Super Mario Galaxy

I've kinda been down on the Wii for awhile now -- and that's probably because every time I walk into a Wal-mart or a Target and look at their game selection, I'm bombarded with tons of licensed crap. The Wii became more of a disappointment when my sword-wielding and gun-toting ideas for the remote were shot down and Nintendo started releasing anything and everything that absolutely did not interest me. To add to this, the games that have been released (Super Mario Galaxy, Smash Brothers, Metroid Prime 3) all haven't been as good as their predecessors; or at least, I believed that until I began to replay Super Mario Galaxy last night.


Maybe I was down on the game because Tim Rogers was down on the game. I think his one main complaint was the fact that every character in Mario Galaxy blatantly tells you what to do and how to do it (for example, when you're swimming and already know how to swim, a penguin glides up to you and squawks, "Press A to swim." No kidding!). But the game is good and amazingly creative. I just can't believe it took me so long to realize it.

You've probably heard all the praise and criticisms from the press, so I'm not going to bore you with mine here (too late!). The only real complaint from the wonderful message-board flunkies that I have to disagree with is about the game's lack of challenge -- seriously, the later levels are hard. Sure, they're not "lose-all-your-lives-forcing-you-to-continue" hard, but I guarantee that everyone who played Mario Galaxy through to its completion will have died many times on, say, "Luigi's Purple Coins". When you begin to curse at a game, you know it either has to be difficult or frustrating (and yes, the later levels are a mix of both).

Still, the game is one of the best I've played, and it actually lifts my spirits in regards to the Wii's future lineup. Here's hoping this, this, and this all live up to expectations...

Random Dreams: Part One

While I have it fresh in my mind, I'm going to tell you about a dream I had this morning:

It began as Uncharted 2 -- I was first dragged down a waterfall into an Italian city, where I was then assaulted by a chef with a meat cleaver. When I grabbed the weapon from him and slashed at his throat, nothing happened....like slicing through air. The chef growled, knocked me out, and I was captured. Next thing I knew, I was handcuffed, running around the city, wondering how and why I had broken free of the chef's culinary clutches. Then, I broke the steel prison around my wrists and decided to attend my dad's birthday party, which was conveniently going on in the vicinity at the time.

I sat down at a table next to my brother, and then a waiter showed up.

"What would you like to order?" he asked.

My brother and I looked around, but we couldn't find our menus. The waiter sighed with exhaustion and sat on a nearby chair, covering his face with his hands.

"It's been a long day..."

Out of nowhere, my aunt appeared in a black dress and looked strikingly similar to Sally Field (she actually does look like Sally Field in real life). She made a comment that subtly dissed my mom's weight, and then she trotted away. I got angry.

The dream falls into this horrific scenario where this party is transported into a basement/cellar combo with dim lights, but with a significant amount of people having a good time. I get up to get a drink, and that's when I encounter the moose.

It's instantly recognizable, but the red eyes and white fur are a little jarring. The moose turns to me and snorts -- the thing only has one antler jutting out the side of its nostril!

I run. I don't know why exactly, but I feel it's my job to protect the kids at the party, and that white beast potentially has some sort of hellish wrath up its sleeve that I don't want anyone to experience. When I get back to the room, everyone has cleared out except this one family: some parents and their two kids. The father tells me to get the hell out of there; the moose is coming! I don't want to leave the people, but I take his advice anyway. I hear the family's shrieks and screams as I run for my life.

One of the adjacent rooms is an old western saloon, and on a table, I pick up two fully-loaded revolvers. They feel good in my hands (even in the dream): heavy and firm. Around the next corner is Woody Harrelson, playing his character from No Country for Old Men, and next to him is his prostitute girlfriend. I draw my gun and Woody does the same. We both fire. The smoke clears. I see Woody collapsed on the floor.

His girlfriend also draws her gun, but I tell her, "No, you can't do that. It's against the rules." I point to Woody.

"He already shot."

She tries to fire anyway, but all she gets are clicks from the hammer hitting an empty cylinder.

And of course, with any strange dream, it concludes with a hot make-out session between me and a girl I knew from high school, who now smokes so much pot that she makes the guys from Half-Baked look normal (and if I made out with her now, I probably would contract some horrible, unknown, druggy disease. No offense, of course.).

And no, as a matter of fact, I am not on any drugs myself! Hooray for plain-ol' insanity!

Wave Race: Blue Storm -- Sleeping Away the Winter

After reading this article over on Gamespite.net about a week ago, I've kinda been in a Wave Race: Blue Storm feeding-frenzy, and with good reason, too. One, the article touches upon why the game was so good yet universally panned by critics (something I never really understood), and two, it's freaking cold here and I need some virtual beaches and waves to drool over while I wait out the winter. So, into hibernation I go. Unfortunately, it's not so easy to do, you know, with responsibilities and such.

Usually, I'd write a long-winded article about my experience with Wave Race (and you'd sigh and drift in and out of boredom-induced sleep), but that article on Gamespite is so well-written and says much more than I could ever say in that amount of words that I just have to claim defeat and direct you over to Gamespite again. But in case you care about what I think, I guess I'll tell you.

Wave Race is fun. It wasn't very well-received and is supremely underrated. I remember a bet two EGM editors had years ago that basically involved an intense showdown between Wave Race and Splashdown, another jet-ski game that had been released a little while after Nintendo's offering. The bet concluded that Splashdown was leagues better based on the magazine's scores, and Wave Race was officially declared the loser.

I cried a little that night. But who said life was fair?

When you get right down to it, Wave Race: Blue Storm is a game you pick up, finish the championship mode on a certain difficulty, and then turn off. The controls are a little touchy yet incredibly deep, but the game itself is pretty light on content. That doesn't make it bad, though -- and while I isolate myself in a cave for the next three or four months until the sun comes back out again, the game is a perfect substitute for some [occasionally] excellent weather to remind me that, yes, heat does exist in the world. It's just a matter of where you live, I guess.

Let me plug that article again. Yeah, that should do it. Funny how these things pretty much write themselves...now, back to hibernation.

Pokemon Diamond: Revisiting Childhood, or, "A Review No One Will Read"

I might be too old for this shit.

Actually, I really shouldn't call this game "shit" unless it's "the shit," because that's exactly what it is -- the shit.

Pokemon Diamond is an excellent game, one that refines the formula, adds new features and creatures, and most of all, hearkens back to a time when all I had to worry about was how the hell I was gonna beat Giovanni with my one-monster army, Charizard. The only problem is knowing when to play it and when to shove it away in your closet so no one else knows that you are a fully-grown adult male who still enjoys raising and battling (but not parading them around in a beauty contest -- my god!) cute little animal-things who happen to have the worst puns for names. To play Pokemon is to be a kid again, but only mentally.

Whether or not they would ever admit to saying this, my friends have reminisced about how good those old Pokemon titles on the Game Boy used to be. Nevermind the TV show, which consisted of the exact same plot line over the course of what seemed like ten seasons, and nevermind anything else associated with the Pocket Monster craze, like the trading cards or even those terrible Stadium games. The only products to survive the test of time and are still playable today are the handheld main-line Pokemon games -- they stick to the same ol' formula, but it's a formula that works.

Actually, I should revise that statement: a couple years ago, I decided to forgo my vow to never play a Pokemon game again (for fear of becoming a social outcast -- but now that I think about it, it was too late anyway), and play the Ruby version to see what I'd been missing. In all honesty, I hadn't been missing much. The battle system seemed slow and clunky, and the seemingly new emphasis on taking your Pokemon to a beauty show just seemed so...stupid. I mean, c'mon! Really now? I'd much rather be beating the crap out of random Psyducks than feed berries to my team of Psyduck-killers just to level up their "Cute" category! And the new Pokemon designs seemed uninspired compared to the original roster...

Okay, whoa. I realize I'm sounding like everyone else on the Internet, so I'm gonna stop now. Like, right now.

Whew.

Anyway, the Ruby version didn't do much for me, so I guess I should say that that game is the only handheld title in the series that, uh, kinda sucks. To each his own, I guess.

With that bad taste in my mouth, I was hesitant to pick up Diamond when it hit stores. The great aspect about the DS, though, is that nearly every piece of software released for the system, aside from, you know, the Imaginz Babies or Puppies or Crocodiles or What Shit Would You Like to Pretend to Raise Now? series, is generally really, really good. That in mind, I bought Diamond under the pretense that I was, uh, really purchasing it for my cousin's brother's nephew and not-at-all for me, and...loved every minute of the game, from start to finish. Part of that love was knowing I didn't give a shit about beauty contests, and the game was okay with me for not giving a shit.

There's a certain moment in the game that gets me all riled up and exciting whenever I think about it; that moment would have to be when you first encounter Dialga, the time-devouring quadrupedal monster-thing (as shown on the box above), at the summit of Mt. Name Doesn't Really Matter 'Cause I Can't Remember It Right Now. See, I'd like to think my mind works cinematically, wherein most of my memories of past events don't happen in a first-person view, but instead are set in a movie-like, third-person scene, all included with pans and close-ups. And whenever I imagine climbing that mountain in a raging blizzard only to finally meet a frightening beast at the top -- and then engage in a fierce battle, concluding in an epic "please-oh-please-catch-it" Poke-ball toss -- it gets my mind reeling with cinematic possibilities. Honestly, the scene is one of the most memorable set-pieces in any game I've played in the last several years.

Yes, I am a nerd. Perhaps not as big as Quentin Tarantino, but a nerd nevertheless.

I might have mentioned it before in past blog posts, but I recall that one of the game developers mentioned that the best part of Pokemon is the first moment you receive your bike. You've been walking most of the game (at an extremely slow pace, mind you), and the feeling you get once you begin pedaling across city-scapes and landscapes, it just...conjures up memories of your childhood. To some extent, the statement is true. As a kid, you really want nothing more than to grow up, to enjoy certain liberties and responsibilities not granted to you when you're young. You can't drink, you can't drive a car, you can't, uh, legally buy porn -- really, the adult lifestyle seems like a unimaginable dream filled with endless possibilities. Pokemon, even if it's actually fictional, gives you just a taste of adulthood: you're out on your own, slowly growing and maturing, becoming "the very best, like no one ever was". It represents independence. It represents freedom.

Okay, sure, that's a little hyperbolic, but playing through Diamond washed all the cynicism from my system, and for a split second, I felt I could go anywhere and do anything. Of course, that's true to real life, too, but it's just a matter of balls.

In reality, my sense courage and fearlessness happens to be castrated.

In Pokemon, I was the very best, like no one ever was.

The World Ends With You: A Strange Beast, or, "A Review No One Will Read"

Someone on the Wonderful World of the Internet recently pointed out that playing The World Ends With You could be likened to attacking your DS with a cheese grater.

I don't think that's too far from the truth.

Strangely enough, the game is rather enjoyable, even though my DS touchscreen has been shredded to plastic shards and now Neku gives me the finger whenever I blow into the microphone. Don't ask me why! Blame that damn emo disease he's contracted!

In all actuality, The World Ends With You is kind of a mess. I mean, you've got endless amounts of dialogue, two screens to watch and manage, a terribly cluttered inventory system that doesn't make me appreciate the inclusion of a touch screen, and when you get right down to it, gameplay that only consists of running around a gray city looking for the next cutscene to appear. Thinking about all these problems forces me to wonder why the hell I ever finished the game! It's a strange beast -- I'll give you that much.

Most people probably hold the game in such regard because it's something made by Square-Enix that doesn't have the words "Final" or "Fantasy" in the title. While the character designs reek of hipster zipper-fetishists, at least they stray a little from the Tetsuya Nomura random character generator and seem like genuine people with real insecurities. Sure, they wear clothing that would be impossible to pull off in reality, but hey, thank god for suspension of disbelief!

Like I said, though: The World Ends With You is a strange beast. Whenever I think about it, I remember everything that was done poorly or absolutely wrong, but once I begin playing, I seemingly forget about all those imperfections and enjoy myself. The reason behind this is most likely the battle system -- it seems terribly complex at first, but it really only boils down to mashing the d-pad in different directions and "cheese-grating" the hell out of the bottom screen. Don't get me wrong, though; it's fun. It's enjoyable. It's downright chaotic!

When you emerge from battle victorious, however, the game begins to slip a little. The pins you win from defeating monsters generally are earned in droves, and attempting to reorganize your inventory is both frustrating and a hassle, combined into one furious, hemorrhaging pain-in-the-ass . Trying to find the right clothes to wear in a specific part of the city also became a little grating, and by the first third of the game, I ended up simply wearing the apparel that had the highest HP-granting abilities.

The story was something I actually became invested in, despite the endless talking-head moments -- the main character, Neku, as many people have voiced already, is immediately the unlikable, angsty teenager that riddles most games these days, but yes, he does grow and evolve into an actual person. His buddies are okay, too, I guess.

Even now, as I write this, I know I dislike the game for everything it does poorly -- and I really don't want to keep writing about it because of this feeling. The World Ends With You really isn't that great of a game, as it tries to be deeper and more symbolic than the sum of its parts, and I stand by the opinion that most people shower it with praise because the game is a new, original product that surprisingly emerged from the loins of the Final Fantasy-producing monster, Square-Enix. But you know, if I turn it on again, right at this moment, I'll probably end up playing into the wee hours of the morning. And I'm not quite sure why I'll keep playing, but I will.

A strange beast.

Lost Time

I sometimes wonder if putting my time into these videogames are worth the overall outcome. Really, the only positive and "reputable" aspect about this expensive hobby is that it can improve hand-eye coordination and a person's overall intelligence.

But that's about it.

A person can easily invest over one hundred hours into a game -- that's a serious amount of time, time that could be spent doing more productive things. You could be getting exercise, learning a new language, or hanging out with a bunch of friends. One hundred hours? My god, that's a good chunk of life right there, my friend. What have you accomplished in that time? Your entire party is at level 99? Wow, that's quite an American accomplishment, if I do say so myself. Congratulations.

Recently, I read this article on Gamasutra, and I mostly agree with all the author's points. The thing is, yes, you definitely are gearing up for a near-impossible challenge, and by gearing up, you probably will get better at the game. But that's all it is, though: a game. Like the author of that article, I've become really good at a lot of these games, but in the end, I really have nothing to bring to the table of "reality". I've spent a majority of my time in front of the TV playing Soul Calibur and Smash Brothers and yes, even Mega Man 9 -- yet I can't repair a car if it breaks down and I can't cook an excellent meal. Those are fairly good skills to have. I don't have them.

The only reason I'm still here, writing about these silly things is because I believe that this new medium has the potential to become something great, like parts of film and literature -- right now, though, playing these games does not make me feel like I'm growing and improving. In fact, while I play Mega Man 9, I may be, in fact, becoming better at the game, but in real life, I'm still just a so-called "Man-child", someone who is mentally immature and probably will be until I begin to invest more time into "reality". As it is now, I've reached the point of no return; I've spent so much time playing games that there's got to be a way to put that time into something useful in the real world, right?

Professional Smash Brothers player? Yeah, real fulfilling.

The article also points out that there are two types of mindsets: the first mentality believes that when you die in a videogame, that's it -- you give up and go home. The second views that loss as a personal growth, and even though you had lost, the next time you play, you will rise up to the challenge and overcome it. The latter mindset doesn't believe in "wasted time".

Taking this into account, I booted up Persona 4, a game in a series that often doles out cheap, sudden deaths if the player isn't paying attention or makes a tiny mistake. In previous play-throughs, a had put over an hour's worth of time into one of the dungeons, and before I knew it, I ran into an enemy, which randomly "critical-ed" my main character. I was killed in an instant.

This had happened before in Persona 3. I was used to these types of deaths. But this time, after recalling the Gamasutra article and thinking about the hour I had lost and nothing to show for it, I blew up. I usually never get angry over anything, but when that monster randomly (and "random" is the key word here) stole that real-life hour away from me, I couldn't handle it anymore.

Was it worth it? Specifically, I had payed $40 on something that was indeed enjoyable, but ultimately made me feel cheated, worthless, and angry. That's not good, is it? That's not "personal growth," right? When you die in Mega Man or in some action game, yes, you have to restart -- but you've really only invested about fifteen-or-so minutes of your time. In Persona, an excessive amount of time that you've given in real life to develop your fictional characters is lost due to some random element that the player has no control over. It reeks.

So here I am, writing about a hobby that may or may not be a waste of time. Videogames have been a big part of my life, and sadly, nothing else in the world really gets me as excited as when a new Zelda or Dragon Quest comes out. There's something drastically wrong with that. Now that I think about it, though, what's the difference between reading a book and playing a videogame? Nothing much, really. You still put in a good share of time into each activity, and at the end of each, you really have nothing to show for it...well, except a topic for conversation.

Here's hoping that something in this medium shows me that this wasn't a waste of a good twenty years. Otherwise, there's no crying over spilt milk...a lot of spilt milk.

Supporting the Unsuccessful

You know, I was just thinking as I watched my brother mash the hell out of the X button during a session of Resident Evil 4 on the PLAYSTATION 3 REVOLUTIONARY HOME ENTERTAINMENT SYSTEM THAT ALSO SOMETIMES RUNS PLAYSTATION 2 GAMES DEPENDING UPON YOUR HARDWARE that my favorite videogame console purchases have often become obsolete in terms of commercial success. Really, the only exception would be the NINTENDO REVOLUTIONARY ENTERTAINMENT SYSTEM back in 1989, but that was probably because no one had ever heard of a Master System, and even if you had, no one wanted to play one when you had Mario jumping around in Supremely Awesome Fun Land.

Take a look at my history:

1994: I was given a Sega Genesis packed in with the game Columns (which actually happens to be a pretty good game, but a poor substitute for Sonic). I loved the system. However, Genesis was not as popular as the SNES and apparently tanked in Japan.

1999: A year after Zelda was released, my parents got my brothers and I a Nintendo 64, which, as most of us know and have beaten the dead horse to a pulp by now, was not as successful as the Playstation. I loved the N64 anyway. Crash Bandicoot, while admittedly filled with 'tude, was not appealing.

2001: After seeing screenshots and videos for Super Smash Brothers Melee, I went out and bought one of the first shipments of Gamecubes. Yes, all of them. Okay, just a single Cube. And surprisingly, no matter how bad a reputation that little black cube gets and has gotten (goddamn it!), I still play it more than any system I've ever owned. Gamecubes, though, did not sell as well as the competition.

So now, I own a PLAYSTATION 3. It's not getting very good press and isn't selling as well as it should. How about that? And yet, despite my sarcasm above about how revolutionary it is, I prefer it to the Wii and Xbox 360, just like I've preferred the least commercially successful consoles more than their counterparts in years past. I can't really say why. Maybe it's a subconscious thing, where I have to support the underdog -- almost exactly like people who only listen to Indie music even though it sucks (sorry, Ben Meckley (search engines are great, aren't they?), but yes, it does suck. Well, most of it. But those morning rides to Wildernet while listening to the same mix over and over again became torturous after the third or fourth time. Heck, any music would, I guess.).

Just thought I should put that information out there. I'm hoping I just have good taste and the masses who make certain products popular, uh, don't.