the ramble dump

I'm not getting Halo 3. Not any time soon, at least. The reason is simple: I don't have an Xbox 360. The problem with following video game franchises is that they are so ridiculously expensive. If you're lucky, you'll get one or two games out of one console. Then the industry will have advanced enough to require the next generation of consoles, and sometimes franchises will switch which series of consoles they play on to make it even more complicated. This latter point is not the case with the Halo series, but it was with another favourite of mine, Oddworld. Either way, however, that's £30-40 dished out for each game these days, on top of the cost of whatever mercilessly progressing technology is required to play it. This may be a reasonable price for what you're getting, but that issue aside, the endeavour remains gorgingly uncheap.

I wish I was getting Halo 3. I want to splatter higher-definition aliens. I want to experience that familiar and solid gameplay at the next level, as well as enjoying all the exciting new stuff. I want to see how the story ends. In many ways, a post about Halo 3 is pointless, because I haven't played it and therefore can't praise or bewail things all that much. But I thought I'd share my reasons for why I liked the first two games, which I hope have made it through to the third.

Originally, I couldn't have cared less about Halo. I would happily have chosen a PS2 to get my hands on the next Tekken game, but my brother persuaded me that we should go for an Xbox because that had the next Oddworld instalment. On Christmas Day, I waited impatiently to play it, and was unimpressed with Halo and the Star Trek aesthetic of the people behind bland control panels in the Pillar of Autumn opening sequence. Captain Keyes placed his blocky fingers thoughtfully at the chin of his barely moving face in utmost seriousness, and I laughed.

But when I gave it a chance, it was a lot of fun to play. Halo succeeds as a solid game because it's not overly complicated - it essentially provides you with lots of aliens to eliminate - but what it does, it does extremely well. It feels well-rounded and the campaign battles feel well-matched and satisfying, with very few encounters that will spike your irritation too much. Depending on the level of difficulty, it's often challenging but almost always enjoyable.

The aesthetic of the game also contributes to this feeling of a happy balance. The universe of Halo is a clunky, colourful one; slightly cartoonish, but perfectly capable of introducing darker themes and creepy places. The best example of this is probably how the walls end up smeared in copious amounts of brightly coloured alien blood. It's a bit like the Harry Potter of the video game world (in more than just popularity and hype, although perhaps for the same reasons): it never ventures too far in any direction and is arguably not all that innovative in terms of its medium¹ nor of the story itself, but while critics have accused both franchises of a certain mediocrity in this respect, as I already said about Potter, I think this criticism sort misses the point: in what they're trying to do - creating an entertaining and immersive experience - they succeed. And, in Halo's case, I think it exceeds. Halo hasn't marched forward in innovation, but it has expertly refined its medium, striking a successful balance with all the things it deals with.

Given that many elements of the story are pretty generic, there must something else that gives the story itself some interest. Like a Potter book, the plot is immersive enough. The story in the games themselves is really a bare minimum, but in the franchise as a whole they have a pretty good mythology going. Without knowing the ending, I don't know if it all leads to a satisfying conclusion, but so far it's been intriguing. What I find most appealing about the story, however, is exactly how they go about it.

Amidst all the generic sci-fi stuff, coupled with its unusual aesthetic, the series' story does have a few of its own unique quirks that, if nothing else, serve to give it character. I'd highlight characters like 343 Guilty Spark and the mysterious Forerunners with the novelly cryptic nature of everything about them; and then the thematic use of religious symbology and imagery in everything about the Covenant. If the Halo series attempts to make a point, the most interesting one for me is how the Covenant, in their religious conquest, wrap everything they say and do in terms of poetic, religious language. The series may or may not have anything against the religions of our world per se, but they bring this aspect of religion - and general language use - to stark, transparent ridiculousness. It's not subtle (none of the thematic devices in Halo are) and it's an almost cartoon-like dimension of the Covenant, but it's still an effective view, if perhaps oversimplified (those Elites must be extremely gullible by nature), of how these things can work.

Just to address the portrayal of religion in general: it's not clear to me if any other point against it is being made. With the story drenched in so many references and symbolic allusions, especially with the Covenant, you'd think maybe there might be, but if this is so, really everything is too morally black and white (aliens vs. humans) to be an accurate representation or allegory of any one religion or of religion as a whole. The Covenant is categorically and blatantly evil - even when the Arbiter is introduced in the second game, that's really only to chronicle his escape from the Covenant's illusions and mental clutches rather than to balance their portrayal. Thematically, at least following this particular line of thought, while it offers some simple, effective illustrations, you can't go very deep with Halo before you hit that cartoon factor again.

I think the structure of both the narrative and the gameplay was better in Halo than it was in Halo 2. The first game has garnered many accusations of being repetitive, and a good portion of the levels are done backwards later on in the game. Gameplaywise, this didn't bother me much, because I thought the rearrangement made it fresh enough. Storywise, it gave the narrative a nice symmetrical structure. It begins with the escape from the exploding Pillar of Autumn, and the game ends with a return trip to the ship's creepy ruin, made all the more creepy because we'd seen it before in better conditions (then, of course, followed by an amazing countdown finale). The unexpected appearance of the Flood in the middle of the game really adds to it in this way, transforming both the story and the gameplay despite the level repetition.

Halo 2 was a bit messier. The introduction of the Arbiter's storyline was interesting, but I don't think it quite worked in some ways. For one thing, I always found the Elites more menacing when they weren't speaking English, and while this might be narratively important for showing some sympathy towards Elite-kind, they seemed like more of a threat during gameplay, somehow, in the previous game. I felt there was generally a slight increase in the cartooniness of the proceedings, especially with the appearance of the Prophets and Gravemind. Halo 2 also lacked the narrative structure: the ending wasn't half as interesting and was, of course, notoriously abrupt. The opening attack and the appearance of the Flood had been done before, and though I did like the civil war stuff, and it was generally a solid game, it didn't achieve quite the same balance as its predecessor.

Despite some slight shortcomings, however, the sequel shared many of the original's positive attributes, and both games are excellent. In gameplay, they're good--extremely good--at what they do. Combine this with Halo's quirky (albeit slightly cartoony) character, and it makes for an appealing series of games. Probably some of my fondness for the series comes from the familiarity I gained when I chose to explore it for that certain parody, but weird sentimentality aside, Halo has a lot going for it. If anyone wants to buy me a copy of Halo 3 along with an Xbox 360, feel free.

See also: Master Beef vs. Master Chief 2007.

¹ Halo is a pretty straightforward shoot-'em-up; Rowling's writing is technically nothing amazing in any artistic or linguistic sense, but as an entertaining and absorbing read, it's very successful.

Labels: halo, harry potter, i am the ramblemaster, language, morality, oddworld, tekken, the aberration, videogames

# posted by Chris @ 2:10 PM 0 comments

And so, like many other things this year, the Harry Potter series has come to an end. I finished Book 7 last night. In many ways, it is my favourite.

As you may have noticed, a lot of hype surrounds the Harry Potter franchise. I got into the series when I was nine or ten or thereabouts, when two, possibly three, of the books were out. It's hard to place where exactly Harry Potter became a phenomenon. It just sort of...happened. The hype has worked in an odd sort of way for me, putting me off slightly as the franchise began to reach public saturation point, but at the same time I wonder if, after all this time, I would have followed the series to the end of it wasn't so culturally prominent.

Elsewhere, hype's had the effect it always has. Something good has been blown out of all reasonable proportion by fans, publishers, journalists and critics alike, reaching fever pitch as Warner Bros get their sticky fingers into it. Insensible amounts of both merchandise and fanfic have been produced. The backlash follows, the slightly peevish detractors hastening to point out that Potter isn't really deserving of quite so much hysteria, but that's the way hype works. Critical scrutiny intensifies, a few start to pull apart and denounce the the books; the screaming mass of young fans reacts, accusing all who dare to utter a word against J.K. Holy as bitter or jealous or both. And so on and so forth.

They are, say I, good books. They're no works of art, and their main virtue is being so very readable, but while some critics have diminished it to being simply 'useful' or 'saleable' prose, I think that unduly discredits the fact that J.K. Rowling can spin a very good story. She strikes a happy medium between descriptive and natural prose with the result of a style that is charming enough to keep us hooked, just like the world she writes about. It might not have the same quaint, stilted and respectfully 'literary' charm as an author like Enid Blyton, but as a coming-of-age story, the more natural approach is probably more meaningful to the modern, non-gingerbeer drinking reader.

Rowling's appeal comes not from her magical world as such, which is only as original as any other magical world, but the fact that she makes it into such a parallel of our own, with the principles behind even the most fantastical elements or the darkest magic grounded firmly in this world (love, greed, power, death etc: problems, experiences and temptations we all have to deal with). Then there's the chocolate frogs with collectible cards, Quidditch, Apparition tests, and a dozen other direct parallels, which, while not especially imaginative, are interesting enough takes on the norm and make the wizards more like real people, and the students like real students. There are times when the similarity to our own world becomes almost bleak and depressing, as with the bureaucratic Ministry of Magic; and it's the older, dustier Hogwartian magic that really holds the interest of the reader and the characters, because that's where the adventures, dangers, twists and turns occur. And all the while, Harry suffers real, teenaged problems too. Which are, truthfully, the less interesting bits for me, but their inclusion is understandable and Rowling usually manages to strike a good balance (although it very nearly tips in Book 5).

One of the best things about the books is Rowling's ability to create warm and fuzzy moments when portraying friends and family, especially with little things like Mrs Weasley and her Christmas jumpers. In a way, these boardingschoolish portrayals do sometimes feel like they're harking back to some cosy, bygone time, but it doesn't make them feel any less genuine. One thing my sister pointed out was how the writing style has changed over the course of the series: in the earlier books, Rowling hadn't quite managed to shake off the tone of traditional children's literature, and some of the dialogue was very Blytonesque, but this helped to add to the charm, novelty and wonder experienced by the characters at that age. As the kids got older, this would probably have started to feel a bit inappropriate, and the writing has accordingly become increasingly natural, increasingly dark and, at times, increasingly soapy.

Sometimes the dark, danger or peril does seem a bit forced, as with the lake of dead people at the end of Book 6 (which distractedly reminded me of a similar scene in The Two Towers anyway), or the death count of significant characters in the final battle for Hogwarts in Book 7, but for the most part Rowling deals with these things with a little more narrative subtlety (despite the extremely irritating 'Someone dies in this book!' promotion that's been used). Rowling also writes some fantastically animated action scenes, one of my favourites being the chaotic Quidditch World Cup match in Book 4, and Book 7 provided a series of brilliantly action-packed excursions to various places. Again, though, that final Hogwarts battle may have benefited from a little more restraint, but having what seemed like every single surviving character returning into the fray was just as awesome as it was ridiculous.

Another strong point in the series has been the complex plotting and character development through revelations and backstory, which returned spectacularly in Book 7 after a rather linear Book 6. Just like having everyone returning for that last battle, it was a nice touch having obscurely mentioned characters like Grindelwald, Bathilda Bagshot and the Grey Lady suddenly playing significant roles, but again there was the feeling that it was very nearly approaching the line between being neat and being overly convenient. Tie too many things directly into each other and the world starts shrinking.

I think the epilogue is best not mentioned, but other than that, Deathly Hallows was an excellent end to a series that I've now been following for years. And whatever I might feel about the films and the rest of the franchise, Harry Potter is definitely a lot more deserving of its attention than certain other recent literary phenomena.

Labels: harry potter, i am the ramblemaster, literature, rabbit-hole theory, tolkien

# posted by Chris @ 2:39 PM 0 comments