly drags out the section when Senua gather parts of her god-slaying
sword. You’ll ultimately appreciate that
Hellblade doesn’t stay longer than its six hours.
Conclusion
Due to their issues, Firewatch, Gone Home, and Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice have not fully ascended to the level of video game art. Their compelling narratives certainly deserve recognition and analysis, yet their struggles as video games prevent them from overcoming their medium. This is not unusual, at least coming from my perspective. Of the games on the Switch, Gorogoais the only game I consider as truly art, with Limbo and What Remains of Edith Finch being other possibilities.
Instead,
I see the three games we have discussed as containing pieces of art. They show promise of what we can expect of
video games in the future. Will these
games appeal to the mainstream audience?
Absolutely not, and that is to be expected. The general populace leans more toward to
straightforward entertainment, which is certainly not a criticism. Only a select few creative works ever manage
to pierce both the mainstream and the critical audiences, and video games face
a monstrous challenge in achieving this.
Pleasing the gamer who wants 100 hours of content while also satisfying
the critics is no easy task. I can’t
think of a single game which has done this, but then again, this article had
taken way too long to write, and it has deep-fried my brain.
For my readers who skipped to the end of this article, see below links for summaries on each game, along with their arbitrary statistics. For all the others, I welcome you to continue this conversation in the comments.
***
Firewatch
Firewatch strives to craft
an engrossing narrative contrasted by a gorgeous setting. As a commentary on
avoidance, the game succeeds, but otherwise, its lofty ambitions amount to
little more than a climbing accident. Performance issues prove more destructive
to the Wyoming wilderness than a forest fire, and the finale disappoints, much
like the state of Wyoming. Clocking in at four to five hours, this brief
camping trip will please only those accustomed to walking simulators.
Arbitrary Statistics:
Score: 6.5
Time
Played: Over 3 hours
Number
of Players: 1
Games
Like It on Switch: Detention, Brothers: A Tale of Two Sons
Gone Home
Gone
Home
will appeal to an audience who enjoys an art gallery as much as a video game.
For those willing to take the time to explore the Greenbriar home, a poignant
story emerges of one family’s struggle to relate to each other. For anyone
else, Gone Home is a short, boring non-game. Although it can be
recognized as innovation in video gaming, it is not a champion in
gameplay. Gamers interested in Gone
Home’s general scheme may enjoy What Remains of Edith Finch, which
offers better graphics, a more suspenseful plot, and situations more
fantastical than those in Gone Home. If
you’re still craving a similar atmosphere after Edith, Gone Home can offer
an hour or two of intrigue.
Arbitrary Statistics:
Score: 7
Time Played: Over 1 hour
Number of Players: 1
Games Like It on Switch: What Remains of Edith Finch, Night in the Woods
Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice
Developer Ninja Theory undersold itself when it labeled Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice as an “independent AAA game.” With its stunning visuals, haunting soundtrack, hard-hitting acting, and rich story, Hellblade could pass off as a high-profile movie, a feat that even big-name video game companies have struggled to accomplish. Its combat and puzzle elements do not reach the same heights as its presentation, yet both are still polished enough to appeal to the traditional gamer. Although it cannot fully escape its walking simulator trappings, Hellblade has shown that video games need not abandon tried-and-true gameplay mechanics to make room for an engrossing cinematic experience.
Arbitrary Statistics:
Score: 8.5
Time Played: Over 5 hours
Number of Players: 1
Games Like It on Switch: Inside, Little Nightmares: Complete Edition
Xiu
Xiu does not make music for the casual listener. Their songs won’t appear on your wedding
playlists or SoundCloud feeds for kickbacks.
They lurk within the experimental rock genre where guitars and
percussion maim each other for dominance and distortion poisons the air. In some ways, the band seems like they’re
purposely pushing away listeners, straining them through a colander of
inflammatory lyrics and discordant sound structures to expose the “true fans.”
For
those who survive the doom colander, Xiu Xiu’s music feels enriching, piercing,
and even catchy. Few bands hit me on
such an emotional level, and Jamie Stewart and his crew have surprised me with
how they subvert music conventions, producing works that redefine how I enjoy
music. At times, their songs skew too
strange or vulgar for my liking, but I unwaveringly trust their genius.
I’m a fan. They’re my second favorite band ever. I bought two toothbrushes emblazoned with “Xiu Xiu In Your Mouth.”
Their newest album, Girl with Basket of Fruit, has challenged me more than any of their other works. It makes their last bleak album, Angel Guts: Red Classroom, sound like s quiet introspection on black dicks and killing people. Critics and fans have hailed Girl with Basket of Fruit as “affecting,” “one of the year’s best,” and “a return for Xiu Xiu.” On Metacritic, it sits at a 75 based on eight reviews. Not amazing but still pretty good.
I
didn’t like it. Not on my first
listen. Not on my second and the several
after. This baffles me. Confronted with the positive feedback the
album has received, I question if I’ve missed the point. Has their creative genius exceeded my
understanding? Did my grip slip from the
colander?
It is for this reason I can’t write a legitimate review of a Xiu Xiu album. When I enjoy one of their songs, I worry I misinterpreted the lyrics and like it for the “wrong” reasons. Conversely, I wonder if my stupidity can’t appreciate the band’s more difficult works, as is much the case with Girl with Basket of Fruit. My self-consciousness overwhelms my objective thought, so in lieu of a review, I can only process my jumble of emotions.
Dear God, I Hate Myself
A
local college radio station introduced me to Xiu Xiu, a mumbling DJ feigning
excitement as she announced the song, “Chocolate Makes You Happy.” Although I couldn’t recognize it at the time,
the song dives into the themes of body image and self-loathing while
proclaiming chocolate makes you happy. I
imagine my response was much like anyone else’s when they hear their first Xiu
Xiu song: “What? Is this a joke?” With its poppy electronica, it could’ve
passed off as a cheery little tune, but it threw phrases around like “out of
your mind with whorishness” and “as you unbutton/your top pants button.” Xiu Xiu created a singular song unlike any
other I had heard before.
Driven by an unsettled fervor, I returned home and researched this “Shoe Shoe” person. After struggling with Google to understand “Xiu Xiu” was the name of the band and not an onomatopoeia for lasers, I came upon the fandom devoted to the band. I learned Xiu Xiu did not produce their music ironically. Satirically, perhaps, but if Jaime Stewart chose to belt, “My behind is a beehive, there’s a buzz in my backside,” it was because he had a goddamn purpose behind it.
I
dived into their music, and once I surfaced, I came to understand them as the
music group that didn’t ignore the most disgusting and cruelest aspects of
ourselves and society. Rather than
embrace these ugly parts of ourselves as somehow beautiful, however, Xiu Xiu highlighted
the ugliness. There was no sugarcoating
the shit in our lives; it was forced closer to our faces.
“Dear God, I Hate Myself” was the song that began my obsession with the band. Unlike many of their songs, the chorus in this one is unabashedly simple and straightforward:
dear God, I hate myself dear God, I hate myself and I will never be happy and I will never feel normal
It
captures the deep despair of depression which has turned into a desperate
prayer to God. Its bouncing beat
undermines the dark content, and this unearths the absurdity inherent in one’s
internal suffering.
It
became my anthem. Earlier that year, I
had been placed on a 72-hour hold for a mental breakdown. To my friends, I was sick with the flu. To my family, I called it a suicide
attempt. I couldn’t bring myself to say
the truth: I was too scared to kill
myself but too in pain to do nothing. I
was a young man drowning in privilege, but I needed someone to focus on just the
bad in my life.
The
resulting inpatient stay, medication, and therapy did little to reduce my
depression, and I was left with shame for my actions and guilt for not getting
better. “Dear God, I Hate Myself”
captured my self-hatred and bottled it into a message I could listen to on
repeat. While everyone assured me things
would get better, Xiu Xiu recognized that it didn’t feel like it.
When
the band released their eighth studio album, Always, I became indebted to Angela Seo, the mastermind behind my
next anthem, “Honeysuckle.” In it,
Stewart and Seo share a surprisingly tender duet about how the mundane can
suffocate us when twisted by what I assume is depression. On those days when I hid from depression
under my bed’s comforters, their voices became mine:
I’m gonna lie back down And ask for nothing, nothing I’m gonna throw it back And let it, let it go
The
music did nothing to make me feel better.
It is possible it dragged me further into my self-loathing. During those times, however, I did not want
to feel better. I asked for nothing.
Xiu
Xiu’s other music was not good simply because it was a soundtrack to my
egocentric suffering. I appreciated the
stories, the catchy tunes, and the incredible ways they reformatted music’s
very DNA. Admittedly, I still adore them
because they ruminate on the awful elements of the world. I don’t always want to see the silver
lining. Sometimes I want to fixate on
the dark cloud contaminating the sky.
I have likely simplified their catalog of work, but again, this isn’t a review. It’s my processing.
The Prize Pig
I
don’t think Girl with Basket of Fruit betrays
Xiu Xiu’s previous work. Rather, it does
seem like an evolution, as if a manic, violent anger has been festering in the
band and has finally torn its way out, not unlike what the chestburster did
with John Hurt in Alien. It assails the senses to convey a brutal
meaning. It also makes for inaccessible
music, even by Xiu Xiu’s standards.
The
titular song sees Stewart distorting rape into something even more vile. Remarkably, he seems to go too far with his
lyrics. At one point, he shouts:
Every frog hops right up into her butthole Every frog eats a single butthole flea on its way in She brown box squeezes them all into… FROGHOST!!!
Xiu
Xiu has used similarly disturbing lyrics to reflect the hideous nature of life,
but here, he doesn’t seem to emphasize the horror of rape. He seems to make it grosser. Perhaps that is the intention, but then it
feels like exploitation to me. Again, I
cite my own ignorance if my claims come off as insensitive or inaccurate.
“It
Comes Out as a Joke” and “Ice Cream Truck” seem like filler, which in the world
of Xiu Xiu amounts to seemingly perverse metaphors and grouchy
instruments. “The Wrong Thing” feels
similar, but it does not embrace the harsh presentation of the other
songs. All of them add to the tone of
the album, but even now I struggle to remember them as the album plays over and
over while I write this. I acknowledge
that these songs are doing something unique compared to previous Xiu Xiu works,
but somehow, they still sound predictable, like someone taking all of the core
elements of Xiu Xiu, throwing it into a broken blender, and calling it new
music.
“Amargi ve Moo” has a personal meaning to Stewart, and his singing seems to convey his pain. It is also a pain I feel excluded from, causing it to not resonate with me and not end up on my iPod. This does not make it a bad song; it’s just not for me. Notably, the lyrics contain the deeply touching phrase, “BLUBLUGBLOOGBULGOGIOBBLLUOBGHBLOULGU!” Yes, I recognize my immaturity.
“Pumpkin Attack on Mommy and Daddy” and “Normal Love” are the sole highlights to me. The former attacks us like gun fire pretending to be a house beat. It unsettles me, my heart racing to follow along with the tempo. You could slip the song into Devilman Crybaby’s opening club scene (the one where everyone is ripped apart), and it would probably improve the episode. Conversely, “Normal Love” offers a quiet finale, a haunting duet between Stewart and Oxbow’s Eugene Robinson in which they struggle with discomfort caused by a normal relationship, free of abuse and shame. At least I think that’s what it is.
The album’s first single, “Scisssssssors,” sounds no more remarkable than “It Comes Out as a Joke.” The music video certainly confounds and proudly caterwauls, “THIS IS XIU XIU.” It’s how Xiu Xiu shoves itself into you, no toothbrush needed. Honestly, I may have been better able to evaluate the song if it didn’t remind me of the Courage the Cowardly Dog “Crisis Theme.”
I’ve saved “Mary Turner, Mary Turner” for last because it represents the greatest clash between my interests and quality music. It recounts the brutal lynching of Mary Turner and murder of her unborn child, and any further description would fail to capture it as well as the actual lyrics. It’s harsh imagery and reads like a demented nursery rhyme, warning us of the ignored atrocities of white male culture. It reminded me much of “I Luv Abortion!” which takes an unflinching look at love for an act vilified by our society. I enjoy both pieces as works of art, not as music.
It’ll Be the End Finally
Ultimately,
I think I know why I don’t like Girl with
Basket of Fruit. It’s not mine. Whereas with almost all of Xiu Xiu’s other
albums, I could personally connect with a handful of songs. They seemed to reach out to me and recognize
me. They didn’t accept me for who I am,
but I wasn’t alone. Someone or some
entity understood me, even if I could not see them or touch them.
Apart from “Normal Love,” I do not see myself in these songs. This preference is egotistical and selfish, but this is precisely why this article is not a true review. The album is not for me, but it may be for many others. Although it may sound a perversion of the typical coming-of-age story, perhaps Girl with Basket of Fruit will be the equivalent of my Dear God, I Hate Myself for someone else, walking with a person as they trudge through their misery and distress.
***
Because I adore lists, here are my Top 10
Xiu Xiu songs. Feel free to judge
further my ability to recognize quality music.
Or: How I Judge Myself Based on Someone Else’s Opinions
Not all entertainment or hobbies can be enjoyed by everybody. If you don’t have a basic understanding of film history, you’ll probably not like most arthouse movies. Poetry might be a poison if you believe symbolism and rhythm are conspiracies made by English majors. Things like cooking or sports can be torturous if you don’t have the ability to do either. Even Russian avant-garde classical music is inaccessible if you don’t have a stick up your ass.
Similarly, with video games, your skill level may limit which games you enjoy. Dark SoulsRemastered has received considerable praise, but it’s geared more toward seasoned gamers. For any new players, Dark Souls’ immense difficulty will skewer and roast them. No one wants to be punished for trying to have fun. Even masochists can agree with this. I think.
So how do you figure out your skill level? You could use online leaderboards or track your win-loss ratios, but that amount of objectivity is exhausting. Fortunately, I devised a completely arbitrary collection of attributes to judge your gaming abilities. For each attribute, I will give a brief explanation, and you must rate your mastery of that attribute on a scale of 1-5.
A “1” means a sentient garbage fire is better at this skill than you are. A “5” means you kick ass so hard that the donkey population is on the verge of extinction. A “3” shows your ability is somewhere between a living, flaming pile of garbage and unnecessary levels of animal abuse. Your overall score across all categories is irrelevant. Instead, this system reveals your best skills, and this may help you determine which games are for you. It’s like you’re completing one of those Facebook quizzes except you won’t feel shame after this one.
Dexterity
Perhaps the skill most associated with gaming, dexterity determines how well you handle a controller. In a game like Rocket League, you must juggle boosts, the angle of your car, drifting, and successive jumps to pull off spectacular goals. For Fornite, victory favors those who rapidly flit between building components and weapons. In fighting games, stringing together combos will more likely guarantee a win.
If your magic fingers can dance across complex button combinations without errors, you have dexterity. If they can’t, then we don’t want to know why you call them “magic fingers.” Accuracy and precision platforming also fall under this category.
Problem-Solving
Being smart doesn’t mean you know how to problem-solve. Just look at the US federal government. Gamers skilled at problem-solving can look at all the components in a situation and recognize how to use them to win. In Death Squared, all the puzzle pieces are contained on one screen, and good problem-solvers don’t need the internet to find the answer. Strategic skill is one’s ability to address future problems, so those without good problem-solving skills will struggle with the tactical challenges posed by Mario + Rabbids or Disgaea 5. Even resource management in games like Pixeljunk Monsters 2 requires some level of problem-solving.
Note: understanding “video game logic” doesn’t necessarily mean you are an Answer Master. You may know that a crowbar combined with duct tape and a butterfly will get you to the next stage in a point-and-click adventure. This doesn’t mean you know how to solve problems. It means you make sense out of nonsense and could be a good philosopher one day.
Reactivity
Your “twitch” ability relates to how quickly you notice new threats and act against them. Celeste is among the genre of “twitch platformers” which challenge your ability to react to new threats. Of course, you can practice a stage an infinite number of times until you nail the move sequence, but those with good reactivity are more likely to pass a series of obstacles on their first try. With enough desperation, anyone can plod through Thumper, but the real pleasure comes from clearing the entire hellscape with few or any deaths.
Some of you may argue that reactivity is just one aspect of dexterity, and you’d be partly right. Both skills are heavily dependent on each other. You could plow through opponents in DOOMmultiplayer purely because of your accuracy, but without good reaction times, you’ll be taken out by the next person to shoot you from behind. It also doesn’t matter how quickly you react if you do nothing. Good dexterity and reactivity are what separates the hunters from those unfortunately killed by wild animals.
Endurance
Sometimes it’s not about how big you come in but how long you can keep it up. Your endurance skill measures your ability to play well over an extended period of time. Take Puyo Puyo Tetris for example. Against a similarly-skilled opponent, the winner isn’t based on who makes the flashiest moves but who screws up fewer times. The longer the round, the more exhausted you feel, and the more likely you’ll put that I-shaped tetromino in the wrong column. Other puzzle games like Lumines and Tumblestone require similar levels of stamina to win the long game.
Endurance also captures your level of patience. In Payday 2, a successful heist depends on waiting for the most opportune moment. For Arena of Valor, your team’s victory may hinge on whether you can defend your lane, regardless of how many opponents bully you. Because many of us are fed on a diet of instant gratification, fast gameplay, and cocaine, patience is not our forte but still massively helpful. As the saying goes, good comes to those who wait and spawn camp.
Flexibility
Some games require you to use every type of skill listed so far. Look at Crawl. You need dexterity to fight well, problem-solving skills to exploit your environment, reactivity to prepare for stage hazards and monsters, and endurance to survive and clinch the victory. Your flexibility skill determines how easily you transition between these skill sets and adapt to your situation. Those without flexibility are easy to read and struggle to win outside of ideal conditions.
You can also measure your emotional stability here. If you panic or get angry when things don’t go your way, you’re inflexible. Apart from ruining the game for others, intense emotions can lose you the game. As such, maximize your flexibility by striving for soulless apathy.
Luck
Ancient tomes speak of three witches who decide how lucky each person is. When a child is born, each witch rolls a six-sided die. If each die lands as a six, that child will forever be gifted with good fortune. If each die falls on a one, the child is named Solomon Rambling. Nothing can change one’s luck. We can only learn to live with what we’ve been given.
Because your luck stat can’t improve, many don’t consider it a skill, but these people don’t play Mario Party. Luck can win games, and those who risk their success on chance may walk away with bigger rewards. Alternatively, if you’re the type who never won Bingo as a kid, you learn to never trust that sociopath called “Lady Luck.” You instead expect bad items in Mario Kart 8, awful RNG in your roguelites, and constant disconnects in Splatoon 2.
You’ve Now Reached the End of the Survey
You now have six numbers. Good job. If you have any ones or twos, this doesn’t mean you’re a bad player, but you may not enjoy games requiring your lacking skills. On the opposite end, a handful of 5 scores means your ego deserves some stomps to the kneecaps so that you can reevaluate your true ability. Whether you use your digits for bragging rights, game recommendations, or to compensate for something, you now have a gauge on your gaming skill set. You can also now buy Spacecats with Lasers without worrying you’ll suck at it.
***
I haven’t done this italics thing in a while. Supposedly I ask your opinion about this article now. Go and complain about your scores if you want.