Here at Australian Gamer we have journalistic pride and integrity. We're not afraid to tackle to tough questions, or make the hard calls. We're not afraid to put Yug's balls on the line.
Personally, I've never been one to shy away from controversy because of the popular opinion. I'd like to think my recent campaigning for compulsory smoking among pregnant teens proves my record in that department. I bought a t-shirt that says "No blood for oil" because I saw how easily the word "No" could be changed to "More". My support of Japan's valuable scientific research into whale populations and their developing resistance to high explosives remains. It's important work. And I'm starting to doubt this whole "Holocaust" thing.
Too far?
Anyway, the point is that I’m not afraid to force the issue, to lay it on the line to make the tough call, even when the naysayers and liberal elite fear my moxy. So here it is.
Daikatana wasn’t very good.
I know. More moxy than you expected, huh? I’m quite moxatious at times. So yeah, Daikatana wasn’t very good. In actual fact, taking it a step further I would say that Daikatana was bad. John Romero totally reneged on his promise to make me his bitch. Well, not in the game, anyway. There was that time a few months after that… I’m not really prepared to talk about.
So what is it that makes a game bad? And more particularly, what is it that makes a game great? Not just… pretty good.
Not just three stars, or even four. What is that extra star for? Who do you have to blow to get that extra star to make up the 5?
The question comes to mind from something someone said about BioShock. “Bah, it’s just another generic FPS that will sell 250,000 units”.
From the vantage point of just-slightly-before-release it’s easy to say that’s clearly nonsense, but how do you really tell in advance what’s going to be a winner, and what’s not?
If you were to ask me what would be the ideal setting for a game “subterranean post-apocalyptic dystopia” would not have been the term that jumped to mind. My game would undoubtedly have been set in Japan, because that’s the easiest ways to get Ninjas in it. Of course, it would also be tempting to set it in the modern age so I could play a game where I get sweet, sweet vengeance on all the women who done me wrong.
Actually, there’s a lot of potential there. You could have a game where you scan in photos of your exes and they become the game enemies. Then you massacre them in brutal ways.
You could do the same with a game for women, but it would probably sell better that they just scan in the guys into the game and then set about trying to change them. Kind of like Nintendogs, but underhanded and manipulative.
Anyway it’s easy to look at a game that’s had marketing, buzz, and E3 videos and say it’s going to be a winner. But it must be hell hard when it’s on paper, and video games companies aren’t quick to take risks. Betting on an unproven concept with originality and intelligence is riskier than getting a lift home from Lindsay Lohan. It must also be kind of hard to sell the violent aspects. It’s one thing to sell “you shoot people” but the unrelenting brutality of the entire world of BioShock is pretty... brutal. Ey rite goad.
And the Little Sisters choking down vials of blood? This is an image as incongruous and unsettling and downright nasty as the thought of Kevin Rudd at a strip club. Is it just me, or is the only person who should really care about that Mrs Rudd? And she’s too busy oppressing her workforce to bother.
Ooooooh! Political humour! Quick, better make a bum joke...
Anyway, moving on quickly, there’s something darkly wrong and disturbing with the whole Little Sister thing. It’s not the Big Daddies that are menacing. We kind of know the Big Daddies by now. Big. Menacing. Slow. Plodding. But the Little Sisters, there’s something really very wrong there. They’re like evil clones of American McGee’s (already pretty evil) Alice. Who the hell is American McGee, anyway, and how arrogant do you have to be to make your name part of the title of the game? Of course, when I bring out “Matt Burgess’s Robot Ninja Battle” I’ll have to take that back.
I think an important step in the “how to make a good game” is that the game has to be made for a reason. It has to be the means, not the end. A classic example is movie license games. They’re purely made to sell. Not for the art. Not for the story. Not even for the nookie.
It can sometimes be hard to tell what games are going to work or not, and sometimes it’s harder still to tell why the ones that work did.
A big key seems to be not having delays. It’s not very often you hear a lot about a game for years and then eventually it comes out and it’s awesometastic. A game that goes through a long series of delays and hype cycles has about as much chance of being a winner as Nicole Ritchie’s baby.
If I knew Nicole Ritchie in real life I’d watch her until she looked like she was trying to find something. Then I’d say to her “Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?” I’d do that like every 20 minutes.
The disturbing thing about this whole article is that I actually listened to Yug. He said something and I listened. I didn’t want to, I was concentrating on something else (probably concentrating as hard as possible on not listening to him) and it just kind of slipped in, like an aural peripheral vision. The hardest thing to deal with, and I know this will shock you all too, dear readers, is that he’s probably right.
I know. I feel dirty. Normally I like feeling dirty, but this is different somehow.
Anyway, what Yug said is that the games that work the best are the ones that draw you in. He’s right, too. (*shudder*) Golden Eye, Mario 64, Resident Evil 4, Underworld (don’t hurt me), Final Fantasy 7, World of Warcraft, these are games that make you feel like you’re part of something. You never “forget” that you are playing a game. You just… stop caring. Whether through graphics and atmosphere (Resident Evil 4) or through gameplay (Mario 64), or some sort of mystical formula concocted in the bowels of Hell itself (World of Warcraft) these games have something that works to make you part of themselves.
They embrace you, and fold themselves around you like a date with Kirstie Alley. You become a part of the game, and a part of the story, rather than a mere passive player. If anything this is the point of games, the appeal. To be part of the game, driving the game, rather than just a spectator, like watching a movie on TV, or complete cockface like watching sport.
So how does a game achieve this level of success, this absorption and involvement? What are the ingredients to true gaming greatness?
The answer is as simple as it is profound…
Whoah! Is that the time? I’ll catch you all next week.