Blue hedgehog? Check. Classic chequered aesthetics? Check. Spindash? Check. Dodgy physics? Check?

First impressions of Sega’s true (well, true-ish, which will be argued later) sequel to Sonic & Knuckles, has finally landed in the sorely abandoned hands of the consumers. After failure upon relentless failure to discover the critical formula for Sonic decency in three dimensions, Sonic Team finally surrendered to their inabilities and returned to basics with the ominously-titled Sonic The Hedgehog 4: Episode 1. 2D Sonic is back, and his movement’s a little odd.

Pushing right for the first time in sixteen years (ignore Sonic Rush and Rush Adventure, they’re not real blue ‘hog antics) held bigger anticipation than the rescue of the Chilean miners; this is serious business, and one that cannot leave any lifelong fan feeling short-changed. But upon Sonic’s first steps it’s hard to feel a little deflated as the blue one practically glides into his legendary running style, as if he was on ice. Try the demo and you’ll soon understand that it simply doesn’t look ‘right’. Sonic may as well be on ITV with a host of other failed celebrities. Sonic 4 saw a delay after an initial gameplay video was released, to which most of the Sonic contingent presumed Sega had realised they hadn’t got it quite right, yet it remained.

On the theme of negativity, on completion of the beautifully retrospective albeit a little easy Splash Hill Zone, you’re guided to a pseudo level select screen. Although wonderfully presented, it soon hits home that it’s titled ‘Episode 1′ for a reason – there are only four levels! The dreaded feeling of being short-changed suddenly hit home.

Splash Hill Zone: impossibly unoriginal, yet so very pleasant

What’s worse is that after Splash Hill (where ironically, not a single ‘splash’ is to be had) originality evidently evaded the minds of Sonic Team’s desperate attempt to appeal to their fanbase’s foundations. Admittedly there are elements of new touches, such as the satisfying Homing Attack (plucked from Sonic Adventure, but new to 2D), with some excellent level design not too far short of Sonic 2‘s blissful Chemical Plant Zone; but originality is few and far between as Sonic tries his luck on slot machines from 1992, smashes the evergreen Grounder to bits once again and practically re-runs through Metropolis Zone. The final insult is Sega’s unashamed rip-off of Colin C10′s excellent Sonic 2 hack (as covered in Sonic & Hackers), featuring all the bosses of the first and second outing in one continuous level. Sonic 4 follows agonisingly suit with E.G.G. Station Zone at its climax, where Sonic faces all four bosses from previous levels, culminating in a battle with the final boss from Sonic 2, only made easier with rings. It’s evident Sonic Team did a bit of digging around for inspiration, or even read this very blog (well, maybe not) to help flesh out a trickle of ideas. Nevertheless, it’s hard to discover anything new, particularly when ‘amateur’ hackers are already ahead of the game; thus the title Sonic The Hedgehog HD becomes ever more appropriate.

The music’s no better either. Thankfully the classic MegaDrive snare drum has seen a resurgence in most of the tunes, but the best there is to offer is Casino Street Zone’s delightful harking back to Casino Night of Sonic 2. Otherwise, it’s all forgettable and a little too post-MegaDrive era to be pleasing to the ear. The new Robotnik theme does the various scenes some justice, but it’s not a patch on Sonic & Knuckles’ adrenaline-pumping strain.

At this point you’d be forgiven for assuming Sonic 4′s on the dangerous side of crap, yet its plausibility as a true sequel to the series shines through as the minutes clock up. It’s fast, great to look at, features excellent level design, with multiple routes in each zone, has a decent set of achievements to maintain interest and, most importantly, is kept simple. Sega’s painful errors in recent history have involved over-complicating such a simple concept. In addition to the 2D gameplay failing to translate effectively into 3D, we’ve been mercilessly bombarded with dislikeable characters since Knuckles’ Chaotix on the 32X. They’re less interesting than Bryan Robson, yet Sega took almost a decade and a half to realise this, and introducing Shadow, Silver and… Well, the rest have slipped from memory, was missing the mark time and again; and then Sega finally listened. Sonic 4 features Sonic, Robotnik, ‘badniks’, fluffy cute animals and no-one else. Not even Tails. It’s a shock that such a backwards step is so refreshing, yet it simply highlights the extent of Sega’s shortfalls. Super Sonic, Metal Sonic, Tails and Knuckles only enhanced the series, anything beyond them, including the addition of god-awful voice-acting, did nothing for Planet Mobius, and it’s from here that Sonic 4‘s beauty stems.

A load of balls it ain't

One of the most pleasing aspects is the sheer pace throughout, with some almost exhilarating set-pieces that have developed on ideas deriding from those introduced from the second outing onwards. Mad Gear Zone’s finale, subtitled ‘Impending Doom’, serves to stick a piece of dynamite up your arse and push Sonic through paces that even he didn’t realise he had. Accompanied by a dramatic theme tune, coupled with the threatening ail of sirens, there’s a sense of adrenaline present that was rarely felt even in the ‘good old days’. That ‘wall of death’ chasing you isn’t stopping for anything, especially not blue hedgehogs, but you’ll be grateful for it as you narrowly escape death.

Yes, it’s short, has physics dodgier than a fascist Pope (just ask the Sonic Retro contingent), is unoriginal and very easy; yet its classic charms, intense speed, challenging achievements and certain simplicity make waiting for Episode 2 a little harder than expected. There’s infinite positivity to build on here.

Sega ‘got through’ the fourth Sonic. At last!

Fortunately, I’m not alone in practically detesting the original, and if 4A Games have more of the same crap up its sleeve then it will be worth avoiding like the plague. Ideally, the sequel would be handed over to id Software who, despite losing the classic Doom atmosphere of the original games, produced a rather credible sequel in Doom 3. Unfortunately, id are beavering away on Doom 4 and are somewhat engaged, so it looks likely we’ll be ‘enjoying’ another dose of evil, exploding bacteria balls, only this time they’ll be in ‘Omg, they’re jumping out of the screen!’ 3D. Great.

Sigh. Metro 2033. What a disappointment it turned out to be. At the time of the trailer’s release there was, from certain quarters, such as these, a huge amount of hope and expectation. With the already-classic Fallout 3 finally running out of steam as its last downloadable content was offered, up pops a suspiciously yet excitingly similar quasi-follow-up, due to be released before the post-Fallout depression kicked-in. The trailer brought connotations of a similar concept, of the human race once again being driven underground following the aftermath of a catastrophic war. Granted, not entirely original for a game (in fairness, it is based on a novel) yet nevertheless an ideal stop-gap between one end of the world, Fallout 3, to the next, Fallout New Vegas. No sooner than the menacing words of ‘Metro 2033′ popped up once the trailer was done with giving us a jolly good whetting, the ‘anticipation-o-meter’ sprang into overdrive.

Then it was revealed it was a first-person shooter. Another one. No majestic role-playing elements as found in its aesthetically comparable adversary. Just guns, greedy humans and monsters in dark corridors for around six hours, minus the other six hours of painful trial and error that the game’s impossibly steep learning curve insists you grapple with.

Before diving into the cheap tactics 4A Games used to bleed more life from the shuddering corpse of Metro 2033, the good parts of its anatomy will be dissected first. Most strikingly are, of course, its visuals. Perhaps that should be expected of any game this generation, but Metro 2033, truly excels regarding matters of depicting the troubled, disease-ridden nature its corresponding novel once conveyed. Everything looks convincingly filthy (no, not like that), particularly the meat stalls in marketplaces. You wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole attached to the Burj Khalifa. As the burning embers and weak electric lights dance around the flea-ridden corpses of poorly maturing meat, you experience an almost life-like sense of how testing a post-nuclear world might be for the human race, much like Fallout 3 did. It’s dripping with atmosphere throughout.

The accompanying sounds the game emits as you navigate the metro’s maze are great too, minus a few short sound samples that loop with shameless conspicuousness. Once again, the marketplaces thrive as the chattering of their Russian inhabitants bounce and collide from the metro tunnels’ walls. It’s a surreal as it is believable. From the shrieks of playful kids (minus their hideously synthetic laughter, as found in Diddy Kong Racing’s start-up sequence) to the final screams of dying soldiers and the grunting creatures that now roam the nuclear winter enveloping the earth’s surface.

This kid wants you to help him find his mum. 'Sod off!', is the correct answer

It all goes so well until you actually play the bloody thing. Once through the deceitfully easy tutorial, arrives a game with little other than the intention to piss you off to the point your wireless controller leaves your hands and finds itself etched into your television’s façade. Time and again, until your TV’s in bits.

Light’s heavily rationed as it is, with often the only source coming from unfortunate protagonist Artyem’s torch (flashlight to the Yanks), resulting in the constant careful treading in order to avoid cloaked ‘holes of death’, traps or enemies. However, one section at the game’s midpoint insists you rescue and deliver a little Russian boy who finds himself separated from his family after a heavily-scripted action sequence. Rather than precariously holding his hand (what are the rules with coming into contact with children these days, again?) and walking him back to his folks; for some stupid reason Artyem hoists the little sod on his shoulders! Naturally, your movement is now ‘realistically’ restricted, and where you ‘probably maybe’ expected to die before you now fully expected to. And you did. Again and again, falling into traps, down concealed holes and, what with the inability to run, receiving a battering from the sewers’ wandering foes.

Another section, once again shrouded in darkness sees our ‘hero’ penetrate a human enemy’s (‘the Facists’, or something, stopped paying attention at this point) base. ‘Use stealth etc’ suggests the rather unhelpful and patronising wordage every time you die, ‘I AM USING BASTARD STEALTH!!’, replies frustrated gamer. While crouching and slowly moving forward through the shadows enemies would still hear you, turn and mercilessly blast you to bits. ‘Ok, try taking them out with throwing knives, instead’, reads the loading screen; ‘Great idea!’, replies gamer. The slightly resurgent player then attempts to learn from previous mistakes, this time armed with a clutch of throwing knives and a smidgeon of adrenaline. SPLAT! Right in the sod’s temple goes the knife, followed by a mini-celebration. ‘Nobody heard that, surely?’. Silence ensues. You slowly creep around a couple of crates, but take one step too far, ‘получите его!’, yells a presumably ex-Soviet, before hails of bullets cascade upon your sorry corpse for the seventeenth time. ‘Sorry’, pleads the loading screen, ‘I’m, er, out of ideas… Try using stealth again.’

If those two previous scenarios haven’t tipped you to breaking point and you’ve struggled towards the latter trials of the ‘game’, then prepare to embrace the wonderful presence of these absurd blobs of fart gas somewhere near the end; not once, but twice. For some detached reason our ‘hero’ Artyem and his accompanier Miller must wander through a corridor inhabited by the most irrelevant enemies ever found in a first-person shooter, the amoebas.  Yep, giant balls of exploding bacteria are now your enemies. Those mutants in the Russian wasteland truly have nothing on these.

Having appropriate weaponry equipped should result in having to endure this painful sequence on a mere four thousand occasions, but if you find yourself with the wrong gun the game sees fit to punish you for your previously well-calculated decisions. A scoped automatic was an excellent idea earlier on, but there was little warning that it’d become utterly useless at this juncture. ‘Unlucky, son’, says the game, as it forces you to use a shotgun with worse accuracy than Dick Cheney in 2006. The phrase ‘survival horror’ could not be any more an oxymoron as it is exactly the truth, ‘survival’ is off the menu, ‘horror’ most certainly isn’t as you inevitably smash the Metro disc to bits, because if isn’t you that’s died for the Nth time, it’s your clumsy, all-of-a-sudden-not-invulnerable, mate. Go on, try protecting him, no matter how close you get to the end of the section one singular blob is going to take rearguard action and silently blow you up instead. At times Artyem appears to just give up rather than actually die, just to push your patience that little bit further. Did I mention you have to do this twice?

Metro 2033′s unfair nature is infuriating, and for completionists an utter chore. If it doesn’t beat on your conscience to let a game go half done, then you’re blessed; but to the rest of us who hold obsessive compulsive urges to complete every game they own, it leads you to question the point of your existence, let alone the sodding game’s. It’s poor game design to exact such a request for perfection on the player on normal difficulty, and the theme runs throughout, which can’t hide behind the fact that the tactic is used to extend the its lifespan, producing a ten-hour play-through out of what should really last six hours. With that comes an apathy in that you expect to die as you approach each new section, which inevitably dislodges your sense of progression through the game and resulting in a totally unsatisfying playing experience.

The letter 'D' and the number '6' will never be the same again

]]> http://allthatrumpus.wordpress.com/2010/06/29/trial-error-error-again-and-apathy/feed/ 0 allthatrumpus http://allthatrumpus.wordpress.com/2010/06/22/are-you-sure-you-want-to-play-this-game/ http://allthatrumpus.wordpress.com/2010/06/22/are-you-sure-you-want-to-play-this-game/#comments Tue, 22 Jun 2010 15:37:17 +0000 Mike http://allthatrumpus.wordpress.com/?p=618 ]]> Game: English? Norsk? Nederlands? Svenska? Dansk?

Gamer: English, please.

Game: Press Start

Gamer: No probs!

Game: The autosave feature is now turned on. It will automatically save your progress through the game, and any Settings changes you make. Autosave will overwrite without confirmation. Please do not turn off your Xbox 360 console while the autosave icon is displayed. If you wish to turn off this feature, you can do so in the FIFA 10 Profile Management screen.

OK.

Gamer: Er, what? Yeah, I realise the point of an autosave feature, thanks. Now let’s get some game on!

Game: We are about to check for Online Squad updates. Warning, all unsaved changes to your Online Squad may be lost, do you still want to continue? You must have the latest squad file update in order to enter the match. Your currently loaded squads will be reload upon exiting this game mode.

Yes / No

Gamer: Yes! What the hell are you telling me this for?!

Game: This game session is no longer available.

OK.

Gamer: $%@£!! It’s not OK!! *Throws pad at screen and goes to the pub*

From firing up the Xbox to the online game ‘room’ rejection totals to almost two minutes of waiting around and pressing ‘A’, just to play a game of football. Remember the days when games meant ‘games’, rather than ‘games plus Spanish Inquisition’? I remember an old argument of mine when the current generation’s console offering was imminent, declaring how consoles being transformed from gaming hubs to Jack-of-all-trade ‘home entertainment systems’ wasn’t the wonderful development for consoles that was generally accepted. I mean, even the DS has a dashboard of sorts! It’s clear my argument wasn’t entirely unjust.

Since then, of course, I’ve adapted to and even enjoyed what both the Xbox 360 dashboard and Wii menu offer, with Inside Xbox deserving a mention on the former, and BBC iPlayer on the latter. However, since playing FIFA 10 online with the objective of achieving one hundred wins, my patience has been severely tested, with the nagging process the game subjects you to being reproduced in all its wasteful glory in this post’s introduction. Now, I’ve racked-up around two hundred games insofar, and assuming I play three matches on each occasion, I’ve wasted approximately 132 minutes answering questions and waiting for the clunky options screen to take me to my desired section of the game.

If this is the future then I want out.

Remember the days when all the budding gamer was required to do was insert their cartridge into their slot (tee hee), press start, pick a character if necessary (such as in, say, Global Galdiators, with the choice of the white kid or the black kid, for the sake of a belated mid-’90s racial balance realisation), and, after maybe a small opening sequence, away you go. All of twenty little seconds. Admittedly, winding back to the the cassette-driven days of Sinclair’s ZX Spectrum’s insanely long loading sequences was as a drawn-out process as today’s menu-frenzied counterparts, but at least the consoles of the final decade of the previous millennium appeared to have had it licked. However, as technology has advanced and games have become increasingly impressive from many viewpoints, their fathers – the designers – appear unable to adequately deal with how we can access that wonderful content with minimum fuss. Adding motion control only complicates matters, as one struggles to select ‘start’ (or whatever) on a Wii game’s menu as the remote’s on-screen cursor flickers in and out of view.

The only game this generation that I’ve played that discards this for an almost total no-nonsense attitude is Criterion’s Burnout Paradise, which ingeniously uses gameplay to mask its option screen. So instead of cycling through a series of questions and, er, options, you’re essentially driving through them instead, picking up ideas on finding a better route for a certain race you’re having trouble with, or simply enjoying smashing through the hidden gates throughout Paradise City, along the way. It’s little wonder that Electronic Arts handed the Need For Speed franchise to the crafty folk in Guildford. This sort of innovation could save the sanity of impatient folk such as myself!

By extension to these rambling menus, excuses for not working hard enough the first time around, sorry, ‘firmware updates’ and ‘patches’, are unfortunately hugely popular with designers this generation, where merely switching on your console can result in an ear-bashing. According to those at GRcade, the PlayStation 3 had notorious teething troubles, with relentless request upon request to update your bleeding hardware that should’ve been fine on purchase, and the original 60gb incarnation had terrible problems dealing with its slim counterpart’s firmware update. The Xbox 360′s fascist update, which removed the sleek, if laggy, original ‘blade’ dashboard design, banished the console’s original look to the distant realms of the past without choice. And don’t get me started on how long the Wii takes to download an update just to check what the Virtual Console’s latest addition is…

It’s a part of gaming that hopefully isn’t welcome by the older gamers of today, where we can only hope the next generation makes life easier to have a ‘Quick Match’ as the FIFA 10 option screen so ironically declares.

No, this isn’t an environmental report suggesting the perilously low stocks of fish found in the Atlantic are on the up, rather it’s something to do with Activision’s latest money generator with the release of the next Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 map pack, once again containing three new arenas and two old ones with a slight lick of paint.

The Xbox Live exclusive (for a bit) package, once again requesting its blind following to stump up 1200 Microsoft Points, dubbed the ‘Resurgence’ map pack, follows where the Stimulus pack left off. The title of the pack, however, is somewhat curious, with whoever’s left at Infinity Ward choosing to name the release as if the Modern Warfare 2 wheels had fallen off. Perhaps it’s merely a hint that IW are far from finished after the huge debacle that ensued following Vince Zampella and Jason West’s infamous sacking; nevertheless, its yet more CoD meat (see what I did there?) for its ever-critical followers to sink their molars into.

First impressions from this corner of the gaming world were rather positive, and certainly less apprehensive than last time round, what with the staggered ‘roll out’ as the accompanying title update for the Stimulus package failing miserably. This time there was an aura of confidence about the release, with everything running smoothly despite the aforementioned scandal’s dust hardly settling, with three promising new maps and the return of the frantic Vacant and the indifferent affair that is Strike.

The resurgence fittingly kicked-off with (a) Carnival, a sprawling, complex and deceptively flimsy battleground that surely took inspiration from Call of Duty 4′s Chernobyl setting. With a similar ferris wheel as its landmark, the map below it will surely please the campers of the online shooter world. Unfortunately for those easily frustrated by such cheap tactics, the shadows and snaking corridors found among the carnival’s attractions ensure there’s no fun at the fair. It can become particularly frustrating when you finally pitch up somewhere sneaky, only to be taken out by a ruthless sniper from the satisfyingly creative tower that is the rocket ship in the centre of the map. While the unpredictable nature and original setting are its plus points, its bland colouring makes it hard to see your foes, unless you’ve the thermal scope equipped, and so seeking out enemies may prove a little tricky. A true mixed-bag of a map, yet charming nevertheless.

Second to grace the hopeful presence of my twitchy trigger finger was Trailer Park, a delightfully varied yet intimate setup that provides close-combat thrills and long range spills. With no real height advantage to be gained anywhere, everyone’s variably at the same level, unless you choose to perch atop a skip (dumpster to the Yanks) or a burnt out pickup truck. Pleasingly, the temporary homes act as the footprints for a maze, where diving into one can lead to entertaining hand-to-hand battles (providing you don’t run into a Claymore) as you leap between the shadows to outwit your prey. Frantic battles aplenty, therefore! Further, Trailer Park generously provides long stretches of open terrain, allowing for the beady-eyed to pick off the opposition from afar before heading into the melee, often found near the centre of the map. Correspondingly, the centre of the map is reserved for the greater portion of fun, particularly so if a game of Domination is in the offing. Residing in a small concourse of terrapins is a kids swimming pool, perfect for some three-sixty degree First World War-style trench warfare, only that the trench this time is No Man’s Land. If clever enough, sneaky defenders of Flag B can use the pool to their advantage by ducking below the pool’s sides until, of course, they find themselves on the receiving end of a well-placed Semtex grenade, a timely airstrike or simply getting caught in the crossfire. Chaos indeed, and a welcome addition to the MW2 map roster.

Last of the new three is Fuel, a huge Middle Eastern-based arena built with Ground War in mind. At first glance its deceptive in size, with most of the fighting taking place among the complex of buildings and their accompanying courtyards. However, take a break from the action and a you’ll stumble across a large desert opening, complete with a fully-operating oil rig. It’s ground ripe for flanking, particularly when targeting a bomb’s location, yet at the same time a disaster zone in terms of leaving yourself open to snipers. Yet simultaneously, the area is often unused, leaving with an unnecessary amount of ground to cover should you spawn there, which brings us to the next point. Fuel suffers massively from notoriously bad spawning points. In one particular area, situated in the lowest point of the map and among a scattering of rooftops, Team Deathmatch games become particularly troublesome, if not broken. If your team find themselves caught-up in a heavy beating from the opposition, you will subsequently find yourself at the hands of pressing X far too often, as you reappear in direct lines of enemy fire, preventing you from getting a word in edgeways. Incredibly annoying and somewhat disappointing. Most noticeably, mere hours after release, the map was often veto’d, ensuring its place as the Gordon Brown of the three new maps.

As already said, making a welcome and not quite so welcome return are Vacant and Strike respectively. Once again, Vacant’s tight layout lends an enjoyable experience, whether in victory or defeat. In particular it excels when introduced to a game of Demolition, a mode new to the map, with its bomb points in the warehouse and outside area, leaving bomb perpetrators open to either the frantic spraying of bullets indoors or the inevitable but unwelcome presence of a Predator missile or AC-130 outdoors. Vacant’s major plus point is that it rarely lets you relax, slotting pleasingly back into the map selection. Strike, by contrast, isn’t so welcome, at least on a personal level. It was always a middling map on CoD4, and its return sees it slip into the same category once again. As well as Vacant, it too has suffered at the hands of the ‘MW2-o-matic’, which oddly casts once dry, dusty-looking locations into mysteriously mossy green landscapes. Well, either moss or flesh-eating bacteria. Not quite sure what the colour filter is for, yet nevertheless you’ll find extra details in places not seen in CoD4, apparently helping justify why exactly you paid for maps you actually already own.

Having recently developed an unexpected tirade of enthusiasm for Xbox Live head-to-head matches of FIFA 10, two things have consequently struck me: one is that my interest in football has increased despite my beloved Cardiff City emphatically missing out on promotion to the Premier League at the hands of the disciplined, balanced, organised, effective, gutsy and ‘lowly’ Blackpool. The capital city of Wales was worryingly brushed aside by a ‘little’ north-west seaside town, whose claims to fame are drunken stag and hen do jaunts accompanied by a plethora of crap entertainment. Much like Cardiff, really. Before too much of a tangent is embarked upon, the point of this first realisation is that football is a strange game, one of the few games where failure breeds a bigger (yet hopeless) desire for success than ever before. How many games of Tiddlywinks have you lost only to develop a fire in your belly to win the next one? Not many, I’d imagine.

The second ‘discovery’, and most tear-jerking because it truly batters my personal sense of pride, is that Xbox Live and general online gaming is soul-destroying. Ever since I’d developed fine motor skills at the barely-ripe age of two, I’ve been playing games; in fact, my two older sibling’s interest in 1980s computers couldn’t have been a greater blessing (or curse) for me, where the charming loading sequences of our ZX Spectrum frantically read from the latest cassette tape valued at little more than £3.99 whirred with archaic novice, instantly caught my impressionable eye.

The sweet 'good old days'. Victory, I can smell you from here...

From then I’ve been there, bought an array of t-shirts ranging from Sega Game Gear emblazoned apparel to Nintendo Gamecube-coloured ones, and done that; whatever ‘that’ is. The now-primitive challenges posed by Dizzy, James Pond, Miner Willy, Opa Opa, Sonic, Mario and all the usual suspects churned out a respectable gamer in me, one that could often handle the opposition posed by my peers with, arrogantly, relative ease. In fact, I recall an old friend of mine observe how I was ‘naturally good at games’ as I sampled the delights of Konami’s Pro Evolution Soccer 2 on PlayStation 2. I hadn’t played it before, but with time to understand the basics I was more than matching him. I also recall regularly sending him and a couple of others packing during extended sessions of Nintendo 64 multiplayer mavericks Mario Tennis, GoldenEye and Perfect Dark. ‘I may not be the coolest kid around’, I thought as an insecure 15 year-old, ‘But I sure am pretty decent at games.’

I truly believe I was indeed ‘pretty decent’. Take another set of friends, drum up some interest in a ‘swift’ adventure around one of Mario Party 2′s frankly ridiculous board game settings and, more often than not, I’d come out on top. I detest arrogance, but I’m merely stating facts. Regardless of how far up one’s head may have been inserted up one’s backside, the fundamental aspect of gaming remained intact – entertainment.

Take the joys of multiplayer gaming further, albeit not in the Mensa-straining guise that Codemasters dreamt up in 1995 (four pads and eight players?! Does not compute! Not even in French), but in the anonymous, mass online, play anyone, anywhere, any time, sort of way, and its an entirely different batch of sandwiches.

Years of skill-honing, conquering virtual worlds and metaphorically stuffing friends’ heads in toilets and mercilessly pulling its flush as you stuff yet another magazine’s worth of RCP-90 bullets in a hapless foe’s face in GoldenEye’s Facility level all unravelled in a step too far – the internet.

That's an adolescent just about to score his first of several against a hapless Xboxer named 'mowenspiel'. Enjoy, ya little scamp.

A friend of mine and I used to play Burnout 2: Point Of Impact on a quasi-religious basis, where we would enjoy teeth-grittingly close races and genuine competition. We were both damn good at it, almost constantly beating our best times as we battled closely for that chequered flag. Fittingly, Burnout Revenge became my first real venture into online play, which I thought would be a breeze as I entered my first room. It wasn’t, but simultaneously my soul wasn’t ripped apart, and I soon learned the tricks of the car combat trade and landed in a respectable 1,028th world ranking.

Subsequently, I’ve since enjoyed the sweet taste of humble pie in spades with Call Of Duty 4 leading the way. No longer was I good at first-person shooters, with a kill/death ratio anyone’s nan would be ashamed of and an accuracy percentage of a pigeon with cricket bat strapped to its face. Most irritatingly, whether as a result of poor game design, sheer bad luck or lack of ability, is that every single airstrike finds its way to me! Without fail. The CoD gods are without doubt angry with me. Once I grew tired of Konami’s sad failings to deliver a decent football game, FIFA 09 stepped up and slapped me about the chops as 13 year-olds with less pubic hair than a bottlenose dolphin once again ‘Marseilles roulettes’ about my defence twice before burying his eighth goal making it a morale-flattening 8-1. Where my solitary goal came from, Lord knows. FIFA 10 doesn’t fare any better with me, either; with Chelsea being my kryptonite regardless of any healthy form. The Russian Revolution of the virtual version of the central London club always gets me. Must be the forces of international communism. Indeed, whenever my opponent picks Chelsea the appearance of Bicycle Repair Man couldn’t be better timed. Even BioShock 2′s at it, where the majority of the online population takes to the mulitplayer like a pig to shit, except me, who’s languishing at the arse-end of my team’s chart, reading ‘Kills: 3, Deaths: Lost count, sorry. You know, that ‘off’ button isn’t all that far away…’

Video games that used to obey me now dictate my feelings of happiness thanks to the realisation that the rest of the world is actually far, far better than I am at, well, anything. The world stage truly is a chop-smacking surprise, where even FIFA 10′s generous matchmaking infrequently springs a ‘surprise’ on me. Perhaps I’m just getting old and senile, with the impending smell of sour urine not too far from reach, but I’m certainly not what I was, and to anyone that may have rated themselves as a gamer but have still yet to indulge in broadband gaming, don’t. It’s not worth denting your fragile pride, unless you’re actually good. Painstakingly, the aforementioned friends that I used to ‘school’ now show me how to hold a pencil and solve equations a foetus could in its perma-coma.

I’d like to think I’m not alone. Sigh.

It's not for kids

Unless your name’s Ben Croshaw, better known as Yahtzee, or ‘the Zero Punctuation guy who talks really fast and passionately hates the Wii’, then the boxart (particularly the limited edition tin version) for NSMB.W is more than likely to raise a retro-happy countenance. NSMB.W is the indirect sequel to Nintendo DS’s most excellent 2D revision of the Mario series, New Super Mario Bros.. Unless you have no soul, it was a welcome return to the dimension of the ’80s, even if it wasn’t as essential as Sonic’s desperate need to backtrack. Of course, it makes sense to release a new 2D Mario game based on the original full outing on a handheld, but was a Wii version really a necessity?

Arguably yes, because the Wii’s additional memory easily made way for new additions, such as Yoshi and the adorable penguin suit, in addition to a shiny new coat of paint that the DS simply could not cope with.

Remaining on the acidic side of the pH scale (the more positive side? It is to the right, in my defence), it’s difficult to resist being taken by the clear, retro-but-not presentation and the sheer simplicity the game presents on pressing start. The story remains the same as always, but this time Mario and Luigi are able to tackle Bowser side-by-side for the first time since, well, forever, as well as accepting the help of two little Toads.

Each level theme’s, again, predictable, but as usual acceptable because of Nintendo’s ability to apply care and polish in all the right places. The snowy plains of World 3 being the most pleasing both visually and aurally, coupled with the sheer smile-inducing opportunity to get to grips with Mario in penguin form. It’s great until the difficulty of the later levels leaves you harking back for the more user-friendly earlier courses.

The word ‘difficulty’ soon takes centre stage as you discover that the playful graphical style was all a cruel decoy. It’s not easy, with the challenge bar raised significantly since the DS outing. Pits of death, Cheep Cheeps, fireball-spewing pirana plants and nature’s cue to send us to bed (ie. darkness) all accounting for a bloody tough experience. Throw in three other human-controlled players with the unforgiving ‘ability’ to collide unfavourably with each other and you’re left with a box of damp tissues and trip to the pyschiartrist. Thanks Nintendo.

The title is, of course, in reference to the fine work that Team Mega64 put together for their advertisements of miscued stereotyping mockery on the Games Developer Conference. God bless those guys, their incredible levels of creativity and YouTube.

Moving on to matters of business, or less so what with the conference tending to focus on the design aspect of gaming rather than the throat-ramming aggression of the marketing fat cats that are likely rubbing their paws while salivating over the giant kipper that is E3 this June; GDC 2010 instead conducted its foray with dignity. With respected gaming personalities actually knowing what they’re talking about, small hints at what’s to come over the next nine months and a handful of confirmations, GDC, which attracted a record number of industry attendees, proved to be a pleasant stopgap in between that certain big hitter later this year.

Using Gamesindustry.net’s handy coverage blog, from here on in will a few highlights of Rumpus interest be picked for the spotlight and gushed over or disapproved of. First to benefit from the ‘honour’ is a panel called ‘Investing In New Game Companies’, where the catchy-named group of analysts ensured clarity of how far behind Nintendo they were after exclaiming that the casual market is where the money’s at. In simple terms they said that the ‘hardcore’ fans of games are too hard to please, so why bother? Clearly they set out to douse any flames of excitement regarding the conference by not admitting but submitting to the naive and easily-pleased overtures of the ‘blind’ customer, using piracy as justification for the abandonment of the true gamers, those that helped make games what it is today. You know, the type who aren’t fashionable to target or appease any more Tsk. Furthermore, because you can’t play Call Of Duty while waiting for a bus it’s not worth the time investing in home consoles now, identifying that the on-the-go attraction of the lucrative iPhone and its still-potential revenue as far greater a honey pot than the home console. While largely true and unsurprising, this surrender to the casual market is a little worrying, and what with Nintendo Wii 2 (?), Project Natal and PlayStation Move inbound, its paramount for traditional gamers to make the most of 2010′s promised plethora of ‘proper’ games, because right now they’re in as great a danger as the dinosaurs were to that asteroid that wiped them out all those years ago.

The ambitious ‘unlimited’ project OnLive, which is arguably (the PSPgo might disagree) the first true medium in which games are played via streamed downloads, with no physical matter whatsoever for the gamer to apply grubby mits to, is finally ready for launch. Touted as the ‘future of video games’, the on-demand service will be available to PC and Mac users in the United States from June  17th, where the first 25,000 subscribers will enjoy three free months, along with access to a number of titles, including behemoths such as Mass Effect 2, Assassin’s Creed 2 and Prince of Persia in addition to voice chat ability. On a personal level, I’ve always been sceptical of the souless nature of OnLive; however, as modern entertainment of downloading has become the norm, it’s hard to deny that this isn’t a step forward and a major new direction for gaming. If it catches on and the ‘big three’ get envious of its proposed efficiency, it could spell the end for the anticipated waiting of the postman’s delivery of your latest pre-order and the warm fuzzy feeling of satisfaction as you ‘insert disc’. The subscription-based ($14.95 per month) service is certainly something for the already-disgruntled retailers to fear.

Sony’s PlayStation Move then, a sort of quasi-sequel to the EyeToy (which is surely Natal’s inspiration?) in some respects, was officially named and announced with the vague price point of ‘under $100′. In real money it’ll set us back about £90 if we want to invest in this horrifically Wii-a-like clone (take a look at the control pad here), which received more criticism than praise. While the E3 tech demo of last year demonstrated how accurate the motion sensor was (arguably bettering even the then unreleased Wii Motion Plus), according to Guy Cocker, editor of Gamespot UK, it offered little in terms of innovation or difference to what Nintendo has already reaped the benefits from. With that as the case, it leaves only a struggle for Sony to tempt more cash from the wallets of the casual market that Nintendo has picked and primed for itself. Whether the PlayStation 3 has the same appeal as its shiny, white and undeniably friendly opposite number in addition to the marketing powerhouse that Nintendo benefited from remains to be seen. Even Fable 3 stalwart Peter Molyneux failed to be moved by its offerings. There’s potential there for all sorts of games, but as we have seen with the Wii, we’re likely to see another console’s library succumb to the saturation of simpleton games that only see use at Christmas gatherings, except more black in than white. Good luck, Sony.

Speaking of Mr. Molyneux, on the third day of the conference the father of ‘god game’ Black & White held a keynote speech, in which he used to worryingly express how simplicity is what gamers want nowadays. This is not to suggest that Fable 3 will indeed be watered down so much to render it flavourless, rather it’ll be significantly less complicated than its predecessor. Now, having not had personal experience with the Fable series it’s impossible to declare this a disastrous move, however it’s concerning that this links a little too fondly with the aforementioned desire to appeal to simpler means. Admittedley it’s nothing new, what with the faint memory of Jump Man creator Shigeru Miyamoto exclaiming prior to the Nintendo GameCube’s release in 2002 that people wanted less jargon-saturated gaming; yet now we see it in its droves, with plenty more yet to come once PS Move and Natal are rolled out, it’s a little alarming that our beloved industry, the provider of such glorious, rich adventures such as Zelda: Ocarina of Time or Metal Gear Solid will gradually become a trend of the past.

Nevertheless, Fable 3 sounds as if it’s shaping up to banish one frustrating recurring theme in role-playing games; that when the protagonist has finally summoned all the power he or she can muster, you’ve pretty much finished the game. Instead, this is promised to happen at the halfway point of the story, allowing you to truly conquer the latter segments of the game with a true sense of dictator-esque power. About time too, what with the traditional way being possibly Fallout 3′s only shortfall. And on a final, positive and promising note, Monty Python and Fawlty Towers creator John Cleese is contributing to Fable 3, providing sarcastic utterings from the game’s butler. ‘Is this a piece of your brain?’

The Game of the Year nominations (for 2009) were announced, which included the following:

• Uncharted 2: Among Thieves
• Batman: Arkham Asylum
• Dragon Age Origins
• Demon’s Souls
• Assassin’s Creed II

Embarrassingly, I’ve not played any of them. However, there is one I’ve played that wasn’t included, it was something to do with a large-scale battle in contemporary times… Nope, it’s gone. Anyway, the winner was Uncharted 2: Among Thieves, so a big congratulations goes to developers Naughty Dog. Not quote sure who voted for you or what your game’s about, but well done nevertheless. In reality, Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 was probably intentionally overlooked what with the recent insubordination sackings scandal in order to avoid any awkward vocal exchanges and applause. Infinity Ward can thank Bobby Kotick (there’s that name again) and his ruthless chums for the lack of recognition in generating over $1 billion of revenue since the game’s launch. Charming.

Finally, because you can read through the rest yourself at the ever-informative Gamesindustry.biz, game industry researcher and statistics hoarder EEDAR (Electronic Entertainment Design & Research) ran an investigation into Achievement-collecting on the Xbox 360. According to their stats, taken from around 32 million data points, ‘triple-A’ games such as Grand Theft Auto IV et al were discovered to have only a two percent completion rate. Subsequently, it raised questioning of the Achievement system, accusing them as being too difficult as a result. Now, three things spring to mind why the completion rate might be so low: 1) Seriously, how many GTA IV players can be arsed to trudge Niko Belic through hundreds of hours to attain Achievements like ‘Genetically Superior’ or ‘Endangered Species’ for a measly few points? Sometimes it’s just not worth the effort, not because they’re difficult, but because they’re too time-consuming, 2) Sometimes they’re not always possible. Take Condemned 2 for example, its Achievements roster sadly focussed far too heavily on a broken section of the game no one cared about – the multiplayer, which accounted for 460 of the 1000 points on offer. 3) We’re not all Achivement whores. Now, if stats could take facts like that into account, the completion rate would be far greater and a lot less ‘shocking’ therefore.

The second television-videogame segment brings us back to the BBC, only this time its more cheerful, more pink sister in BBC Three. First aired around a similar time to the previously covered Games Britannia: Joystick Generation is former PC Zone columnist and general satirical funnyman journalist Charlie Brooker’s version of videogaming education, which takes on a far different and arguably more accessible approach, particularly if you’re a fan of swearing and ranting. Take Brooker’s opening line as an idea of the kind of humour you’re currently due to read about and decide whether you’d find him more approachable than the softly spoken but ‘oh so posh’ Benjamin Woolley, ‘Videogames: bleeping, blooping masturbatory aides for emotionally crippled social outcasts; probably male outcasts; probably physically repugnant; sexually inexperienced; probably frightened of the real world; probably standing here on this very spot saying these very words to a camera right now; probably me, basically. Videogames are for losers like me, apparently.’ And then he trudges off to an arcade machine in the shot’s background.

Charlie Brooker currently writes and hosts Screenwipe and follow-up Newswipe, in which he takes excerpts from various television and news clips and rips them to shreds rather satisfactorily. If we’re honest with ourselves, he is basically the voice in our heads, only he’s broadcasting what everyone’s thinking and most certainly doesn’t beat about the bush. As if those two series didn’t provide enough spleen-venting, he also writes a weekly column for the Guardian, delivering harsh-but-fair criticism of whatever this country (Great Britain) can spew from its relentlessly troublesome mouth. Of course, Mr. Brooker has a videogaming background, having written for PC Zone in the ’90s, and so the birth of Charlie Brooker’s Gameswipe was perhaps inevitable. Whether it came to his attention that videogames needed a more positive, albeit incredibly tongue-in-cheek, representation on television or he just fancied some self-loathing that brought him back to his roots, it’s hard to deny what a thoroughly entertaining and genuine ‘laugh out loud’ hour-long programme it turned out to be.

Although very different from Benjamin Woolley’s mannerisms, who took a sophisticated, slower paced, trip though game history; Gameswipe is as much about educating teh n00bs as Games Britannia was. Considering Brooker’s informed background, it was a missed opportunity for some contemporary videogame coverage, in which he could have easily gone about lambasting motion control, the petty fights between Sony and Microsoft CEOs or Apple’s entrance as a new player to the gaming market through the iPhone. Instead it’s apparent that even in 2009 the BBC thought educating people about games from the very start remained a necessity. Twice.

The difference, however, in humour and in angle, is that games have an ‘image problem’, as indicated in Brooker’s introduction and happily reproduced for your ventromedial prefrontal cortex’s pleasure in the opening paragraph. It sarcasticly demonstrates all that is ‘wrong’ with videogames, bringing all the stereotyping of the activity so far to the forefront that it punches you in the face. Brooker ain’t messing around, so shut up and listen to your own prejudices about gaming. As ‘one of us’ he’s basically saying, ‘Yeah, we know about all the crap thrown against our idea of entertainment; what exactly is your point?’ It’s contradictory when adding Games Britannia to the equation, which suggested on many occasions how ‘cool’ games are, when every ‘hardcore’ gamer watching knew that was far from the truth. Bringing more irony to the table, even Brooker contributed to that claim! Maybe Woolley and his production team had Brooker ’hands-tied’ and his true opinions gagged for the sake of Woolley’s dignity, and maybe that’s why he felt Gameswipe was necessary, to refute his own statement.

Nevertheless, the little acted sequences explaining each genre do little to deflect any sentiments of how ‘uncool’ the industry is, yet simultaneously it demonstrates how we have a sense of humour, unlike the many news reports throughout the show that demonstrate how desperately the mass media needs to get a realistic grip. While most news report clips (all from the BBC) could be dated back to the ’90s, one particular highlight of Brooker’s was Newsnight’s demonstration of the Nintendo Wii, where a typically arrogant man pledged that was his first and last time he’d ever play a videogame. Perhaps Gameswipe cut his reasons for the sake of mockery, however, it appears he has no reason for this, other than worrying about his reputation, distancing himself from something he likely sees as trivial and pointless. Not stopping there, Brooker then excellently highlights the uneducated criticism over the Mega CD’s Night Trap (the console’s only grain of recognition), in which it coverage is designed to make a mockery of how the appallingly ignorant broadcast media and its interviewees at the time of release. Leading the clueless crusade his an unnamed and ludicrously upper class woman who had likely had no idea what she was rambling about, and generally jumping on the fearful bandwagon, ‘It’s absolutely outrageous’, says the random snooty feminist, ‘to teach children to maim and to murder and to mutilate in the way this video undoubtedly does.’ See? She knows what she’s on about. Because she clearly knows that the premise of Night Trap is to save women from exactly what she’s just described.

Of course, what with gaming developing at such a rapid rate in the 1990s it was inevitable that media reception outside of the industry would soil its garments sans control. The fear had shifted from television to films to music to games (and now its social networking). In other words, the frailties of the establishment has to pin the blame on something successful that’s beyond its grip of control (ironically it ultimately isn’t, as the government has the right to censor what it likes, even in a democracy), and Charlie Brooker and chums weren’t afraid to highlight how pathetic and recycled the aimless rantings, ravings and disapprovals of video games was. It was nothing new, developing media has always produced fear as graphics and sound become more realistic, previously unbreakable boundaries broken and the public lapping it up in their droves. Nevertheless, it doesn’t pardon the grating opinions highlighted by Gameswipe, in particular the BBC’s past anecdotal finger-pointing that gaming creates a, wait for it, ‘cultural autism’, furthering with, ‘Children get so hooked that all they can think about is beating their last high score.’ Thank you Mr. Brooker for forcing the BBC’s hand in the consumption of humble pie with showing that with a touch of research in two programmes videogames aren’t so bad.

Gameswipe’s coverage of previous television gaming appearances stretches a little further, to the less aggressive videogame-based programmes of the 1990s. Rather than exposing the idiocy of TV’s bureaucrats, it instead highlights the idiocy of embarrassing game shows, that did little to boost the already-flagging image of the games industry. Somehow Brooker failed to reach as far as the laughable Gamezville, which featured two idiots with as much of a clue as the Luddites at the BBC in the 1980s, only with the articulatory skills of a platypus and zero dignity. Oh to hear Brooker’s opinion on Sky One’s shambles.

Other than TV looking at TV, Gameswipe manages to squeeze in one of the greatest reviews of all time, even if it only lasts a mere few minutes. For this, Brooker sets his critical sights on 50 Cent: Blood On The Sand, in which he suggests that it’s because of games such as this that its negative reputation remains intact, ‘The main reason games never achieved mass public acceptance is that the general public continues to believe that most games are aimed at adolescent toss rags, so it doesn’t help that some games most definitely are. The most startling recent example being this astonishing cultural artefact: 50 Cent: Blood On The Sand.’ While he introduces it with philosophy in mind, his ensuing rant at how terribly the game’s scripted, how shallow the story is and how easy it is to dislike ‘gangsta rapper’ 50 Cent leads to an hilariously blunt interview, from openly mocking Curtis Jackson’s mannerisms to hoping he’ll ‘scag his balls’ on table corners. It’s a tear-inducing rant that’s a joy to listen to, and a welcome reminder how being frank with the use of easily digestible vocabulary can be an art in itself. It’s a genuinely hilarious review that trivialises violence in games, particularly when violence’s foundations are as shocking as BOTS’s sorry excuse for existence (‘That bitch took my skull’, says ‘Fiddy’ before killing everyone in sight). Really worriers of gaming violence, there’s nothing to worry about!

Further satisfaction is born from a couple of interviews along the way, where standup comedian and Mock The Week host Dara O’Briain morphs his gaming ineptitude into a well-worked point regarding the nature of videogames, ‘Games deny you content, if you don’t earn it you don’t see it. It’s unlike any other entertainment medium around.’ O’Briain’s unexpectedly accurate throughout, and although probably exaggerating his ineptitude for sake of funnies, is a great addition to a generally enjoyable programme about such a volatile subject that is videogaming. In addition to that, overtly Scottish gamers Rab and Ryan of ‘Consolevania’ provides a brief entertaining retro trip, even if it’s a little disjointed as far as the programme as an entity is concerned. Nevertheless, returning to the days of ‘purity’ and the true meaning of ‘retro’ and its values adds more justification to the existence of gaming. Lastly, Graham Linehan makes a great point that I’ve previously complained about: how shocking scriptwriting is still in games (not looking at you Gears of War or Resident Evil); ‘Everything is getting better about from the storytelling’, he says. Judging by some of the recent atrocities that may or may not have just been mentioned, he’s not wrong. Oddly, Left 4 Dead unexpectedly receives his plaudits, considering how shallow it is it was a tad surprising! While the three interviews certainly provide a more diluted approach than Games Britannia, each of them are undoubtedly less pretentious, more fun and accessible, and probably a better option for those that want to learn about gaming that aren’t easily offended. It’s evident that Games Britannia and Gameswipe are aimed at very different target audiences, yet there’s something far more ‘natural’ about the latter that’s so much more acceptable.

It is admittedly difficult to pluck any factual faults from Gameswipe, but this critical overview wouldn’t be complete without at least one complaint. On taking us through each type of game, Brooker reaches the ‘point ‘n’ click’ genre, in which he claims has been in demise. Arguably the point & click’s death is a little outdated, what with the recent resurgence of Sam & Max and The Secret Of Monkey Island anniversary remake, both of which have been well-received. So much so, in fact, that Monkey Island’s sequel is also receiving a similar overhaul, due to be released this year. That is, however, as far as this paragraph will go, which is tantamount to Brooker’s attention to detail.

Overall, while it’s quick, snappy, factually correct and entertaining, it’s tough to deduce whether Brooker’s taking the piss out of people’s ignorance for the satisfaction of fans of games, or is merely ‘trying’ to help explain to the uniformed but can’t help leaving is satirical mark on everything he touches. Either way, while it is sarcastic-tastic, it’s still educational, informed and filled with satisfying accuracy. Gameswipe’s a programme that’s a good case for defence of games, portraying less serious images about games that needs to be more widespread. It is, ultimately, a shame that the two recently made games programmes have had to defend the gaming industry to such great degrees – isn’t it about time we moved on from these prehistoric ideologies?

]]> http://allthatrumpus.wordpress.com/2010/03/22/telly-games-not-calling-names-la-parte-dos/feed/ 0 allthatrumpus hqdefault Brooker1 Brooker2 Brooker3 Brooker4 Brooker5 http://allthatrumpus.wordpress.com/2010/03/12/telly-games-not-calling-names-trennen-sie-einen/ http://allthatrumpus.wordpress.com/2010/03/12/telly-games-not-calling-names-trennen-sie-einen/#comments Fri, 12 Mar 2010 13:18:22 +0000 Mike http://allthatrumpus.wordpress.com/?p=478 ]]>

In a baffled, admittedly delayed, two-parter, the next series of paragraphs to grace this very canvass of gaming looks at a duo of recent BBC television programmes specifically about games, what they focus their beady eyes on and an attempt at dissecting their painful inaccuracy. TV doesn’t know anything about games, does it? The producers of these feature shows are all fat, middle-aged, bald, ignorant and have opinions about gaming that can be found etched on a cave-dweller’s wall from 3000 BC, right? Well, you would be mistaken, because, for once, someone with a camera and a few quid to piece together an hour’s worth of videogame banquet actually got it (almost) right.

First under the surgeon’s knife is the third part of a short BBC Four series pretentiously called ‘Games Britannia’, which quickly draws imagery of nothing but a snooty and probably ignorant look at something the production team and its presenter have no clue about. And you wouldn’t be far from the truth, as writer and broadcaster (who has apparently delved into virtual reality, rendering him ‘qualified’ for the job) Benjamin Woolley guides us through the latter, more contemporary stages of games produced on the shores of Great Britain. Subjectivities aside, the series, aired back in December last year, took a logical approach with games by beginning with the beginning (or as far back as possible), from gambling to early board-based games, by taking a look at the socio-cultural impact that gaming has had on Britain since the Iron Age, up until contemporary times. Clearly, that’s a hell of a vast field to cover.

Nevertheless, it still allowed time to suggest that as time has passed, games have become more trivial and aimed at the sole purpose of filling the pockets of company board members. As cynical a summary as that may be, it’s a feeling that isn’t shy to emit when it brings in the infamous Carmageddon of the late 1990s. Perhaps the ultra-violent smear of crap deserved it (let’s face it, it is and always was an awful game that no level of bloody guts could redeem), but it’s hardly the greatest example when you’re trying to investigate the most significant points in Britain’s videogame history (getting banned was not an achievement). Fortunately, Woolley didn’t go on to say how much of a disgrace the violence it portrayed was, where a well-timed sound bite from the informed satirical journalist Charlie Brooker broke it down to a nutshell size, ‘Carmageddon allowed you to be the ultimate naughty boy’. So while the programme chose one of the more embarrassing examples of British gamery, it also looked to douse the flames on videogame violence, calling Carmageddon more a sick joke as opposed to outlandish, irresponsible violence for trivial reason. Oddly refreshing to hear that from television.

That was the sort of tone throughout Games Britannia: The Joystick Generation, that regardless of a game’s content everything was in place for a reason, where an array of respected and articulate industry-related representatives ensured that videogames do in fact contain as much cultural richness as Cluedo and Guess Who. From the aforementioned Charlie Brooker to Bullfrog founder Peter Molyneux, whose company famed for Theme Park was eventually swallowed by the Blue Whale that is Electronic Arts. The gits. What is achingly apparent from starter’s orders is how ignorant Woolley appears to be, having clearly never heard of some of the games he samples prior to playing them. After a short passage of time it begins to grate, reaching the point that you end up hoping he’s about to mention something relevant next and not to treat it as a toddler would to a science exam. It’s as if he’s expecting us to discover what he does simultaneously, where it’s certain that a vast number of viewers would already have been avid gamers themselves, finding the oddly patronising ‘discoveries’ and claims a little hard to digest. It’s as redundant as Tiger Woods preaching the importance of abstinence.

The biggest of those hollow claims being the significance of Wipeout (no, not that one). Branded as one of, if not, the most important part of the evolution of gaming’s image in the 1990s for making games ‘cool’; the claim’s credibility wasn’t intact long before it was shot to pathetic pieces. The only reasoning Games Britannia could find to justify its claim was through a tenuous comparison with clubbing and its tired association with drugs, ‘Wipeout was designed for clubbers coming down off an E’, said Brooker. It’s a shame one of the most entertaining journalists in Britain had to offer the usual tarnished spiel about clubs and drugs, but that’s admittedly the nature of his character. What the misinformed claim about Wipeout missed were the fans that didn’t use drugs, reducing the poorly reasoned portion of Woolley’s journey to a frankly rubbish justification for what they claimed Wipeout did for games. It later claimed how Burnout Paradise has since taken the mantle, which is either a compliment to its fashionable marketing techniques or another insult to its fan base.

What the programme does get right is the history of videogames, where everything appears to be above board and in order. From the birth of the role-playing game in Dungeons & Dragons where the focus was on gaming being about decision-making as opposed to the fashionable bashings the press deals on the industry for its ‘mindless’ and ‘brainwashing’ violence, to the noting that the Sinclair ZX Spectrum truly sparked Britain into a videogame-consuming public phenomenon in the 1980s. Even the BBC Micro’s Elite receives crediting as one of the first ‘sandbox’ games, despite Woolley’s rather condescending overtones when demonstrating it, ‘Yes!’, shouts an unconvincing presenter as he destroys an enemy ship, ”You’d think I’d won a Bafta, but that’s the effects of a game. Despite the etch-a-sketch graphics and sound effects that a Casio watch would put to shame, the excitement in engaging in a bit of cosmic destruction is overwhelming.”, says his dreadfully patronising and disrespectful voice-over counterpart.

Reverting back to positivity, however, it was a great touch to see early drawings from Dungeons & Dragons and Elite’s designers’ sketch books, which went a few miles to prove that a great depth of thought and consideration goes into game creation, despite the relative simplicity the final product emits. To the uniformed at least, it provided a touch of education needed to sway the doubters; the complexities of game design surely proves (should it need to) that games are a complicated series of collated thoughts and deserve the tag of ‘art’ rather than ‘past time’. It’s rare for television to admit that, particularly when games are covered on the news, which often suffer at snooty retorts and ignorant criticism.

Fortunately, Games Britannia goes a satisfactory way to rebuffing this, where former Edge Magazine editor Margaret Robertson ensures there’s much more to violence in video games than simply being given the freedom to brutally butcher old ladies with their knickers down. That, of course, is the single-minded perception of games that appears so frequently in the mass media, the ‘easy way’ to ‘prove’ that video gaming is wrong for children (yet somehow never for adults. Funny that). Robertson, however, goes some way to defending game content with a level of depth that deserves praise, ‘the great thing about computer games is that they’re a space for where anything is possible. If you can imagine it you can create it; nothing is real’, she then highlights the morality problem, ‘One of the big issues therefore that we have been facing throughout their entire history is: where are the moral boundaries in this space? If nothing is real, is everything allowed? Is everything permissible?’.

The most important part of the previous quotation is, without a doubt, ‘nothing is real’. Games are merely a representation of a world. Of a world that is a person or a group of people’s visions; it’s created, and the chance of that creation having a large enough impact to thrust itself upon our daily reality is almost zero percent. How many people have you seen beating up a prostitute with a baseball bat or running through a drug-riddled warehouse on the docks mercilessly putting bullets in brains today? It’s an awful world we live in now, thanks to games, isn’t it? And so a rapturous applause is due to the BBC for not only receiving articulate and in-depth responses from people with realistic ideas (including Body Harvest creator and legend David Jones), but also for broadcasting it.

A major hole needs picking, however: if this programme is indeed about highlighting the historical importance of games in Britain, then one strikingly obvious and incredibly famous developer is clearly missing. They made Skool Daze, Donkey Kong Country, Diddy Kong Racing, Perfect Dark, Banjo-Kazooie and some small artefact called GoldenEye 007. Perhaps Woolley was sans sufficient obvious clues, but there’s no relinquishing from the embarrassing fact that Twycross developer Rare were missing in this investigation. It is particularly grating too when really considering GoldenEye – it was a huge, benchmark-imprinting British game based on a globally renowned and respected British series (the original books were, at least). Unless Rare or Microsoft refused to speak or be mentioned in the programme, it’s baffling how gaping the hole left by this omission is. Interestingly, and this is no exaggeration, it is rather pro-Sony throughout, profusely leaving Sony products with ‘revolutionary’ tags wherever possible, such as Tomb Raider, Wipeout, the PlayStation 3 version of Grand Theft Auto IV and Little Big Planet leading the way for online competition and communication. There’s no doubt that Sony has had a significant influence on videogaming since Nintendo rejected them, but the heavy focus on them became more evident as time passed.

While the majority of the programme was excellently produced, there’s one final aspect of it that really ground one’s gears: presenter Benjamin Woolley. His persona, tone of voice and condescending attitude was hard to take at times, particularly when introducing the Lord of the Rings as one of his favourite books, ‘Oh I love J.R.R. Tolkein and the world he created; if only it was possible to visit the woodland of Fangorn etcetera.’ Now, while in print it looks harmless enough, it fails to convey the wishy-washy, snooty ‘I am explaining in simpleton terms so you can understand while displaying my evidently upper class and better-than-you lifestyle’ tone that only serves to produce a few yawns and stretches by the halfway point. Whenever alone during his presenting pieces he’ll be situated in some grand, gaming irrelevant setting, affording a clear view of his cane on each occasion. Woolley’s presentation style clearly looks to communicate to the less informed, or to be little less condescending, the older generations, yet instead he treats us all as clueless idiots, as if he’s embarking on some great voyage of discovery when in fact he’s covering ground that dinosaurs left their faeces on years ago. You and your tired lyrical waxings are impressing no one, Mr. Woolley.

For example, during the introduction Woolley declares that the evolving games industry is paving the way for a ‘scary future’; for who exactly? You get the impression that he’s talking to a class of children most of the time, and it’s therefore hard to tell whether he’s being sincere or taking the piss. It seems Woolley’s taken the opportunity to present the series to demonstrate his class rather than as an investigation into games, past or present. His articulate and respectable manner cannot mask the fact he doesn’t really know much about the subject matter, and while it was a relief that he didn’t openly criticise games at any point, his performance was often cringe-worthy and lacking prior knowledge. The shot of his cane at the end to remind us of his superiority was the final unnecessary straw, and, to ensure clarity, they let him win at Dungeons & Dragons, let’s not pretend now.

Maybe the focus shouldn’t be cast on the presenter too much (you could put Timmy Mallet in charge of presentation and any team of researchers worth their weight in salt could make them look knowledgeable), but it certainly is difficult to easily brush a man that’s talking at you under the carpet. Nevertheless, the overall content was more important, and while lacking a little in depth, it reconciled video games to those who may have previously feared the general perception of them, concluding that games give us the ability to explore who we are and connect with others, presumably intending to paint of picture of a harmonic utopia as opposed to the fiery hell that’s so unfairly familiar.