tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76738850802766664072024-03-12T21:45:34.344-07:00The Minor BitsThoughts & Opinions on various video gamesDGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.comBlogger227125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-9015012245614699082024-02-24T14:19:00.000-08:002024-02-24T14:19:02.403-08:00Stella Glow - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXC8RAIPkcujCzTs76SzbNKZx_hUcTqeiCdf1OLYItV__ocooxZlkWIrMQzaiWqW3QvpL6EfqLuapqPD604OJeOSgnEvgTyF-vgllEMhwSh5NMMrvmCAx5gf_GG7NFmOQEbZVCFjIOsf8A8yd_dB4X2sAJLuu2GDNl5mXFQYNJi07AooLZildgEdjWWW_O/s584/stellaglow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="203" data-original-width="584" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXC8RAIPkcujCzTs76SzbNKZx_hUcTqeiCdf1OLYItV__ocooxZlkWIrMQzaiWqW3QvpL6EfqLuapqPD604OJeOSgnEvgTyF-vgllEMhwSh5NMMrvmCAx5gf_GG7NFmOQEbZVCFjIOsf8A8yd_dB4X2sAJLuu2GDNl5mXFQYNJi07AooLZildgEdjWWW_O/w400-h139/stellaglow.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>From the word "go", <i>Stella</i> <i>Glow</i> shoots itself in the foot. For a handheld game, its offers a tantalizing package: a fun bundle of anime characters, an item crafting system, battlefields that make good use of height, some downtime relationship management, and hours of cutscenes to sit back and watch... er, read. But for every cool feature hides an ugly flaw, some so terrible that it makes it impossible to recommend <i>Stella Glow</i> to those that would admire it most. Which is a shame, because it can be an enjoyable experience when all the pieces finally come together...</div><div><br /></div><div>... but to get to that point, you have to suffer through <b>eight </b>hours of the worst the game has to offer.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQT9mSTYa0vku2yRwUYvFr1MsDtVIXZquQBnbV5H-WxYZziblmkoXEmEqDodMUqztIbiUaGB25A2kNr-xaD9UxiN7jlO6iMXZJZRqudn9ewbHOhqjrvHgFVy9YyjSd0cyGTjISD3EJsHfDMo8z4JO484d7RpPo8Fl2yhXDzWNQjqoUk1vBiBTP67AMsfH/s400/outcyders.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQT9mSTYa0vku2yRwUYvFr1MsDtVIXZquQBnbV5H-WxYZziblmkoXEmEqDodMUqztIbiUaGB25A2kNr-xaD9UxiN7jlO6iMXZJZRqudn9ewbHOhqjrvHgFVy9YyjSd0cyGTjISD3EJsHfDMo8z4JO484d7RpPo8Fl2yhXDzWNQjqoUk1vBiBTP67AMsfH/w400-h240/outcyders.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Stella Glow</i>'s introduction is interminably long. For the first five combats you'll be relegated to 1-2 characters, with only the main character capable of using special abilities. This keeps battles woefully basic, imitating oldschool RPGs where most encounters are optimally solved via attack spam. Except instead of battles lasting under a minute, <i>Stella Glow</i>'s scuffles are painstakingly lengthy, filled with a lot of movement animations, buff/debuff notifications, and languid battlefield effects. By the second fight you'll be wondering when the game picks up; by the fifth you'll be dreading that it won't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally assembling the core cast in Chapter 1 doesn't alleviate matters either, as they're too frequently separated from one another and lack diversity. While it helps having more characters on the battlefield to control, it will take some time for each character to learn an ability other than "big attack"—and since you'll be facing the same enemies for the entire game (there's a total of like, 20 monsters), battles won't feel more interesting as much as they'll just feel <b>longer</b>. <i>Stella Glow</i> touts itself as a strategy RPG, but there's very little "strategy" involved in its first quarter: simply whack enemies from the side and heal if low on health. Combat isn't just simple—it's rudimentary and lacking.</div><div><br /></div><div>By the time you reach Amatsu (the game's Japanese-style "fire" city) your feelings on <i>Stella Glow</i> will likely settle. Most of the mechanics and systems finally plateau here: you'll get accustomed to the free time system, understand how to craft and use orbs, know what "tuning" entails, have a good grasp on the story, and know how to handle combat by this point. Each party member will have 1-2 abilities to alternate between during battles and you'll finally be given the chance to switch out party members for one another, curating a team you prefer. However, none of these ever coalesce to form a satisfying hook; <i>Stella Glow</i> will waffle for too long between mediocre and decent, rarely breaking out of those bounds in either direction. Ultimately I'd describe it as an "okay" game—and sometimes, "okay" can be worse than both good or bad.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VOYODc_BndOTDCJghpLNlttn8m1Aq0mj1Db7LwVTb2Tx1Nto8cpjeauoph9cTPGm6_eQZWn0nlK2FHsa10L3CodXJP9LXjj3n60H2zZCAeVWoPBQkp-D6VecnFYPqLXTXRnWPfRlqlneRghRyJmVNnw-eC1985YcSosO0i7EmdW6FWbfxh7TIolS2eQv/s400/gematsu.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VOYODc_BndOTDCJghpLNlttn8m1Aq0mj1Db7LwVTb2Tx1Nto8cpjeauoph9cTPGm6_eQZWn0nlK2FHsa10L3CodXJP9LXjj3n60H2zZCAeVWoPBQkp-D6VecnFYPqLXTXRnWPfRlqlneRghRyJmVNnw-eC1985YcSosO0i7EmdW6FWbfxh7TIolS2eQv/w400-h240/gematsu.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Yet one categorically <b>bad</b> thing about <i>Stella Glow</i>—which will irritate you like a toothpick caught in your throat—is that the game is slow as molasses. I mentioned before that the animations were languid, but another baffling issue is how enemies will loiter in the turn order queue. Every creature on the map gets a place in the queue, and those that do less actions on their turn will have their next turn pop up quicker. But <i>Stella Glow</i>'s enemies are the patient sort, calmly waiting until your characters approaches their doorstep to act... which constantly places them <i>ahead</i> of your active characters in the queue. Over and over again the camera will pan over to these slackers and wait a beat, obsessively reminding you how much of the battle still remains.</div><div><br /></div><div>This may start off as a minor annoyance but it becomes downright vexing later, with entire turn order rows clogged with inactive enemies (seriously, try Sakuya's 2nd tuning mission and tell me with a straight face that it doesn't intentionally seek to waste your time). It never lets up either, with even the endgame missions featuring legions of enemies that will lazily sit on their hands and watch the fight unfold. This grievance alone is so exhausting that it dooms <i>Stella Glow</i> to the "do not play" dustbin, which is a shame because the solution is so simple (warp them in later or <i>just skip their turns</i>!) The only saving grace is that while you're in Amatsu, you at least get to while your time away with its awesome <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKAyRi7xSQg">battle theme</a>, the best theme in the game (outside of the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Xu1J1EjP6g">final boss</a>).</div><div><br /></div><div>The conducting ability is perhaps the most novel concept <i>Stella Glow</i> brings to the table, but it's equal parts inventive and bewildering. As a battle unfolds, a five-tiered status bar at the top of the screen will slowly accumulate levels, which can be spent on powerful AoE abilities. The lower tiers can dish out devastating attacks or multi-target buffs, while the higher tiers are legitimately game-changing, granting a full-party HP/MP restore or disabling every enemy on the map for four turns straight. The problem with this is that the non-witch party members (those that can't be conducted) lose a lot of their value as the game goes on, and even then witches like Sakuya and Mordimort have flat-out worse songs than Lisette and Popo (the full-team-heal, full-enemy-shutdown duo respectively). I appreciate the options that conducting adds to a strategy-light game like this, but it only serves to remind me that more could and should have been done to broaden the playing field.</div><div><br /></div><div>Although I've spent an ample amount of time bemoaning <i>Stella Glow</i>'s failures as a SRPG, I should note that the game is actually half RPG, half visual novel—that is, expect to read it just as much as you play it. In the story-department <i>Stella Glow</i> fares much better (the protagonist in particular is thankfully level-headed and proactive), but I still wouldn't describe it as captivating, well-written, or deep. Expect some decent characters (Klaus, Rusty, and Hilda), some stupid characters (Keith, Marie, Nonoka), and some that fall in-between that you can't help but love how annoying they are (Popo, Archibald). It's moe-heavy, rebel-against-god fluff at the end of the day, even if the story does throw out some cool ideas here and there. For instance, the most ambitious portion of the story upheaves the happy-go-lucky status quo, dangling some serious stakes in front of the player. Sadly you'll likely see it coming a stage or two beforehand, and its melodramatic after-effects can linger for a little too long.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSHmcy37yO4NlKVGh0L3_w0BTKicbD6BsA9QSA7KAwe9zhTNEsxWzW19ACTt32pTY3w3KjtcVD63PM2IoieFlfTQIjVX4Huuv2TrXFq6ISZt6rebXTvkFcabCYTWIIqVGKVBYOiiAnNVwOhPzWVsBpK0X59CY8TnCZB8xSrLFfcgORgISL9Y1onzMXyWR/s400/myshopville.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWSHmcy37yO4NlKVGh0L3_w0BTKicbD6BsA9QSA7KAwe9zhTNEsxWzW19ACTt32pTY3w3KjtcVD63PM2IoieFlfTQIjVX4Huuv2TrXFq6ISZt6rebXTvkFcabCYTWIIqVGKVBYOiiAnNVwOhPzWVsBpK0X59CY8TnCZB8xSrLFfcgORgISL9Y1onzMXyWR/w400-h240/myshopville.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>I had basically no experience with developer Imageepoch before playing <i>Stella Glow</i>, and now learning that this was their last title released, I'm not sure what to think after hitting the credits on their portable swan song. In a way, it leaves me kind of curious: <i>this </i>was their culmination after 10 years of video game development? Did they peak early with <i>Luminous Arc</i>? Do they even have any die-hard fans? In any case, none of this changes the fact that <i>Stella Glow</i> lacks the luster to be called a hidden gem. I think the best thing you can say about it is that it at least tries to be its own "thing", even if that thing is a housed inside a box of trite anime nonsense mixed with some of the slowest, dullest SRPG combat I've ever experienced. Oh well.</div><div><br /></div><div>---------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Images obtained from: imdb.com, outcyders.net, gematsu.com, myshopville.com</span></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-54320290302825980422024-02-12T13:25:00.000-08:002024-02-12T13:25:01.589-08:00Superliminal - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TIhK6Rwy4E_0cBoFBSssQEwIIWCs-Q2VLg7bYKCf_na644d3saMTb2C8_oXDYGWKJWg9SOd5tzNz1dVFmkrltEF2BgK3evalGFUV20sDH6qUm4-apDVg5Q9mV28Uy7RqcWqw0HadZE14wxW-oRUp98GR0DixsnNrw_BenlqpFHzsR8dnpxdu0P-AFg/s712/Superlim-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="161" data-original-width="712" height="90" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7TIhK6Rwy4E_0cBoFBSssQEwIIWCs-Q2VLg7bYKCf_na644d3saMTb2C8_oXDYGWKJWg9SOd5tzNz1dVFmkrltEF2BgK3evalGFUV20sDH6qUm4-apDVg5Q9mV28Uy7RqcWqw0HadZE14wxW-oRUp98GR0DixsnNrw_BenlqpFHzsR8dnpxdu0P-AFg/w400-h90/Superlim-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Among gaming's innumerable copycats, the <i>Portal</i>-likes are arguably the most creative. That's due in large part to the imitators' aversion to copying the central portal mechanic; rather, what they fancy is <i>Portal</i>'s sardonic writing, compartmentalized structure, and science-first focus. This tends to make it obvious when you're playing a puzzler that comes from the school of <i>Portal</i>—but thankfully it's a good school, encouraging its students to break Newtonian Physics in creative new ways.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Superliminal</i> is a recent graduate from this school, one that earned high marks with a relatively obscure focus: <b>perception</b>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8XjZoGaRnKidtq-sJEvKJtHNywl3L3e8TCr6vLQWY6cldV2reAfCBRLwa3deyERx09sRLnpJJcyv77bzakLi7CAx7c8UKYBsQOaHTolPUicmXtew4yY4xtNEEQkYhCAv5zTOIwgKWz93RErflNsKLLTcrra8kdRQJON2fIBQT3ulUU0X1O1qZUp8fA/s1920/Superlim-2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk8XjZoGaRnKidtq-sJEvKJtHNywl3L3e8TCr6vLQWY6cldV2reAfCBRLwa3deyERx09sRLnpJJcyv77bzakLi7CAx7c8UKYBsQOaHTolPUicmXtew4yY4xtNEEQkYhCAv5zTOIwgKWz93RErflNsKLLTcrra8kdRQJON2fIBQT3ulUU0X1O1qZUp8fA/w400-h225/Superlim-2.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Of course, video games are no stranger to visual trickery. Almost every genre utilizes silent warps and illusory walls (horror games are smitten with mind games), but there aren't too many crunchy puzzlers built around this idea. Major titles like <i>The Witness</i> and <i>Antichamber</i> feature a decent chunk of perspective puzzles to grapple with, but those are merely fractions of a larger, more surreal whole. <i>Superliminal</i> on the other hand simple is humble and down to earth, placing the player in an empty workshop where everything functions as you think it should. Well, except for the fact that you have the uncanny ability to expand and shrink objects just by touching them. But it's not your fingers that are doing the manipulating, oddly enough—rather, it's how your <i>see</i> objects in relation to their surroundings that changes their physicality.<div><br /></div><div>The easiest way to explain <i>Superliminal</i>'s mechanics is to harken back to being a bored kid. There isn't a child alive that could resist bringing their index finger and thumb close to their eye and squishing members of their family, all while making a loud, wet "pblsbh!" noise. Depth is ignored in this silly action, rendering the squisher's fingers as large as their eyes see them and their unwitting victim as small as they are distant. And this is exactly how <i>Superliminal </i>works: bring a chess piece close to your vision and it will balloon in size when you drop it. Likewise, you can glance down at an apple between your feet and instantly pick it up, reducing it to no bigger than a grape. It's a phenomenally cool system that takes a bit of work to get used to, especially once you start trying to make stairs by cloning a single object.</div><div><br /><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEX7NeMzOCFveaZ0NAuDHVy7yzlvAvg2MbutgLmMBthzW_v2iTlQnuIG49w7xHRjoFHscWkwAnuTPcKC16_tw20aHk-by0DWRqP40Q7CjYdZfSzdhBEia9Ul-Ws91Rq6GFvs16tJ7_J650hq-57LBioroiRq08MJsNa6slzoohmDCZih1EGCuHpgaqFw/s1920/Superlim-4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEX7NeMzOCFveaZ0NAuDHVy7yzlvAvg2MbutgLmMBthzW_v2iTlQnuIG49w7xHRjoFHscWkwAnuTPcKC16_tw20aHk-by0DWRqP40Q7CjYdZfSzdhBEia9Ul-Ws91Rq6GFvs16tJ7_J650hq-57LBioroiRq08MJsNa6slzoohmDCZih1EGCuHpgaqFw/w400-h225/Superlim-4.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thankfully, <i>Superliminal </i>teaches you the ropes via a series of <i>Portal</i>-esque quarantine puzzles. You'll learn and re-learn the ins and outs of this strange new perspective mechanic, discovering how to fit large objects into tiny crevices and expanding morsels of food into indestructible loading ramps. Afterwards, the puzzles get a lot more obscure and intermittent, eschewing with the room-by-room challenges for more varied and unorthodox sandboxes. Yet the game never morphs into anything too complex or oversaturated; like <i>Portal</i>, the developer's goal is to stimulate, not stymie you. <i>Superliminal</i> is carefully curated so that you'll reach the credits in under three hours—provided you don't mind getting lost now and then.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Unlike <i>Portal </i>however, <i>Superliminal</i> rarely activates the lightbulb in your mind. The game is at its strongest when it introduces new mechanics for you to play around with (Induction, Clone, Dollhouse), but that's only a third of the game's material—if not less. The majority of <i>Superliminal</i>'s challenge comes from navigational struggles, like finding a hidden object or escaping from an infinitely looping hallway. The final leg in particular leans heavily into optical illusions and obfuscated pathways, feeling less inspiring and more... disappointingly monotonous. Maybe I just wanted more cuboid puzzle rooms, unprepared for the game to pivot from <i>Portal</i> to <i>The Beginner's Guide</i>. In any case, I was pleased with <i>Superliminal</i> by the end, though not as ecstatic as I was when I first started it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A minor thing that hammered this point home was the game's challenge mode. Similar to <i>Portal</i> (speaking of monotonous, how many times have I said that by now?), <i>Superliminal</i> tasks the player with using the fewest moves possible to reach a puzzle's solution. Every jump and interaction will be marked down once you begin a puzzle, with some of the restrictions initially feeling ludicrous, if not downright impossible (even the first puzzle is no joke!) But like the main game, the challenges shift from finding creative solutions to standing in precise spots to execute obvious but increasingly annoying maneuvers; it's less about thinking outside the box and more about finding the exact right-sized box to stand atop of. Towards the end, a lot of the challenge solutions become identical to those you discover during first playthrough, just with a minor tweak (if any) added. It's nothing that ruins the game, but merely reinforces the fact that the game was strictly designed with your initial playthrough in mind.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjub17dHGEJe-EtdPirUwzh1LXq1aaTZ63rhmtwZwEmR8j_astKDrPZzdOCKE31oUB4aQqnE2IdXxlUWjZEDe3aVb11nflkvhf7ToHEKsl-AIYq60FmvT99UorVaqn3KgHuHcM4W9-gVjsZemlyLAI_oGBdEjIC1Y9swUg72kQwhm4r_ur7xcXJtDTY0A/s1920/Superlim-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjub17dHGEJe-EtdPirUwzh1LXq1aaTZ63rhmtwZwEmR8j_astKDrPZzdOCKE31oUB4aQqnE2IdXxlUWjZEDe3aVb11nflkvhf7ToHEKsl-AIYq60FmvT99UorVaqn3KgHuHcM4W9-gVjsZemlyLAI_oGBdEjIC1Y9swUg72kQwhm4r_ur7xcXJtDTY0A/w400-h225/Superlim-3.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Superliminal</i> is an excellent experience that's only so-so as a puzzler. During your first playthrough you'll run into some brilliant, mind-bending situations!... which will sadly lose their luster on replay. Like the perspective mechanic itself, the longer you toy with <i>Superliminal</i>'s illusions, the less magical and more mechanical the game itself will become. The challenge mode in particular feels like a strange afterthought, more concerned with quizzing you on where and how you place its objects down, rather than on what you're doing or why. But if you avoid over-analyzing and instead sit back and relax, <i>Superliminal</i> takes you on a wild wide full of surprises, proving at the end of the day that it learned the right lessons in <i>Portal</i> school. What's big can be small, what's thin can be large, and maybe the exit you're looking for isn't going to be the one you're walking through.</div></div></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-78583255851885495362023-12-22T02:24:00.000-08:002023-12-22T03:15:07.258-08:00Starfield - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOD6atBhPjRfcUPvz1U_wbOKh4r_3dYRRCkdvZ3X2cS7n822DLxOFp5_0heI_vSfNWO1vc19VA17w6MSRj5M4A2ZcXZ2P1UobcrRXWb5EmkQ69X_WtXwZa5xcnCgBsopP3gF0lfFw60YmwEYa77oc1sns5l82-wpm0KMR3wEiv3JmmdEkQEQtduWwrnlE_/s1290/Starfield.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="554" data-original-width="1290" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOD6atBhPjRfcUPvz1U_wbOKh4r_3dYRRCkdvZ3X2cS7n822DLxOFp5_0heI_vSfNWO1vc19VA17w6MSRj5M4A2ZcXZ2P1UobcrRXWb5EmkQ69X_WtXwZa5xcnCgBsopP3gF0lfFw60YmwEYa77oc1sns5l82-wpm0KMR3wEiv3JmmdEkQEQtduWwrnlE_/w400-h171/Starfield.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>There are two questions swirling about in my head, and I am unsure which will lead me to the answers that I seek: "<i>how</i> did this get made?" or "<b>why</b> did this get made?" It's an issue of intention, stemming from the same source of bewilderment: <i>Starfield</i>. As Bethesda's next big premier franchise, it was easy to get drawn into its grandiose mystique, wondering what they've learned from working on <i>Elder Scrolls </i>and <i>Fallout</i>. I stayed away from any prerelease coverage once I knew it would be coming to Game Pass, allowing me to dive in head-first, ready to explore its boundless universe.</div><div><br /></div><div>I emerge out the other side confused and wildly irritated. Why is <i>Starfield</i> the way that it is? The question jut out at me again and again, like a turgid hangnail I could never clip. The game raises too many red flags for a seasoned developer, especially one with a devoted fanbase eager to show them where and how to make improvements. It stands to reason then that this is all by design, Bethesda intending for the game's foibles to come off better than they do. But the sheer clunkiness of <i>Starfield</i>'s systems and its puddle-deep universe reek of something worse than simple scope creep or design oversight—it's a fundamentally slipshod experience that relies on you being too dumb to put it down.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3VO8FqnLPiKQNplCWoJf-Lv-EBoLeecaGrziH-tTqXVML3RHVZpA9a9CqnSTM1Um0AqBezUhs7gus-QUgGpXGBadN0y2iIC0voHxzvq27AyOCh4PCLe1LD5O-RfiFWQA-tP0acAVxDryIz6yNrfRBnuPHvmNM1Xjb_DhMwQoNRc3DNGA7vPiPzrUrk93g/s1920/Starfield4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3VO8FqnLPiKQNplCWoJf-Lv-EBoLeecaGrziH-tTqXVML3RHVZpA9a9CqnSTM1Um0AqBezUhs7gus-QUgGpXGBadN0y2iIC0voHxzvq27AyOCh4PCLe1LD5O-RfiFWQA-tP0acAVxDryIz6yNrfRBnuPHvmNM1Xjb_DhMwQoNRc3DNGA7vPiPzrUrk93g/w400-h225/Starfield4.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Note that this isn't to say <i>Starfield</i> is devoid of merits. There's a lot to like here: the setting is well-fleshed out, the alien design is beautifully weird, the gunplay is leagues better than <i>Fallout 4</i> (which was leagues better than <i>Fallout 3</i>), and Constellation feels like a proper family by the end of your journey. Your companions start off somewhat uninspired but grow considerably more interesting during your travels, and I like the motivation behind the enigmatic Starborn. On the surface, <i>Starfield</i> is both competent and confident, able to justify the hundreds of hours its fans will inevitably pour into it. But if you so much as scratch <i>Starfield</i>'s pristine shell, you'll uncover the ashen remains of Bethesda games of old.</div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Skyrim</i>'s horrid inventory system makes its ugly return here, offering few ways to customize or manually sort through hundreds of items—and <i>no</i> way to mark anything as a ware to sell later. Important quest items and lore get piled into your "misc" tab, which is also where all of the game's junk gets shoveled into. There's no visual preview for any of the items in your inventory either, forcing you to manually flick through them one by one if you're looking for a specific weapon or ammo casing that you forgot the name of. Likewise, containers you loot out in the wild like locked chests and dead bodies only reveal the names of their contents, requiring a load to your inventory to glance at their sell value or individual statistics. I can't think of a single person that thought <i>Skyrim</i>'s inventory system was flawless, which is why it's so baffling to me that it's been preserved here like a precious amber insect over <i>ten</i> years later.</div><div><br /></div><div>The inventory system is its own can of worms, but I also have a special hatred in my heart for <i>Starfield</i>'s physical marketplace—or lack thereof. For the first 20 hours I had no idea how to navigate it, burdened with questions the game had no care to answer. Where is the best place to buy ship parts? Digipicks? Offload contraband? Where are all the stores on New Atlantis? Are there merchants that can mod my weapons? Why can't I upgrade my reactor's capacity? Why don't any of these cities have any goddamn maps?! For far too long I'd wander around like a sleepless drunk, trying to remember what shops such as Outland, Whetstone, and Enhance sell (did you know one of them is an eatery?), with my stamina depleting every few steps thanks to the game's appallingly low carry capacity. And even when I did find the seller I was looking for, more than once I wound up buying some of their useless stock because <i>your</i> inventory screen and <i>their</i> inventory screen look the exact same.</div><div><br /></div><div>The more of it I played, the more <i>Starfield</i>'s atrocious inventory got on my nerves. Why can't the items you purchase get transferred directly to your ship? Why do I have to manually lug ship parts back to my vessel's miniscule vault? And why aren't direct heals (ie ship parts and med packs—the most used items in the game) given their own tab, instead of being lumped in amongst a bunch of useless food stuffs and situational drugs? Why do I have to remember the ammo types of my weapons when purchasing ammunition, instead of the game simply telling me I have a weapon that uses the ammo I'm looking at? Why are weapons denoted by color rarity when their preceding adjective (calibrated, refined, advanced, etc) is far more indicative of their value? Why isn't there an option to turn off contextual pick-ups for items (like staplers and beakers) that are worth less than <i>ten</i> credits? And why in god's name do you <b>not</b> auto-dump all of your heavy metal minerals onto you ship when you board it?! Who in their right mind wants to walk around with chunks of titanium and lead in their pockets, dragging down their pants until their pasty-white dumb ass is exposed?</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCe3Js8a2I0YsLKeQmDVkcegdcbEx8ts3VYD8S7_n_BiI1-MPTjEPvlJSvZBzpDDz4I9Dc24aDHBdfrko-wZOlfWAsn2JdIaWY_REVdpfJ8FvkInzkVmZ00hvkhXXpXBBSoXTr0L95p_xbbvZQ754MNNXM1jbcU5AVJMclkI-6rjd-KeoOhoO-SKdbcR98/s1920/Starfield5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCe3Js8a2I0YsLKeQmDVkcegdcbEx8ts3VYD8S7_n_BiI1-MPTjEPvlJSvZBzpDDz4I9Dc24aDHBdfrko-wZOlfWAsn2JdIaWY_REVdpfJ8FvkInzkVmZ00hvkhXXpXBBSoXTr0L95p_xbbvZQ754MNNXM1jbcU5AVJMclkI-6rjd-KeoOhoO-SKdbcR98/w400-h225/Starfield5.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The underlying issue this all points toward is that no matter how fun <i>Starfield</i> might look to play, it's a royal pain to navigate. And nowhere is this point more aggressively obvious than in its spacefaring, a veritable black hole dense enough that you can't grav jump away from it. Your spaceship, for as cool and customizable as it may be, is a glorified loading screen for 90% of the game. And this is in addition to the game's other unavoidable loading screens which bookend it! So you'll load to get into your ship, use your ship to click on your destination, and then load again to arrive. As if that wasn't enough, these bits are <i>also </i>bookended by unskippable animations, forming a sandwich so thick with loading that only the grotesque hoagie from <i>Sonic '06</i> can rival it. This is no exaggeration—<i>Starfield</i> avoids taking the crown of inactivity solely because it loads <b>faster</b> than <i>Sonic '06</i>, not less.</div><div><br /></div><div>This issue only gets compounded when you're trying to venture out to far-off solar systems, as you have to manually jump to every unexplored system on the way. At the start of the game this isn't a problem as exploring is still a novel idea; every moon could hide secret, every outpost a valuable quest to stumble upon. But there is nothing of value in <i>Starfield</i>'s procedurally generated galaxy—just the same abandoned outposts, abandoned mines, and boring laboratories. Each rendition has only a few variations too, with the abandoned mine being the worst offender that you'll have to venture through it multiple times even within the main storyline. Eventually you'll learn to skip every celestial body you come upon, sticking to your terribly-organized quest log—and thus rendering every unexplored solar system between you and your objective another unnecessary loading screen to suffer through.</div><div><br /></div><div>Occasionally space combat breaks out to remind you to stay awake, but it's a strongly love-it-or-hate-it affair. I commend Bethesda for doing a decent job in handling how it plays and giving you full control over your ship's systems (even if it's impossible to manage in the midst of combat), but the problem is that space combat is significantly more volatile than regular-ol' ground-based shootouts. Better weapons, engines, and ships are harder to come by due to their hefty price tags, and one enemy on your tail is harder to shake than an army of mercs bumbling about a space station. Not only is it impossible to tell what kind of weapons your enemy might have on them, but it's also difficult to discern what in your arsenal is <i>effective</i> due to how infrequent the dogfights are. Plus when you're outmatched in a gunfight on land, you can often hide behind a nearby rock to swap equipment or pump your veins full of performance-enhancing drugs. Meanwhile in space, your tin can is going to get shredded time and time again, with no way to alter the outcome. It's strangely antithetical to Bethesda's playstyle, narrowing the solutions from "play smarter" the singlular, boring "get better gear, dummy." Well, that and "dump more points into the spacefaring skill tree."</div><div><br /></div><div>Like with a lot of other systems in <i>Starfield</i>, the skill trees are one step forward, two steps back. On paper it works well: each tree type is well-organized and allows players to put up to four points into a single skill, provided they complete a number of fun sub-objectives throughout their travels. But in Bethesda's quest to make levelling-up as gratifying as possible, they've hamstrung the player's abilities, planting essential skills across their tree. Things like being able to use your jetpack, pilot better ships, hack, see your stealth meter, parlay with NPCs, and carry more equipment are all relegated to skill tree upgrades, and you'll learn early on that level-ups are about as infrequent as the space battles. On the bright side this means there's always something on the horizon that you'll be anxious to pick up. Most of the time however, it makes the game feel frustrating and intentionally hobbled, requiring at least 10-20 levels to get properly settled (and even then, you'll wish you could dump even more points into carrying capacity).</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13kmvv7j8iL3pWrVbC4B5e4t4rSoUiU5l8QCbOeIFpuo1NRkq2K-fLINbphglF-P_5w2ZKSHyKEr7JFPNd3-K2vQkoTW4IGiSyYK7NaN7zUZOTv-R0ZPExUWS7HaMs3W2eAnsbvwkkIJ8WXwJGJM82fIGmAlSdxh1kI93BRtP1Pulx9FJOEcwXeXAHnOr/s1920/Starfield6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh13kmvv7j8iL3pWrVbC4B5e4t4rSoUiU5l8QCbOeIFpuo1NRkq2K-fLINbphglF-P_5w2ZKSHyKEr7JFPNd3-K2vQkoTW4IGiSyYK7NaN7zUZOTv-R0ZPExUWS7HaMs3W2eAnsbvwkkIJ8WXwJGJM82fIGmAlSdxh1kI93BRtP1Pulx9FJOEcwXeXAHnOr/w400-h225/Starfield6.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>For some folks, <i>Starfield</i> will scratch a special itch they can't get anywhere else—and look, I've been a fan of From Software since <i>Demon's Souls</i>, I get it. But like <i>No Man's Sky</i> years before it, you have to admit that the game is squandered potential made manifest. I went into <i>Starfield </i>without a chip on my shoulder but it beat me down with its draconic inventory system and fetish for loading screens. As a follow-up to F<i>allout 4</i> it feels shockingly unambitious; as a game from 2023 it is categorically outdated. <i>Starfield</i>'s universe emulates—almost zealously—the very concept of outer space, filled with vast nothingness that's interspersed with boring, ubiquitous rocks. Sprinkled about are moments of that special, Bethesda magic (Barrett is a real sweetheart), but like a total eclipse, its pros are overshadowed by the immense dullness of it all. There are thousands upon thousands of worse video games out there, but none of that changes the fact that <i>Starfield</i> was one of the most irritating games I've played this decade, if not my entire life.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-35473080573987853682023-11-04T04:54:00.000-07:002023-11-04T04:54:03.081-07:00Super Mario World - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4CWe1ol3pctCSm0y6PFsq4FgqyNG1jHS0EQw8r35gzv-5v7iGPA_Zqzufvw4FcE9ePi-CUaJvi_AuQmW7esSUmurat2fIGzijRPsB4LK72BFe4Ic8P3YAqEChge7vJfMXy9AzoQB1gxwm7vcbljRV8tRlREYk_stKxNac5Hjh0d8VoDduhuSLlnIWog=s742" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="742" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4CWe1ol3pctCSm0y6PFsq4FgqyNG1jHS0EQw8r35gzv-5v7iGPA_Zqzufvw4FcE9ePi-CUaJvi_AuQmW7esSUmurat2fIGzijRPsB4LK72BFe4Ic8P3YAqEChge7vJfMXy9AzoQB1gxwm7vcbljRV8tRlREYk_stKxNac5Hjh0d8VoDduhuSLlnIWog=w400-h131" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When I think of a games similar to <i>Super Mario World</i>, the first thing that comes to my mind is <i>Doom</i> of all things. It's not as though the two are similar thematically, visually, or even gameplay-wise—rather, it's that they owe much of their sustained prominence to their devoted fanbases. Don't get me wrong, the base games are plenty of fun and all, but they're just the tip of a massive historical iceberg. Both communities are alive and well in 2023, releasing new custom edits every week, often with superior visuals, stage design, graphics, music, power-ups—you name it. And while a smattering of <i>Doom</i> clones have transcended to a commercial debut (<i>REKKR, Age of Hell</i>, <i>Supplice</i>), <i>Super Mario World </i>hacks remain just as impressive in their own right, requiring equal amounts of skill, dedication, and technical know-how to create.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Yet what <i>really</i> ties these two together in my mind is that in nine out of ten cases, I'd rather play the fan creations than revisit the originals. Part of it is simply oversaturation, having played both games until the stages were embedded in my mind like the creases of my brain. But another part is that the games are unimpressively solid, being good enough to recommend to genre newcomers... yet never blowing me away on replay. I confess it's a strange stance to hold; I wouldn't wince at anyone calling either title their favorite game of all time, as they're both worthy of such adoration. Perhaps I just find <i>Doom</i> and <i>Super Mario World</i> more mundane than magical nowadays, unable to rekindle the same spark that jolted through me as a child.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But enough with the comparisons—let's dig into the SNES's launch day juggernaut: <i>Super Mario World</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSeCo-UkZaTzMD8uR-uQ5JmiwHx-7fIPzDABgOyYFSCXUQfGHeEHZB6TpqacrslvD1R5Ql0E_ARDfKCkUNdrDHbTvq80sdYGbnocoJXGEiox5B9NOyjt71WBnZGJ5Sk4ltw0Ax1jfVg20rq0CYKIrL3zXYXyagxCqHo6dAw6TQvLxMQAm3to2DjCbzTA=s875" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="875" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSeCo-UkZaTzMD8uR-uQ5JmiwHx-7fIPzDABgOyYFSCXUQfGHeEHZB6TpqacrslvD1R5Ql0E_ARDfKCkUNdrDHbTvq80sdYGbnocoJXGEiox5B9NOyjt71WBnZGJ5Sk4ltw0Ax1jfVg20rq0CYKIrL3zXYXyagxCqHo6dAw6TQvLxMQAm3to2DjCbzTA=w400-h314" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">From the moment the player is put in control, <i>World </i>reveals that it is a joy to play. The nuts and bolts of Mario's physics have been tightened to pit stop perfection, ramping up the plumber's acceleration while granting more control over his aerial movement. Gone are the racoon leaf and p-wing, replaced by a versatile cape that requires a bit more work in order to stay airborne. But once you master it, the cape grants unparalleled freedom, allowing the player to bypass entire stages up in the safety of the clouds. Yoshi is also a welcome addition, capable of different abilities based on the last shell slurped up. Additionally, Yoshi provides the player with a small buffer of health, one they can replenish so long as they can catch the scuttling dinosaur after taking a hit. Neither of these power-ups are game changers in the grand scheme of things, but they're honestly the most fun renditions of their kind (flying & mount) that the series would ever see.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Super Mario Bros. 3 </i>is a difficult act to follow up on, but <i>World </i>tries its damnedest, handing the player <b>73</b> varied courses to sprint through. Unlike <i>SMB3</i> however, these stages are rarely rapid-fire affairs; expect chunky gauntlets stuffed with 5 dragon coins, a mid-level checkpoint, and the occasional hidden exit. This boosts <i>World</i>'s playtime to over double that of <i>3</i>, but new players need not worry—saving is now a staple for every <i>Mario </i>game going forward! No more frustrations with power-outages tanking your runs or having to start over if you want to replay your favorite level. In fact, replaying stages is now encouraged, as there are two routes through every overworld (sans Dinosaur Island), with the fully optional Star World <i>itself</i> housing a super-secret, extra-challenging Special world. The golden age of brief, single-session <i>Mario</i> games is over—the sprawling overworld buffets are here to say.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And filling the buffet trays are a curated blend of new obstacles mixed with old. Of course, <i>World </i>still includes the traditional <i>Mario</i> staples like koopas, bullet bills, lakitus, and podoboos. But the imaginative new additions are the show stealers: spell-slinging magikoopas, towering pokeys, patrolling fuzzies, fireproof dino rhinos, and the doggedly-annoying rip van fish, just to name a few. The spectral bestiary also receives its own expansion, with a host of Boo cousins (big boo, boo circles, fishin' boo) coming over to crash at the ghost houses, which have transformed from wannabe-castles to (the superior) puzzle-mazes. And last but certainly not least are the ever-tenacious chargin' chucks, the natural evolution of the hammer bro that ditches the obnoxious tool-tossing for a wider variety of attacks, adding a little extra spice to your platforming purview.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh61XrQ6gaWoRKYt2r7UqvwSgc6XnLw8atXzgNsyVrXsHgq2yCcau_W4jw7jIzIUrx-sKQbeWsOc324FjVZcITb_XRnR9Wmu61tvuBsVRuiUIpDL8avoHTgfOfgIqF950yFyvL4rYCGvzVUYuBzBiKkGrBS3VB69o3dz4aV4dugZv-yxtwsqVu6pwTI2w=s875" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="875" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh61XrQ6gaWoRKYt2r7UqvwSgc6XnLw8atXzgNsyVrXsHgq2yCcau_W4jw7jIzIUrx-sKQbeWsOc324FjVZcITb_XRnR9Wmu61tvuBsVRuiUIpDL8avoHTgfOfgIqF950yFyvL4rYCGvzVUYuBzBiKkGrBS3VB69o3dz4aV4dugZv-yxtwsqVu6pwTI2w=w400-h314" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Super Mario World</i> isn't content to stop there either: there are plenty of non-hostile objects to encounter along your journey, like climbable fences, rope pulleys, portable springs, countdown platforms, magic keys, and a balloon power-up that... well the p-balloon kind of sucks, but the other items are cool. However, the game's most interesting "item" has to be its colored blocks, which make their first (and only!) appearance in the franchise here. To activate them, you must first find a secret exit that leads to one of the four colored switch palaces, and then beating said palace will activate its corresponding blocks permanently for every level they appear in. This grants a range of benefits, from additional power-ups, to pit protection, to even a new means by which to reach a secret exit. The colored blocks may come off as little more than set dressing if you're used to playing with all of them "on" at all times, but I appreciate how much more difficult the game becomes if you opt to skip <i>all</i> of the switch palaces, giving <i>World</i> its own pseudo-"hard mode". I think it's worth a playthrough if you've never done it before.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Of course, if you <i>really</i> want to to crank up the challenge in <i>Super Mario World</i>, the Special stages eagerly await your attendance. Here you will be tested and battered, starting with a rain of projectiles in Tubular, to brutal single-block jumps in Awesome, to the busy bullet bill forest of Outrageous. It's a fantastic set of bonus stages that, while downright tame compared to the <a href="https://www.smwcentral.net/?p=section&a=details&id=14495">torture chambers</a> fans cook up nowadays, struck terror into many a young child—myself included. It's an excellent postgame gauntlet similar to the lettered worlds of Japan's <i>Super Mario Bros. 2</i>, albeit a lot easier to access and considerably more creative. Sure, the reward for beating the Special stages is essentially a lame novelty (some bizarre palette swaps), but the levels merit a playthrough on their awesome challenge alone. Despite the optional nature of the Special stages, I always make sure to cap off a replay of <i>World</i> by blasting through them.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Would that I could lay the same praise upon Star Road—the unique warp zone world—but here are where my <i>Super Mario World</i> gripes bubble to the surface. While every other world is packed with decent-to-excellent levels, Star Road reeks of nothing but stinkers. Stage 1 feels like a subzone outtake, Stage 2 is a featureless hallway, and Stage 3 is probably the shortest—and thus worst—<i>Mario</i> level of all time. Only Stages 4 & 5 have any sort of competent level design, and even then it's nothing exceptional. The best thing about Star Road is that it's thankfully short, but even then you'll still have to play through it <i>twice</i> if you're looking to achieve the game's 96 exit completion.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Worse yet is that Star Road is <i>useless</i> as a warp zone; its only practical use is as shortcut for the overworld once completed. Using Star Road to <i>skip</i> worlds is impossible due to the fact that the warp nodes leave you stranded unless you've completed the pathway to them on the overworld. The one level you can reach early is Bowser's Castle—the final stage—which is a far cry from the flexibility of <i>3</i>'s warp whistle. Plus most folks will have to discover the red and blue switch palaces to finish Star Road's Stage 4, which makes roughly a third of the game mandatory to play through anyway. From top to bottom, Star Road is a celestial blunder.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgV5YaPeejcwigwOJd5BhOsTooJI8dqKvOoTGJy_gihR44x1qEHrG3dbXQWCXa0NZlGbJmIB2U6s9yJ0oqdGx5k7yhcOjk9Jbc9g0xvic4lj4Xa40LufUfxk9IdCh7DhfBcVIPoYW-orled29ZHFyTMNml3fghXJr0NMfCm6VtesFZZXpx9LuKP4iaa5A=s875" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="875" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgV5YaPeejcwigwOJd5BhOsTooJI8dqKvOoTGJy_gihR44x1qEHrG3dbXQWCXa0NZlGbJmIB2U6s9yJ0oqdGx5k7yhcOjk9Jbc9g0xvic4lj4Xa40LufUfxk9IdCh7DhfBcVIPoYW-orled29ZHFyTMNml3fghXJr0NMfCm6VtesFZZXpx9LuKP4iaa5A=w400-h314" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>Another lackluster addition to <i>Super Mario World</i> are its newfangled dino coins. Spread around each stage are five golden bits that will grant you an extra life once gathered together, marking the start of what would eventually become <i>New</i>'s collectible star coins. The dino coins are neat in that they double down on the exploration aspect of <i>Mario</i>... except for the fact that <i>World</i> doesn't keep track of <b>any</b> of the coins you've picked up. Even if it did, the coins are startlingly inconsistent: some stages have more than five, some should have them but don't, and a ton of coins are placed in utterly effortless spots. While it's not fair to blame <i>World</i> for failing to utilize its collectible in a way that future titles would, I still can't view the dino coins as anything but missed potential. There's a reason that among the vast additions <i>World</i> brought to the series, nearly nobody mentions this prehistoric specie.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then there's the game's hideously boring bosses. On one hand the <i>Super Mario Bros.</i> series has <i>never</i> been fixated around its boss fights—and thus doesn't need them to be compelling—but on the other hand there's plenty of games with excellent and creative battles, illustrating how well a boss can fit when done right (<i>Yoshi's Island, Land 2, NSMB Wii</i>). <i>Super Mario World</i> doesn't have a high bar to clear when compared to its predecessors, but its feeble boss roster fails outdo the variety of <i>2</i> and the dynamism of <i>3</i>. Reznor and Big Boo are fought in nearly the same manner in every encounter, and the only good Koopa Kids are the Lemmy/Wendy variations. Every other fight ends just as quickly as it started, and I could write a thousand words alone on how pathetic the Bowser finale is. I'll just say that any final boss that allows you to crouch in a corner like a coward for the majority of the fight is a real stinker in my book.</div><div><br /></div><div>Lastly—and the point I'm least passionate about—is that the <i>Super Mario World</i> is kind of ugly. There are a couple of addendums that come with this gripe, like how the game a launch title, that the pastel palette hasn't aged as poorly as other SNES titles, or that its simplistic art matches <i>World</i>'s laser focus on pure platforming. But these are ultimately excuses—not remedies. Foreground blocks are mostly made of a single color, backgrounds are sparsely detailed and frequently repetitive, and the animations aren't anything to write home about. <i>World</i> looks its best when you're inside of a ghost house of all things, but what you'll see far more are the repetitive gray caverns of the underground—areas which fail to leave any kind of impression on your memory. For the record, I don't hate or detest the art style... but I'm far from being enamored with it either. Honestly, <i>World</i>'s visuals are just disappointingly dull in retrospect.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Looking back on what I've written, what befuddles me the most about all of this is that <i>Super Mario World </i> remains a 9/10 experience at the end of the day, capable of rivaling the best platformers of the last thirty years. All of its issues are vain, minor blemishes that only stand out if you're paid to scrutinizing the game, as your first reaction upon playing it isn't to gawk at the flaws, but to simply mutter in amazement, "wow this is <b>fun</b>." What makes <i>World</i> excel is that it is <i>Mario</i> to its binary core: a fun platformer with controls that prioritize speed and ease, the two things that <i>Donkey Kong Country</i> would steal and hone in on. During a casual playthrough, <i>World</i>'s missteps come across as eccentricities you'll blow by faster than the rolling hills in the background, all while you bounce atop the heads of paratroopers and monty moles. It's only under a lens thick enough to hammer nails with that the game's ugliness comes out—and even then, it's rarely more than a trifling crack.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFhBMmR8ft3TYqUvJBNkTpd7NU-kR0UkjdfQqnUdIMXTd-I0wGiyeC0FBni5cPnarahukk6yqt5eiXYhEkurLrcSMw-GhD1mzCEZ6HAnHx-jO26HQ-h8aaM0LYTv4hDLz2lmjihKdXtUNC-j2EXcm2gPK-zN6ZJkft38m08iCqxR9FGVBxJ50K39WYuw=s875" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="685" data-original-width="875" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhFhBMmR8ft3TYqUvJBNkTpd7NU-kR0UkjdfQqnUdIMXTd-I0wGiyeC0FBni5cPnarahukk6yqt5eiXYhEkurLrcSMw-GhD1mzCEZ6HAnHx-jO26HQ-h8aaM0LYTv4hDLz2lmjihKdXtUNC-j2EXcm2gPK-zN6ZJkft38m08iCqxR9FGVBxJ50K39WYuw=w400-h314" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>Perhaps an unshakeable issue I have with <i>Super Mario World</i> is how the game fares in hindsight. For me at least, a lot of other <i>Mario</i> titles offer a<i> </i>more enticing package: some games have better overworlds, or more dynamic levels, or more powerups, more stages, better bosses, better visuals, etc. Though one could make the same argument for <i>Super Mario Bros. 3</i>, I feel that time has been kind to that 8-bit goliath, its vicious limitations making it shine even brighter in retrospect. <i>Super Mario World </i>is great—phenomenal, even!—well-deserving of its favoritism and fandom... but I just don't find it as immutable or flawless as its siblings. The fact that fans have made more impressive iterations on <i>World</i> using its formula means there's room for improvement; as gratifying as an "A-" is to receive, the existence of an A+ means things could be better.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, even after saying all of this, I'll still fully play through <i>Super Mario World</i> at least a dozen more times before I kick the bucket—and I'll have a ripping good time every time I do. I can reason out a myriad of excuses for preferring <i>3 </i>or <i>Galaxy</i> or <i>NSMB Wii</i> over it, but none of those post hoc arguments can take away from the fact that the game is sheer fun distilled into a delicious little brew. It's something the <i>World</i> community has known about for decades, understanding that <i>World</i>'s sublime engine—not its nostalgia—is what gives the game it's immortal reputation. <i>Super Mario World</i> may not be <b>the</b> best game of all time, but like with <i>Doom</i>, it will forever stand shoulder to shoulder <i>among</i> the best.</div></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-17660053148763646522023-09-30T15:02:00.004-07:002023-10-02T03:41:24.908-07:00Caveblazers - Thoughts<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPIddYNP05J1P5fB-2OHPHFUm22dNs5qrYC_w_77gEqtyWkRGOCRA4_ykg59Y8vQYKNOpJFmabh724qkxth0lEtEG6KFJsKGicRAGXK-1uawhaDl4m49zv2gDToUR-mnnKsl8mHRIjijvxA3tGkSDmjpxipSk7gJaODfgdTPnyw0rbtWhQ97K8Sa7dJ1m/s1042/20230815020119_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="1042" height="93" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvPIddYNP05J1P5fB-2OHPHFUm22dNs5qrYC_w_77gEqtyWkRGOCRA4_ykg59Y8vQYKNOpJFmabh724qkxth0lEtEG6KFJsKGicRAGXK-1uawhaDl4m49zv2gDToUR-mnnKsl8mHRIjijvxA3tGkSDmjpxipSk7gJaODfgdTPnyw0rbtWhQ97K8Sa7dJ1m/w400-h93/20230815020119_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><i>[contains minor spoilers]</i></div><div><br /></div>Few games miss the mark as sloppily as <i>Caveblazers</i> does. A <i>Spelunky</i> clone with <i>Terraria</i>-esque items isn't exactly a novel idea, but the concept <i>does</i> have decent legs. All one has to do is offer a smorgasbord of weapons & enemies, tune the controls to a buttery smoothness, and then coat it all in a bland-but-serviceable pixel art dress—<i>et voila!</i> a b-grade roguelite is born! Even if it's unable to surpass its idols, the game should be strong enough to establish its own niche fanbase, standing proud amidst the great the field of roguelites...<div><br /></div><div>... at least in<i> theory</i>. In reality, <i>Caveblazers</i> stumbles in a myriad of small ways, dragging even its best aspects down into the muck of mediocrity. It's not such a precipitous drop that I'd laugh at anyone claiming the game to be one of their favorites, but a few hours are all you need to understand why <i>Caveblazers</i> has failed to gain traction. To put it plainly: the game is willfully annoying in the worst ways possible.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6owjQ-hiVPSwJ6mSkxzQr1DIBLQ_lvlg5sa_SSZuD8ixN_hNnnXieZQ7xu51nDgnB7yEvu6i-1KApo5_b9nDhlNigdUKg9W3Hhmoa8jUd7J0ELZwuVD4YmfXJpLRZ9Gsg25_IPIWO9wuH9iH7uQNcxtuH0yswA-H5QtutSisuuLheCSw5ZxRVOVEnJeK/s1920/20230829022923_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6owjQ-hiVPSwJ6mSkxzQr1DIBLQ_lvlg5sa_SSZuD8ixN_hNnnXieZQ7xu51nDgnB7yEvu6i-1KApo5_b9nDhlNigdUKg9W3Hhmoa8jUd7J0ELZwuVD4YmfXJpLRZ9Gsg25_IPIWO9wuH9iH7uQNcxtuH0yswA-H5QtutSisuuLheCSw5ZxRVOVEnJeK/w400-h225/20230829022923_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div>First off, the main bosses are a masterclass in obnoxious design. There are a total of eight big baddies to topple (four of which you'll face on a full run) that vary drastically in strength and difficulty. And I do mean <i>drastically</i>; on the far ends of the spectrum you have Azguard and Chrono'boid, the former rarely managing to hit you more than once while the latter is unironically harder than <i>all three phases</i> of the final boss. And then you have bosses like Grubbington & Iron Face: unpredictable but easily bested goons, which are counterbalanced by Medusa & Deathrig: repetitive slogs that will punish the slightest miscalculations. The last two fiends—Felfang & Goliath—are messy, manic fights that you'll either coast through with ease, or be sent flying around the room like divorcee's stress ball.</div><div><br /></div><div>Imbalanced bosses may be par for the course in gaming, but here's the kicker: these bosses can be encountered in <i>any </i>order, with nothing but their HP values changed. Hell, even their damage remains the same! This means you'll often face the game's hardest bosses right off the bat, all while you're probably still stuck with your impotent starter weapons, tiny health bar, and whatever two blessings <i>Caveblazers</i> has deigned to give you. Occasionally you might manage to pull through. but your rewards are also randomized, ranging anywhere from healing items, to much-needed blessings, to shit-tier bombs you'll never use even in an emergency. So there's always a chance you could strike it rich and get a piece of equipment that carries you to the end of the game... or—and what occurs more often—simply bleed out from a thousand little cuts, in spite of all your hard work.</div><div><br /></div><div>And look, I get it—roguelites are all about the individuality of a run, and making do with the scraps you've been given. Of course an early jetpack in <i>Spelunky</i> or an S-tier chest in <i>Enter the Gungeon </i>can swing momentum wildly in your favor, but the difference here is that <i>Caveblazers</i> refuses to offer the player meaningful decisions. There aren't any shops here, nor stage branches, nor optional challenges beyond the secret arena in the <i>first</i> level. In this linear land you'll live and die by <i>Caveblazer</i>'s RNG, subject to its capricious whims like a raft caught in a tempest. Even the gambling shrines have a massive loot table, dropping anything from a powerful new weapon to yet another shit-tier bomb—and those shrines aren't cheap!</div><div><br /></div><div>There are two quasi-remedies to <i>Caveblazer</i>'s RNG-dependance, but I find that neither is a reliable fix. The first is perhaps the coolest mechanic unique to the game: altars where you can combine items together. The hitch is that it has to be two of the <i>same</i> item, but the resulting super-item is almost always worth it, and you'll likely to stumble across a duplicate to use somewhere during your journey (it's usually another ring). The second is far more game-changing: a run-modifier that adds a shop to the end of every odd-numbered floor. But to unlock it, you'll have to delve pretty deep through the game and know exactly where to look for the relic. Not only that, but it also <i>removes</i> the free blessings offered to the player, a change that initially makes the game harder as you have to divest funds away from healing in order to now afford equipment <i>and</i> blessings. So it's not a step in the right direction as much as it's an equally-punishing sideways hobble.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPQIADnEzIeUrSnjuJNvW0Y8J8WliU00N91fAzrT74N2a2HuOgokr84UbQTa4bIaGumyMXUEDyJyRfye6G6Hv1y_cIW-iA8D2kqTJJAy0Uwh9OKn9Vko5ixa4NLLoG2R5FXWnoJq2mT8-xA_1VFEGUuOTAUhBmiZI5iXnywEsG_oniH1P5rgcJ6F_UuYy/s1920/20230816195727_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFPQIADnEzIeUrSnjuJNvW0Y8J8WliU00N91fAzrT74N2a2HuOgokr84UbQTa4bIaGumyMXUEDyJyRfye6G6Hv1y_cIW-iA8D2kqTJJAy0Uwh9OKn9Vko5ixa4NLLoG2R5FXWnoJq2mT8-xA_1VFEGUuOTAUhBmiZI5iXnywEsG_oniH1P5rgcJ6F_UuYy/w400-h225/20230816195727_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of equipment, <i>Caveblazers</i> offers players both sword and bow to conquer its perilous depths with, but your survival depends largely on your use of the latter. Enemies in this game are quicker, stronger, and more ruthless than you could ever be, able to react instantaneously amidst the chaos of combat, all while you're still processing which one of you just took damage. This leaves you fundamentally outclassed—that is, until you take potshots at them a screen away, where they'll happily let themselves be used as target practice. As someone that tried his damnedest to make melee builds work (and they <i>can</i>, but you need both range upgrades and lifesteal), trust me when I claim it's far easier to find a decent bow and to lean on that for the rest of the game. Plus if you stumble across some arrow blessings like pierce, double damage, and ricochet, your enemies will be lucky if they ever share a screen with you again.</div><div><br /></div><div>What <i>really</i> kills melee builds in this game however is the fact that <i>half</i> of the bosses prefer to hover outside of your attack range. Some may welcome a good thwacking (Felfang, Grubbington) but most are aerial threats that either spend no time on the ground (Deathrig, Goliath) or punish you when you decide to get up close and personal (Iron Face, Chrono'boid). The last boss in particular loves to be a floating, squirrely little cad, bombarding you from afar with homing explosives. Again, it's not to say melee builds are impossible (though they kind of are against the last boss), but rather that the path of least resistance winds down the obvious road of archery.</div><div><br /></div><div>Even then, the road is still riddled with plenty of resistance, with most of it coming from a handful of enemies: Jumpers, Kullos, and Demon Orcs. The Jumper is <i>Caveblazer</i>'s resident Creeper, able to fling its explosive body around at great distances whenever it wants. While they're the most nettlesome of the lot (expect to take plenty of explosions on the chin), the Kullos are the most dangerous, able to slip through your barrage of arrows and harass you 'til death do you part. Demon Orcs are out of depth monsters that make rare appearances but can be a stubborn adversary, relentlessly hunting you down and deflecting a majority of your attacks. Tiki Grubs and Cave Trolls also earn honorable mentions for being able to single-handedly end runs, but the evil trinity above earn their infamy for how early and often they appear. Unlike <i>Spelunky</i>, <i>Caveblazers</i>'s traps, hazards, and foes don't really scale as you progress; Kullos are the most dangerous enemy at the start of the game, and they'll remain the most dangerous enemy by the end of it.</div><div><br /></div><div>All of these systems add up to make <i>Caveblazers</i> a wildly imbalanced experience, where a dozen little roadblocks can equal your inevitable end. Causes for defeat are numerous: it could be a combination of enemies you're fighting, or an important blessing missing from your repertoire, or a lack of decent equipment before facing your first boss. And there are more major issues I haven't even covered: sometimes blessings are hidden behind walls you have to bomb when you have no bombs (and no, the shit-tier bombs don't destroy terrain). Sometimes you'll be saving up for a health shrine that won't appear for multiple floors in a row. And the potion system is atrocious, devoid of the typical means to identify what it does before quaffing it (ie identify scroll or vendor appraisal). You either have to toss it to a specific genus of monster and <i>remember</i> of color potion they drank, or throw your dice to the wind and hope its not a permanent debuff to an integral stat... something that'll happen far more often than it feels like it should.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfbQcZfPywm-jkYgRpmoEs3IMzRXOvuKhQDs76RBaVjFFwEmER5gM__VUMMus4dg2tMjAKFDE60ygJX48LX1UsgqL0w8Zn2JEqliZx9O-KtvjvJQwsZm4A86VgYC-YwFtF0uxyyw1BA1q66iSi0X8rYbmgBVGQDFrLx8vysv6LwS3aJGzKs9poIvilzW8/s1920/20230824040408_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAfbQcZfPywm-jkYgRpmoEs3IMzRXOvuKhQDs76RBaVjFFwEmER5gM__VUMMus4dg2tMjAKFDE60ygJX48LX1UsgqL0w8Zn2JEqliZx9O-KtvjvJQwsZm4A86VgYC-YwFtF0uxyyw1BA1q66iSi0X8rYbmgBVGQDFrLx8vysv6LwS3aJGzKs9poIvilzW8/w400-h225/20230824040408_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The amateur game designer in me is stupefied over <i>Caveblazers</i>. I feel like its problems are glaringly obvious after you spend a short amount of time with it... but perhaps the twisted truth is that all these eccentricates are intentional. For all I know, Deadpan Games may see <i>Caveblazers</i> as a resounding success, evoking a heady blend of dungeon-delving randomness with precision-based combat. But it's a messy, unwieldy concoction, one that grows more bitter the further you delve. The dungeon's offerings are too random, its combat too frantic to feel graceful (or even controllable), and even your wins can feel as undeserved and capricious as your deaths do. <i>Caveblazers</i> makes a valiant attempt at being a well-built roguelite, but all it proves is how difficult it is to even reach the <i>shadows</i> of the genre's greatest.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-86212252380301998202023-08-15T22:45:00.000-07:002023-08-15T22:45:24.889-07:00Colorzzle - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KVdCypKcOUGo_nEyohlk296qGgbeIzMR7JPviggbbMIKhqkaWc9R3VpYhJCjMurbU-AhXH91C7bXwop6ivuXtCreo9bUKKfLzLLgv_NfQYT5t_HYSN6UGhhKl-ufLtwU4tZxKCrf5vowA7Cp1x36eMJ_UZ90zFAcIvb8ZgyUaj9ujtMJCbWzz-_aUel8/s1492/Colorzzle.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="466" data-original-width="1492" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9KVdCypKcOUGo_nEyohlk296qGgbeIzMR7JPviggbbMIKhqkaWc9R3VpYhJCjMurbU-AhXH91C7bXwop6ivuXtCreo9bUKKfLzLLgv_NfQYT5t_HYSN6UGhhKl-ufLtwU4tZxKCrf5vowA7Cp1x36eMJ_UZ90zFAcIvb8ZgyUaj9ujtMJCbWzz-_aUel8/w400-h125/Colorzzle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Simplicity can be a fickle concept. Akin to an amateur tightrope walker, it wobbles awkwardly between elegant and boring, ready to plunge off either side at a moment's notice. The Atari 2600 and its ilk know this pain all too well, their vast libraries reduced to little more than droll oddities nowadays. But puzzle games tend to fare better at skirting this fate; sudoku, crossword puzzles, <i>Wordle</i>, <i>Minesweeper</i>, <i>Tetris</i>, and innumerable others are played daily by folks both young and old. There's something about a repeatable brain teaser that never grows stale, like listening to your favorite song from a decade ago or sipping from a cold drink after a mile run. However, boredom awaits on the other side of the tightrope, a dreadful reminder that inoculation does not mean immunization. </div><div><br /></div><div>Case-in-point: <i>Colorzzle</i>, a visually-pleasing, simple puzzler<i> </i>that's about as deep as a single coat of paint.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRirO5gASgcKqpvwNiWpfpsNKL3COQTnVnxico4lr_-Ra7aVZO1uDSDw2xut-kpvw4uXHme7SiJ9uZAbpY2PIjeVUbxwibEKl4iO80bxCV1Qb-bzrKv1D0MDDzpSqWnX6IXsTTc0WL6yQ4rekplhYyO19vVysCc-tmEj3NeUhrceXw_L6HmcPjPt0ga8Fr/s1920/20221123165724_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRirO5gASgcKqpvwNiWpfpsNKL3COQTnVnxico4lr_-Ra7aVZO1uDSDw2xut-kpvw4uXHme7SiJ9uZAbpY2PIjeVUbxwibEKl4iO80bxCV1Qb-bzrKv1D0MDDzpSqWnX6IXsTTc0WL6yQ4rekplhYyO19vVysCc-tmEj3NeUhrceXw_L6HmcPjPt0ga8Fr/w400-h225/20221123165724_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div>The premise behind <i>Colorzzle</i> is deliciously succinct: match open blocks with their required color. Got a red open block? Slot a red square next to it. A green open block? Try a green square—<i>or</i> you can sandwich it<i> between</i> one blue and one yellow square instead! The ability to "blend" adjacent colors to create secondary (and tertiary) hues is at the core of <i>Colorzzle</i>'s challenge, as well as its main draw. Being given a scattered rainbow of cubes and having to neatly organize them can be a fun endeavor... but the appeal doesn't last long.</div><div><br /></div><div>The big problem is that <i>Colorzzle</i> doesn't really require much thought from the player. Once you've memorized the various color combinations, puzzles boil down to mechanical busywork. The longest puzzles tend to be those that require the most reorganization, the solution only mildly obscured from the player. <i>Colorzzle</i> tries to spice things up with new mechanics like color-changing blocks and optic beams, but these aren't new tools in your repertoire as much as they're static blocks that take a couple of clicks to get "right". In <i>Colorzzle</i>'s hour-long run time, I only found the postgame puzzles to be worthy of my brainpower—so about a <i>tenth</i> of the game. The rest of my playthrough was simply <i>fine</i>: too pleasant to ever become annoying, but too dull to deserve a place in my memory.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW0xHVYmS1zNBqqlAB6T7ca_zLjQlAIP6SXSOwLgEu2wOLb0UNBzAjgYv_3GiTi2WpFHSbKTfzZwp11jlZ9KXPBTNmOB75wl4mOhk-B8VtCRxsvIllej8S0rBXouAvtp9Hhj0PDHW2_-ALgAjMaseMF63Wlt05GsizZ11F43RO0avPOOsM_6pik5ppuyzJ/s1920/20230723013515_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW0xHVYmS1zNBqqlAB6T7ca_zLjQlAIP6SXSOwLgEu2wOLb0UNBzAjgYv_3GiTi2WpFHSbKTfzZwp11jlZ9KXPBTNmOB75wl4mOhk-B8VtCRxsvIllej8S0rBXouAvtp9Hhj0PDHW2_-ALgAjMaseMF63Wlt05GsizZ11F43RO0avPOOsM_6pik5ppuyzJ/w400-h225/20230723013515_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>All things considered, there are <i>worse</i> things for a puzzle game to be than boring. A hellish experience like <i>Understand</i> instantly flits to mind, with its dense web of obscure rules and moon-logic that blows past "stupefying" and lands on "just stupid." It's probably better for a game to be "boring" rather than "dumb", but there aren't really any takeaways to be had with the former—just a gentle disappointment, like crawling into bed only to realize you forgot your phone charger downstairs. It's an innocuous sin that—at most—elicits a <i>tsk</i>... which was my exact reaction upon finishing <i>Colorzzle</i>. For a game so visually vibrant, <i>Colorzzle</i>'s gameplay is about as gray as you can get.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-879346819627785812023-04-24T05:28:00.000-07:002023-04-24T05:28:05.108-07:00Scorn - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dYu3qzhtfoHU5AoxD8Z9Rv7RNBV4xjuMHA26FJH8py1fhqIwtidAI1J2Usbz6d4CejCzXroM2Bnj6uZ-pzYv8z3Y5j7mzMuyD76e42hXfU_RETh4ZgPUVSFr48vB53Gj0zyEIZHJwd0Lj67y7EJVVIJ6KNdiwTC-SZ4bwjXSBK4-jGlU6tonMXUE8A/s657/Scorn.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="657" height="98" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9dYu3qzhtfoHU5AoxD8Z9Rv7RNBV4xjuMHA26FJH8py1fhqIwtidAI1J2Usbz6d4CejCzXroM2Bnj6uZ-pzYv8z3Y5j7mzMuyD76e42hXfU_RETh4ZgPUVSFr48vB53Gj0zyEIZHJwd0Lj67y7EJVVIJ6KNdiwTC-SZ4bwjXSBK4-jGlU6tonMXUE8A/w400-h98/Scorn.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><i>(contains minor spoilers)</i></div><div><br /></div><div>A weird thing about humans (or all living organisms really) is that we're frighteningly adaptable. Conditions we might have once called upsetting or untenable can be made numbingly commonplace after an extended period of time. Likewise, even luxury and leisure can be rendered stale and boring as they become one's new normal. In the best cases, we can transform an annoyance into a non-issue; in the worst cases, we grow immune to unspeakable cruelty. Our adaptability can help us survive, but in doing so, we can lose sight of the reason why, driven to keep on living long after the reasons for doing so have entirely vanished.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Scorn</i> takes at this carnal ability to adapt and deifies it, imagining a world where death is one of the <i>least</i> worrisome things that could happen to you. The game has its fair share of problems (most of which is derived from its laborious combat), but it's a fascinating experience, completely unlike most other games I've played. <i>Scorn</i> takes its art design seriously, prioritizing it over coddling the player or ensuring they're having a smooth "gaming experience". That's because <i>Scorn </i>aims to immerse you in a world where life itself is a cancer, twisting the need to survive even in the most dire of circumstances into a new, violent nightmare.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwjb-JIiTPJOFG1j5kXXI2MCx2vVsg8nzZohzUEpH3e-euJT2QJzV_0t5mk-bEmF79bbltYby2ekorJGMtEUluMRlcztary6IYhvAR1OYZ7gOpKdagBcLWgYxb4S-X4-_3JiByPNx2E5BGFb_ud7qNWe8tfMocJjIhHoBt_1Br7WnfYAD4_DywaPlyw/s1920/Scorn5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRwjb-JIiTPJOFG1j5kXXI2MCx2vVsg8nzZohzUEpH3e-euJT2QJzV_0t5mk-bEmF79bbltYby2ekorJGMtEUluMRlcztary6IYhvAR1OYZ7gOpKdagBcLWgYxb4S-X4-_3JiByPNx2E5BGFb_ud7qNWe8tfMocJjIhHoBt_1Br7WnfYAD4_DywaPlyw/w400-h225/Scorn5.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>The worst thing I can say about <i>Scorn</i> is that it's fully indebted to the groundwork paved by H.R. Giger and Zdzislaw Beksinski. Their haunting, unsettling artwork is the periodic table from which every molecule of <i>Scorn</i> is formed. Although the films <i>Alien</i> and <i>Species</i> partnered with Giger to help bring his vile creations to life, it's this game that best embraces his work, offering an ostensible museum wherein even the walls are designed by the Swiss surrealist. On one hand, you might be tempted to damn <i>Scorn</i> as a sycophantic knockoff of its betters... but on the other, <i>Scorn</i> is a visual masterpiece, flawlessly bringing its feverish inspirations to life. If there's one reason to play <i>Scorn</i>, it's to bear witness to Ebb Software's dilapidated playground of oozing insanity, where you can personally inspect every rotten orifice and gawk at the turgid abominations retching acid from what you can only assume is their "face".</div><div><br /></div><div>Besides its putrid, cannabalistic world, the other way <i>Scorn</i> upsets the player is with a sharp genre shift midway through your journey. At first <i>Scorn</i> plays somewhere between <i>Gone Home</i> and <i>Myst</i>, tasking the player to solve contextless puzzles in a possibly-abandoned, possibly-haunted environment. But near the halfway point of the game (or rather, its middle third), <i>Scorn </i>becomes a full-on oldschool FPS, complete with ADS, health stations, and a shotgun made from bone and flesh. Wisely managing your health and ammo trumps analyzing the environment, as you'll soon find that enemies are numerous and supplies are rare. There are still puzzles here and there to solve, but most of your time will be spent keeping your hide intact as sinewy monsters close in on you, blood and sweat dripping from their pores. You might come to <i>Scorn</i> eager to explore its morbid environment, but cumbersome shooting will eventually take center stage—for arguably too long.</div><div><br /></div><div>As an avid appreciator of both environmental puzzles and tough combat, I didn't mind <i>Scorn</i>'s shift towards the latter... but it's obvious the game is more adroit at the former. Despite the lack of enemies early on, <i>Scorn </i>is comes off as eerie and unnerving, making the world feel as tense as it is revolting. Unfortunately, once you've tangoed with the game's four basic enemies enough times, a lot of the apprehension vanishes, the tension refocused. Now what's scary is trying to figure out where the next health station is, or if you're about to get sandwiched, or when to use your precious pistol ammo. Scuffles can get dire quickly, prompting you to lean on the weaknesses in the enemy AI such as camping corners or de-aggroing your foes so you can run up and stab them from behind. By the time you reach the game's (somewhat silly) final boss, fear has been stripped from your mind, replaced by stoic analyzation, the urge to reload, and a tinge of annoyance.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwK7fi8rtlNjIeRjV6CQlLsByNMXhZrJXsxqy8L_IvGVkqy3eehy8ozTeBk4BsCX-nWEndgSiRZMdLRoR4z_9rCM5ETbDy-ESDclNxHUtGrIfhPP80bxcPMxtlcmkK1dMkT2I9rmCLtxA9xKppnM04jDl2-xW9L1l6JDPHpWMsaRsFlD14by4Yg8e-2Q/s1920/Scorn7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwK7fi8rtlNjIeRjV6CQlLsByNMXhZrJXsxqy8L_IvGVkqy3eehy8ozTeBk4BsCX-nWEndgSiRZMdLRoR4z_9rCM5ETbDy-ESDclNxHUtGrIfhPP80bxcPMxtlcmkK1dMkT2I9rmCLtxA9xKppnM04jDl2-xW9L1l6JDPHpWMsaRsFlD14by4Yg8e-2Q/w400-h225/Scorn7.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Scorn</i>'s combat is pretty terrible—but at least I understand why it's there. One of the unique ways video games can convey horror is through punishing gameplay systems, like depriving you of resources (<i>Resident Evil</i>), making your character difficult to control (<i>Clock Tower</i>), or even threatening to trap you in an unwinnable save state (<i>Silent Hill 4</i>). While <i>Scorn </i>comfortably slides into the<i> </i>survivor horror compartment, it lacks the items, bestiary, and maze-like setting that makes games like the <i>Resident Evil</i> franchise so lush and captivating to experience. <i>Scorn</i> by comparison is crude and brutish, largely concerned with robbing you of health and ammo whenever you happen to stumble across an. There aren't interesting systems at play, secret caches, or special items to uncover (beyond a single, uninteresting key ring)—all that stands between you and the ending is an intestinal hallway clogged with locked doors and faceless foes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yet despite having the ability to fend for yourself, there's a moon-sized gulf between you and action heroes like Doomguy and Gordon Freeman. They are veritable gods of death, grim reapers that dispense a personal justice one pile of corpses at a time. But in <i>Scorn</i>, you're just a weak, scared, naked nobody that lives health station to health station, the grim knowledge that death is inevitable eating away at the back of your mind. <i>Scorn</i>'s combat sucks to play because <i>Scorn</i>'s <b>world</b> sucks to live in—it has to be one of the absolute worst in fictional media, eclipsing even the desolate apocalypse of <i>I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream</i>. Happiness was never even an option here—the only hope you carry is that your death will be swift and painless... a baseless fancy you know is too good to be true.</div><div><br /></div><div>In a twisted turn of events however, you'll learn to appreciate <i>Scorn</i>'s world for what it is. While it stays viscerally upsetting to the very end, you'll adapt to its once-grotesque imagery, marveling instead at its grandeur. You'll pass under spinal archways, climb atop flaking steeples, and operate machinery that mimics the human body: disgusting, yet indescribably ornate. Even the way creatures congregate together can be strangely, uncomfortably beautiful, with disemboweled corpses in the latter half of the game posed in a serene, nearly-orgasmic state together. Like Giger before them, Ebb Software deliberately blends pleasure and pain together, turning every wretched hallway into a painting, every pulsating health station into an blessed confessional. You'll adapt to its wriggling hell, giving up on finding a way out in favor of discover what happens <i>next</i>.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXbJ_5de9faPe_nb04tRsrO3zwBShLZgzkuOENqwhtPMe9MzBA1i2TTxJ7JegVaNIE4utoW8he79rkko9o7k8YuDeEzmm6OMt9UalWiRHo0z4pNCXffqCkK3GhHL_gdCpUJJULGP_PZgWcyQOquB8022L_OFfeqXS1FZkIqKNKs2YSuPLOKoKyzgj-Q/s1920/Scorn6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbXbJ_5de9faPe_nb04tRsrO3zwBShLZgzkuOENqwhtPMe9MzBA1i2TTxJ7JegVaNIE4utoW8he79rkko9o7k8YuDeEzmm6OMt9UalWiRHo0z4pNCXffqCkK3GhHL_gdCpUJJULGP_PZgWcyQOquB8022L_OFfeqXS1FZkIqKNKs2YSuPLOKoKyzgj-Q/w400-h225/Scorn6.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Scorn</i> is simultaneously tortured and beautiful, narrowly treading the line between fetishistic grotesquerie and high art. It's clearly not for everyone—especially for those with a tender disposition or fans of concrete stories—but if you shut off all the lights and immerse yourself in its world, <i>Scorn </i>provides an awesome experience. It's a game that's nearly impossible to predict, pulling you in a dozen different directions before climaxing in an ungodly carnival of pain. <i>Scorn</i> emphasizes that death is not the goal of life; rather, more <i>life</i> is. And that should scare you more than anything you can possibly imagine.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-36296930910911192822023-03-22T12:20:00.002-07:002023-03-22T12:20:49.999-07:00Loot River - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE84j0EVmjJGe6VO_sbarh1Rq2atfd1GpSDWIRgZwltbQrDkWcL9vcxRDshXbaFVcJ-WHtBX8Gam_yY4FWBf9X1a4UYL2mQyhiScFNrLHgwWS5DSIvlP-jAnXurVD6bNC8dsZt1daoxR2cj-3QFu85P-IBwGyvDtfTm7iMkEqyCHYXMycJjy_LysvNlw/s959/LootRiver1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="959" height="74" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE84j0EVmjJGe6VO_sbarh1Rq2atfd1GpSDWIRgZwltbQrDkWcL9vcxRDshXbaFVcJ-WHtBX8Gam_yY4FWBf9X1a4UYL2mQyhiScFNrLHgwWS5DSIvlP-jAnXurVD6bNC8dsZt1daoxR2cj-3QFu85P-IBwGyvDtfTm7iMkEqyCHYXMycJjy_LysvNlw/w400-h74/LootRiver1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Like a hobo's bindle, <i>Loot River</i> is a ratty patchwork of incongruous ideas. Occasionally you'll glimpse snapshots of a clever gimmick—such as gambling with your healing potions to earn more of them next stage—but promising concepts are the best the game has to offer. Spending a mere hour with <i>Loot River</i> will reveal that it's less than <i>half</i> the game that it <b>should</b> be. It's not simply rough around the edges or in urgent need of more playtesting; <i>Loot River</i> is completely unrefined, like a gnarled tree trunk posing as an IKEA dining table.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAre0_S_36TdxWP7BX91mbeN9hxJR4U47BtsRoVz9wFJNfpze-kwV77JPrjLmA47zWvFogVJXP91CFVMSFfN8TePShTRQJuaZv70_0wTYdAjEigqMjGyTiux8t_vDQ1_3IrT8AHcNGxBvunbxWVkWAMG1H5HX5Ppa2YSVXAAIHWtqiwNems-wBeloQw/s1920/LootRiver2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPAre0_S_36TdxWP7BX91mbeN9hxJR4U47BtsRoVz9wFJNfpze-kwV77JPrjLmA47zWvFogVJXP91CFVMSFfN8TePShTRQJuaZv70_0wTYdAjEigqMjGyTiux8t_vDQ1_3IrT8AHcNGxBvunbxWVkWAMG1H5HX5Ppa2YSVXAAIHWtqiwNems-wBeloQw/w400-h225/LootRiver2.png" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Loot River</i>'s premise is distinctly alluring: a top-down action roguelite that sees you venturing through a forgotten, flooded city via sliding polyominos that <i>you</i> control with the right analogue stick. It blends tense combat with impromptu puzzle solving, letting you choose how and when to engage groups of enemies. You can briefly connect platforms to pull enemies one at a time, or split the battlefield in half to deal with the runts first, or blitz your way over to a block, break away, and forego combat altogether. A lot of the decision-making is left in the player's hands, which is one of the rare things <i>Loot River</i> gets right.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A shame that everything else is such a mess.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">First up, build variety doesn't exist because the player is given nearly <i>no choice</i> in what to receive. Despite there being a decently-sized unlock tree for weapons, armor, and spells, there's no way to start a run with the paraphernalia of your choice. Instead, you'll either receive the default starting set or a completely randomized loadout. New gear can be found during a run, but not only is such a thing rare, but its quality is completely randomized—meaning you stumble across low level equipment even in the endgame. So expect to find one or two upgrades at <i>best</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Shops could theoretically remedy this issue, but there are only a handful in the game—all of which offer a <i>single</i> randomized item at a time. It boggles the mind! There are over 50 pieces of equipment to choose from, which could have easily expanded the shop inventory to three or five items—or at least allow categorization by type (weapons, armor, spells, etc)—but <i>Loot River</i> simply shrugs its shoulders to such obvious solutions. Exacerbating this are the randomized shop prices, tending to land on the expensive side more often than not. So shops wind up being a complete non-factor in determining a winning run—which is a bizarre design decision for a roguelite that leans so heavily on its item pool for variety!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And that's all without getting into how rubbish the majority of your equipment actually is!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVCt_rn_xo5p3FNpfkczVy03hJ0x9hbGjAHMXDDrIrV6wwZQirnmdMAxytOnFyj3vz2WxK4ClGL4MD88hoPmmWUIPqKZQqkCqzuWOSiTH8Uy6p_XBQvzfYzDmC-NbmLpILidPSUw-PbZAO0x4wnKFDl-I-SrvoqCuDCvkJBxjAtfihBkdOY5FRuw1VtQ/s1920/LootRiver3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVCt_rn_xo5p3FNpfkczVy03hJ0x9hbGjAHMXDDrIrV6wwZQirnmdMAxytOnFyj3vz2WxK4ClGL4MD88hoPmmWUIPqKZQqkCqzuWOSiTH8Uy6p_XBQvzfYzDmC-NbmLpILidPSUw-PbZAO0x4wnKFDl-I-SrvoqCuDCvkJBxjAtfihBkdOY5FRuw1VtQ/w400-h225/LootRiver3.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>If you seek to best <i>Loot River</i>, you must understand one simple rule: speed is king. Big weapons might look impressive as your character drags them across the ground, but they're too unwieldy, lacking both the damage and reach needed to offset their slow attack speed. Parrying is also linked to weapon attack speed, granting quick blades nigh-invulnerable when you spam the parry button again—a tactic that works on almost every enemy in the game! And there's no drawback to it either! <i>Loot River</i> lacks a stamina system to punish you for spammy play, meaning you mash your way through any fight and escape those you can't by repeatedly dodging over and over again. And since bosses are the only lock-in fights, it's fairly easy to sprint to the end of the game and parry the final boss to death with your starting weapon. I tested this out a few times and got a sub-10 minute run, placing me in the top 10 for the XBOX PC leaderboards... an achievement I'm not sure I'm proud of.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's a bit more to the combat—like a string of combos, charge attack, and spellcasting—but you won't need anything beyond the very first attack. By far the optimal strategy is to attack once and then dash behind the target, resetting your combo so you perform your opening attack again. This is because some weapons like the axe and rapier have blazingly-fast pokes that do solid damage, capable of stunlocking enemies and pounding bosses into a pulp. Better yet is if your weapon is enhanced with electricity, as it will continue to damage <i>and </i>paralyze enemies <i>while</i> you're dashing behind them—a maneuver that even keeps even the <b>final boss</b> fully locked down and helpless! The other enhancements (poison, fire) are hilariously useless in comparison, applying a <i>single</i> damage DoT (as in, <b>one </b>damage) that does little more than color your foe a light shade of green or orange. Seriously, if you find a lightning rapier somewhere—no matter the level quality—prepare to steamroll through the game faster than a Ferrari through a sand castle.</div><div><br /></div><div>You may be wondering if there's any incentive for fighting enemies you can easily flee from, and my response would be "<i>kind</i> of". You receive both gold and experience from squashing your foes, but the former is so scant as to rarely matter (again, shops price gouge like crazy). and you only need a small amount of the latter to beat the game. When you level up you can increase one out of six of your stats, which sounds like an interesting choice—except that it isn't. What you'll end up doing nine times out of ten is increasing VIT to 13 and then, depending on the weapon you're wielding, dumping the rest into either STR or DEX. Sure, you might be tempted to spend your points elsewhere, but considering that you only net 6-8 levels before your run concludes, it's hard to beat the unstoppable combo of HP & DPS. And considering how floaty, inconsistent, and obfuscated the combat feels, you really won't <i>want</i> to play more than you have to. Seriously, the game needs to sit down and figure out what <i>Hyper Light Drifter</i> and <i>Curse of the Dead Gods</i> did right, because it's <i>barely</i> better than a Newgrounds flash game.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are a couple more systems <i>Loot River</i> includes that range from curious (using run modifiers to unlock the true last boss is neat) to obnoxious (why send the player back to the hub after every stage? Why make some of the charms so ineffectual and others OP? Why does the fetid shawl drop over <i>and over <b>and over</b></i> again?!) but I grow tired thinking about this game more than the developers clearly have. <i>Loot River</i> lacks common sense, too eager to blend ideas and playstyles together while doing little to make itself enticing, cohesive, or properly balanced. Its combat is messy, its equipment is boring, the money is useless, and experience is practically predetermined—but the most odious culprit is the titular loot. <i>Loot River</i> is not keen on doling its items out to you, and even when it stubbornly does, expect it to be hot garbage most of the time.</div><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFmf4AyBsg1AVJKy09T7ytlQWYKcY2qmkyejjHQQ5BxXTvNH7HqWp8eeiK5XjiGwc0VYVBM99ltEdAYIEiTVZjzAxMRqOCewYhwZAz-0g4jJStT2Vbu35vTeqCrK5jmzq_xUv5PpL0-CIefgBozOLDcijHOwwByBK-2SSjGG-Q6t9tKidEQJyI4-9aQ/s1920/LootRiver5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFmf4AyBsg1AVJKy09T7ytlQWYKcY2qmkyejjHQQ5BxXTvNH7HqWp8eeiK5XjiGwc0VYVBM99ltEdAYIEiTVZjzAxMRqOCewYhwZAz-0g4jJStT2Vbu35vTeqCrK5jmzq_xUv5PpL0-CIefgBozOLDcijHOwwByBK-2SSjGG-Q6t9tKidEQJyI4-9aQ/w400-h225/LootRiver5.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">While playing through <i>Loot River</i>, I was reminded at times of the equally-strange <i>Loop Hero...</i> but any comparison I could draw between the two will betray how distant they are in quality. <i>Loop Hero</i> may fall short of its true potential, but one can walk away from it having been satisfied by the puzzle presented—or at least, tickled by its mechanics. <i>Loot River</i> on the other hand, is half-baked, routinely imbalanced, and—at <i>most</i>—mildly entertaining when it works as intended. Which is not often! Perhaps one might find it fascinating from a cautionary, post-mortem perspective, the same way that failing a midterm test can convey the importance of routine studying. As for me (and much to <i>Loot River</i>'s chagrin) the only thing I found notable about it is that it's one of the firmest "do not recommend"s I've played in a <i>long</i> while.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-73720398101658808042023-03-17T21:55:00.001-07:002023-03-17T21:55:49.584-07:00Moonscars - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUKbY3nS7wLmVtmxjv4icM3L9lBpAsy3fzdFi8B7b4eqqvDneGD9psCUpES60Cq9ArBsTAahl0aWzjWY6W2_vQi6ADjtjyio60A0Z5aDQDuJDBKuAgpVHHOxPVaeCpLRCZzj2rFqMnFpk1oOu9bvnnCk1DncWLYI8LsitGk7VpGI_pFQInZUqZJBagmw/s961/Moonscars.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="161" data-original-width="961" height="68" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUKbY3nS7wLmVtmxjv4icM3L9lBpAsy3fzdFi8B7b4eqqvDneGD9psCUpES60Cq9ArBsTAahl0aWzjWY6W2_vQi6ADjtjyio60A0Z5aDQDuJDBKuAgpVHHOxPVaeCpLRCZzj2rFqMnFpk1oOu9bvnnCk1DncWLYI8LsitGk7VpGI_pFQInZUqZJBagmw/w400-h68/Moonscars.jpg" width="400" /></i></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Left in the wake of <i>Salt and Sanctuary</i> was a tantalizing concept: <i>Dark Souls</i> as a 2D metroidvania. Ska Studios showed it was possible—with a one man team of all things!—so indie studios got to work on creating their own Frankenstein's monster. Numerous notable titles emerged from this trend such as <i>Blasphemous</i>, <i>Ender Lilies</i>, and <i>GRIME</i>,<i> </i>with the tally only growing each year. But this sudden burst in popularity brought with it a muddying of the genre, blending many of these gothic-medieval games into a gray soup of stamina bars, cryptic lore, and corpse runs. It became harder to stand out, harder to tell at a glance what <i>your</i> game did different from the myriad of others.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Moonscars</i> tries to leap ahead of its kin thanks to a strong art style and gorgeous animations, but it never fully emerges from the muddy swamp. Rather, it is stuck waist-deep in mediocrity, vainly reaching for the feet of its golden idols.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5UAH_kP6Z8Y4y97UFoTnArOqEyY_4C8brPQyqoGREmMuBhe7uElJWYg44UYC6wNCvhItL1JqXOAI4yHgXFcmuNjvoYBbHYvMi02boOR-2_k_qurgNYlC8pIRCjn_MBABuRPmD1xwm4rQIpW2hCa-d6zqDS_Cws6V_SdSsvyHgNEbFsT7cvZHEWwuGg/s1920/Moonscars%202_2_2023%203_50_53%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl5UAH_kP6Z8Y4y97UFoTnArOqEyY_4C8brPQyqoGREmMuBhe7uElJWYg44UYC6wNCvhItL1JqXOAI4yHgXFcmuNjvoYBbHYvMi02boOR-2_k_qurgNYlC8pIRCjn_MBABuRPmD1xwm4rQIpW2hCa-d6zqDS_Cws6V_SdSsvyHgNEbFsT7cvZHEWwuGg/w400-h225/Moonscars%202_2_2023%203_50_53%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Before I begin, let me just state that Black Mermaid should be proud of the work they've achieved here. To come out of nowhere and drop such an impressive, gif-juicy game like <i>Moonscars</i> is admirable, even if the experience is far from perfect. There's a lot of praiseworthy material here: the world is somber and alluring, attacks have great weight and flourish to them, and the smeared, smudgy art style is a clever fit for the game's earthern theme. The magic system is also an interesting departure from genre conventions, utilizing a replenishable resource that doubles as your healing pool. Since magic can only be recovered by attacking, it stops you from having to constantly return to a save point to restore health, while simultaneously encouraging a risky, aggressive playstyle. It's a smart system... </div><div><br /></div><div>... would that I could say the same for the rest of the game.</div><div><br /></div><div>The boldest idea <i>Moonscars</i> brings to the table is its roguelite perks: transitory passives that reset upon death. Although you can hold up to five perks, there are a scant six in total to choose from, with a majority allowed to be taken twice. This means you're likely to end up with the same exact build every time: two 25% heal increases, two 10% crit increase, and whatever fifth suits your needs at the time (like the full hp heal). Toward the latter half of the game you'll come to lean more on the spell cost reduction perks, but it hardly feels like a game changer. Eventually you'll realize that perks largely serve as a "death tax", momentarily weakening you until you slaughter a handful of enemies to get back up to speed. And considering how the game bizarrely has endgame enemies provide the<i> same</i> amount of experience as its starting foes, expect to warp back to the beginning to do some menial, risk-free grinding over and over again.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBwvCiXP_zLeNu1kz3fLwbWBUNfbHP0fjAVFS-VIeLVUdO8ylEEeCDWQQyZCcT4rWdDfebItgD2DMLz6XhvG1KpNjqIcKEgmRNQz7dgpZPKASKQuk80NM4KM6H4T9YB0S8QYnXDNVqllF5ne_2zTHZcy_YTAJFQPAo1Os4_jErAfsYHoPigfdYEQHrVQ/s1920/Moonscars%202_2_2023%204_36_02%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBwvCiXP_zLeNu1kz3fLwbWBUNfbHP0fjAVFS-VIeLVUdO8ylEEeCDWQQyZCcT4rWdDfebItgD2DMLz6XhvG1KpNjqIcKEgmRNQz7dgpZPKASKQuk80NM4KM6H4T9YB0S8QYnXDNVqllF5ne_2zTHZcy_YTAJFQPAo1Os4_jErAfsYHoPigfdYEQHrVQ/w400-h225/Moonscars%202_2_2023%204_36_02%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>What you won't grind for, strangely enough, is experience. And that's because there are no level ups in <i>Moonscars</i>—only spells, trinkets, and permanent upgrades scattered throughout the wild. This renders the power curve distinctly flat with a slight uphill slant; although you'll be stronger at the end of your journey than its start, it'll be mostly due to the hours of play time you'll spend studying enemy attacks, as well as your own. The only vital items to hunt for in <i>Moonscars</i> are the damage upgrades, but they suffer from a bizarre artistic flaw: looking like every other sparkly item on the ground. This deflates the joy found in exploration, as you have barely any upgrades to keep an eye out for—and those you<i> are</i> in need of look like every other useless trinket that'll clog your inventory.</div><div><br /></div><div>Plus, it's not as if exploration is one of <i>Moonscars</i>' key features. Despite having all the telltale signs of a metroidvania, the world of <i>Moonscars</i> is practically on rails, guiding you from one area to another. You can't stumble upon anything you aren't supposed to, nor fight any of the bosses out of order. Only when you find the game's lone mobility upgrade does the world open up a <i>little</i> bit, but even then the new paths will lead to dead ends until you visit them in a specific sequence. The final act in the game kills the metroidvania comparisons outright, devolving into a string of dull arena fights against enemies in flat arenas that you've dispatched a dozen times already. Lastly, the in-game map is horridly unwieldy, lacking markers for both switches & doors, as well as scrolling agonizingly slow (seriously, what is it with metroidvania games having glacial, impractical scrolling?!)</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaJ44pcAojC0YF66f_uLYMD5PHoKceqjTnOWOeGJsTh7tsVNAcmXR0JUVHTN_u_JFP_j6FmxlxGWp0cXSd0TOnh2QStMUYV5HDt76lC0WPRRrvar9T5M-KWXpjPEH3b4gYJo8ma3yrMBQyTcoXKPApGdS4v3BqjjDkt1s1xga7qYcnMIoijHPMm-x1A/s1920/Moonscars%202_2_2023%205_07_45%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXaJ44pcAojC0YF66f_uLYMD5PHoKceqjTnOWOeGJsTh7tsVNAcmXR0JUVHTN_u_JFP_j6FmxlxGWp0cXSd0TOnh2QStMUYV5HDt76lC0WPRRrvar9T5M-KWXpjPEH3b4gYJo8ma3yrMBQyTcoXKPApGdS4v3BqjjDkt1s1xga7qYcnMIoijHPMm-x1A/w400-h225/Moonscars%202_2_2023%205_07_45%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>Perhaps you're hoping that the lore of the world can keep you hooked, but the story is sadly ripped wholesale from From's catalogue. The analogues to <i>Dark Souls</i>/<i>Bloodborne</i> are glaring: the medieval kingdom has fallen into disrepair, Clayborn are Undead, getting cleft is going hollow, the moon is a major antagonist, and every NPC is an asshole that speaks in riddles. There's a kernel of a good idea here—namely, every death letting you slough off a useless skin that may or may not come back to haunt you—but the storytelling in <i>Moonscars</i> is needlessly convoluted and poorly explained, throwing line after line of dialogue at you that ultimately reveals nothing. The gargoyles in the hub are the worst offenders, prattling on without end while glibly mocking you the entire time. While there are major character reveals and plot developments, nothing in <i>Moonscars</i> is surprising because nothing is expected; the story is a nonsensical proper noun salad that vacates your mind as soon as you turn off the game.</div><div><br /></div><div>Combat stays strong for the most part, but even it starts to stagnate by the end. Despite the alluring animation of the game's heavier weapons (like the hammer and painwheel), <i>Moonscars</i> values quick attacks over outwardly impressive ones. This, combined with the slow start-up of spells and high damage of parries, funnels you into a rapidly striking playstyle where retaliation is king. This only becomes more true as the game gets harder, with enemies lobbing off half of your health bar in a single, wide strike. And even when you realize the power of the parry, it remains a temperamental and finicky maneuver, no matter how often you use it. The best tip I can give is to try and parry enemies <i>before</i> you think you need to.</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of enemies, <i>Moonscars</i> could've benefitted from a larger bestiary. What's here is thankfully varied, but the game runs out of new monsters in its last third, a problem further exacerbated by the shift to arena battles. To mask this shortcoming, old foes are reintroduced with an immunity to physical attacks—a gimmick you're either going to find mildly interesting or painfully annoying. While this does prompt the player to reexamine their spell loadout, flying foes are an eternal nuisance, as there aren't a lot of quick and effective aerial spells. It doesn't help that the skybound enemies are some of the worst in the game, whether it be the floating priests that spam a powerful AoE heal or the tiny gargoyles with their deceptively wide spears. Bosses at least provide an interesting challenge, but not only are they few and far between, but half of them are <i>also </i>aerial foes, meaning your solitary midair swipe will be getting quite the workout.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_G5opu7H7eetHKxyJiNyyZeG0U8Z0Y4x5rEPOYcCOe6xtlB6r6-ALUDx2owF4TDNm3jz5eEf4_J2R5gerSjVGXwbPF_aQ9arZsLaT65UijLXqQMWtttBYoQ4lsUp9iSnZrRWFPGNbBQqbnsJn90mPTStaDZ-bi0ll_1_spcfju2xNcM3ZOg6csgnKQ/s1920/Moonscars%202_3_2023%205_42_47%20AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4_G5opu7H7eetHKxyJiNyyZeG0U8Z0Y4x5rEPOYcCOe6xtlB6r6-ALUDx2owF4TDNm3jz5eEf4_J2R5gerSjVGXwbPF_aQ9arZsLaT65UijLXqQMWtttBYoQ4lsUp9iSnZrRWFPGNbBQqbnsJn90mPTStaDZ-bi0ll_1_spcfju2xNcM3ZOg6csgnKQ/w400-h225/Moonscars%202_3_2023%205_42_47%20AM.png" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Moonscars</i> makes a valiant effort but ultimately falls short of greatness. Everything besides its animations comes up lacking: an uninspired world, lifeless map, hitchy combat, low build variety, and square room after square room of enemies made immune to 70% of your combat repertoire. Despite my cartoonishly long list of grievances (that continue to unfurl and bounce down a staircase), I nevertheless had fun with <i>Moonscars</i>, and would recommend it only to diehard fans of the genre. The game has inarguable foibles, but the worst of its sins are still forgivable, merely needing more polish rather than a drastic overhaul. If I was to make a single, potentially-damning comparison, <i>Moonscars</i> feels like the <i>Mortal Shell</i> of the 2D <i>Soulslike</i> genre.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-83737097587402886162023-03-02T22:30:00.000-08:002023-03-02T22:30:33.135-08:00Raft - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzGN-fApIrkRUGpOCpHrUjMVTbauqp8jsRamXF238ZDnIZnz196MqHHQ90joGb6xbohI8uSWnYd76rpetyldB1I6Bw2wL9sztfR2EgQge10wsKRmA2eHTEAMQStM9BYNJz7q8AM57EZWzdfaGsSxqu0_QbgGNuX0T8GSqf0_KdoQU9YI2B06ZYglhxjg/s408/Raft-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="408" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzGN-fApIrkRUGpOCpHrUjMVTbauqp8jsRamXF238ZDnIZnz196MqHHQ90joGb6xbohI8uSWnYd76rpetyldB1I6Bw2wL9sztfR2EgQge10wsKRmA2eHTEAMQStM9BYNJz7q8AM57EZWzdfaGsSxqu0_QbgGNuX0T8GSqf0_KdoQU9YI2B06ZYglhxjg/w320-h301/Raft-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Amid a sea of crafting games, <i>Raft</i> asks an interesting question: what if you had to take your base with you when you traveled? Or rather: what if the <b>only</b> way to travel <i>was </i>to take your base with you? At first it seems a cruel joke, your buoyed home little more than a block of wood set mysteriously adrift. But by the end it'll feel like home—<i>your</i> home, complete with its own shoddy craftmanship, loose inventory, and piecemeal renovations. With this home, you'll sail across the endless expanse of blue, looking for other survivors, uncovering new schematics, and maybe even bringing some animal buddies onboard.<div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Raft</i> justifies a playthrough based off of its houseboat concept alone, but where it <i>really</i> shines—as hard as it is to believe for an open-world crafting game—is in its story missions.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1B8i9qgKTTE8JOHiwIbcRq47yxlSp5ylX7-8fTKfqpevz4zQsLZl7stl6UCKPF54ZHzHmtIx_mrSR7kTByU_btMVNgew47z8xc3jXKeQU80giep_dM2tILj65YdbCX-tS0KwQHN5eFsFe8glVOBHtEmjQtfR-nakIAroNIGUsILzg_jS9w3aIE40stQ/s1920/Raft2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1B8i9qgKTTE8JOHiwIbcRq47yxlSp5ylX7-8fTKfqpevz4zQsLZl7stl6UCKPF54ZHzHmtIx_mrSR7kTByU_btMVNgew47z8xc3jXKeQU80giep_dM2tILj65YdbCX-tS0KwQHN5eFsFe8glVOBHtEmjQtfR-nakIAroNIGUsILzg_jS9w3aIE40stQ/w400-h225/Raft2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>A word of warning I'd issue to new players is that <i>Raft</i>'s food and water meters are grueling taskmasters. They deplete so fast at the start of the game that it's far easier (and less resource-intensive) to simply die and wait for an ally to revive you. Even when your kitchen can finally serve enough food and water for your crew, you'll be rapidly depleting its stock at all times. This is doubly true for the story missions, where you're docked at a single location for days at a time, devouring every fish, fruit, and vegetable in sight. The sooner you can establish a self-sustaining farm the better—and the larger you make it, the less often you'll have to hear groans of "we're out of watermelons <i>again</i>!"</div><div><br /></div><div>What complicates this is that real estate cannot be found—it must be built. Combing the ocean's surface for detritus is the best way to gather raw materials for an expansion, but raft tiles aren't cheap, requiring a constant upkeep thanks to the ravenous shark biting at your wooden heels. Trawling the waves grants a steady but measly income, only allowing you to splurge on a home renovation once every few days. This, combined with the food drought, encourages you to always stay on the move, dropping by islands just to deplete them of their resources, like a button-up villain from an eco-friendly kids cartoon.</div><div><div><br /></div>On one hand, the inexhaustible need to find more resources keeps <i>Raft</i> interesting, rarely making it so you can sit idly by and watch the waves. But on the other hand, due to the game keeping you constrained to a <i>single</i> raft, it can feel frustrating being beholden to the meager drip-feed of flotsam—especially when you hit a dry patch on the ocean. Other games like <i>Valheim </i>and <i>Terraria</i> allow players to split up and specialize, so one player can focus on fighting, another on gathering, another on building, etc. But <i>Raft</i> glues everyone to the same location, its freedom sharply ending at the boundary of the boat. Sure, you can still specialize in a way, but your roles will change moment-to-moment, determined by what resources are in which chest. As a survival game, it's a fascinating cooperative experience that demands flexibility; as a crafting game, it's an inconvenient, boring, and glacial crawl towards affluence.</div><div><br /></div><div>But luckily, the story more than make up for this.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-2nx3rj41VHmrpEggsiIs54045XJi5ILrh83QvFXWCDZUsy7T2sgR6kfY_I1_RxE_VbXnV7wM2w53OjJj3ciXvj4tVJQxCO4ieIuaXknRKSFIOGDlCpS17PKIMlmEooT5cA_ozvsgI4q76hRJ6OvFfWhpdipJidnhrMMoSnYepdcUgSJ5ZhKaTHk_g/s1920/Raft3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-2nx3rj41VHmrpEggsiIs54045XJi5ILrh83QvFXWCDZUsy7T2sgR6kfY_I1_RxE_VbXnV7wM2w53OjJj3ciXvj4tVJQxCO4ieIuaXknRKSFIOGDlCpS17PKIMlmEooT5cA_ozvsgI4q76hRJ6OvFfWhpdipJidnhrMMoSnYepdcUgSJ5ZhKaTHk_g/w400-h225/Raft3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div>Before you get too excited, <i>Raft</i>'s plot itself isn't anything to write home about. There's plenty there for the player that needs backstory in their games, but at no point did it ever pique my interest. No, where <i>Raft</i> captivates is in the sprawling design of its unique story islands, blending together item gathering, platforming, and the occasional puzzle solving. It harkens back to the PC FPSs of yore like <i>Half-Life</i> and <i>Undying</i>, where janky jumps and obscure paths forward were features and not flaws. Since this kind of unguided design has been absent in modern gaming (sans <i>Destiny</i>), it was refreshing to be thrown back into an open environment with nary a hint as to what I'm looking for. And thankfully, <i>Raft </i>never gets too bizarre or entrenched in moon logic; the entire campaign can be solved without a guide, as long as you're willing to experiment every now and then.</div><div><br /></div><div>Plus the variety in the story missions is great—especially for an indie studio! Each islet has its own distinct themes and obstacles, with commonalities between any two kept to a minimum. You'll venture to some makeshift shanty towns, to an abandoned biosphere, and even to an arctic base sleeping in the shadow of a nuclear plant. What's great about <i>Raft</i> is that it keeps you wondering what's around the next corner, curious what's been hidden behind every locked door you come across. Sure, a lot of it is fairly mundane (expect to find a lot of scrap metal and cooked beats), but the game always goes off the rails at the right moments, slapping you across the face with some unexpected surprises. Playing with friends or family makes these moments even better, as you'll occasionally hear confused, breathless reactions while you're carrying out some menial task on the ship ("Help! There's a vulture dropping boulders on me!")</div><div><br /></div><div>What really sweetens the deal (for me) is that <i>Raft</i> is a quick play, letting you speed through the game in under 24 hours. That might not sound <i>quick</i>, but I think it's exceptionally brief for a <b>crafting</b> game featuring nearly a hundred recipes. It won't all be smooth sailing—you'll run into the some resource bottlenecks like iron and titanium ore—but you can hack away at the story every time you sit down to play. For some folks however, <i>Raft</i> might feel too small—an issue exacerbated by the fact that there's no reason to continue playing after the story concludes. Well, unless you want to keep working on your dream house and don't mind scaring away sharks and seagulls every two goddamn minutes for the rest of your life (seriously, where were the endgame upgrades to repel them for longer?!) But in an era where games are encouraged to keep you playing as long as possible, I found <i>Raft</i>'s brevity to be a plus—especially since short-but-meaty coop experiences are too few and far between.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5_9yFgTfUle-uOh_Hm6QpvVgZATNMcZhdr0C3mADdQj7R6ILtQc7KL-Z3kW7GGKPqSZTK5U4mSvFrGC0RtRIZ95SARbRwickd82kx8riO6ct6IYdV-p3mBcNuCrUKypr-R-ZOc4UUYnjxzWPBGLghZ97HjIuyHvB6hoKaENHVepyA-w0eeLM4Imeiyw/s1920/Raft5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5_9yFgTfUle-uOh_Hm6QpvVgZATNMcZhdr0C3mADdQj7R6ILtQc7KL-Z3kW7GGKPqSZTK5U4mSvFrGC0RtRIZ95SARbRwickd82kx8riO6ct6IYdV-p3mBcNuCrUKypr-R-ZOc4UUYnjxzWPBGLghZ97HjIuyHvB6hoKaENHVepyA-w0eeLM4Imeiyw/w400-h225/Raft5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>It's obvious <i>Raft</i> was made by a small but passionate team. From the moment you dive in you'll have to adapt to some strange quirks that aren't likely to get patched out, like how opening a chest will show your backpack in the center and push the chests' contents off to the side, or that waiting long enough after a death lets you safely teleport your body back aboard your vessel (thus bypassing any kind of penalty). There's also not a lot of variety in the random non-story islands, nor is there enough titanium to build everything in the game (unless you REALLY like to scrounge). But if you're okay with the blemishes and ugly bumps, <i>Raft</i>'s ride is a joy to undertake, one that will take you to some strange places. The game may lack the rags-to-riches glow-up of <i>Terraria</i>, but it's fun seeing how your modest, waterborne craft gradually transforms into a floating fortress, one that's capable of ferrying to the ends of the earth and back again.</div></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-65449938516896918612023-02-15T14:07:00.001-08:002023-02-15T14:08:59.163-08:00Doki Doki Literature Club! - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQm2pjGdwpKLZ4kxHuPu-fLxJAedSHcuw73vhCdkTdojr3k5xGl5TFNrgtKy1dSyqXOMRHR8xl0s8f8kosPh4VybApnStUn_KV5qK6_89i4MkaxPOQUGRM0PrxAKlka8KVhsMULNG5HyBf_OHV17ZR5G6MDnsxGYrvrBx6J2QbuhWXV4durSU--trBGw/s288/dokidoki.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="209" data-original-width="288" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQm2pjGdwpKLZ4kxHuPu-fLxJAedSHcuw73vhCdkTdojr3k5xGl5TFNrgtKy1dSyqXOMRHR8xl0s8f8kosPh4VybApnStUn_KV5qK6_89i4MkaxPOQUGRM0PrxAKlka8KVhsMULNG5HyBf_OHV17ZR5G6MDnsxGYrvrBx6J2QbuhWXV4durSU--trBGw/w320-h232/dokidoki.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">To talk about <i>Doki Doki Literature Club</i> candidly is to spoil what makes it special. There's no practical way around that; the best advice one can give to a curious onlooker is to "go in blind." Even starting the game reveals a glimpse into <i>DDLC</i>'s secret, with text boxes popping up to ward away the squeamish. It's a game that can and <i>should</i> be played without a guide, a visual novel that's strikingly competent with its writing and themes. If you have a penchant for the strange or unnerving, give it a chance—<i>DDLC</i> may be slow and unremarkable at the start, but I promise it'll unfold into an experience you won't soon forget.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>[spoilers ahead]</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3c1Oe5FuU_jaaYgaso0MgyBChNtzpf-PKkRHRM7aRQxbkU-VQ2kOT2Qsc81w8Dtb5Xunrv4d9_5P723hQmkT4viKO7gF0q8aN7koC_nHjacpoAE6zhKGfgBScNxwCzXUM5e3FmSgHr6IXJtRDhE2ii_BLGpCXjWKZR3kinIMkkeYyAlmM8V8M4a4K6A/s1920/20230124010412_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3c1Oe5FuU_jaaYgaso0MgyBChNtzpf-PKkRHRM7aRQxbkU-VQ2kOT2Qsc81w8Dtb5Xunrv4d9_5P723hQmkT4viKO7gF0q8aN7koC_nHjacpoAE6zhKGfgBScNxwCzXUM5e3FmSgHr6IXJtRDhE2ii_BLGpCXjWKZR3kinIMkkeYyAlmM8V8M4a4K6A/w400-h225/20230124010412_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Boy, what a journey! All I knew before diving into <i>Doki Doki Literature Club</i> was that it was supposed to be "scary", but I wasn't quite sure what that entailed. Was it a jumpscare game like <i>Five Nights at Freddy's</i>? Solemnly spooky like <i>Silent Hill</i>? Or a discordant, gut-wrenching spiral to hell like <i>Saya No Uta</i>? Astonishingly it's kind of a mix of all three—with plenty of humor slathered on top for levity! There are definitely some pitch black moments to jolt you from your seat (like Sayori and Yuri's deaths), but <i>DDLC</i> is a surprisingly funny game that prefers to amuse you more than scare your pants off. Yuri's crazy eyes best exemplify this trait: they're an initially terrifying reveal that's fairly silly in retrospect, especially considering she's just a lovesick loon that's as attracted to you as she is paranoid of her own perversion.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The best part about <i>Doki Doki Literature Club</i> for me—hands down—was the game's numerous one-off surprises. Stuff like the weird pitch change in music, Monika's head popping up while writing a poem, the creeping dutch tilt as you talk with Yuri, the mouse cursor dragging back towards Monika's choice, your real name drop—there are a ton of fun moments <i>DDLC</i> uses once and then never again. Only after I finished it did I learn the game was furtively dropping mysterious files into its own folder, a great meta-touch that shows how committed Dan Salvato is to actualizing his world. And nothing symbolizes <i>DDLC</i>'s ingenuity better than its crowning achievement: deleting Monika's character file.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8v6c7kTfX2-lgLh3imQa2TjeC5aOuchSQ15jDh7OZAKXQIDgVB5bkkoXW5jQ12a-BSbpAWOqMQ0QyIipeoa8poCxMfrMo9r4hz1SsDeXL_R7g7yNPPuPX5Kf3IZ1Mt_lZzUPetq8CRnVy9G5ounosMGchvLuFi_D0DzU2Y8vReAV3A6b8ujD8lcDfg/s1920/20230111020018_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH8v6c7kTfX2-lgLh3imQa2TjeC5aOuchSQ15jDh7OZAKXQIDgVB5bkkoXW5jQ12a-BSbpAWOqMQ0QyIipeoa8poCxMfrMo9r4hz1SsDeXL_R7g7yNPPuPX5Kf3IZ1Mt_lZzUPetq8CRnVy9G5ounosMGchvLuFi_D0DzU2Y8vReAV3A6b8ujD8lcDfg/w400-h225/20230111020018_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Video games are a fascinating medium due to the fact that they (most often) require player participation in order to function properly. Stories don't simply solve themselves—you have to put in some legwork to see the end, even if campaigns nowadays guarantee you a safe passage on "story mode". But occasionally, a game will use the gameplay <i>itself</i> to make a thematic statement. Think of the borrowed strength at the end of <i>Brothers</i>, <i>Undertale</i>'s genocide route requiring pure psychopathy from the player, and a handful of brilliant others that veer too closely to spoiler territory (like Kotaro Uchikoshi and Yoko Taro's works). Mechanics like these not only reinforce the narrative in an unexpected way, but are <i>only</i> possible in the interactive-driven medium of video games.</div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Doki Doki Literature Club</i> joins these vaunted ranks by requiring you to manually delete the game's main antagonist off of your <i>hard drive</i> to reach its ending. It's perhaps the most brutal way a VN love interest has ever been rejected. The idea itself induces a double take, evolving from a suspicious "wait, could I?" to a full-throated gamble that risks destroying the executable. I like how the move echoes Monika's own actions too, treating her as she treated others—despite the timeless void arguably being the game's "happiest" end. And even after this betrayal from the player, Monika continues to love them, the remnants of her code irreversibly corrupting the game to save them from its soulless, affection-starved inhabitants.</div><div><br /></div><div>What I love about this bittersweet closure is how it rehabilitates Monika back into being a sympathetic character. She's by far the most unsettling heroine of the lot, despite never engaging in anything outwardly "scary" the entire game (I adore Yuri, but she's definitely queen freak). And yet Monika's cool demeanor is precisely what makes her so chilling; beneath those calm emerald eyes is a manipulative, cruel, and cunning schemer with the detached patience of a mortician. She argues that she's above the others simply because she can see a world outside of the ones and zeroes, but she too falls prey to the player's infallible charm, programmed to love them even after being tossed into the recycle bin. The <i>Portal</i>-esque serenade at the ending credits paint her as a tragic figure—and in turn, can kindle a curious, Stockholm-like fondness in the player's heart. They might come to idolize <i>Doki Doki</i>'s maladjusted cast just as they were idolized in turn, a Newton's cradle of unrequited love bound to spiral into obsession if left unchecked. <i>DDLC</i> is a visual novel that boldly suggests that sometimes, falling in love can be to the benefit of no one if it is not mutual.</div><div><br /></div><div>And in those cases, it's simply better to leave and let be.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25P5088ogg7gaK6hlmO7tvcq6IvbbRQ66V_jbo1jfRXk_RQnW5Cpp3jdZqaHaR2D0FdylyE9B6LKFrzpxAyUC9NwgU6cX3bHfQxInl9xhMAiI3nBRp06q-Q-1nTpiQEEp48qdm0X1xoQRinm3xrlh_eF5LhhTAlVB0IxIhc8IBCQMQN4UbSKDHWzCxg/s1920/20230124003503_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25P5088ogg7gaK6hlmO7tvcq6IvbbRQ66V_jbo1jfRXk_RQnW5Cpp3jdZqaHaR2D0FdylyE9B6LKFrzpxAyUC9NwgU6cX3bHfQxInl9xhMAiI3nBRp06q-Q-1nTpiQEEp48qdm0X1xoQRinm3xrlh_eF5LhhTAlVB0IxIhc8IBCQMQN4UbSKDHWzCxg/w400-h225/20230124003503_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My feelings for <i>Doki Doki Literature Club</i> rose from a dry amusement to genuine curiosity as soon as the game presented me its first poem. I love the idea of learning about someone via their vulnerable art—but <i>Doki Doki</i>'s girls weren't vulnerable as much as they were plainly disturbed. And while it was <i>indeed</i> a disturbing experience, it was also (quite literally) a <i>doki-doki</i> experience, full of tension, excitement, and genuine heart. It's a game clearly born of a love for both visual novels and horror, wanting to thrill you in its own quirky, special, deranged way. For as short as it was, <i>Doki Doki Literature Club</i> was a great ride, one that left me only <i>slightly</i> worried that Monika might still be stowed away on my computer somewhere, judging me for having <i>Nekopara </i>in my Steam library.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(it was part of a VN bundle!!!)</span></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-14332018328395478742023-02-06T14:57:00.000-08:002023-02-06T14:57:30.224-08:00Super Cyborg - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcQF5VFJ79Aty3yN6HhjkE5VOSo64sQxI7DxfeWjeO4bYh4DsK_DKBIF7G6gLKCTc4-fdj9Edxt91JoFLcfFg_WboHupwO4sg5hNUIzrHjRkj8Y13geFxIsgcFnjFaBswSyw5FCJNiAW35w6n6sDXWeY1auP0dTj-QJT38B_yoocUkbYMLNZ80S18dJA/s1435/SupCyb-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="1435" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcQF5VFJ79Aty3yN6HhjkE5VOSo64sQxI7DxfeWjeO4bYh4DsK_DKBIF7G6gLKCTc4-fdj9Edxt91JoFLcfFg_WboHupwO4sg5hNUIzrHjRkj8Y13geFxIsgcFnjFaBswSyw5FCJNiAW35w6n6sDXWeY1auP0dTj-QJT38B_yoocUkbYMLNZ80S18dJA/w400-h140/SupCyb-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">As fan-made spiritual successors to dormant franchises continue to spring up, it's been harder and harder to keep track of the notable ones. Thanks to one <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-aJ_uv9SMfU">Shmup Junkie</a>, <i>Super Cyborg</i> blipped onto my radar, prompting some playthroughs from me between the larger titles I'm chewing on. I had previously thought <i>Blazing Chrome</i> had given me all the <i>Contra</i> nostalgia I could ever ask for, but <i>Super Cyborg</i> is of a markedly different breed; whereas <i>Blazing Chrome</i> idolizes <i>Contra Hard Corps</i>, <i>Super Cyborg </i>(unsurprisingly) adores the older <i>Super C</i>. But something went wrong with its creation—<i>Super Cyborg </i>was submerged in a vat of acid, sloughing off the game's merciful exterior to expose its raw meat and bones. What survived the acid bath is one of the most difficult run'n'guns I've played to date, demanding a level of consistency, precision, and memorization more befitting of <i>Ghosts 'n Goblins </i>than <i>Contra</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dLCB_TG3X5ur_qasvh_YxgZRbzvu9JbZlmkRKcFVHHD1TANZSKN8hi2qpFykR9HQ6u58glepmUiwpvrvj9Ubr8eU1jo8G9BBMUVV4MwC7L82Y5542XiDxRIxwBgOhEprmdf8NmNfqkuBmqcoPxjUpMOd5noCZ5qaFYy41RQQHWTiHkmyXOBNwSAJ0w/s1920/SuperC-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dLCB_TG3X5ur_qasvh_YxgZRbzvu9JbZlmkRKcFVHHD1TANZSKN8hi2qpFykR9HQ6u58glepmUiwpvrvj9Ubr8eU1jo8G9BBMUVV4MwC7L82Y5542XiDxRIxwBgOhEprmdf8NmNfqkuBmqcoPxjUpMOd5noCZ5qaFYy41RQQHWTiHkmyXOBNwSAJ0w/w400-h225/SuperC-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It bears repeating: <i>Super Cyborg</i> is as tough as diamond nails. Its "easy" difficulty is a gross misnomer; nothing about the game is easy, besides <i>maybe</i> its first stage. You'll likely hit a wall in the runner-infested cliffside of Stage 3, and then another in the claustrophobic guts of Stage 5, but nothing can prepare you for the final stage: a terrifying gauntlet of constant enemies, attacks from the rear, and a long elevator ride to an even longer final boss you'll have to learn inside and out. It's no joke—over half of your playtime will be spent inside this infested hellnest, where losing a single power-up induces a full stage reset. Seriously, just try to fight the final boss without the Spread gun and see if you can stay alive for 10 seconds.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The good news (if you choose to take it as such) is that easy teaches you everything you need to know to tackle normal. The bump up in difficulty only makes two adjustments: more popcorn foes and a ~33% increase in enemy health. While it makes the hard levels a bit harder (Stage 7's elevator is an even bigger pain in the ass), you don't really need to change any of your tactics or learn new boss attacks—just make sure to shoot behind yourself every now and then. Hard mode is an entirely different ballpark however, adding so many new projectiles and enemies into the mix that I nope'd out of it by Stage 3. I found the difficulties to be smartly balanced in the end, but I would've liked to see more differentiation in the stock of lives provided, as no matter which difficulty level you choose you only have 4 lives to see your mission through. A 7/5/3 life split for easy/normal/hard would've been preferable—or at the very least, midstage checkpoints for more than the last two levels.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTqHgQ3T0jgj8SGSdNjlgVwACnlT5lvbn-08iMjKPdpDdHSaAtS1CND493UP_CcCdyNY6S4o3DXsRsLOXe-VmhnYNd-61NiMDnahbp9i_9Zs4CBrTdgEerzYSQNq7Ds_mqah0L6O-UbDKaYeKh61DfgT0M2VlIeP6wruxVjY_4S7vA5cYS006nghn25g/s1920/20230131014642_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTqHgQ3T0jgj8SGSdNjlgVwACnlT5lvbn-08iMjKPdpDdHSaAtS1CND493UP_CcCdyNY6S4o3DXsRsLOXe-VmhnYNd-61NiMDnahbp9i_9Zs4CBrTdgEerzYSQNq7Ds_mqah0L6O-UbDKaYeKh61DfgT0M2VlIeP6wruxVjY_4S7vA5cYS006nghn25g/w400-h225/20230131014642_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>If you've survived the crucible that was the NES era, you'll likely feel right at home here. Enemy spawns have to be memorized and safe spots located located safe spots through trial and error, but as long as you're down with that, <i>Super Cyborg </i>offers one hell of an experience. Everything here is spot on, from the controls to the fleshpunk visuals, from the stage design to the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ek5BsVdj_E4">pulsing music</a> pushing you forward. That's because <i>Super Cyborg</i> cribs its design straight from <i>Super C</i>: power-ups are largely the same, enemies fill similar roles, and most of the bullet sprites are borrowed from Konami's series of old—including the fuzzy red onion rings of Dethgerbis! There's plenty here to give <i>Super Cyborg</i> its own distinct flavor—like the grotesque, gaping human faces on its mangled enemies—but it's clear the game wouldn't exist in a world without <i>Super C</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>The last thing I wish the game had is some sort of stage select or boss rush, but frankly I'm happy it controls well and ditched having limited continues. I'm not sure I would've been able to handle getting booted back to the start every dozen deaths or so, especially since I popped the "100 deaths" achievement while clawing my way through the first half of Stage 7. I also don't like the game's unwavering reliance on conserving power-ups to survive (bosses are easier to beat on one life with a power-up than four without), but that's minor complaint in retrospect. Taken as a whole, <i>Super Cyborg</i> is an amazing package, especially for the price it goes on sale at—it's basically a must-play for classic <i>Contra </i>fans.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNxR2I7oHGcbGtJURiBY0p6codwdWbi6FlxvsbdAbzS0quE0OhKl4ByDjYDh8wxkUbVADhS9wLwrSdXxRm2bEhTNFFE4GmMi8jqKN2P93fKkzo86gHqZE55KD2d5aJkzwqRna_0raX-upAsUxevFUFOYRTxQzcxjJ71WkioaTQ6DPhisEILgumh0mIQ/s1920/SuperC-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNxR2I7oHGcbGtJURiBY0p6codwdWbi6FlxvsbdAbzS0quE0OhKl4ByDjYDh8wxkUbVADhS9wLwrSdXxRm2bEhTNFFE4GmMi8jqKN2P93fKkzo86gHqZE55KD2d5aJkzwqRna_0raX-upAsUxevFUFOYRTxQzcxjJ71WkioaTQ6DPhisEILgumh0mIQ/w400-h225/SuperC-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Like <i>Ghouls 'n Ghosts</i>, <i>Super Cyborg</i> doesn't feel nearly as insurmountable on replay... but that's because the stage layouts and power-up spawns have been burned into your brain, the timing of boss attacks etched into your phalangeal joints. As far as <i>Contra</i> clones go, I think <i>Blazing Chrome </i>continues to hold that jeweled crown, but <i>Super Cyborg</i> follows closely behind, touching its shadow. This love letter to <i>Super C</i> joins the ranks of <i>AM2R</i> and <i>Mega Man Unlimited</i> as a phenomenal fan-made sequel, not only grasping what made <i>Contra</i> so fun but replicating its style flawlessly. <i>Super Cyborg</i> a rad game—provided you can stomach the repeated beating of replaying a stage again and again and <i>again</i> until you finally master it.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-19013535126120339852023-01-28T00:47:00.002-08:002024-02-24T21:06:04.950-08:00Etrian Odyssey II: Heroes of Lagaard - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOz2Ene6quyHZNwu29Yt-BshTaFNpeZFBQkZC_n6zeHFDCbyWibIzpl8QZfgwzcXwpfpA9Ap1euTo5rc_FHg2j3-PmQbHzGml0bFAAH6ixDfwWSuA7fu4gYLAShXaMb8ewxo4bER90XC69x_f9qq8Q1NjemAIk1P1HiWEh4XsoNqpAxQuGqrOZMZK_A/s500/EO2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="500" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOz2Ene6quyHZNwu29Yt-BshTaFNpeZFBQkZC_n6zeHFDCbyWibIzpl8QZfgwzcXwpfpA9Ap1euTo5rc_FHg2j3-PmQbHzGml0bFAAH6ixDfwWSuA7fu4gYLAShXaMb8ewxo4bER90XC69x_f9qq8Q1NjemAIk1P1HiWEh4XsoNqpAxQuGqrOZMZK_A/w400-h236/EO2.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>For anyone that bounced off of the first <i>Etrian Odyssey</i>, I have some bad news: the second is unabashedly more of the same. <i>Etrian Odyssey II </i>carries over the same classes, same mapping system, custom levelling, item grinding, dungeon dimensions, story beats... hell, even the UI is basically copied over! Sequels typically offer the developer a chance to make their franchise more accommodating and mainstream, but <i>Etrian Odyssey II</i> laughs at the suggestion, doubling down on its exotic blend of labyrinthine madness. If punishing mechanics or obtuse progression has deterred you from delving deeper into labyrinth of Etria, then take heed: the sequel is just as harsh and baffling, if not <i>more so</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>But for anyone charmed by <i>Etrian Odyssey</i>'s brave debut, then prepare for an even bigger, smarter, and better adventure.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0vzIxQfiWcuDwacdhTWINRq8R6ndpxwV3nHKDJNtBNhzHmPbSVkNSiheWvyad_9U-leELjr7AM6S2uxn28uRNyhghXLGaQfgPY2PCPlsQ3ElTk60owbom1CTNK5-CScWhcK1yWv8aOgEMPNwq3lnV6Md89fNI1ckn3gbRsOUDMglP_zj27fWQbxIUg/s384/EO2-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="256" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK0vzIxQfiWcuDwacdhTWINRq8R6ndpxwV3nHKDJNtBNhzHmPbSVkNSiheWvyad_9U-leELjr7AM6S2uxn28uRNyhghXLGaQfgPY2PCPlsQ3ElTk60owbom1CTNK5-CScWhcK1yWv8aOgEMPNwq3lnV6Md89fNI1ckn3gbRsOUDMglP_zj27fWQbxIUg/w266-h400/EO2-1.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>The best way to think about <i>Etrian Odyssey II </i>in relation to its predecessor is to picture the change from <i>Mega Man 1</i> to <i>Mega Man 2</i>. To an outsider, it'll appear as if you've paid full price for a sizable expansion at best and a shallow reskin at worst. But veterans of the first expedition will find a massive new adventure in a familiar-but-fresh universe—with some absolutely essential quality of life tweaks! The foremost among these is found in the shop: your party's equipment is displayed on the bottom screen, letting you swap out and sell gear much more quickly. Not only that, but you can finally see how many materials a new piece of equipment requires, giving you a firm grasp on which enemies to keep an eye out for. Those may not sound like huge upgrades, but in a 50+ hour RPG where story accounts for 5% of your play time (if that), speeding up the inventory management is a delectable godsend.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Etrian Odyssey II</i> also gives the shoulder buttons a much-needed reassignment, allowing you to strafe while walking around the labyrinth floor. But where they really shine is in battle: tapping the L button initiates a sped-up auto-battle, reducing much of the game's tedious grinding to a one-button affair. A slight kink however, is that it overwrites any of the previous commands you've entered as soon as you begin automating combat. For instance: want your samurai to a unleash devastating AoE guaranteed to kill the enemy forces, while not caring about what the rest of the party does? Well a single push of the L button will send everyone into a melee frenzy, erasing all previous commands so that the party focuses on the enemy with the lowest health (which is often the <i>least</i> troublesome foe). Even with that hitch, auto-battling is great addition to the series—but it's clear there's still room for improvement here.</div><div><br /></div><div>The changes made to map making however, are a splendid surprise through and through. The number of available icons has more than doubled: there's now closed doors, a FOE tile, a new event tile, two more gather location tiles, and multiple arrow tiles to keep track of the game's numerous secret passageways. Floor tiles also come in two more colors now, letting you differentiate between floor hazards and FOE walkways at a glance. Like the shop upgrades, these ostensibly minor additions have a huge impact in the grand scheme of things, making the game categorically better just for having them. Another small touch I like is how none of the icons come with pre-written tags (like "use this for treasure" or "use this for passageways"), encouraging the player come up with their cartography system. It's a simple touch that makes the bottom screen feel that much more like a digitized parchment scroll you must carefully maintain.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6c7wdgJ2iCB9ZO_MLdtHJbOOHotbOtF9JeFDOSKu2CvhXeLeoVFCsiyFTn3Ebcks5_yvRJi4RmS_7E3JODlK8PFsMLtAWc2sW6VofE7j6Zanssg6Ql_rIYiKSMjWuEXxTAaQu_Ut6XWwFUQxU2VQkAqlB_nP58JkpjGL-3hAzdZlqz9DsUpeElmusog/s384/EO2-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="256" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6c7wdgJ2iCB9ZO_MLdtHJbOOHotbOtF9JeFDOSKu2CvhXeLeoVFCsiyFTn3Ebcks5_yvRJi4RmS_7E3JODlK8PFsMLtAWc2sW6VofE7j6Zanssg6Ql_rIYiKSMjWuEXxTAaQu_Ut6XWwFUQxU2VQkAqlB_nP58JkpjGL-3hAzdZlqz9DsUpeElmusog/w266-h400/EO2-2.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Not everything in <i>Etrian Odyssey II </i>is sunshine and rainbows, but there's barely any complaints here that <i>can't</i> also be leveraged at the first game. Strategy is sadly frontloaded; the bulk of your gameplay decisions apply to character building, as battles out in the labyrinth are simple, straight-forward affairs. While I applauded the first game for its risk management challenges, I found that aspect a bit routine this second time around—you'll almost always return to town when you're out of mana, use a warp wire when cornered by a new FOE, and check every wall in the game for invaluable shortcuts. By far the biggest improvement the series <i>should</i> make going forward is to display more conditional information on characters and enemies, like defense up, provoke, attack down, etc. It's also hard to tell if a boss is immune to a status effect or simply resistant to it, a frustration my hexer shared as she gambled every turn trying to figure out which ailment was the "correct" one. More information provided to the player is very rarely a bad thing.</div><div><br /></div><div>An unexpected misstep <i>Etrian Odyssey II </i>makes that the first entry (arguably) avoided, is that your journey begins needlessly overbearing. The start of these games is always the most precarious: you have terrible gear, barely any abilities, and the abilities you do have are junk for the first few levels. But <i>Etrian Odyssey 2 </i>adds a ruthless economy atop this, providing a pittance for the items gathered in the labyrinth while bankrupting you whenever you're in need of a resurrection—let alone a night's stay at the inn! It took <b>hours</b> of grinding just to make it past the first boss, a task made stupendously more difficult due to FOEs providing <u>no</u> experience whatsoever. Should FOEs have awarded less experience in the first game? Sure—but this is an overcorrection you'll be reeling from the entire journey, given the sheer abundance of patrolling FOEs that bar your path.</div><div><br /></div><div>Despite all of these gripes, I still found <i>Etrian Odyssey II </i>to be a good game—or at the very least, an inarguable improvement over the first. Geomagnetic poles wisely replace healing pools, cutting down on the backtracking required while simultaneously allowing bosses to hit harder (as you're always a stone's throw away from their front door). Dungeon events are also far more common, going from a rarity in the first game to an infrequent-but-exciting occurrence that can bestow anything from healing, to items, to lore, to robbery-by-rodent. Lastly, <i>Etrian Odyssey II</i> feels more balanced than its predecessor... though I confess I'm unsure how much of that is due to my new party composition. Going from LPD/AM to LPR/HM, I found this game <i>much</i> harder than the first; hell, I didn't even try the last stratum due to how brutal my battles with the Colossus and final boss were, especially with my rare item stock all but depleted.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Plus I looked at a youtube video of how much damage the true last boss dealt and proceeded to laugh as I hurriedly ejected the cart from my 3DS).</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsASxfXjIcxbu4kJeCeL_4JqTLgENdDZoVyY1jyW3Fhm9DzSnZRgfYtpaA6Cz-GIGET1NpGwo-IoLep-RtjnKRsqVl1sVccjtjcgGDI177ffIWFeFNGFH45LO8ut7PSO5rXWJ3xaavaBqBSoIRzFMaMzHDxwpBjFDVG4WoXNmmRr5RtwUoCWz0wgOQQ/s384/EO2-3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="256" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwsASxfXjIcxbu4kJeCeL_4JqTLgENdDZoVyY1jyW3Fhm9DzSnZRgfYtpaA6Cz-GIGET1NpGwo-IoLep-RtjnKRsqVl1sVccjtjcgGDI177ffIWFeFNGFH45LO8ut7PSO5rXWJ3xaavaBqBSoIRzFMaMzHDxwpBjFDVG4WoXNmmRr5RtwUoCWz0wgOQQ/w266-h400/EO2-3.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Etrian Odyssey II </i>is an admirable follow-up to the first, although it does little to address the most off-putting characteristics of the series. But hey, that's fine! <i>Etrian Odyssey II </i>is a half-step in the right direction, offering a better, smoother experience through a gorgeously lethal fantasy labyrinth. It's paradoxically more punishing and less cruel than its predecessor, being easier to get through while demanding more time, thought, and focus from the player. Admittedly, I still have a smidge more fondness for the original entry, only because it made a stronger impression as my first JRPG dungeon crawler (I shall never forget the hell that was B18-20). Nevertheless, <i>Etrian Odyssey II </i>is the superior onboarding point for newcomers...</div><div><br /></div><div>... but I have the sneaking suspicion it won't stay that way for long.</div><div><br /></div><div>---------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Images obtained from: steamgriddb.com, dungeoncrawlers.org</span></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-29034895977811066052023-01-23T15:28:00.005-08:002023-03-08T09:57:57.507-08:00Wizard of Legend - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgg6bGPJ3mu2Fw577JLIwZ8SGXhgQjq9aujRj-GtgaWVuYIIiQFqqwj591fRFRFmUbZ5aR15t3461SjTh6HIcE0Gaxmw6-zDwRpJNxLk-KPOYokHMmI1celqXIpCUkg3g7HNg40o1E2fGx0_FhNfElHUHFj7BIg4mLOiQyWGkNE8iJNhzgw6N_DTAAmQ/s1205/Wizard1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="1205" height="75" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgg6bGPJ3mu2Fw577JLIwZ8SGXhgQjq9aujRj-GtgaWVuYIIiQFqqwj591fRFRFmUbZ5aR15t3461SjTh6HIcE0Gaxmw6-zDwRpJNxLk-KPOYokHMmI1celqXIpCUkg3g7HNg40o1E2fGx0_FhNfElHUHFj7BIg4mLOiQyWGkNE8iJNhzgw6N_DTAAmQ/w400-h75/Wizard1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">In the world of <i>Wizard of Legend</i>, mage battles are a lot closer to samurai duels than they are to the cover-based shootouts of <i>Harry Potter</i>. The game ranks as one of the fastest action titles I've ever played, requiring blisteringly precise inputs and split-second reactions in order to survive. It is merciless to the point of ludicrousness, rarely doling out full heals all while gleefully locking you into rooms with enemies that can (and will!) combo you to death. There are no i-frames, no insta-win upgrades, and no meta-progression to make the game more fair; you will learn to play by <i>Wizard of Legend</i>'s rules, or get decimated trying.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And during its first twenty hours, I sure as hell got <i>decimated</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQ00sg3-wPR6MqqU9injqVtYs8IhAkw15gVt1sPSUcS8XRLoIm-jBWMFmjH8P0eaU7-X0lpmg68rH8mDpETEHENbJUNh3jSQfqzbYCihXqClmkyCUirtv48cI4thjHk7FaeYAmUMzyYM5nxML-5Moo3e2SwipmQcm5VuF7YDPcD9ZHWPu-eIodeIs2A/s1920/20230120040724_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfQ00sg3-wPR6MqqU9injqVtYs8IhAkw15gVt1sPSUcS8XRLoIm-jBWMFmjH8P0eaU7-X0lpmg68rH8mDpETEHENbJUNh3jSQfqzbYCihXqClmkyCUirtv48cI4thjHk7FaeYAmUMzyYM5nxML-5Moo3e2SwipmQcm5VuF7YDPcD9ZHWPu-eIodeIs2A/w400-h225/20230120040724_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In a lot of ways, I am reminded of my time with <i><a href="https://minorbits.blogspot.com/2022/06/scourgebringer-thoughts.html">ScourgeBringer</a></i>, another excellent roguelite where one badly bungled room can destroy an entire run. Both games aren't shy about hammering the player over and over for petty mistakes, but at least <i>ScourgeBringer</i> offers permanent upgrades that will become essential to your victory. <i>Wizard of Legend</i> instead boasts wider customization options out of the gate: your choice of a starting relic, cloak type, and your four core attacks. But its in-run upgrades provide significantly less impact than the blessings found in the Ordeal. I don't think one approach is superior to another per se—especially since you'll have to learn both games to the point of mastery anyway—but at least <i>ScourgeBringer</i> provides a sense of momentum as you gather upgrades throughout a run. <i>Wizard of Legend</i> on the other hand, is a vicious, no-holds-barred brawl that can kill you at the start just as easily as it can at the end.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What makes <i>Wizard of Legend</i> one of the most cutthroat roguelites I've played is that <i>everybody</i> in it is susceptible to stunlocking. Enemies, the player, bosses—all will kneel before the great leveler of the infinite combo. Well, provided they don't have any hyper armor on—which your enemies will evolve by floor two, by the way. Even the lowliest of dregs are capable of interrupting your earth-shattering specials, a mere slap setting you up nicely for their brawny buddies to tag-team you into oblivion. Some players may enjoy this ruthless "first to strike is first to win" philosophy, as it forces everyone to play by the same rules. But I guarantee that no matter what your preferred playstyle is, <i>Wizard of Legend </i>will wrench more than one exasperated expletive from your mouth as you watch your tiny warlock hopelessly battered back and forth like a well-worn tetherball. (I believe my first utterance of "Jesus Christ" was when two cyclopses beamed a geyser of red 5s out of my forehead.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Due to the aggressive combat, you'll likely lean heavily into the game's ranged arcana—especially since flashy melee attacks leave you exposed for a fraction of a second too long. This has a tendency to render runs somewhat samey, especially once you discover that each elemental arcana comes with the same staples (rushdown attack, big AoE, delayed AoE, weak summon, strong summon, buff, totem, etc). This may imply <span style="font-style: italic;">Wizard of Legend</span> lacks variety, but that couldn't be further from the truth; there's an impressive amount of arcanas, relics, cloaks, merchants, room layouts, and enemy attacks to memorize, fully capable of surprising you with something new 20 hours in. The issue is that you'll be quick to play favorites and slow to experiment, treating some of the relics and arcanas as obstacles in your path rather than tools to play around with.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1X226up1kr0Vddhk881D6va0HUKn1wfHCHmyquElrhx4Oz_SovZ5yZfnQq0ymm34jU8tMjytGImKFfJoXVyjl17xBqSJq46ZazJ4VPwRuIpPIhJPrH-TC-jnO_fsI8GhXCc2t6J9mo33obAUu9c5hnbuKxbRMMxVOsG3KuhyQzClKR3J8GXEoCQcwKw/s1920/20230123044006_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1X226up1kr0Vddhk881D6va0HUKn1wfHCHmyquElrhx4Oz_SovZ5yZfnQq0ymm34jU8tMjytGImKFfJoXVyjl17xBqSJq46ZazJ4VPwRuIpPIhJPrH-TC-jnO_fsI8GhXCc2t6J9mo33obAUu9c5hnbuKxbRMMxVOsG3KuhyQzClKR3J8GXEoCQcwKw/w400-h225/20230123044006_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Personal preference is inevitable in every roguelite, but since you can decide your most of your equipment before a run begins in <i>Wizard of Legend</i>, you'll have little reason to veer from your intended course. Which is a shame because it's a lot of fun in experimenting with new arcana and seeing how they work, even if they may not be all that useful. Better yet is when a previously-thought "worthless" arcana reveals its value as you grow accustomed to it: summons provide an excellent distraction, dash arcana can punish bothersome pursuers, and buffs can turn basic arcanas into full-fledged wrecking balls. Ranged attacks remain king of course—especially when dueling the final boss—but at least you'll have plenty of attacks to cycle between if you get tired of your usual loadout.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Speaking of the final boss, <i>Wizard of Legend</i>'s big bad master mage joins the nightmarish ranks <i>FTL</i>'s Flagship and <i>Slay the Spire</i>'s Heart, where you <b>must</b> build your repertoire around their abilities. Dominating the rest of the game with a solid loadout means nothing if you're unable to strike Master Sura while he's vulnerable, a task that'll only grow harder as the fight wears on. And even if you manage to stun him, he can recover in the blink of an eye and retaliate with a string of lightning-fast combos, erasing your health with the fury of a teacher cleaning a swear word off their chalkboard. Even if you enter into it at full health, the duel remains a horridly lethal race to the bottom; I reckon I've lost more times to Sura at the last 20% of his HP than I've actually beaten him.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I hope my endless griping about <i>Wizard of Legend</i>'s difficulty doesn't belie the fact that I really enjoyed my time with it. While it doesn't hit the consistent highs of the genre's best, in no way did I find it lacking or failing to live up to its potential. Sure, maps have too many dead ends and the game struggles to encourage experimentation, but for the most part it ticks all the right boxes: a good amount of randomization, an enjoyable combat system, fantastic animations, no external wiki help required, and a hard-earned victory you can be proud of. I suppose I'm hammering on <i>Wizard of Legend</i>'s difficulty so much because the game lives or dies based off of whether you think it's unfair or not. And make no mistake—you will definitely find it unfair at times (like when you're being juggled to high hell during the wind master's signature arcana god damn knock it <i>offfff!</i>)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCOmhlTKUjwY0-kn62YyZS-40HjQy_46p_nhX95L0lrWfCwEHqXuy9DWdbx74OoyckmkNiTk3hq3DFyens2xpyKCAvVOtwl-msoP-NVIPl7cOjW767E5BMvbDDU_PpRk7Mf2yyjzpW9CMqVtHfJGHbwlvreCfTyPPcXpXukOPC9OGWg_kHrfYXOzPOg/s1920/20230120014938_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCOmhlTKUjwY0-kn62YyZS-40HjQy_46p_nhX95L0lrWfCwEHqXuy9DWdbx74OoyckmkNiTk3hq3DFyens2xpyKCAvVOtwl-msoP-NVIPl7cOjW767E5BMvbDDU_PpRk7Mf2yyjzpW9CMqVtHfJGHbwlvreCfTyPPcXpXukOPC9OGWg_kHrfYXOzPOg/w400-h225/20230120014938_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Similar to <i>Spelunky</i>, death is an ever-looming presence in <i>Wizard of Legend</i>, a shadow you're unable to shake. It forces you to play at a distance at all times, turning certain arcanas into a must-have, certain relics into a must-buy, and certain curses into a must-take. <i>Wizard of Legend</i> does offer build variety, with melee and rushdown builds blinking on the horizon like a shy lighthouse, but to cross the water is to chance drowning in a game full of turbulent waves. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and you'll be spent spiraling into the nether, death's icy grip clamping around your throat. In high-intensity games like <i>Devil May Cry</i> and <i>Doom Eternal</i>, you are the one to be feared, a force of nature laying waste to those foolish enough to get in your way. But in <i>Wizard of Legend</i>, you are a glass cannon, capable of shattering into a thousand pieces due to one impulsive misfire.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Wizard of Legend</i> is cool—and fun!—but it has zero qualms about pulling down your pants to turn your ass into a pair of bongos.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-54851639615138192602023-01-05T22:59:00.007-08:002023-01-06T01:29:07.878-08:00Loop Hero - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFfe4Gm4Uh8DdR02DRhmzibfxjUv5noobojL9-cgdDH3rIHgZqKE7NLj56zl89MYF6lrAJa3cDzsUKzXqzeNvniQxKz5uh-q9ANAA3m88UYujIB79myujg1zz6RHJwgW1fnMuKwNjuS8YruB393Utir4ENSCp6IKsXQIbn8E6eox6F_7wgOrla4Wleaw/s530/Loop1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="530" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFfe4Gm4Uh8DdR02DRhmzibfxjUv5noobojL9-cgdDH3rIHgZqKE7NLj56zl89MYF6lrAJa3cDzsUKzXqzeNvniQxKz5uh-q9ANAA3m88UYujIB79myujg1zz6RHJwgW1fnMuKwNjuS8YruB393Utir4ENSCp6IKsXQIbn8E6eox6F_7wgOrla4Wleaw/w320-h318/Loop1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Loop Hero</i> is a novel concept that struggles to "wow" the player beyond its drawing board. You're not likely to notice it during your first dozen hours or so, where everything is new, exciting, and strange. Unfamiliarity will usher in intrigue, the sense of discovery propelling you onward as the next upgrade, tile, and unlock is just around the corner. In that sense, I think <i>Loop Hero </i>succeeds in being a worthwhile experience with plenty of highs to look forward to—but its foundation is shaky, its philosophy confused, and its mechanics drunkenly slapped together. It's a beautiful game full of conflicting bits and frustrating design choices, leaving a bitter aftertaste only because it shows so much potential.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZDX7jUcaKfMZjUcckoaemB7BCatx8XLwpAABs3FlJOQSYzWlZg9cSliyFKlqIYUABTI0pzc2ZbghCBWh6bIZQq7e3YqFqHdFRxQsPGLSUIYll5gbp3BgZ6XzPC-w_tGbgmgu9SrcYslqQaqCAbVFrOjVYnTB5eLJaVMCvnIabGzC2FONe4djq9JmSg/s1920/Loop2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZDX7jUcaKfMZjUcckoaemB7BCatx8XLwpAABs3FlJOQSYzWlZg9cSliyFKlqIYUABTI0pzc2ZbghCBWh6bIZQq7e3YqFqHdFRxQsPGLSUIYll5gbp3BgZ6XzPC-w_tGbgmgu9SrcYslqQaqCAbVFrOjVYnTB5eLJaVMCvnIabGzC2FONe4djq9JmSg/w400-h225/Loop2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's important to emphasize how utterly ingenious <i>Loop Hero</i> is—especially in a genre overflowing with imitators. Roguelites often fit snugly into "X-like" categories (eg "<i>Isaac</i>-likes, <i>Spire</i>-likes), but <i>Loop Hero </i>skirts all comparisons and mimicry. It's a bizarre amalgam of ideas: base building, auto battling, tile laying, hand management, and crunchy RPG equipment juggling. You get a little bit of everything, from loadout tinkering to permanent progression, from reliable strategies to RNG-derived wins. There's likely something here to tickle your fancy, as well as a gameplay concept you haven't encountered before—or at least, not in the peculiar way <i>Loop Hero </i>handles it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">On top of all that, <i>Loop Hero</i>'s aesthetics are downright unmatched. The pixelated art style captures the world's bleakness better than its stilted writing ever could, with easily readable tile design and phenomenal color composition. The character portraits in particular are wonderfully rendered, with each friend and foe being as wildly strange as they are hauntingly beautiful. Complementing the carefully crafted visuals is a chiptune soundtrack that slaps so hard that you'll have to check your ears for bruises afterwards. It's impossible to name a favorite tune—pick any track out of the expansive OST and you'll get <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4q-La8uR0HU">toe-tapping beats</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BRQiP6aVxs">chill jams</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsJ4m3fJXTM">moody meditations</a>. But where <i>Loop Hero </i>goes its hardest is in its boss-appearance themes, tossing the player into some of the most <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvnxWqYzF1E">exceptional</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LEQS2o-UsMA">hype-inducing</a> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q2vZlDz-UxU">headbangs</a> to rouse your anticipation of the upcoming boss fight <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Hj9vra5-pc">perfectly</a>. I can't commend Deceiver and blinch enough for their positively phenomenal work<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So if everything about <i>Loop Hero</i> stands out, where does it fall apart? The answer to that will require some digging...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">... or rather, some constructing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8i0kFrm3W9vJuu0ykZeICoxehcqCfUqrqaxTGNKMOKpSbj8X0VRJTYIoTLYPcKk0q907FlaRDF70ki6KrlIEsHnPhLfydXJr_1JHtvL7UuAS-_P8O7tzSTvGzr9u2EWMxPntJ8YVv1Xn0SHopIjVj4fH-LpdGs_K1OiQIpiI4rsj71AvZ7eEoaiZxA/s1920/Loop3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid8i0kFrm3W9vJuu0ykZeICoxehcqCfUqrqaxTGNKMOKpSbj8X0VRJTYIoTLYPcKk0q907FlaRDF70ki6KrlIEsHnPhLfydXJr_1JHtvL7UuAS-_P8O7tzSTvGzr9u2EWMxPntJ8YVv1Xn0SHopIjVj4fH-LpdGs_K1OiQIpiI4rsj71AvZ7eEoaiZxA/w400-h225/Loop3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The base building system in <i>Loop Hero </i>is terrible in just about every conceivable way. While promising at the onset, you'll soon realize it's an elaborate front for unlocking new tiles. The placement of your shantytown is largely nebulous; only farms and lumber mills benefit from adjacency bonuses, but both are straight-up sunk costs, requiring way more resources to construct than they'll ever produce (seriously, you're giving me stable <i>branches</i>?!) In fact, a lot of the upgrades come across as the developers tossing crumbs at the player: 1% potion heals, garbage starting equipment, +30 max HP, and needless supply cap increases. Building upgrades are arbitrarily assigned (no upgrades for the warehouse and alchemist, but <i>five</i> for the watchtower?) and you're not likely to even notice this feature without the "?" tooltip on. Perhaps worst of all is that the intel center—a useful catalogue of everything seen and unlocked in the game—can only be built halfway through the campaign, forcing the player to learn much of the game's inner-workings on their own.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Exacerbating this problem are the game's numerous currencies, making it hard to parse what you need and where to get it. The resources start off simple enough—wood, stone, food, and metal—but they soon spiral into a grocery list of metaphysical concepts—evolution orbs, unity orbs, expansion orbs, and more. Each of these also come with their own <i>fragmented </i>version, complete with a different name and icon from their parent, just so you'll have to deal with nonsense equations like how 10 time shards form an astral orb or 20 noticeable changes form a metamorphosis. <i>Loop Hero</i>'s intention is to encourage variety and experimentation (eg fight slimes for resource X, skeletons for resource Y), but the player doesn't <i>know</i> where these goods come from until they unlock the intel center! And by then, the player is two upgrades away from discovering alchemy, allowing them to transmogrify one resource into another—completely bypassing the need to diversify your tiles!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And this is a real problem for <i>Loop Hero</i> because the game's tiles are an imbalanced, chaotic mess that push you to play favorites.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbmGYU8LP2TEDJh7RN13Z1wOfRuQhyih_h9Hc-yH6kQGIT1_aypN9pzdXoVPU-GbSTKa9ClFE9LvIolFRgha-URRPpX6nuXz5qHLZkoAaDA5gyhv0Bgvi8Uba8nY6o29Pp7MDhH9RISl2tmZbLcUXkcjZq4PBfw8TUpxq5nY4SL6zgvfFKKCvmTSNjA/s1920/Loop4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYbmGYU8LP2TEDJh7RN13Z1wOfRuQhyih_h9Hc-yH6kQGIT1_aypN9pzdXoVPU-GbSTKa9ClFE9LvIolFRgha-URRPpX6nuXz5qHLZkoAaDA5gyhv0Bgvi8Uba8nY6o29Pp7MDhH9RISl2tmZbLcUXkcjZq4PBfw8TUpxq5nY4SL6zgvfFKKCvmTSNjA/w400-h225/Loop4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Every tile comes with its upside and downside, the upside usually being a buff or reliable enemy spawn, and the downside being a... well, an enemy. It's a smart way to ensure that the player has to be cautious and temperate with their tile placement, lest their road becomes one long monster crossing. But some tiles are categorically inferior to others: swamps are terrible, sands are terrible, chrono crystals and bookeries are better off being other tiles, and temporal beacons aren't worth the obnoxious watcher fights. Meanwhile the forest, blood grove, oblivion, and village tiles (with complementary vampire mansion) are so essential that you won't ever entertain a run without them. Sure, occasionally you'll flirt with an outpost or storm temple, but the benefits provided by the "good" tiles will have you crawling back to your original deck before day's end, no matter which class you start as. The impressively dubbed "gold tiles" also suffer the same fate, with the arsenal tile being the only reliable pick of the lot (the necromancer and crypt <i>can </i>synergize, but once the HP-gain kicks into high gear you're already unkillable anyway).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Battles are my last point of contention, though I admit a big part of it is that auto-battlers simply aren't for me. <i>Loop Hero</i>'s bestiary has a shocking amount of depth and diversity woven into it—the sheer number of <a href="https://loophero.fandom.com/wiki/Enemy_Abilities">status effects</a> puts most RPGs to shame—but that ultimately means very little in regards to gameplay. Whether an enemy can poison you, or buff its allies, or shields itself matters not, as you have no control over your character's actions during battle (besides donning and doffing equipment, which you'll very rarely do). You <i>can </i>influence the pace at which monsters spawn outside of battle, but the dominant tactic by far is to open the flood gates. Gear is only acquired from routing enemies, with better gear dropping from stronger opponents—so you'll want to toss as many aggressive foes at your tiny patrolman as possible. Not only that, but certain monsters (like blood golems and vampire lords) provide categorically better loot than their peers, further differentiating the good tiles from the bad. I think if the player was given limited abilities they could activate per run, or one-time-use items, or even the option to manually activate their own healing potions, I would've been at least engaged in most of the combat, rather than browsing the internet on my second monitor.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMu9AG7MQZVQnRZJK717l7PbdqY7rQrIsr8ezHPN60vLeMwMusqrpZMnaCLzNPPjyvOUNxGBpbjwNCzRRjq5xR827bP8XtVO48JpLyM98wR3cSMKd8Xgcxn780w2xA0w25wbT3MomD0tBUklbDVSAi9wN1qgKflmlbmUbBURXii7Lb0xY58KZ_MEP7VQ/s1280/Loop5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMu9AG7MQZVQnRZJK717l7PbdqY7rQrIsr8ezHPN60vLeMwMusqrpZMnaCLzNPPjyvOUNxGBpbjwNCzRRjq5xR827bP8XtVO48JpLyM98wR3cSMKd8Xgcxn780w2xA0w25wbT3MomD0tBUklbDVSAi9wN1qgKflmlbmUbBURXii7Lb0xY58KZ_MEP7VQ/s320/Loop5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I didn't realize until writing this entry just how much <i>Loop Hero </i>and <i>Vampire Survivors</i> have in common. While the promise of progression serves as their main hook, most of my enjoyment was wrung out of discovering the optimal strategy for both games. These titles aren't like <i>Dead Cells</i> or <i>Hades</i>, where a successful run leaves you giddy to toy with a new weapon or perk path; once you figure out how to properly "play" these games, all that's left to do is sit back and let your kill count skyrocket. But whereas <i>Vampire Survivors</i> succeeds in being a clever little diversion, <i>Loop Hero</i> displays a lot more potential—and thus, falls from a greater height. It's worth a playing to experience just how unique of a game it is, but <i>Loop Hero </i>is less of a diamond in the rough and more of a... murky gemstone.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's pretty, but sadly undercooked.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-41281623561684497522022-11-22T22:20:00.006-08:002022-11-23T23:50:50.948-08:00Vampire Survivors - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwj1IE8nJnQYdG5udwMc5VPu4ozqYYqLNPJJ-zHG_RJGSnA_6H3h5xM7bZHp3GrFf8GObOAUqy5ANNjctdT4x8G4lnZarORvTg-gxAAYPtdxQ5hDiFBijLzrtkameaoVz4aVt26m-bs7nQ1MR0eh3En_j00V_tzp_AE7F9nNpNUgoHci6h3fhSmUGRA/s455/VS1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="455" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwj1IE8nJnQYdG5udwMc5VPu4ozqYYqLNPJJ-zHG_RJGSnA_6H3h5xM7bZHp3GrFf8GObOAUqy5ANNjctdT4x8G4lnZarORvTg-gxAAYPtdxQ5hDiFBijLzrtkameaoVz4aVt26m-bs7nQ1MR0eh3En_j00V_tzp_AE7F9nNpNUgoHci6h3fhSmUGRA/w320-h141/VS1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Mindless grind in games is a double-edged sword. On one hand it's a flagrantly obnoxious chore, a naked tax on your time that can drag down—if not completely ruin—an experience. On the other hand, it can provide a peaceful, low-pressure reprieve that allows your mind to focus on something else, similar to toying with a stress ball during a conversation. I've waded through numerous audiobooks while harvesting <i>Monster Hunter</i> materials, churned through podcasts during <i>Destiny </i>dailies, and listened to countless video essays on countless (failed) roguelite runs. Games like <i>World of Warcraft</i>, <i>Pokemon</i>,<i> </i>and <i>Diablo</i> are excellent multitasking outlets... provided you're in the mood for microscopic progress and tedious tasks.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Enter <i>Vampire Survivors</i>, the perfect bite-sized, grind-focused time-waster.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1CsIZ2EXxB_mTiK8uhY7cylSihc04uJ6Ovir9D2rt9j1cwxK952LSzEKPqeR0QsSvGo5FyCWN3qeexrQ0yKWqpLfTrkz3PsUI5_CM4Y1CRKg0IwVCcUsXl0MuTaBYCIseiYHyDqW4wDHwcOvVzt1FgSvyoZ4JQBcxV1vh7Ih9B7jSZ0T9EAM1xpxgw/s1536/VS2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1536" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv1CsIZ2EXxB_mTiK8uhY7cylSihc04uJ6Ovir9D2rt9j1cwxK952LSzEKPqeR0QsSvGo5FyCWN3qeexrQ0yKWqpLfTrkz3PsUI5_CM4Y1CRKg0IwVCcUsXl0MuTaBYCIseiYHyDqW4wDHwcOvVzt1FgSvyoZ4JQBcxV1vh7Ih9B7jSZ0T9EAM1xpxgw/w400-h250/VS2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The reverse-bullet-hell genre <i>Vampire Survivors </i>has popularized is an unmistakably <b>weird</b> one. At first blush one might mistake <i>Vampire Survivors</i> for a twin stick shooter, but (believe it or not) it has more DNA in common with <i>Cookie Clicker</i> than <i>Geometry Wars</i>. Dodging and crowd control take a backseat to damage optimization, which gets easier and easier to manipulate and attain the more you play the game. You'll be able to permanently boost your base stats, unlock new characters & weapons, and discover game-changing relics like the map & randomazzo. While the first few runs may see you struggling to survive the full thirty minutes, just stick with it and you'll be showering the screen in bullets in no time.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The key to dominating <i>Vampire Survivors </i>like a BDSM-loving Belmont lies in discovering its strange weapon evolutions. Each weapon has a "superior" form that can easily double your damage output—provided you find the passive item that's required to unlock the upgrade. It's here where the game can devolve into its most chaotic form, granting some truly absurd abilities you can use to decimate Death himself. It's fun trying to figure out which passives are the key to which weapons, provided you can withstand some aimless trial and error. Once you stumble upon the correct combo for the first time, expect your eyes to light up as bright as the screen.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This ties into the next <i>Clicker</i>-esque mechanic that's guaranteed to dig its hooks into curious players: a copious amount of strange, secret unlocks. It's the main reason why you'll return to the game night after night, long after you've grown tired of its shallow and repetitive gameplay. You're always a run or two away from a new relic, weapon, character, stage, card, or feature that'll tickle the imagination, prompting some haphazard theory crafting and experimental combinations. Plus for the completionists out there, you can nab every achievement in the game in roughly 24 hours—or destroy your sanity in an attempt to complete every stage with every character, a task I can only imagine takes <i>at least</i> 100 hours to achieve. But no matter your preference, there's bound to be something that'll keep you up past your bed time, just itching to squeeze in just <i>one </i>more run.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">However, none of this turns <i>Vampire Survivors</i> into what I'd call a good game.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHY_v3VU51qWzsLB_a_I1gTh7wSLFJAedfQ5Yw_xJjR5V_tvF64DMZ79gfdT1GqKJLl8omFA9Qi0zZ51ZHCMArxWdml-EKjKhRmhk-NrbHP8I3qqOOcRS_tAYwsqG_T-UvibVUfS_cHzI6-ZAQvxsFB9WkGWC2uxp85wn9k9W7QTB5l_1Ar3c_hdD6g/s1536/VS3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1536" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHY_v3VU51qWzsLB_a_I1gTh7wSLFJAedfQ5Yw_xJjR5V_tvF64DMZ79gfdT1GqKJLl8omFA9Qi0zZ51ZHCMArxWdml-EKjKhRmhk-NrbHP8I3qqOOcRS_tAYwsqG_T-UvibVUfS_cHzI6-ZAQvxsFB9WkGWC2uxp85wn9k9W7QTB5l_1Ar3c_hdD6g/w400-h250/VS3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's fun and addictive, sure! But you have to overlook a host of issues in order to maintain the excitement you once felt at the beginning of your journey—the worst of which being the aforementioned shallowness. Each run made past your exploratory phase will be downright identical, with every character, arcana, and stages prioritizing the same weapon evolutions. You <i>can </i>play suboptimally and go for stuff like knives, garlic, and cats, but to what end? Any run capable to carrying you to the thirty minute mark will likely require zero input past minute fifteen, whether or not you've taken some inferior weapons. Like with <i>Cookie Clicker</i>, once your engine starts running you may as well step away from the computer and go fix yourself a snack.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And this is where another terrible aspect rears its ugly head: boredom. Bobbing and weaving around dense enemy clusters isn't as important to <i>Vampire Survivors</i> as its level-up slot machine is, making the optimal strategy on every stage to wander in circles collecting XP until you can forge one of the busted evolutions. The only real roadblock is figuring out what power-ups to take in what order, a challenge that's mitigated with the game's generous reroll and banish system. Expect Brief jolts of excitement when a projectile enemy spawns in or a cluster of bats rushes by, but they're fleeting foes, barely taking up a minute of the stage's run time. Besides that, you'll fight off wave after wave of samey enemies, differentiated only by how long they each take to die. Even on Hurry mode, runs can drag intolerably on, wearing out their welcome like milk past its expiration date.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Vampire Survivors </i>is ugly as sin, too. I don't usually find a low-res sprite-based art style to be a lazy or uninspired one, but <i>Vampire Survivors</i> epitomizes the worst of the aesthetic. The UI is messy potluck of different font sizes, backgrounds are dry and featureless, and the bestiary is plagued with bargain bin <i>Castlevania </i>knockoffs. If you turn off your brain you can be mildly amused by all the flashing lights and colorful explosions, but the game is a far cry from being a looker. The best thing you can say about it is that the visuals are <i>serviceable</i>, which given that early SNES titles are more pleasing to the eye than this rainbow cacophony, isn't really saying much.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGpetPUUZLT2v4_jY5xEJWmKAP_c2QsBbt4TTUBH8yCo-ckqz-Nxku2Hykw5bHff326wd4BzTivJ7h-5JjBIdaVZ_4wDXwP17xONNRm8-DeRIQnaQ968oFvNadgEhzXq54yABZoTTZX7maNPGcB0p6o6ZrHvXfGQKW2bvO9pPki_rfMSpd8UpSw_JtRA/s1536/VS4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1536" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGpetPUUZLT2v4_jY5xEJWmKAP_c2QsBbt4TTUBH8yCo-ckqz-Nxku2Hykw5bHff326wd4BzTivJ7h-5JjBIdaVZ_4wDXwP17xONNRm8-DeRIQnaQ968oFvNadgEhzXq54yABZoTTZX7maNPGcB0p6o6ZrHvXfGQKW2bvO9pPki_rfMSpd8UpSw_JtRA/w400-h250/VS4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>In spite of all my criticism, <i>Vampire Survivors </i>endures thanks to one simple fact: it's cheap as hell. The (initial) asking price of $3 is low enough to be worth the risk, as you can't really feel regret over that amount—or at least no more than buying a questionable <a href="https://i0.wp.com/www.theimpulsivebuy.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/circlekhotdogchips.jpeg?resize=600%2C800&ssl=1">bag of potato chips</a>. That's why it can feel kind of silly criticizing the game over its shallow systems and janky artwork—<i>Vampire Survivors</i> is a dopey passion project, not a premier indie title that's crafted more carefully than an ice sculpture. <i>Vampire Survivors</i> doesn't tug at your emotions or leave you ruminating over its themes; it's ludicrous, droll, and tickles the primate part of your brain that likes seeing a deluge of numbers go up. In the video game world, it <i>is </i>a questionable bag of potato chips—but one of the more <a href="https://preview.redd.it/ho7wwgpcfqh91.jpg?width=640&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=bf6edb4ad69ee2cf910f6dc082179496dc888d5b">delightful ones</a> that might just become your new favorite for the next few months.</div></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-70269701728522301012022-10-19T03:15:00.006-07:002022-10-20T01:08:33.875-07:00Super Mario Bros. 3 - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBL7ZTAXrMcBDqtiEV7R6aZD5IYWJMeKEg16wlgAGn0vytLc8FgOvmd1oKd8iWyqHic-i535eah9kJIAwr_pVcKEj8Hu3zaF2JuwfgBh931ibDATMIRjAwfVc4lSmbBGUnmogSGgVU2AoVUfZ6MKkQNK6odrm8jA0uad07ktaf2m1_jY5MzFHv-9NS_w=s644" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="644" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBL7ZTAXrMcBDqtiEV7R6aZD5IYWJMeKEg16wlgAGn0vytLc8FgOvmd1oKd8iWyqHic-i535eah9kJIAwr_pVcKEj8Hu3zaF2JuwfgBh931ibDATMIRjAwfVc4lSmbBGUnmogSGgVU2AoVUfZ6MKkQNK6odrm8jA0uad07ktaf2m1_jY5MzFHv-9NS_w=w400-h223" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Perched upon a golden throne atop the vast NES library sits <i>Super Mario Bros. 3</i>, one of the greatest games ever made. It's singular flaw is that it lacks a save function, seeing as a full run of the game spans 3-4 <i>hours</i> of non-stop playtime. Besides that however, <i>Super Mario Bros. 3</i> is practically unassailable. It boasts over <b>90</b> creative levels spread across eight thematic worlds, with <i>quadruple</i> the amount of power-ups that were present in the first game. It's a marathon of brilliant ideas, excellent courses, and stunning secrets, managing to surprise me with something new every time I play it. Countless platformers have followed in its wake, many of which have overtaken it in style (<i>DKC</i>), speed (<i>Sonic</i>), substance (the <i>New </i>series), and physics (<i>Celeste</i>). Yet few games so carefully, so expertly, blend these facets together into an cohesive and consistent experience, all while pushing the hardware it's on to the absolute limits. <i>Super Mario Bros. 3</i> is no mere footnote in video game history—it is a mythic titan that vies for the top spot, a Cronus among the pantheon of platformers.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjsu3nqH8mNPax79GEtRdHf6oLP3exgPB_m3zh8CtsxFM0kuIU3OBs5JLkx8b0v3o_vceb6nRYx2aeB_FRf_EFyzIBn3cQI3nPRG8gIaGLBhMXcUKWfcu3pw-M6eDGlEK9sNDzzJoGVg1Mcrl1o17WaYqvryvNVVNlTIh2HOid4RgiLfuY31TnfeFtkw=s875" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="875" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjsu3nqH8mNPax79GEtRdHf6oLP3exgPB_m3zh8CtsxFM0kuIU3OBs5JLkx8b0v3o_vceb6nRYx2aeB_FRf_EFyzIBn3cQI3nPRG8gIaGLBhMXcUKWfcu3pw-M6eDGlEK9sNDzzJoGVg1Mcrl1o17WaYqvryvNVVNlTIh2HOid4RgiLfuY31TnfeFtkw=w400-h311" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You may be able to deduce from my feverish praise that <i>Super Mario Bros. 3 </i>is one of my favorite games of all time, so believe me when I say it's in dire need of a save file. Not only is the game a serious challenge to surmount in a single sitting for children and time-strapped adults, but failure is costly—a single game over will flip every single level back to its unbeaten state. Fortunately, every fortress you topple will unlock a permanent shortcut. Unfortunately, these shortcuts will be of little use when an airship starts zipping around all over the board. Though there are plenty of other catch-up tools at the player's disposal (warp whistles, hammers, item houses resetting on game over), none can remedy the pain of getting six and a half worlds deep and then being told, "Turn off the Nintendo, it's time for bed!" If you want to complete <i>Super Mario Bros. 3 </i>from start to finish, you better block off a whole afternoon—or prepare to kiss your progress goodbye.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But hey—at least there are a number of modern solutions to this problem. The most obvious fix is in <i>Super Mario Advance 4</i> and the <i>All-Stars</i> collection, two visually enhanced remakes sporting multiple save files. There are also a host of <i>SMB3 </i>re-releases on the Wii, Wii U, Switch, and NES Classic, all of which come with officially sanctioned save states. For those willing to go the extra mile, there are some clever <a href="https://www.romhacking.net/hacks/2886/">rom</a> <a href="https://www.romhacking.net/hacks/2422/">hacks</a> that inject a battery straight into the game's code, as well as <a href="https://krikzz.com/our-products/cartridges/everdrive-n8-pro-72pin.html">flash</a> <a href="https://www.retrousb.com/product_info.php?products_id=34">carts</a> for those that prefer to play on original hardware. If you're a purist... I suppose you could always leave the console on overnight? In any case, the lack of a save file may have been an issue back in 1988, but it's easily circumvented nowadays—as long as you're willing to bend the rules a little.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Beyond that, I'm not sure what other obvious flaws <i>Super Mario Bros. 3 </i>exhibits. Perhaps players used to the longer levels of the <i>New</i> series may be alarmed by the brief, relay-style stages strewn across <i>SMB3</i>'s wacky landscape, but I see this as a difference in philosophy rather than a shortcoming. What makes levels here so delightful is that they're punchy vignettes, designed as obstacle courses that end almost as quickly as they begin. They're not vapid or insubstantial either—plenty of enemies and secret rooms await, decorated with a bevy of pits, power-ups, and coin trails. Plus this is the first (only?) <i>Super Mario </i>title that lacks checkpoints, an absence you'll keenly feel during the game's longer gauntlets. To call the stages bite-sized is a misnomer; levels are closer to single portion appetizers, filling you up nicely when consumed over the course of an entire world.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And the content of the stages themselves? Platforming perfection.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixT4dikClHfC6Fruo4VooxSljpFB8BYqaiQFNSDAZUJDTngmyEIakyWEQ3A3tzeMstEr9Bf64-gHRN0LXDdbmVIJEiPAQswyXvp_6uzp3A1jmR0kkd9nzWAX0U0qHXLrTz4PfMl5ruEzOnC_BsN3CJNDwRILqi14RXBCsm-W_jZyG_N7lGHolbnWUoUA=s875" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="875" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixT4dikClHfC6Fruo4VooxSljpFB8BYqaiQFNSDAZUJDTngmyEIakyWEQ3A3tzeMstEr9Bf64-gHRN0LXDdbmVIJEiPAQswyXvp_6uzp3A1jmR0kkd9nzWAX0U0qHXLrTz4PfMl5ruEzOnC_BsN3CJNDwRILqi14RXBCsm-W_jZyG_N7lGHolbnWUoUA=w400-h311" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div>Gone are the repetitive and directionless designs of the original <i>Super Mario Bros.</i>—each stage is now built with a distinctive idea in mind, tossing new mechanics, hazards, and enemies at the player constantly. Somehow, despite being packed to the gills with levels, <i>SMB3 </i>rarely uses the same gimmick more than twice: an angry sun torments you in 2-Sand & 8-2, boss bass hounds you in 3-3 & 3-8, chain chomps guard the walkways of 2-5 & 5-1, directional lifts guide you through 4-Fortress2 & 7-6, and you'll have to slip by stretch boos in 3-Fortress & 6-Fortress3. There are a number of interesting one-offs too: the sudden tornado in 2-Sand, the fire-spewing nipper plant of 7-8, the para-beetle parade of 5-6, the missile bill barrage of 4-5, and the woefully underused kuribo's shoe in 5-3. I could gush over every single one of <i>SMB3</i>'s additions (air ship stages, hammer bro variety, ice blocks, donut lifts, coin ship) but suffice to say, the game doesn't ever leave you wanting for more.</div><div><br /></div><div>Hell, even the stages that lack something "new" manage to stand tall because of their smart design. 2-Pyramid sees you kicking open crawl spaces, 3-8 is littered with vines to keep you safe from boss bass, 5-9 is a treacherously tight diagonal climb, 4-4 bombards you with spiny depth charges, and 7-9 is a time-consuming but coin rich maze. Numerous levels also offer an alternate route through them: 1-6 & 5-2 offer paths above and below ground, 3-9 & 6-9 let you choose between sprinting or swimming, 2-4 hides a golden oasis above the starting mark, and 4-6 is the original Tiny-Huge Island. Do you like puzzles in your platforming? 7-Fortress1, 7-5, 8-Fortress, and the <i>devious</i> 6-5 got you covered. How about secret power-ups you have to work to find? 1-3, 5-1, 5-5, and 6-10 might have what you're looking for. Perhaps you yearn for difficult, white-knuckled platforming? Then prepare yourself for 7-8, 7-Fortress2, and nearly all of World 8! No matter your preference,<i> Super Mario Bros. 3</i> is guaranteed to have at least one level that will leave you grinning ear to ear when you finish.</div><div><br /></div><div>I suppose the only thing I'm not enthusiastic about is the overuse of Boom Boom as the fortress boss. Occasionally <i>SMB3 </i>tries to spice up his battle (the ice arena of 7-Fortress3, scrolling floor of 8-Fortress, the numerous winged variations of the boss) but at the end of the day you're left fighting the same rudimentary crab-walking, arm-swinging patrolman that you learnt how to beast back in 1-Fortress. The koopalings suffer a similar case of recycling, but there's at least minor differences in their arena and fighting style (and in the case of Wendy and Lemmy, an entirely new projectile). Plus, due to the reflexive use of their wand, the koopa kids a little trickier to attack as soon as they're vulnerable—whereas I could ensnare Boom Boom in a head-stomping loop in my sleep. The orange brute is an <i>alright</i> boss, but I feel that more effort and variation could've been applied to each of his fights (if we get to fight hammer bros in knee-deep water, why not him?).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiu-4x1RogM4GQDUcjHpGVkE86PKuNU1YXjC7TOwpJeKnj-kjevts45tXO5egZn1Bs8yOQMBBMh_7sLdZPaU1F7eCtsvm8XyaD7F-xd0VSarvKI2VFwAWPhutVWEUJ6oRkwbX_6BVGwY56tk_bTh6Q0Jhl-HZQDgDPJLsFi8MGIikRBbDNLaibhY84EaA=s875" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="875" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiu-4x1RogM4GQDUcjHpGVkE86PKuNU1YXjC7TOwpJeKnj-kjevts45tXO5egZn1Bs8yOQMBBMh_7sLdZPaU1F7eCtsvm8XyaD7F-xd0VSarvKI2VFwAWPhutVWEUJ6oRkwbX_6BVGwY56tk_bTh6Q0Jhl-HZQDgDPJLsFi8MGIikRBbDNLaibhY84EaA=w400-h311" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>And the power-ups! What a fantastic collection of quirky abilities! Standing in parallel to the fire flower is the super leaf: a sturdy tail that grants the Italian plumber flight, letting him explore stages with a newfound verticality. The P-wing acts an alternate suit that can keep him permanently skyborne, while the Tanooki variation provides a brief—but potentially crucial!—moment of solemn invincibility. The frog suit is a pain on dry land but grants the player substantially more control and speed underwater, letting them weigh the cost of when to don the suit. Stars can be stored up and used to bum-rush stage starts (always useful in 4-3 and 7-Piranhas), and Jugem's Cloud let's you skip some of the game's peskiest stages—provided you can defeat the next level. But the most precious item has to be the rarely-acquired hammer suit: a padded, fireball-deflecting garment that can vanquish nearly any foe with a single toss of its onyx mallet. Only the music box is a bit of a dud, briefly letting you skirt by hammer bros (whom are otherwise easily dispatched with a star).</div><div><br /></div><div>Speaking of music, Konji Kondo's laid back, playful score has an amazing amount of range, despite there being only a handful of core compositions. One touch I've always appreciated is that each overworld map gets its own short theme, only needing a few seconds to convey the perfect mood. Stage themes are now split between low and high energy outings, utilizing chill reggae drums for the former and a playful melody chase for the latter. Underground sections get a cool drum & bass remix of the original subterranean tune, while hammer bros battles sound like straight-up surfing duels. It would've been nice to have an even larger arrangement of tracks, but this is an issue that admittedly plagues the entire 2D <i>Mario</i> series—even <i>Yoshi's Island</i> only has five main tracks!</div><div><br /></div><div>Lastly, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the perfect note the game ends on—namely, the final fight against King Bowser. The castle itself starts as a slow burn, throwing some odd curve balls your way like steep steps and backtracking pathways, before speeding you across rickety platforms and over tightly-placed fireballs. Then you'll come face to face with the towering turtle himself, with nary an ax in sight! A momentous struggle unfolds as you dodge and juke the fiery tyrant, all while he's trying to crush you beneath his sheer mass. You'll need some deft footwork and smart maneuvering in order to survive, as even coming equipped with the fire flower doesn't hand you an automatic win. It's a brilliant battle to close out this 8-bit odyssey with, like a freshly-picked cherry capping off the best sundae you've ever had.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkyJ-WTuulslNMLUbMNH0vABO4Ica4kdR3WCjkLcJbEHzlpLjf3QLpcoWUqHq5uHpXqeg46sVoBVKEUONodG-ThL8AQfUMeQ8Y8WYVpJO4ihm1s_OiqourwbJ2ysIgwarpNCQMMb4UOewLGlGDi3ITXSoDfPKgzknbOn62_-oVD4ULbdreP9LOr2x5Jw=s875" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="875" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkyJ-WTuulslNMLUbMNH0vABO4Ica4kdR3WCjkLcJbEHzlpLjf3QLpcoWUqHq5uHpXqeg46sVoBVKEUONodG-ThL8AQfUMeQ8Y8WYVpJO4ihm1s_OiqourwbJ2ysIgwarpNCQMMb4UOewLGlGDi3ITXSoDfPKgzknbOn62_-oVD4ULbdreP9LOr2x5Jw=w400-h311" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>For the longest time, I considered <i>Super Mario Bros. 3 </i>to be my favorite game of all time. I'm not exactly sure when it was—probably some time around my teenage years—but eventually <i>Super Metroid </i>dethroned the NES classic, claiming the top spot for the rest of my life. Nowadays <i>SMB3</i> lurks behind <i>Dark Souls</i> in third place, vying for the position along with the extremely-flawed-yet-extremely-fun <i>Mega Man 2</i>. So when it came time to write this entry, the words felt bound in a knot; it was difficult to determine where to begin and end this ardent stream of consciousness. If given unlimited time I could probably write a detailed entry for every single level, providing a blend of reasons and excuses for why I enjoy each one so much. But I have to contend with the fact that a lot of my passion is simply nostalgia burning brightly; had I not grown up with the game, perhaps I would've felt the same with <i>Super Mario World</i> or—god forbid—<i>Sonic the Hedgehog</i>.</div><div><br /></div><div>But another part of me believes that <i>Super Mario Bros. 3 </i>transcends my personal preferences and childhood memories. If you sit down to play it, one can't help but notice its remarkable merit, its strengths made apparent and inarguable. I don't think everyone has to love the game of course, but it's a Sisyphean task to deny that the game isn't at least <i>good</i> or worthy a playthrough. <i>Mario </i>as a franchise owes a lot of its history to <i>SMB3</i>: airships, world maps, ghost houses, slopes, flying, item huts, P-switches, the koopa kids, and much more made their first debut here. There's a good reason why the <i>New </i>series worships <i>Super Mario Bros 3</i>'s design blueprint like a long lost ancestor deity—there's a mind-boggling amount that this 8-bit masterpiece got <b>right</b>.</div><div><br /></div><div>And it absolutely still holds up, nearly 35 years later.</div></div></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-91351503491238654062022-09-30T00:51:00.002-07:002022-09-30T01:11:08.806-07:00Outer Wilds - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1QstumtxAsLrHflWxz-Wj1A18-T6ipgk6n3hpH7b2POUG0Tx5EnN1gvSbOgt_mRx8my3Q38_jd_HSfYEU54rb_rsMNRAIWcArVE33CT-nFvfpznEVMoiWWrjA-QPqdb5ZMBaGMYtrRQfVWeDVKE4qhbSNSFlRA3Pl6klw1ZCddesWO-SpfENqQbwbQ/s557/OW-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="557" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1QstumtxAsLrHflWxz-Wj1A18-T6ipgk6n3hpH7b2POUG0Tx5EnN1gvSbOgt_mRx8my3Q38_jd_HSfYEU54rb_rsMNRAIWcArVE33CT-nFvfpznEVMoiWWrjA-QPqdb5ZMBaGMYtrRQfVWeDVKE4qhbSNSFlRA3Pl6klw1ZCddesWO-SpfENqQbwbQ/w400-h194/OW-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><i>[contains minor spoilers]</i></div><div><br /></div><div>I've been slowly chewing through my backlog this year in an attempt to get to any acclaimed indie game that came out in the last half decade or so (<i>Hollow Knight, Celeste</i>, <i>Obra Dinn</i>, etc), which has now led me to the great interstellar adventure of 2019: <i>Outer Wilds</i>. And <i>woof</i> what a game it is! As I knew practically nothing about it beforehand, I was left blindsided by its main gimmick: you're caught in a time loop where in 20 minutes the sun goes supernova and destroys the <i>entire</i> solar system. What first feels like a goofy and playful romp through outlandish biomes becomes a harrowing tale of loneliness, helplessness, and the spark of resolve. <i>Outer Wilds </i>isn't just one of the most creative games to come out in the last ten years—it's an brilliant, moving experience that succeeds precisely because it <i><b>is</b></i> a video game.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevR89fhVA75eXMxKvs7RlvOF2u41Br-rAgzZ-ROhT7y1b6JKdZUm3_-jaeX5XcA_5p6HCV0rAyEpWOZsooTWzsuzFAR5fhsnPSFAeTY43v4J75OwVAWKGhy2KUbZi4IZIooonfQpPQR6K2hOkj-8KXfPE67k0r0_C9MUreHBa1bcmHDzsN4etvDogRg/s1920/OW1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhevR89fhVA75eXMxKvs7RlvOF2u41Br-rAgzZ-ROhT7y1b6JKdZUm3_-jaeX5XcA_5p6HCV0rAyEpWOZsooTWzsuzFAR5fhsnPSFAeTY43v4J75OwVAWKGhy2KUbZi4IZIooonfQpPQR6K2hOkj-8KXfPE67k0r0_C9MUreHBa1bcmHDzsN4etvDogRg/w400-h225/OW1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>One of the things I love most about <i>Outer Wilds</i> is that it unapologetically embraces the bizarre. Your starting planet is a backwater podunk inhabited by good-natured, four-eyed yokels that have inexplicably built not one, not two—but <b><i>six</i></b> spaceships! And as the newest star-faring pioneer, your adventure only gets <i>weirder</i> from there; every celestial body in the solar system is beset by a strange anomaly. For example, the Ember Twin is sucking the sediment from its neighbor, Brittle Hollow is imploding from the black hole at its core, and Dark Bramble is infested with a spacetime-defying thicket. There are plenty of other eccentricities on these planets and elsewhere (a certain moon comes to mind), but what makes these phenomena truly spectacular is that they're all <i>believable</i>, despite their apparent impossibility.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Outer Wilds </i>constructs its universe with a scientific outlook in mind, expecting the player explore, discover, and question their findings. While plenty of handwaving is done for the more preposterous leaps in logic ("was that a space fish?!"), <i>Outer Wilds </i>maintains a veneer of plausibility thanks to a plethora of alien text you'll come across. Through it, you'll find out how the forerunner species communicated across the solar system, why they're not around anymore, what that weird satellite orbiting the sun is, and—most impressively—how the player is able to re-live the last 20 minutes in an eternal loop. But clarifying these mysteries will require a continual effort on player's part, as the causal explanations are scattered throughout the cosmos, buried in some hard-to-reach places.</div><div><br /></div><div>Which brings us to the most contentious—yet arguably <b>best</b>—part about <i>Outer Wilds</i>: its absolute freedom.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh61r8HuOPGWMDEmeUvbDSdKyFwQUkQ7rKpolWR-uY2cgn65Pb0_bcBcfr14U62TAtS0E9ZPOo2yQmFvSatrdNQ4CgbLpykMIH4bv5wTAmrjoHx9d8yjvMa6RnXjbvWX6AKWcLAkxgcgGq9iVeUE_dP1ac-QhK-l80x_u67qJUfeyizfAiTxqVtzkhKUg/s1920/OW3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh61r8HuOPGWMDEmeUvbDSdKyFwQUkQ7rKpolWR-uY2cgn65Pb0_bcBcfr14U62TAtS0E9ZPOo2yQmFvSatrdNQ4CgbLpykMIH4bv5wTAmrjoHx9d8yjvMa6RnXjbvWX6AKWcLAkxgcgGq9iVeUE_dP1ac-QhK-l80x_u67qJUfeyizfAiTxqVtzkhKUg/w400-h225/OW3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>From the moment you launch into space, it's possible to finish the game on your first run—but only if you <i>know</i> what you're doing. To attain that knowledge, you'll have to poke and prod your way through the solar system, first trying to understand just <i>what </i>you're looking for, and then <i>how</i> to go about achieving it. And while this could've been done in a guided, linear way, <i>Outer Wilds</i> simply hands you the keys to your space shuttle and cheekily cheers, "Good luck!" There's no set order to the planets, no journal entries to uncover first, and no text prompt that will pop up to ask "did you get all that?" It's up to the player to pursue any of the leads they find interesting, cobbling together their discoveries until they've built a path to the ending.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's kind of terrifying being placed at the helm of a ship without a map... but it's simultaneously liberating, letting you work out this apocalyptic puzzle at your own pace. <i>Outer Wilds</i> understands that the allure of open world games isn't just handing you the ability to go anywhere you want—it's also about making distant landmarks and loose threads rewarding to explore. Most structures and caverns will have something worthwhile inside, whether they be a journal entry, primitive sketching, or a lone corpse that signals the end of an ancient adventurer. When you finally piece together everything that has, is, and will happen in this universe, there's a solemn, zen-like beauty to it all—akin to piecing together an excellent whodunnit and basking in the intricate tragedy of it all.</div><div><br /></div><div>But you're not completely on your lonesome during this task: <i>Outer Wilds </i>smartly includes a ship log that will track every anomaly observed and article read. While it initially looks like an impenetrable "Pepe Silvia" corkboard of unrelated leads, I found that switching to the game's "map mode" offered more clear guidance. It organizes your discoveries into a planet-by-planet index, providing a quick and easy way to see which locations you've finished and which still need some de-secret-ing. As long as you keep poking at the game's nooks and crannies (as well as pursuing different leads when you feel "stuck"), the game will smartly funnel you towards its finale, proffering one last Hail Mary to this time-looping solar catastrophe.</div><div><br /></div><div>But again—the tricky part is that it's ultimately up to <i>you</i> to unearth it.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgT21HuIWI9jeJq3iU8SNzjn6UeAMAD3_UEhzE909rLc6XOFy06wAJgEjPfx6cx2aDhHvxkDi13L-tKTiCtV239qXsxT2ihUAn5S_iweaXCVVo94okzyCoxC2yrvsFVe-WsbxhZX3ZInObFGyuB-pjQualR72qXo0Y0bmODg9Qlk1g5YQZUJLXd6SJg/s1920/OW6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgT21HuIWI9jeJq3iU8SNzjn6UeAMAD3_UEhzE909rLc6XOFy06wAJgEjPfx6cx2aDhHvxkDi13L-tKTiCtV239qXsxT2ihUAn5S_iweaXCVVo94okzyCoxC2yrvsFVe-WsbxhZX3ZInObFGyuB-pjQualR72qXo0Y0bmODg9Qlk1g5YQZUJLXd6SJg/w400-h225/OW6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>I covered this in my entry on <a href="http://minorbits.blogspot.com/2015/09/why-dark-souls-plot-obfuscation-is.html"><i>Dark Souls</i> lore</a>, but this kind of nonlinear approach to backstory is a unique and unappreciated aspect of video games. As the player, you're responsible for absorbing and understanding the snippets of information you're given—even when they're provided in a non-intuitive order. I've talked with friends and family over our <i>Outer Wilds</i> experiences, and it's been fascinating to hear about how we arrived to the same conclusions through different means. Working with our own incomplete maps of the universe, we told tall-tales to each other, sharing the strange things we've seen while trying to avoiding spoilers. We tossed out tiny hints and nudges, like "maybe you should look over there a <i>little </i>more", offering guidance as a mountain hermit might—while simultaneously being clueless ourselves of what awaits at the summit.</div><div><br /></div><div>And what blew me away the most wasn't just the game's wild goose chase to its ending, but that there was a significant portion of it I had <i>missed</i> because I failed to grasp a core mechanic. Only after speaking to a friend did I finally learn how it worked, which was especially surprising because I had <i>utilized</i> that mechanic during the ending—completely unwittingly! It's hard to describe without specifics, but know that I returned to the game to uncover that area myself, even though there was no point to it other than to sate my own curiosity. <i>Outer Wilds</i> may lack the traditional gameplay hooks of powerful upgrades and branching skill trees, but what it has is more potent, more memorable: the <i>promise</i> of an answer. It dangles in front of you like a fisherman's bait, occupying your thoughts whenever you're not playing the game because maybe—just <i>maybe</i>—you already have the tools at your disposal to figure it out. It's the anticipation of discovery, the intrigue of a curtain reveal; it's a gift more spiritually satisfying than anything found in a loot box.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwH4L1jRgjlWgMuQSOh1JB-YwhpreySK67lAHZH5Cu94fEDQgYMmgWqgs8GyonCVEZwLoBtH6qOUOS6q_jYmp0syG-pFKCObIEyEZhrkYHu3QCCbVG6Lf21hNVt7bTVBbvI6F9mq-4uIPoe9OuWPG5m3j1tBlJuRccB6mpVglan0HJvg5fUnKuExb1Tg/s1920/OW5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwH4L1jRgjlWgMuQSOh1JB-YwhpreySK67lAHZH5Cu94fEDQgYMmgWqgs8GyonCVEZwLoBtH6qOUOS6q_jYmp0syG-pFKCObIEyEZhrkYHu3QCCbVG6Lf21hNVt7bTVBbvI6F9mq-4uIPoe9OuWPG5m3j1tBlJuRccB6mpVglan0HJvg5fUnKuExb1Tg/w400-h225/OW5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><i>Outer Wilds</i> isn't just a standout experience for me—it's possibly the best game about time travel I've ever played. Nearly every aspect about it I found immaculate: the vibrant color palette, each planet's strange theme, the folksy soundtrack, the intuitive ship controls, and the crushing fatalism of watching the sun burst into a beautiful, murderous wave of light over and over and over again. Every loop will pull you in a different direction, giving you new avenues to explore based off the logs you've read and the theories brewing at the back of your mind. And when it all starts to fit into place—when there are finally more answers than questions—only then can you appreciate how meticulously crafted this humble indie darling is.</div><div><br /></div><div>To finish, let me paint you a little picture.</div><div><br /></div><div>At some point while you're playing the game, you'll likely be stranded from your ship. Maybe you'll jump into a portal, or boost too high off of a planet's surface, or expect your ship to stay grounded to a comet <i>despite</i> the sun's gravity obviously being a stronger force. You'll watch your tiny ship slip away, the bleakness of the situation slowly dawning on you as your vessel shrinks to a mote smaller than the distant stars. And sure, the loop is just gonna reset anyway—this death is just one of many—yet you'll be compelled to stay, to drift hopelessly in space as the end casts its eternal shadow. Maybe you'll suffocate, or get pulled into the sun, or live just long enough to die along with the rest of the universe. But you'll stay that first time, just to see what happens...</div><div><br /></div><div>... And that's only <i>one </i>bit that makes this game so very special. Make sure to savor your first playthrough of it—it's a remarkable adventure.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKMSO4WWoRYf6KWoQbTPysoAalC0gjuiKct1fQg3YR87ghs0nUdnlPV2MRQ_u7TpqEl7RjWIIa7Jgk6X7AZPzgKeq4ts2Dmwc3pRm7NpShSuqPPXufZBFiOXFQuuAw3YRLQHQqvi7nGr5J_s6_01Pivl8JTyjc1EACwevazCT_W4Mn1i_tnyquxw-tA/s1920/OW4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKMSO4WWoRYf6KWoQbTPysoAalC0gjuiKct1fQg3YR87ghs0nUdnlPV2MRQ_u7TpqEl7RjWIIa7Jgk6X7AZPzgKeq4ts2Dmwc3pRm7NpShSuqPPXufZBFiOXFQuuAw3YRLQHQqvi7nGr5J_s6_01Pivl8JTyjc1EACwevazCT_W4Mn1i_tnyquxw-tA/w400-h225/OW4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-74724861535318101542022-09-06T00:45:00.007-07:002022-09-06T12:38:29.320-07:00Scalak - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldmx8ZLVusVxLExKR95f8H54ubJNxgPfrBTdWT3It5C3tGcjFRF4UPqJFDxafWaoqU1FqE0ZFOkyuuHPY3IZkt64WQrcMvJUwjXGJuG9wMRdhLGAkcIpnMwQ_Lpmci-VBAf-CKK3TCiPqNY6hwznZ6H_5B4IB5Nu27GoBl0Aknlc1aObpipfg9_RHXA/s324/Scalak1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="324" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjldmx8ZLVusVxLExKR95f8H54ubJNxgPfrBTdWT3It5C3tGcjFRF4UPqJFDxafWaoqU1FqE0ZFOkyuuHPY3IZkt64WQrcMvJUwjXGJuG9wMRdhLGAkcIpnMwQ_Lpmci-VBAf-CKK3TCiPqNY6hwznZ6H_5B4IB5Nu27GoBl0Aknlc1aObpipfg9_RHXA/s320/Scalak1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's hard to imagine anyone playing through <i>Scalak</i> and feeling as though they've wasted their time. In the subgenre of brief, minimalist, non-numerical puzzle games, you can run into a lot of unfulfilling titles that either fail to reach their potential (<i>Naboki</i>) or are annoyingly obtuse (<i>Understand</i>)—but <i>Scalak </i>is neither of those things. What you'll get is an interesting, colorful, varied puzzle game, one that appears to be about matching similar shapes but is really<i> </i>about object manipulation. If you like the idea of having to flip, twist, and turn blocks in order to get them to satisfyingly "click" together, then <i>Scalak </i>might just be for you.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmr2erJ8NqmAvfIXaBINutgvuXO0GQFseD5n__KwNTi32mV5-mpTO29IXVlpDG0EZa0O579CqFsfOA6SKHDL4XjyGK069fsgpoN2LiwneXXDaVzRJgcLJepjG-38n15ggtGdH-9k1KSsJ-ohZLKlNshSxWbRtoLfFtrBsYNxi0AhYmg5PlvXNLErVQhg/s1920/20220826172146_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmr2erJ8NqmAvfIXaBINutgvuXO0GQFseD5n__KwNTi32mV5-mpTO29IXVlpDG0EZa0O579CqFsfOA6SKHDL4XjyGK069fsgpoN2LiwneXXDaVzRJgcLJepjG-38n15ggtGdH-9k1KSsJ-ohZLKlNshSxWbRtoLfFtrBsYNxi0AhYmg5PlvXNLErVQhg/w400-h225/20220826172146_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What helps make <i>Scalak </i>stand out compared to other manipulation games like <i>The Room </i>and <i>PUSH </i>is that there's very little experimentation required. You won't find any hidden compartments or secret switches; brute forcing your way to a solution via trial & error is not an option here. The only unknown you'll have to contend with is what the opposite side of an object might look like—a problem that's easily solved with <i>Scalak</i>'s intuitive rotation controls. The main challenge of the game comes from deducing what the solution should look, and then arranging the pieces before you to match that image. It sounds simple in theory but gets pretty perplexing as the number of pieces increase.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEt8jn8ftR4uxbERZ-ePItNQ0_hUgwBOAaEOsxpgIQrLmXWoLqQvKgAlOu6bdrvdDXgutO0se0keDiX2R3pvjL6dOzhhfbhrXxws9_34JJCxfaQF4-J9SlZSV8kykZeG_LBGJF3-7hUodje2x7-47wO5B2E3eZan2pl6dXV6ZEboAIjkRqznvUmLETQ/s1920/20220901030131_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEt8jn8ftR4uxbERZ-ePItNQ0_hUgwBOAaEOsxpgIQrLmXWoLqQvKgAlOu6bdrvdDXgutO0se0keDiX2R3pvjL6dOzhhfbhrXxws9_34JJCxfaQF4-J9SlZSV8kykZeG_LBGJF3-7hUodje2x7-47wO5B2E3eZan2pl6dXV6ZEboAIjkRqznvUmLETQ/w400-h225/20220901030131_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Of course, this comes with the stipulation that you can handle rotating 3D images in your head. I was reminded of Organic Chemistry while playing it, specifically picturing how organic compounds would interact with outside elements. While the technique came was natural for me, I know other folks struggled with it—and perhaps <i>Scalak </i>would similarly drive them up the wall. But it's not nearly as fraught with complexity as its molecular kith, at most giving you three rectangular prisms to deal with at a time. That's not to say that there isn't a surprising amount of complexity in its later puzzles (there is), but <i>Scalak</i> never gets to the point that you'll want to pull your hair out. It knows to keep things calm, the ambiance warm, and new mechanics flowing like good wine at a wedding reception.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SL6fYatAQ6hkhxBrq6l64912AQFpEWIIQ0TClH_mVn8kMh5zzMNZOKfQjAsTSpYmoU7fcwzjKb3ugtWe2FP5qlwzJqwniKENwHFZ5PoocvA1H7Vu2PZNVEsvXh0vkh8RnIqWJMsyrn0JL0-A40A6LhBIg9OB9BYU4KY3ySW_9bfP95_8_r1Uc1aojA/s1920/20220905171601_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SL6fYatAQ6hkhxBrq6l64912AQFpEWIIQ0TClH_mVn8kMh5zzMNZOKfQjAsTSpYmoU7fcwzjKb3ugtWe2FP5qlwzJqwniKENwHFZ5PoocvA1H7Vu2PZNVEsvXh0vkh8RnIqWJMsyrn0JL0-A40A6LhBIg9OB9BYU4KY3ySW_9bfP95_8_r1Uc1aojA/w400-h225/20220905171601_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm not as head over heels for <i>Scalak</i> as I was with <i><a href="https://minorbits.blogspot.com/2022/06/linelight-thoughts.html">Linelight</a></i>, but I find it as equally deserving of a recommendation. There are a lot of cool bits and head-scratching puzzles, all promising a rush of relief if you can get the pieces to fall perfectly into place with one another. But there's no pressure; <i>Scalak </i>is calm, clean, and simple without ever feeling effortless, boring, or like it's stalling for time. Think of it like a good meal at an affordable restaurant: you'll be done with it in two hours and it'll be worth every penny you spend.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-23099390558006764832022-08-31T20:54:00.003-07:002022-09-01T01:04:41.615-07:00Fallout: New Vegas - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tV5r63_7Sg9YBOXulxOZX_EAKvwnH_BJaITE5WOMODbr3Q24SbuNzb9dFhcdy5tU8qtxcEmwn--Gp5q8X5eys8V7PcPiyUKoQ3eCwXSSv30TauSUW3aHGf_ExQrRxO0eA-uaz9oCVD0PUmLOC8PHcuEvtERduixlUO1tVQMKXYM7skXxJnvv5zbt8Q/s794/FONV1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="794" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tV5r63_7Sg9YBOXulxOZX_EAKvwnH_BJaITE5WOMODbr3Q24SbuNzb9dFhcdy5tU8qtxcEmwn--Gp5q8X5eys8V7PcPiyUKoQ3eCwXSSv30TauSUW3aHGf_ExQrRxO0eA-uaz9oCVD0PUmLOC8PHcuEvtERduixlUO1tVQMKXYM7skXxJnvv5zbt8Q/w400-h180/FONV1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">For nearly a decade now, I've heard nothing but praise for <i>Fallout: New Vegas</i>. Fans online crown not only the best <i>Fallout </i>game, but one of the best written narratives in video games period. I had always planned to jump into the old Interplay games first, curious how loyal <i>New Vegas</i> stayed to the classic formula, but years had gone by while I waited, with both <i>Fallout 4 </i>& <i>76 </i>getting released while I twiddled my thumbs playing other games. One excuse or another always kept me from it, like other recent releases, or I wasn't in an open world mood, or it was just too damn long to start right now. So this year I finally said "screw it", booting up my Xbox 360 to sit down and finally play one of the best games of the last decade. And you know I found?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That it was a huge mistake to play it on the 360.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkDWR6ToyZv36Eg2G_H0Wk7jTodOdIrztSzf5lASLDbUUR0Tc3b_sPpIsiBXfcCp-evbSc-CGZJ5l4Rx-kx37KFws-566IQjU0d1GyyG_sqQBpzK2Yx2MncoCmz06iZBObPFpms-ZcDS2kMZSQvvGs6CqZAFxPB8nsIW9loPxcWtmVwz5t6gig5wAtQ/s1920/FONV3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkDWR6ToyZv36Eg2G_H0Wk7jTodOdIrztSzf5lASLDbUUR0Tc3b_sPpIsiBXfcCp-evbSc-CGZJ5l4Rx-kx37KFws-566IQjU0d1GyyG_sqQBpzK2Yx2MncoCmz06iZBObPFpms-ZcDS2kMZSQvvGs6CqZAFxPB8nsIW9loPxcWtmVwz5t6gig5wAtQ/w400-h225/FONV3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">... And that the game is good, of course. But <i>wow</i> was this a buggy, busted experience from start to end, even with the newest patch installed. Enemies fell into the terrain, VATS would seize up, pivotal quest lines were unfinishable, and I suffered more crashes than I did radiation sickness. Worse yet is that nearly every crash wound up corrupting my autosave—of which I only had one of—so I lost progress constantly until I ingrained manually saving as a response to seeing the loading screen. I remember encountering some issues playing <i>Fallout 3</i> on the 360, but <i>New Vegas</i> was an entirely new brand of buggy hell; either play it on PC or turn down the difficulty to blaze through the game. As for me, I'm never going to touch this game on the 360 again. Seriously, it was a miserable experience!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, with that big asterisk out of the way, does <i>Fallout: New Vegas</i> still hold up? And the answer to that is a waffling, nasally <i>kiiindaaa</i>. The biggest problem (surprise surprise) is that it's rooted in <i>Fallout 3</i>—that is to say an ugly world with terrible gunplay. Had I played <i>New Vegas</i> back in 2010 (or on PC with mods) I'm sure I'd be singing a different tune, but <i>Fallout 4 </i>was a categorical improvement on the formula, so it's a little hard to go back. Not that it's "unplayable" or "trash" or anything so hyperbolic, but all the old issues are still present: spongy enemies, lackluster weapons, clumsy UI, stiff animations, shameless room reuse, and a drunk AI with pinpoint accuracy. Part of it is my fault for playing on Hardcore Hard (which only accentuated these issues), but I prefer survival RPGs with some bite to them, forcing me to be smart about stocking supplies.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And to Obsidian's credit, the changes made to <i>Fallout 3</i>'s base are quite impressive. There's a huge amount of weapon mods, ammo types, and consumables to pour over while you're playing, along with a massive crafting system that gives a purpose to all the junk you've collected beyond just caps. Hardcore mode also establishes itself as the best way to experience the post-apocalypse, turning the game's purified water and floor mattresses into some of the best goods to come across. And giving ammo a weight ensures you can't just sit on a metric ton of mini nukes—you have to be wise about what you're bringing along and much more open to using the armaments weighing you down.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QthiqKrUEv97u8YiHv42HW33j7HOWo95DZ0hVuSxykwI0pocmvsCxVBxVKgqGEl9oT4G7Wm-n4sSp04XxyJEYedcgqIrCg5vs1JIJ_HKOkjR8KKKB6sghaNEF6qSxHvKgRWr_P9chm-kgukC24CIjA5-VcZLDXKvqztKArTIyQl2iUI4mNQNA70ViQ/s1920/FONV2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QthiqKrUEv97u8YiHv42HW33j7HOWo95DZ0hVuSxykwI0pocmvsCxVBxVKgqGEl9oT4G7Wm-n4sSp04XxyJEYedcgqIrCg5vs1JIJ_HKOkjR8KKKB6sghaNEF6qSxHvKgRWr_P9chm-kgukC24CIjA5-VcZLDXKvqztKArTIyQl2iUI4mNQNA70ViQ/w400-h225/FONV2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">All of these are really cool additions—<i>except</i> for the crafting. It's great idea in theory, but there's no way to check what items you need out in the wild until you find a workbench or campfire. And given how easy it is to get over-encumbered on your journey, the last thing you're going to do is carry around weighty conductors and scorpion glands you can't use. Your only choice is to memorize what you need or collect junk like a hoarder, both of which require more work than simply ignoring crafting altogether. If you could simply look at the rubbish strewn about and see a quick list of what items could be crafted, then I'd toss all these complaints out the window. Again, it's something I'm sure PC mods easily fix—hammering home how obsolete the 360 version of the game is.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Lastly, <i>New Vegas </i>is an unbelievably swingy game, especially when fighting cazadors and deathclaws. Again, playing on Hard with low endurance did me no favors here, but no matter how many drugs I ingested and how heavy my armor was, I was always a few hits from death. But if I could face an enemy one on one (without them getting the drop on me), then it was a completely different story. With a number of valuable perks and a boat-load of VATS points at my finger tips, nearly every major enemy and boss melted before me, their heads dissolving into a fine and ruddy gas. It's just that as soon as VATS ended I was at the mercy of my next opponent. This problem only became worse in the DLC, as enemies became unbelievably tanky and could decimate me if left un-crippled. Fights felt neither strategic nor rewarding; battles were solely determined by who got the drop on who first, which gets pretty boring by hour 20, let alone 100.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVML7EjrOPM1M6qKNSE22PQJuXcOiIECX0sxBU-zMtye12w53Z2kxvcOHhaDJJZ19FMkvX19q8gTitwFmTEwyrQkimEuK4tdm4gHVOLSltoYVI6AjKIa5UZPa373ajp7b0PUooOnWqvDkbXS70OqyOR_je7XcYK-Jf_oD1C-otdAFD854yZwHJh-QIKA/s1920/FONV4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVML7EjrOPM1M6qKNSE22PQJuXcOiIECX0sxBU-zMtye12w53Z2kxvcOHhaDJJZ19FMkvX19q8gTitwFmTEwyrQkimEuK4tdm4gHVOLSltoYVI6AjKIa5UZPa373ajp7b0PUooOnWqvDkbXS70OqyOR_je7XcYK-Jf_oD1C-otdAFD854yZwHJh-QIKA/w400-h225/FONV4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>I've blathered on for long enough that it's time to cover what makes <i>New Vegas</i> so truly special: its story. Despite my copious whinging, the plot of <i>New Vegas</i> alone makes it a must-play for RPG fans, as the amount of detail and factions is staggering. I thought <i>Fallout 4</i> was pretty cool for having four different clans to ally with at the end, but it doesn't even hold a torch to the ideological divisions inside of <i>New Vegas</i>. Groups here are multidimensional, complete with sycophants, dissidents, skeptics, leaders, cooks, and a whole mess of internal organizational issues. There are no moral binaries in the world of <i>New Vegas</i>—your enemies are human, split only by ideals and circumstance, often making decisions similar to your own faction. That's not to say there's no moral compass in the world—Caesar's Legion rightfully sucks—but that you can never be confident that you're on the right side of history.</div><div><br /></div><div>But it's not just the depth and granularity with which the world of <i>New Vegas</i> is portrayed (though they're nevertheless laudable)—it's how you can move through it. Besides the four main factions in the game, there's a host of other minor factions that you can befriend, decimate, or ignore altogether. And it's not the content that's surprising as much as it's the amount of outcomes. There are almost always violent and non-violent solutions to your problems, provoked by both inside and outside forces. <a href="https://i.redd.it/ia32df56i6wz.jpg">This flow chart</a> illustrates my point perfectly: you can stumble upon the quest in different ways, solve it through talking with different NPCs, go on a fetch quest, succeed through speech checks, or just kill the people involved. <i>New Vegas </i>not only understand that the world is filled with people of all different stripes, but that solutions to their problems can't be binary either, instead existing in multiple points on the spectrum between diplomacy and brute force.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's less futuristic conundrums, less abstract debates about whether replicants are human or the krogan deserved the genophage. <i>New Vegas</i> asks a profoundly simple, yet unanswerable, question: <i>who deserves to hold power? </i>Do you support a war wherein the troops aren't fighting for their homeland? Is imperialisms justified if it's enacted to uplift the locals? Are all of our ambitious ideals doomed to failure, repeating the mistakes of our forefathers under a different name, a different brand? <i>New Vegas </i>pushes you to question authority without making it feel anarchic, acknowledging that lines have to be drawn but the issue is with <i>where</i>. It has a smart, deft script to support its messaging too.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh3CQ3Yj-ENQSY798rygTAI12fXT8PnAIQj0RTxeEdZY91K75F7PFjHytOGlnF4YofMzKgiAHOSDOaSCYocDb7b6ybQ-K1Qy6M_a-RnBauWKog6h40gIV717cmULL6Sm1IaxzjEceXR9iSm1MiuBz18dvjjNT1DIduOXhwJ_qnKtHlLAY34X6jGGrQCA/s1920/FONV5.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh3CQ3Yj-ENQSY798rygTAI12fXT8PnAIQj0RTxeEdZY91K75F7PFjHytOGlnF4YofMzKgiAHOSDOaSCYocDb7b6ybQ-K1Qy6M_a-RnBauWKog6h40gIV717cmULL6Sm1IaxzjEceXR9iSm1MiuBz18dvjjNT1DIduOXhwJ_qnKtHlLAY34X6jGGrQCA/w400-h225/FONV5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Fallout: New Vegas</i> is a piss-colored game that's a minor improvement over <i>Fallout 3 </i>gameplay-wise, but is on a whole 'nother level with its world. is great if you want to know the history of an area. Just... y'know, make sure you play it on PC.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">---------------------<br /><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Images obtained from: microsoft.com, gog.com</span></div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-40110661252769457192022-08-30T13:31:00.000-07:002022-08-30T13:31:51.823-07:00Chasm - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioExeIp_sVmBrxv98Qb_BOhX4Gl_BbpOu8AMMY6wnbo0hvB1VwgrELlGoo1GSoSizPW9zKTcRJt9pg1UEyQdGVNc2I2bPOvCIR6311egU8fKIAfyd1GdeTLFvxbY-_sox8eCwuNPcahEUataDJ5Czx1HeXDIUNvmhumyn0QsSXVj6yk4kGvQt6hM8ODA/s1092/chasm.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="1092" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioExeIp_sVmBrxv98Qb_BOhX4Gl_BbpOu8AMMY6wnbo0hvB1VwgrELlGoo1GSoSizPW9zKTcRJt9pg1UEyQdGVNc2I2bPOvCIR6311egU8fKIAfyd1GdeTLFvxbY-_sox8eCwuNPcahEUataDJ5Czx1HeXDIUNvmhumyn0QsSXVj6yk4kGvQt6hM8ODA/w400-h131/chasm.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Hearing the descriptors "Metroidvania" and "Roguelite" tend to perk up my ears, so imagine how alluring <i>Chasm </i>appeared when it promised to combine <i>both</i>. Although I didn't back the game on kickstarter it was always on my radar, inevitably worming its way into my bustling backlog. Ironically, what got me to finally dive in was seeing the number of mixed reviews for it on steam—could a game that looks this good miss the mark that badly? After delving through a lot of good games recently, I figured it was time to plumb some supposedly mediocre mines. And you know what? For a game made by such a small team, <i>Chasm</i> isn't all that bad!...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">... buuut I'm still going to talk about a bunch of things it bungles.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitEx7uRBEQia2lciOWCEaKo2Ie_GZKIaBVm0Zb4pQHJvDrlWLlc9_snLdv4pK7yMSyhHGGWfmGuiLvC9Z8d7m4UVlyTzo7jHoiiAGqwzO08qWKnGMWE2x3ZcVGq9oHsyncD28awgg4o5ZuqBCzF6aR0PogUFVwaimVEsM0opz6vtFodrk4j2fpNuCFg/s1920/Chasm3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitEx7uRBEQia2lciOWCEaKo2Ie_GZKIaBVm0Zb4pQHJvDrlWLlc9_snLdv4pK7yMSyhHGGWfmGuiLvC9Z8d7m4UVlyTzo7jHoiiAGqwzO08qWKnGMWE2x3ZcVGq9oHsyncD28awgg4o5ZuqBCzF6aR0PogUFVwaimVEsM0opz6vtFodrk4j2fpNuCFg/w400-h225/Chasm3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The first bit to note is that while <i>Chasm </i>pegs itself as a roguelite-Metroidvania, it's considerably more of the latter than it is the former. I played through the game twice (once on normal, once on hard) and the only major difference between the two worlds were a handful of new rooms. Everything else is lightly shuffled around; expect to run into the same enemies, items, power-ups, bosses—you name it. Even the general map structure is identical, with save points and warp zones located in roughly the same spots. Venturing through <i>Chasm </i>a second time will dispel the charm of its seeded worlds, revealing a single blueprint hiding behind a maze of mirrors. Honestly, you'll find more variety in a replay of <i>Mass Effect</i>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Another one of <i>Chasm</i>'s issues is that it has a bit of an identity crisis. <i>Castlevania: Symphony of the Night </i>isn't just an inspiration for the indie title—it's the very foundation that <i>Chasm </i>is built on. Numerous fundamentals have been carefully replicated, from attack animations to the UI, to relics, to backdashing, weapons, subweapons, items, pets, afterimage sprites, and even <i>Symphony</i>'s peculiar jump canceling. Hell, they preserved the annoying "boot back to title screen after death" too! Rather than refine any of these systems or add a unique twist, <i>Chasm </i>is content to simply ape them... which is a disappointment for anyone hoping for an evolution of the Metroidvania formula.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A weird quirk that demonstrates <i>Chasm</i>'s penchant for playing it safe is found in its lore—specifically, that there isn't any. The plot is fairly bare bones, teasing a cliché, soon-to-wake evil that only you can defeat... and that's about it. <i>Chasm</i> could've fleshed out its world using the flavor text of the items you come across, but just like with <i>Symphony of the Night</i>, any text is entirely descriptive. Food, weapons, armor, gems, spells—all of them have dry descriptors and zero history. Worse yet is that the bestiary lacks flavor text entirely! It's a bare-bones concept that even <i>Symophony of the Night</i> included! If gameplay is all that matters to you then you can easily ignore these oversights, but considering how much attention is paid to <i>Chasm</i>'s aesthetics, it's strange that they lack any kind of substance.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC79QhnKVu9YDKGA_1NAy3-D1k7XmSZKSUPxVS5r4ZpvdkxhKTTJUbRgULg9aduPPtl0vl0cMtpFwU8GPgzABucWoKIBeGHEjqFWWJQG9sasZs0n2XWsOXilxjza0KCro5DGmsahzO_JGJOFVZ8rYckkTcYvOzVU4nwhS97RTr9h_99qXRumDsG1ykCQ/s1920/Chasm2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC79QhnKVu9YDKGA_1NAy3-D1k7XmSZKSUPxVS5r4ZpvdkxhKTTJUbRgULg9aduPPtl0vl0cMtpFwU8GPgzABucWoKIBeGHEjqFWWJQG9sasZs0n2XWsOXilxjza0KCro5DGmsahzO_JGJOFVZ8rYckkTcYvOzVU4nwhS97RTr9h_99qXRumDsG1ykCQ/w400-h225/Chasm2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The benefit of copying <i>Symphony of the Night </i>is that it's admittedly a good game to imitate—and <i>Chasm</i> does this impressively well. Your character handles smoothly, hitboxes make sense, and your arsenal is decently varied, ranging from speedy daggers to powerful clubs. It also helps that <i>Chasm</i> is an unbelievably gorgeous game, packed with fluid animations and some truly impeccable background art. The visuals are hands-down <i>Chasm</i>'s best quality, but the enemies and bosses you'll face offer a ferocious runner-up. One of the things I came to appreciate most about <i>Chasm </i>is that it has a fantastic difficulty curve, one that ramps up quite harshly towards the end. I personally enjoy Metroidvanias where the consumables you amass become pivotal to your success (unlike <i>Symphony of the Night</i>, which gives up early on and plateaus in difficulty.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Design-wise, <i>Chasm</i> also has a smart blend of platforming and combat, frequently testing you on both in a number of ways (and occasionally at the same time.) Unfortunately, due to the roguelite aspect, you'll run into repeating rooms and enemy arrangements, with the worst being the monsterless vertical climbs that offer no challenge whatsoever. The game is <i>generally</i> well-paced though, with warps and saves placed a good distance apart and in much-needed locations. You'll often have to fight tooth and nail to make it to the next save, especially on Hard where enemies can destroy you in a scant four hits. However, I do wish there was a warp that took the player straight to town; the two screen buffer between the town and the warp hub feels like an unnecessary tax on your time, a problem that's exacerbated by how often the game wants you to check up on rescued villagers.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Lastly, <i>Chasm</i>'s major power-ups are a real mixed bag. Most of them are your typical Metroidvania mobility upgrades (ledge grab, double jump, sliding), but a handful wind up being used a total of two to four times total. The diving gear and translation book could've had some cool uses, but they're effectively single-use keys that are hardly worth including. The lantern also feels like a missed opportunity, having only one side area dedicated to it—and considering that you can only stumble upon that zone after already acquiring the item, it feels less like you're consciously using your lantern to plumb new depths and more like the next mandatory trek is merely... darker than normal. Similar to the flavor text, this isn't a hugely detrimental oversight, but rather just another example of how <i>Chasm</i> fails to capitalize on its good ideas.</div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiib8fRTZyO_N0Hn7rZpsAlzm5ktMa0LKszgpnhtIGOAjMns-gUNFETGIFjGVbeN7w9MkutqCjctnGi0YSnPduL0Clh5X_ADswao_kZoGL8E2Gj50lU3KTwZaOV2SROju4ZekiJu_7Kx-tCA6M_9V6wd2khYxXzIj4BPfoBLXQYBlw_9f3Seyvu5YEw/s1920/Chasm4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIiib8fRTZyO_N0Hn7rZpsAlzm5ktMa0LKszgpnhtIGOAjMns-gUNFETGIFjGVbeN7w9MkutqCjctnGi0YSnPduL0Clh5X_ADswao_kZoGL8E2Gj50lU3KTwZaOV2SROju4ZekiJu_7Kx-tCA6M_9V6wd2khYxXzIj4BPfoBLXQYBlw_9f3Seyvu5YEw/w400-h225/Chasm4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There's plenty of worse Metroidvanias to spend your time on than <i>Chasm</i>—which isn't exactly the most glowing of praise. It's undoubtedly a well-made title that hews closely to the modern <i>Castlevania </i>formula, potentially making it worth a play for Igarashi fans salivating for another dose of his particular blend. But in taking from both metroidvanias and roguelites, <i>Chasm</i> sadly fails to do justice to either. It's competent but unremarkable; clever but repetitive; sharp but safe. <i>Chasm </i>is a decent game for a small studio, but as a "roguevania", it's...</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">... well, it could've been better.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-943260342785124242022-08-29T20:23:00.006-07:002022-09-19T22:30:01.862-07:00Celeste - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5GQxmZ5xFpkc3ZHdzJPIa9fbWtUU-fKv4BHM_uKDhHZy-52Uncm2H7J3Y95lkUOFqA_iDsg0KNv8qs_fgGiyi5tPXVhbvznNr4K2vtFyg2n5xYSwlLAy8duMfm9nwe9IFHmQsxK1qgO0dqrsPEYmqGNJm9VM1dGjLkJSA1HlzqQZItL8H14F1OQwzA/s1177/Celeste1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="1177" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5GQxmZ5xFpkc3ZHdzJPIa9fbWtUU-fKv4BHM_uKDhHZy-52Uncm2H7J3Y95lkUOFqA_iDsg0KNv8qs_fgGiyi5tPXVhbvznNr4K2vtFyg2n5xYSwlLAy8duMfm9nwe9IFHmQsxK1qgO0dqrsPEYmqGNJm9VM1dGjLkJSA1HlzqQZItL8H14F1OQwzA/w320-h258/Celeste1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><i>[contains minor spoilers]</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Behind <i>Celeste</i>'s cartoonish art style and vivid color palette is a story about struggle. The struggle of trusting others, the struggle of accepting oneself, and most pointedly, the struggle with failure. Few games are as honest and forthcoming about their themes as <i>Celeste</i>, which opens by telling you that your goal is to climb a mountain. It's a daunting task that weighs on every character in the story, growing heavier and heavier as the air continues to thin. Yet there's a beautiful brutality to it in hindsight, like catching the sunset glimmering over a lake during a marathon. The catch is—like with any fulfilling activity in life—that to get the most out of it, you have to struggle.</div><div><br /></div><div>And if you're interested in the postgame, that means struggling a <b><u>lot</u></b>.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXsXXN25NbFao2_PQ-le7z1y6ibJHbiTNsXpSWpwFHMWH5hqm6rsyuA31vVtxH7yseKriVvlBu4thAcF8pWobKSONwep9_cJ-A0FuaaoY4syPdOow4Wu-sTcudkZqyBHlBbYdXdDFnPBuDchEAY3rnSgsH9MPVLUNf5CqVzX5vdiRRi7xo5blajC0Mg/s1920/Celeste2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXsXXN25NbFao2_PQ-le7z1y6ibJHbiTNsXpSWpwFHMWH5hqm6rsyuA31vVtxH7yseKriVvlBu4thAcF8pWobKSONwep9_cJ-A0FuaaoY4syPdOow4Wu-sTcudkZqyBHlBbYdXdDFnPBuDchEAY3rnSgsH9MPVLUNf5CqVzX5vdiRRi7xo5blajC0Mg/w400-h225/Celeste2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Not since <i>Super Meat Boy </i>have I faced such an oppressive wall of difficulty in a platformer. But the good news is that if you're only interested in the main story, <i>Celeste</i> isn't all that bad. That's not to say it isn't <i>frustrating</i> at times, but if you stick with it you can clear the game in under 1000 deaths. Compare that to the postgame, where there's a chance the tally will skyrocket up to <b>10x</b> that amount. If that number appears dispiriting, what helps takes the edge off is that <i>Celeste</i> has lightning quick restarts to keep the action rolling. It's a minor but crucial touch, one that keeps the player invested in maintaining their groove even in the most absurd situations (like at the start of stage 3's C-side).</div><div><br /></div><div>What also helps is that your next checkpoint is always close by, as individual sections in <i>Celeste </i>are pretty short (besides the damn C-sides). Stages usually consist of 1-2 screens littered with obstacles and spikes, with checkpoints doled at every screen transition. This keeps its individual challenges brief and surmountable—which is ironic, given that <i>Celeste</i>'s levels on the whole are lengthy and grueling. The shortest stage takes around twenty minutes to complete, with the rest of the levels gradually adding to this time until it culminates in the one hour endurance test that is the final level (which will feel like a joke after Farewell). Stages in <i>Celeste </i>are more like entire worlds from <i>Super Meat Boy</i>—but even then, the latter title at least lets you skip its hardest levels. Meanwhile <i>Celeste</i>... well, it <b>is </b>a game anchored in struggle after all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thankfully, similar to many of the best platformers, unique mechanics are frequently interjected to spice up gameplay. While you can expect genre staples like springs, wind, and falling platforms, what surprised me were some of the mechanics not seen in many (any?) platformers before: permeable star blocks, dash-activated blocks (both varieties!), gold feathers, and the entire hot/cold mechanic of the core (as well as its clever dash limitations). You won't ever find <i>Celeste</i> at a want for ingenuity... although there definitely are moments where it indulges in its design a little too long (specifically, the end of stage six). Still, it's impressive just how many mechanics <i>Celeste</i> crams into its relatively short run time.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxGZnDDuOTlZuQ43cNgHeiT8Q_UNHRUWqgBrxJmVFL9QkjO5sf1CLImCcrglJMP_QFi9Q1hK0hOyVZeOw0nV8413QBAtEwGydkd5S6aIHPKrZt13ZeJmSoW25oL2QW3qxx-T2zY25fhK7XVmN_QuvPSNZ0hzPa4tUdEr3IBVQE5EN1Zx7dNcGGKjj0w/s1920/Celeste4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxGZnDDuOTlZuQ43cNgHeiT8Q_UNHRUWqgBrxJmVFL9QkjO5sf1CLImCcrglJMP_QFi9Q1hK0hOyVZeOw0nV8413QBAtEwGydkd5S6aIHPKrZt13ZeJmSoW25oL2QW3qxx-T2zY25fhK7XVmN_QuvPSNZ0hzPa4tUdEr3IBVQE5EN1Zx7dNcGGKjj0w/w400-h225/Celeste4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Even more impressive than <i>that</i>, however, is that the game continues to teach you new things long after the credits have rolled. Within <i>Celeste</i>'s bonus levels (cutely labeled B-sides and C-sides), you'll discover new ways to interact with old mechanics, as well as uncover two more dash maneuvers. Like with <i>Super Metroid</i>, what's nifty about these hidden abilities is that they've been available to you from the very start, opening up the ways you can interact with the game on a replay. But be forewarned that they're not for the faint of heart; wavedashing in particular is a fickle beast, something I could barely get to work properly<i> </i>half of the time. You don't need it for the majority of the game, but the spots where it is required will definitely test your resolve.</div><div><br /></div><div>I maintain that the gameplay in <i>Celeste </i>is its greatest asset, but it's no slouch in the narrative department either. The story here is simple yet potent, opting to avoid the granularity of mountain climbing for a more introspective look at its characters. You won't find an in-depth discussions as to the lore of the mountain or how its magic operates either; <i>Celeste</i> keeps its eye squarely on the future, less concerned with the "<i>why</i>" and more with the "<i>what</i> are you going to do about it?" It has a great message about coming to terms with who you are, conveying its emotion not just through the writing but its wonderful art, music, and even sound effects. Plus thanks to <i>Celeste</i>'s brilliant assist mode, nearly everyone can make it to the top to see how the story concludes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Don't be surprised however, if you're initially drawn in to the story but wind up staying for the gameplay.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3ipYoXu1XZqAAREEwSv-VDA3CY9I91M5gCiPRTmc8a3dEtqojSA3_aLnoBzAgFC79WKy_ZCkxY6UEgTlbZMXfh8-Yp0KFiPvAwZowuG5qI0Yyf0_zNyytwhdl0nrBXvSe8ZL_DVwSbguZfs5-oc0IqxtGSWN2iZ--NUF3OuUACiJ8YkhVpwas3yKww/s1920/Celeste3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3ipYoXu1XZqAAREEwSv-VDA3CY9I91M5gCiPRTmc8a3dEtqojSA3_aLnoBzAgFC79WKy_ZCkxY6UEgTlbZMXfh8-Yp0KFiPvAwZowuG5qI0Yyf0_zNyytwhdl0nrBXvSe8ZL_DVwSbguZfs5-oc0IqxtGSWN2iZ--NUF3OuUACiJ8YkhVpwas3yKww/w400-h225/Celeste3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>While climbing <i>Celeste</i>, don't be surprised if your palms begin to sweat, your joints ache, and fingers callus over. Despite its lighthearted exterior, <i>Celeste</i> is a hardcore experience that can give even the most hardened platform-savants a run for their money. But it's never flagrantly cruel or purposefully pernicious; <i>Celeste</i> is about keeping calm and finding a surgical solution to your problems. And more important than that, it's about knowing your limits—do you want to get all the strawberries? Finish the merciless B-Sides? The punishingly precise C-Sides? Endure the bottomless abyss of the golden fruits? To play <i>Celeste</i> is confront your limits, understand your capabilities, and not beat yourself up if it gets too hard. Through play you'll struggle, and in struggling, you'll cultivate the chance to succeed.</div><div><br /></div><div>And few things are as tremendously satisfying as finally besting a challenge that had once seemed all but impossible.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YyR5IG_FwJ0AsQ1FMqeRmHRoizO0r66nc8b-s9szcpYgiGz8YyqNXiKXmJ4Gln9nZ5oJxFhD7pmliMg-B4kxZVrHqJoFl_qXuqp4KfFzNoQc_DtOe0YlvuPqcP8zqOSkI_rdn9QOXdWLM6Oti_RPsiNMw2DgB6Uv45BiKGPNjkgqwPqeUYaDAqQtRw/s1920/20220830000923_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YyR5IG_FwJ0AsQ1FMqeRmHRoizO0r66nc8b-s9szcpYgiGz8YyqNXiKXmJ4Gln9nZ5oJxFhD7pmliMg-B4kxZVrHqJoFl_qXuqp4KfFzNoQc_DtOe0YlvuPqcP8zqOSkI_rdn9QOXdWLM6Oti_RPsiNMw2DgB6Uv45BiKGPNjkgqwPqeUYaDAqQtRw/w400-h225/20220830000923_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQv5CATc1yklSNTRsagDI5iQBGesiQlK6rp5B54qT5pzDEfuKE96h_iXNndgOPjL6K2yj8FBuxY1TJ5LH4jfLwx1AZrh4k2KqShTaf9NgAkqbdJDkxEFehK14e7-FzXMFzV2UC-AHQahv923xd7Hii4y_Vdlfc61_aIjNRwRa5s08bYQ5B00OqXAm9QA/s1920/Celeste5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQv5CATc1yklSNTRsagDI5iQBGesiQlK6rp5B54qT5pzDEfuKE96h_iXNndgOPjL6K2yj8FBuxY1TJ5LH4jfLwx1AZrh4k2KqShTaf9NgAkqbdJDkxEFehK14e7-FzXMFzV2UC-AHQahv923xd7Hii4y_Vdlfc61_aIjNRwRa5s08bYQ5B00OqXAm9QA/w400-h225/Celeste5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Celeste </i>is a really cool game that deserves all the praise it gets.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-45100079541596516922022-07-31T20:30:00.009-07:002022-08-06T03:08:08.836-07:0020 Minutes Till Dawn - Thoughts<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaUHEUFPJU3QPuSbMulifljkNAC-7-IRXUfg2bKjwegASdVmFKMb3kK15RbU34-dyqrWzuYnA6A_8myZMBSyHkbvuReciDJceE1TX_SlWgpzN3ragH_ixgFOsMuYj1ALExRWOThDjDThWQimWFRIt1J5lgNb_ok4fxSL7w-PATdBcf8mqUoUOuCS4Dg/s691/20min.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="289" data-original-width="691" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaUHEUFPJU3QPuSbMulifljkNAC-7-IRXUfg2bKjwegASdVmFKMb3kK15RbU34-dyqrWzuYnA6A_8myZMBSyHkbvuReciDJceE1TX_SlWgpzN3ragH_ixgFOsMuYj1ALExRWOThDjDThWQimWFRIt1J5lgNb_ok4fxSL7w-PATdBcf8mqUoUOuCS4Dg/w400-h168/20min.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>[This is an Early Access Review, July 2022]</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Despite the low price point, I was never compelled to pick up <i>Vampire Survivors</i>. From its silly, totally-not-<i>Castlevania</i> art style to its annoyingly long lootbox animation, I never felt like I was missing out on anything special. The player characters were as slow as molasses, enemy mobs behaved too similarly, and thirty minutes just seemed a bit<i> too</i> long for such basic gameplay. Of course the game has evolved plenty since release—a cursory search on youtube will reveal a kaleidoscope of psychedelic colors and yellow numbers—but <i>Vampire Survivors</i> always felt like it was missing something to me...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">... something like a <b>gun</b>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivsJo6HVrJertu7z0sVbTAEYjKOxkL8b8yA-fLyJSM_VwU2LyzJXRAl0r482xXxkxk3x_agB4MsL0VTqHDa3SLj3CQBLYjCJUWOzwMsJsrTTb2sSsqpLeoJh1mwoZskYez2P6QcwFX8O_qZeSx_FSbsSQSvINfHVGTyNkPn0VJRSR9cj9Hwmeug3QWBA/s1920/20220613184408_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivsJo6HVrJertu7z0sVbTAEYjKOxkL8b8yA-fLyJSM_VwU2LyzJXRAl0r482xXxkxk3x_agB4MsL0VTqHDa3SLj3CQBLYjCJUWOzwMsJsrTTb2sSsqpLeoJh1mwoZskYez2P6QcwFX8O_qZeSx_FSbsSQSvINfHVGTyNkPn0VJRSR9cj9Hwmeug3QWBA/w400-h225/20220613184408_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Well that's not totally true—<i>20 Minutes Till Dawn</i> also looks tremendously better than its spiritual predecessor. The 4-bit aesthetic is sleek as hell, using salmon pink (of all colors!) to wisely convey danger. That small touch allows players to read the battlefield, even amidst a violent storm of chaos. Rest assured, <i>20 Minutes Till Dawn </i>will <i>always</i> get hectic, especially when you're new and unaccustomed to the visual effects of your numerous upgrades. But as long as you've developed an eye for shmupping, the game never gets too noisy—well, just make sure you avoid taking the Splinter upgrade with the grenade launcher (a mistake you <i>definitely </i>won't repeat again).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Speaking of upgrades, <i>20 Minutes Till Dawn </i>offers a buffet of useful abilities, each of them important to at least one viable build. Of course you'll quickly latch onto some obvious favorites (I take Run & Gun, Kill Clip, and Frost Mage on nearly every run) while others may only find themselves considered in the most niche or desperate scenarios (Focal Point, Watch & Learn, Giant, and the entire Ghost Friend tree). But unless you're playing with the same character and weapon every time, you'll inevitably come across a tough decision to agonize over—especially since one wrong upgrade could cost you the entire run on harder difficulties.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmi8aJDbkZ_NyKscNLwlFCsuK8a0iQz9xYpCSvs6NpzFA6u0fmUnv7AlUtId7WmnxcDejCwvrwLD_l01y3Fz8ZJQCSzqqoedzTcZWN537o3uHfJNY4ZzBgQ1T_zvjdqyUNBkB7Q20qMiPWY_jxLdBIjTmHan0d6ZeEULfPjuwH6r1Bvc_0Uk47QqArNw/s1920/20220614180549_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmi8aJDbkZ_NyKscNLwlFCsuK8a0iQz9xYpCSvs6NpzFA6u0fmUnv7AlUtId7WmnxcDejCwvrwLD_l01y3Fz8ZJQCSzqqoedzTcZWN537o3uHfJNY4ZzBgQ1T_zvjdqyUNBkB7Q20qMiPWY_jxLdBIjTmHan0d6ZeEULfPjuwH6r1Bvc_0Uk47QqArNw/w400-h225/20220614180549_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">More and more, I'm becoming convinced that granular difficulties à la <i>Slay the Spire</i> are the best fit for roguelites. Not only do they acclimate you to the game's changes one minutae at a time, but they naturally encourage multiple runs, ensuring you can't stumble your way into a lucky victory on "hard" and call it a day. <i>20 Minutes Till Dawn</i> starts off fairly easy but really ratchets up the intensity, especially when standard enemies are given a minor speed boost. Darkness 15—the (current) final difficulty—forces you to experiment with different runes and upgrade pathways, which can be frustrating when you're missing that <i>one </i>powerup you really need, but invigorating once it all finally comes together. It's a good blend of RNG and skill, though some characters/gun combos will be notably easier to win with than others.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">If there's something to criticize about <i>20 Minutes Till Dawn</i> (besides elemental builds being the best and summon builds the worst), it's that each run always has the same peaks and valleys. Specifically, the second and fourth bosses will be your biggest obstacles, both of them a tense encounter that can drop your health in the blink of an eye. It's a cool challenge you have to consciously spec for... but nearly every other boss is a simpleton in comparison. In fact, the final three minutes are more or less a victory lap; if you can survive being caged in with the spinning laser blob, then there really isn't anything that can stop you outside of closing your eyes and letting go of your controller. Hell, in some <i>rare </i>cases you might win anyway (ah, the beauty of triple Glare)! It's just a shame that over the course of a twenty minute non-stop brawl, there's only a few memorable bits—and they're the same ones every run.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMqJnUWKSKi-Wb5zPNjf8AT4UGLC9f5Fg1ljtc1w3cuYpoRfq64rFFkrds7HBaDJbNGw8kdwvl3sP3euYPq8AtANxJ2tVVD0hZ5_QLwxiu7ye-D02wYDcNeogFuWJYHjvfWF5t1EZJl1mTAsaDsJOMThPC-AmOEgpGn5MXU8IbbS8orGWW-2PZrG4NAw/s1920/20220630004629_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMqJnUWKSKi-Wb5zPNjf8AT4UGLC9f5Fg1ljtc1w3cuYpoRfq64rFFkrds7HBaDJbNGw8kdwvl3sP3euYPq8AtANxJ2tVVD0hZ5_QLwxiu7ye-D02wYDcNeogFuWJYHjvfWF5t1EZJl1mTAsaDsJOMThPC-AmOEgpGn5MXU8IbbS8orGWW-2PZrG4NAw/w400-h225/20220630004629_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>20 Minutes Till Dawn </i>is a great game that offers considerable bang for your buck. It requires a decent blend of deft dodging and smart upgrading, promising a fireworks-like spectacle if you make it to the end. No doubt the game can be vexing when you aren't offered a pivotal powerup—speed upgrades are essential for Darkness 15—but it's thrilling to know that success isn't always a guarantee (again, at least on Darkness 15). While I look forward to seeing how <i>20 Minutes Till Dawn</i> develops, I've probably had my fill for now, content to leave its banquet of bullets with my stomach stuffed and satisfied.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">(Oh, and avoid Endless Mode—at least for now. It's a repetitive snoozefest that lasts over two hours, which is <i><b>waaaaaaay</b></i> too long for a game this bite-sized.)</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-4293234888695449682022-07-27T14:21:00.009-07:002022-07-28T21:55:17.790-07:00The Room - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6UJqXNKXKzTTZW0GC4CVgfBelRn0h2xB10pspP3xgZHIZ7LPDblWhwILrBWdIeZzVAvSiuFq6ocgF5YA85wAVyIySkb6gqSUOv0xBPf57hfV1rRfJkFRcQISRMwdIxVwXjIXOdK0lIQBgIbp_FwQB9clyFiawBBOvK4uV7iMqFTKcC51krnMgekNC_w/s865/TheRoom.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="865" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6UJqXNKXKzTTZW0GC4CVgfBelRn0h2xB10pspP3xgZHIZ7LPDblWhwILrBWdIeZzVAvSiuFq6ocgF5YA85wAVyIySkb6gqSUOv0xBPf57hfV1rRfJkFRcQISRMwdIxVwXjIXOdK0lIQBgIbp_FwQB9clyFiawBBOvK4uV7iMqFTKcC51krnMgekNC_w/w400-h183/TheRoom.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">When I started <i>The Room</i>, I didn't expect there to be quite so much... clicking. A cursory glance suggested perplexing riddles or logic puzzles, but the entire experience is leagues simpler than that: <i>The Room </i>is a linear series of fidget cubes. Well, elaborate fidget cubes—which at least require some semblance of logic to puzzle out. For those tickled by antique wooden boxes hiding a plethora of compartments, <i>The Room </i>is a cool game... but venture into it understanding that it values a curious mind more than a sharp one.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyZ8iiGx5meJrCBUcdT-RiMw3mxRStw8VRlQQ6lcvaVBQi80yZyVGGCKMRhzTRx_m5DKFa_dC5p9_h4uVdn-kswxL7BzIZG8V-OmDpu0tcKBNrGKZbpSF2_-ZXKa8aQE7boVQ5ezQIZ8X7pGkMu8gVC7AuPWjJMMZaENF5sDmTepBiExOwzylJf0aZw/s1920/20220723022308_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyZ8iiGx5meJrCBUcdT-RiMw3mxRStw8VRlQQ6lcvaVBQi80yZyVGGCKMRhzTRx_m5DKFa_dC5p9_h4uVdn-kswxL7BzIZG8V-OmDpu0tcKBNrGKZbpSF2_-ZXKa8aQE7boVQ5ezQIZ8X7pGkMu8gVC7AuPWjJMMZaENF5sDmTepBiExOwzylJf0aZw/w400-h225/20220723022308_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">About an hour in, I understood why the series is buzzing with positive reviews—there's not really anything like it out there. Sure, you get an occasional puzzle box in <i>Resident Evil </i>and <i>Uncharted</i>, but a whole game based off pulling out miniature drawers to discover bizarre keys? That's an untapped (digital) market! And thankfully, Fireproof Games knows how to design a game around prodding and poking an ornate box full of secrets...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">... for the most part.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In order to investigate a particular section of the puzzle box, you first have to zoom in by double clicking nearby. But you can't zoom in anywhere you want; sections are delineated, forcing you to click around frantically to see what is and isn't interactable. Sometimes you'll zoom in on completely innocuous bits that don't have a use (yet) and other times the camera will send you <i>right </i>beside the thing you <i>actually</i> want to investigate. And since clicking can also manipulate objects, you'll be frequently mashing your mouse pointer against anything and everything, in the hopes of uncovering a secret pressure plate or hidden dial. It never gets as bad as pixel hunting in adventure games, but trying to find every interactable object does evoke a similar confusion—if not frustration.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6zTCgjr6RXNADJKIoKuXmpmVTvqZIYyHg5x5wGkRUV1bZGDa6ZP0Q6jY3JHn-2HaPQ65uL-HqIydxJbvpVBpHJMHy58x-J8wgVIHakd7xDUlPj5_ksZul1BjH3F-UKRSYAaIERAKImjFGiQXXiI-qsDuGd20WEmCYl3i9U1z3vpWjw4cEm6gJJ_n8g/s1920/20220725022508_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR6zTCgjr6RXNADJKIoKuXmpmVTvqZIYyHg5x5wGkRUV1bZGDa6ZP0Q6jY3JHn-2HaPQ65uL-HqIydxJbvpVBpHJMHy58x-J8wgVIHakd7xDUlPj5_ksZul1BjH3F-UKRSYAaIERAKImjFGiQXXiI-qsDuGd20WEmCYl3i9U1z3vpWjw4cEm6gJJ_n8g/w400-h225/20220725022508_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This isn't a minor inconvenience either, as aimless clicking composes most of <i>The Room</i>'s playtime. But if you can put up with it, there are some cool animations and nifty perspective puzzles to behold, along with some really gorgeous puzzle boxes. Seriously, if any screenshots from <i>The Room </i>capture your interest, it's worth the price of entry just to explore each chapter's convoluted wooden contraption. There is an undeniable delight in watching a latch or spindle slide away to reveal a new piece of the puzzle, all while staying (mostly) consistent with the internal dimensions of each box. The way hinges creak and gears click is impeccable too—if there's something Fireproof Games got right, it's making the boxes the star of the show.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The last gripe I have with <i>The Room</i> is that it's ultimately... directionless. When you start the game, both the setting and narrative seem to indicate you're on the verge of discovering something far beyond your imagination. And while I liked the occult flavoring, the experience doesn't really lead anywhere conclusive—at least for the first entry in the franchise. There's some cool art and non-Euclidean trickery in the latter half, but at no point does it feel like you're building to the final puzzle or an unspeakable treasure. In fact, you don't really fulfill your main objective at all; the game kind of just ends and goes "hope you're ready for more some day!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNah_0GSB87mkdmtOyCtMmmsAcPwim9OJkbnm-qDIY322-EkKZKMEJu4yFmfVq2JF23HeEV0QIkWcXEBN8kYInWJgu1XN463JzMmk-CjFZwNfFCojEqG20McQl2wIiFvNzIzMBZGosDlZg_KIlAQQKsJDu8Bvcv85uhiNksb9RhW3C4JG0GC0An1uqvA/s1920/20200701052222_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNah_0GSB87mkdmtOyCtMmmsAcPwim9OJkbnm-qDIY322-EkKZKMEJu4yFmfVq2JF23HeEV0QIkWcXEBN8kYInWJgu1XN463JzMmk-CjFZwNfFCojEqG20McQl2wIiFvNzIzMBZGosDlZg_KIlAQQKsJDu8Bvcv85uhiNksb9RhW3C4JG0GC0An1uqvA/w400-h225/20200701052222_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You can blast through <i>The Room </i>in a handful afternoons, and that's honestly the perfect length of time for the game. There are some neat bits and bobs here but nothing that will really stick with you once the experience is over, besides a feeling of "I guess that was cool." Yet conversely, you won't ever get stuck in it for too long, as you know the path forward has to be located somewhere on the exterior of the object before you. While I would've liked more meat to the game (1/3rd of the puzzles have you making the same shape over and over), I'm glad <i>The Room </i>exists for puzzle box enthusiasts—and I'm curious how the series expands from here.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7673885080276666407.post-3631966972370805732022-07-22T12:12:00.002-07:002023-01-09T22:41:53.486-08:00Neon Abyss - Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_OK8DlO6bGpH6ZA7LJB6NzUrYNDWSLUXeygMSZwNzXCtQYkWdWMyebeQjAxvfBcsuOHifeChtoMaM6K3DS_Se57_1bfybQJF0BDgrnBqFJD1AVd-k-BqdstSNVit4ZNLYzlWuPBRMe6WKQhWm6PaSBkLA36A427SQk_rvLdlS5W35spQPHafFouMTA/s452/Neon-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="452" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_OK8DlO6bGpH6ZA7LJB6NzUrYNDWSLUXeygMSZwNzXCtQYkWdWMyebeQjAxvfBcsuOHifeChtoMaM6K3DS_Se57_1bfybQJF0BDgrnBqFJD1AVd-k-BqdstSNVit4ZNLYzlWuPBRMe6WKQhWm6PaSBkLA36A427SQk_rvLdlS5W35spQPHafFouMTA/w400-h224/Neon-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>[contains minor spoilers]</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Three runs deep, I had a troubling realization: <i>Neon Abyss</i> wasn't winning me over. There are other roguelites I dropped faster than it (<i>Legend of Dungeon, </i><i>Sublevel Zero</i>), but I wasn't itching to plumb its depths the same way I had with <i>Spelunky</i>, <i>Dead Cells</i>, or <i>Crypt of the Necrodancer</i>. On one hand it's unfair to compare it to the genre's greatest, but on the other hand <i>Neon Abyss </i>has the chops <i>to</i> contend with the best: it's smooth, flashy, meaty, and has a sardonic charm that helps it stand out. But even after besting its managers (both regular and cursed), I still find it... lacking in a lot of ways. Succinctly put: <i>Neon Abyss </i>is a fun game, but I don't think it's a <i>good</i> game.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQrFmsfkAkECrNY5ALx2kt1YmqA-54Prkg6qOSQbskMwyZ8HRchk6ZOb30xL2raJApTro3I4iYBSbeE5lxcdx5dZh_INtOf6IhiQDehZSJBOSpGCutkaJp-D3fqxwFai4HJuY44ER0I9eApttTPG80odwcZ9fQUvwTm6QIvnL0-7UCA_KLrhI6idSsQ/s1920/20220602005305_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUQrFmsfkAkECrNY5ALx2kt1YmqA-54Prkg6qOSQbskMwyZ8HRchk6ZOb30xL2raJApTro3I4iYBSbeE5lxcdx5dZh_INtOf6IhiQDehZSJBOSpGCutkaJp-D3fqxwFai4HJuY44ER0I9eApttTPG80odwcZ9fQUvwTm6QIvnL0-7UCA_KLrhI6idSsQ/w400-h225/20220602005305_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Or perhaps I should specify that it's not a good <i>roguelite</i>, as my issues mainly stem from <i>Neon Abyss</i>'s poor balance run to run. As a game it can be quite captivating, handing you quirky weapon and item combinations that will bathe your monitor in bouncing lasers and cascading explosions. If there's something you can expect from <i>Neon Abyss</i>, it's bang for your buck: there's a staggering amount of enemies, items, characters, oddities, and unlockables here, ensuring there's something new to contend with each run. Despite my playtime clocking in at over twenty hours, I've only laid eyes on 75% of the power-ups available—and what I've currently seen is more than enough to check a box labeled "variety" multiple times over.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">But the byproduct of having a mountainous heap of options is that a certain portion of it is destined to be junk. And the garbage isn't on the periphery either: there's a myriad of common power-ups that range from mediocre to detrimental. Even items that could be useful under certain conditions (like spite-producing power-ups) are all but useless unless you can proc them consistently (so pray Animosity falls into your lap). I think a big part of the issue is that while certain guns or items are <i>fine </i>to run into, the really good ones (Lipstick, Forbidden Mask, Most Wanted List, Howard Reactor, Divinity) are so invaluable that it's frustrating when you're deprived of them, instead offered rubbish like Matchbox and Black Rum. The worst is the entire subset of melee power-ups—melee is a risky, impractical, and sloppy alternative to simply shooting your problems away from across the room. I mean come on, a huge amount of enemies and bosses are airborne!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Weapons sadly fall prey to this disparity too, although you'll have a better chance of encountering at least one decent one in a shop. Unfortunately, your starting weapon will always suck with no exceptions—which makes finding a new firearm a top priority. Gun upgrades can help transform an anemic firearm into a capable one, but some weapons (Phantom, Thunder, Noise, Deathray, New Type) will always stink compared to their kin. Meanwhile armaments like Famine, Animosity, and Vortex are so devastating that you can stand still and decimate encounters—including some of the toughest boss battles! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8y5MHbcQQyQfX6GeVWU9KBeB8ZfBmcgBtGI0QaYLtdqUiwEJSoN3xtIBsuzNC0SH-4n6bsMKixv88SZvTPXRFQejI1qUVNGcdyonU-hbzUWUNoJRrD4B4sbi_GFox7SfqlTnObDvPBNFR48Ftdf1VszsanlzEVOY7imNg-xggUyD0NqBNpiyrL9G8w/s1920/20220606025409_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8y5MHbcQQyQfX6GeVWU9KBeB8ZfBmcgBtGI0QaYLtdqUiwEJSoN3xtIBsuzNC0SH-4n6bsMKixv88SZvTPXRFQejI1qUVNGcdyonU-hbzUWUNoJRrD4B4sbi_GFox7SfqlTnObDvPBNFR48Ftdf1VszsanlzEVOY7imNg-xggUyD0NqBNpiyrL9G8w/w400-h225/20220606025409_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div>Anyone that's played <i>The Binding of Isaac </i>knows that imbalance is sown into the roguelite turf, but player skill usually helps buffer that annoyance. Namely, that <i>Isaac </i>(and <i>Gungeon</i> and dozens of others) are played as a twin-stick shooter, where good positioning and sharp reflexes can counterbalance some of the worst loot drops. But <i>Neon Abyss</i> is more in line with a run'n'gun, cutting the second dimension out of your movement. This makes it notably harder to dodge enemy attacks, especially when they warp in right above you like in arenas. And there's no floaty <i>ScourgeBringer </i>physics or <i>Dead Cells</i> dodge mechanic to assist in avoiding attacks either—the best way to dodge is to kill your enemy ASAP, or pray you find a rare flight-granting item (which then trivializes the rest of the game!)</div><div><br /></div><div>You'll learn quickly that there are very few comfortable middle grounds in <i>Neon Abyss</i>—victory will either come easily or feel impossible. Nothing embodies this better than the arena fights, a trio of tight encounters you're encouraged to beat without taking damage. Victory will reward you with a much-needed gun upgrade—but if you've brushed against a <i>single</i> bullet, you'll receive a consolatory bomb/key/nickel instead. Fights don't really scale past the second level either, meaning that if you can best your first few arenas you'll basically snowball your way to victory.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yet on occasion you'll encounter an arena where you simply need to dodge a predictable laser, a task so straightforward that your weapon upgrade is guaranteed upon entry. And stuff like that is pricks me about <i>Neon Abyss</i>: it leans into randomness too hard. Sure, thematically the game gels with chaos like chocolate does with marshmallow, but so much of the game is RNG stacked atop RNG. There are so many sources of randomness: shops, eggs, crates, chests, bricks, arcade rooms, Smirk counters, roulette machines, roulette doors, roulette boxes, roulette rooms, roulette stages... hell, even the gun upgrades that drop from bosses will randomly cycle between 1-3 random powerups! I know RNG is the lifeblood of roguelites, but <i>Neon Abyss</i> fixates on gambling to the point that it stacks random rewards<i> inside</i> of its random rewards, like a self-propagating matryoshka doll. Anyone that's gone through a room full of chests, tried fishing, or suffered through a clown room will know <i>exactly</i> what I'm talking about.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNAKrc7FuEGQnlTXkvAplBl33FNwraKn9sCGTN1yvrfjy6lO_3j5q8QjiPHmOBO5rntGngi63AyjVhUGT5xsnwo9K-PTkGZVLT-VB2mEh2W8BM15R9GDUKT4V1b2ycABOXiQS7drsULIEwmv5AQipyX85WEwrc40cchMTsAsHxwDCV7riHFqoEIzLdGA/s1920/20220609014715_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNAKrc7FuEGQnlTXkvAplBl33FNwraKn9sCGTN1yvrfjy6lO_3j5q8QjiPHmOBO5rntGngi63AyjVhUGT5xsnwo9K-PTkGZVLT-VB2mEh2W8BM15R9GDUKT4V1b2ycABOXiQS7drsULIEwmv5AQipyX85WEwrc40cchMTsAsHxwDCV7riHFqoEIzLdGA/w400-h225/20220609014715_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I know I've been relentlessly trashing on <i>Neon Abyss</i>, so let me at least clarify that there are definitely some cool things about it. One of the most appreciable touches is how much the player can customize their experience; beyond difficulty and character selection, you can choose from a handful of items to start with and remove upgrades, items, and even enemies you don't like! Plus the power trip <i>Neon Abyss </i>sends you on can be as fulfilling as it is ludicrous, with entire rooms melting under your gigantic, wall-piercing quintuple laser. And considering how there's two items per treasure room, wisdom & violence rewards, and a shop on every floor, it's pretty hard not to cobble together a winning build (at least on Normal.) The game is fairly laid-back once you get used to its eccentricities.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The problem, however, is that even with these eccentricities accounted for, <i>Neon Abyss </i>continues to feels unbelievably sloppy. Every run devolves into a landslide of visual chaos, making it impossible to tell where attacks are coming from or what's happening most of the time. Endgame fights like Hal, Zeus, and Athena are a collage of colors that will not only obscure incoming attacks but are guaranteed to obliterate most of your pets (RIP pet builds.) Yet what's weird is you don't really need to know what's happening either; should a Basketball Jersey, The Towel, or a decent weapon be in your possession, you can tank those bosses like nobody's business. It was only on my <i style="font-weight: bold;">fourth </i>Prometheus kill that I finally understood what the hell was happening during phase 2!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">What really put the nail in the coffin for me and <i>Neon Abyss</i> were the damn wisdom chests. To reach the true final boss, you have to traverse either the path of wisdom or violence—which just means opening up a bunch of their respective chests. But a major problem is that wisdom chests that take damage turn into violence chest—and <i>not </i>the other way around. So on more than one occasion I failed to reach Cursed Athena due to a wisdom chest taking unavoidable damage from an enemy on the other side of the room, with no way to prevent it! Hard mode bafflingly compounds this issue too, occasionally making it <i>impossible</i> to reach Cursed Athena/Ares due to not enough chests spawning. Why? Why allow me to make it so far through the game just to shrug and go, "Oops, try again!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehHUmlWa03erRDMSFkjbwdcTRDGfEH06ycH7JN10D8XPpRHvrYOJWrhCUPLrffnU0ywigD0vvK02cP0zsobWhxARIyNhiC3CF4Ue-zL8ClAM2IE2N28Q6k5ZiPAozZNUUOxBP1dCgsADNmbSz8zPivvlow6VFSewMuPJPHpFRbrJMGiEPWvyu8RPH-w/s1920/20220627032453_1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehHUmlWa03erRDMSFkjbwdcTRDGfEH06ycH7JN10D8XPpRHvrYOJWrhCUPLrffnU0ywigD0vvK02cP0zsobWhxARIyNhiC3CF4Ue-zL8ClAM2IE2N28Q6k5ZiPAozZNUUOxBP1dCgsADNmbSz8zPivvlow6VFSewMuPJPHpFRbrJMGiEPWvyu8RPH-w/w400-h225/20220627032453_1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In some ways, one can argue that <i>Neon Abyss </i>succeeds with flying colors—brilliant, blinding, and absurd flying colors. But for me it's just too sloppy, noisy, and undignified to warrant returning to. Team 17 feels more concerned with content than balance, addicted to designing new roulette wheels for the player to waste their time on. Again, I can't deny that I already played a ton of the game and had a lot of fun doing so, but boy howdy was I wrong in assuring myself that its peculiarities would become palatable if only I stuck with it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">At the end of the day, perhaps it's just a difference of opinion. Whereas <i>Enter the Gungeon </i>sought to make <i>Binding of Isaac </i>more serious, <i>Neon Abyss </i>zips off in the opposite direction at full speed. Neither is the "right" or "wrong" approach—I just find <i>Gungeon </i>to have more of a substantive and balanced game to it compared to <i>Abyss</i>. If a zanier, less coherent <i>Binding of Isaac </i>sounds like your jam, then <i>Neon Abyss </i>might be right down your alley. Just be wary that the flashing lights of this neon alley might be all there is to it.</div>DGMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283750796304630732noreply@blogger.com0