the ramble dump
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Taking Them Seriously (But Not Too Seriously): In Defence of Videogames
Videogames! I play them, and happen to think they can be good for more than wiling away your time. But there are still plenty of people who don't. There are some horrific prejudices out there, based on misconceptions I can only try to figure out.
To start with, there's the idea that they are somehow childish, or meant only for children's entertainment. Historically this has been the trend, but at some point in the last couple decades--or, more likely, as a gradual process--things have changed. It strikes me as similar to a lot of people's attitude towards animation, which is often dismissed as just 'cartoons'. But just like animation, there's nothing inherently juvenile about video games. And these days it's more and more the case that games are being targeted at a more mature demographic. It may be the word 'game' that's misleading some people--which brings me on to the next misconception...
That video games, being games, are trivial pursuits meant only for entertainment. In other words, they're a waste of time. Right? Well, not if you hold any value in things like books and films, which I do. Video games can be works of art in the same sense as any other works of art--though obviously not in exactly the same way. To explain how, I'm going to bounce off one of the objections some people tend to have at this point.
There's a feeling floating around out there that interactivity--the direct involvement of the player--results in some compromise of what makes art 'art'. I guess this revolves around the idea that games are constructed for the player and seem to be all about catering to the player's enjoyment, such that it can never count as 'true' artistic expression. In the past I've repeatedly used Oscar Wilde's theories on art as a reference such that they're probably a little worn out by now, but I think the general sentiment--that art is sacrificed as soon as the creator pays too much attention to the recipient--applies here. Only it doesn't, necessarily.
The assumption seems to be that the creators are inevitably pandering to what the player wants, in the process creating something that entertains the player but becomes utterly meaningless because all the 'artistic' elements are slaves to this entertainment. But I don't think this is true. First off, as far as the purpose of videogames is to entertain, it might help to shake off some of the negative connotations of that word--along with its supposed shallowness--if we replace it simply with the idea that these games are designed to engage. Then we can compare them once again to films and books, and we'd have to acknowledge that both these media do the same, albeit in very different ways. All these fictional worlds or stories are constructed so that the recipient is drawn into the experience.
Any way you choose to break down what 'entertainment' actually means--an activity people find either enjoyable or interesting, or a form of escapism--relates back to this as far as videogames are concerned. And let's not forget, as much as it may be a shocking revelation to some, that art does not have to be a chore. We are allowed to enjoy it. More than that, we have to 'enjoy' it--be interested enough in it, connected to it, feeling it on the intended level--for it to work at all.
Relatedly, returning to an artist's consideration of the recipient, it would be daft to say that any of these media are used as if there is no recipient, real or potential. Even the most self-absorbed and egotistical of authors wouldn't write a novel eschewing the very idea of a recipient--it makes no sense. The creation of art isn't just some spontaneous emotional fart; it's the act of putting it out there in the world for people to experience. There's a distinction, then, that has to be made between consciousness of a work of art being received and that work of art being moulded to the desires of the recipient in the way that Wilde meant.
As for interactivity, letting the player move bits of the world about, whether that be using an avatar or the avatar itself, does not qualify as this kind of moulding. Neither does allowing actions that result in changes to the world, because again this possibility has been intended. In other words, limited choice within the context of the gaming world is not the same as letting the player do whatever they want with that world. The rules of the world, and the scope of things that can happen (notwithstanding the exploitation of unintended bugs and glitches), have been put in place by the creators, and the player moving something across a field the designers created does not result in the artistic terms of this world being undermined. Why should it? The designers intended for you to be able to do this. Even if you have multiple options for movement--which you nearly always will, even in a fairly linear game--the designers letting you pick whichever option does not undermine their expressed world because what is being expressed is not dependent on absolutely scripted events, and was never meant to be.
A game designer has as much control as he or she desires. If they really want total control over every move and a completely scripted outcome, then this medium is not appropriate for what they are trying to achieve, and they should make a film or write a book instead.
In theory, then, a game can be built according to whatever terms the designer likes and they don't even have to consider what the player wants, beyond ensuring that everything has been done to maintain the player's engagement on a technical level--just like a badly-written novel or a poorly-made film aren't going to be very effective no matter what the people behind them are trying to present.
In practice, of course, market conditions mean that most games are churned out exactly according to what the designers think people like, and we get a lot of the same unimaginative thing as a result. Wilde probably wouldn't like that too much. But then the same is, again, true for films and books.
And besides this, not every activity in life has to be such a deep experience. Sometimes our brains just like being preoccupied, and we don't have to be enhanced as a person for it to be a worthwhile activity for thirty minutes every day, or a couple of hours every once in a while.*
So I'm under no illusion that all gamers are looking for some profound experience beyond 'beating' the game. But, for as long as we're talking about the art of it, most games use this specific goal-oriented immersion to take us places that transcend the simple act of beating it, and the best games are those that do this the most meaningfully. That's where the art is. I'll talk about this some more when I get on to videogames and story in more detail.
*Games are often deemed a waste of life on this account, but think of sports: there are obviously health benefits to doing sports, but how many people play a particular sport just for the health benefits? The same goes for transferable skills: even if we accepted the (somewhat dubious) claim that football skills, say, are transferable to other areas of our life, as well as the claim that videogames give us no such skills, who can honestly say that they play football primarily for the development of such transferable skills? People play football because they think it's fun.
This is because gaming is there in sports too: you've got your rules, your objectives and your challenges, all contrived and predefined. Of course, the experience is very different from sitting down and playing a videogame, the physicality of it making it different even if health had nothing to do with it (and I'm not saying that videogames could ever replace sports). But it's perfectly acceptable to say you're playing these games for the sake of the game. Everything in moderation, obviously, and addiction is always a possibility with anything like this, but there's no reason why gaming should be such a guilty activity. Five minutes of Pong is probably not going to be a huge experience for you, but it's not going to hurt.
To start with, there's the idea that they are somehow childish, or meant only for children's entertainment. Historically this has been the trend, but at some point in the last couple decades--or, more likely, as a gradual process--things have changed. It strikes me as similar to a lot of people's attitude towards animation, which is often dismissed as just 'cartoons'. But just like animation, there's nothing inherently juvenile about video games. And these days it's more and more the case that games are being targeted at a more mature demographic. It may be the word 'game' that's misleading some people--which brings me on to the next misconception...
That video games, being games, are trivial pursuits meant only for entertainment. In other words, they're a waste of time. Right? Well, not if you hold any value in things like books and films, which I do. Video games can be works of art in the same sense as any other works of art--though obviously not in exactly the same way. To explain how, I'm going to bounce off one of the objections some people tend to have at this point.
There's a feeling floating around out there that interactivity--the direct involvement of the player--results in some compromise of what makes art 'art'. I guess this revolves around the idea that games are constructed for the player and seem to be all about catering to the player's enjoyment, such that it can never count as 'true' artistic expression. In the past I've repeatedly used Oscar Wilde's theories on art as a reference such that they're probably a little worn out by now, but I think the general sentiment--that art is sacrificed as soon as the creator pays too much attention to the recipient--applies here. Only it doesn't, necessarily.
The assumption seems to be that the creators are inevitably pandering to what the player wants, in the process creating something that entertains the player but becomes utterly meaningless because all the 'artistic' elements are slaves to this entertainment. But I don't think this is true. First off, as far as the purpose of videogames is to entertain, it might help to shake off some of the negative connotations of that word--along with its supposed shallowness--if we replace it simply with the idea that these games are designed to engage. Then we can compare them once again to films and books, and we'd have to acknowledge that both these media do the same, albeit in very different ways. All these fictional worlds or stories are constructed so that the recipient is drawn into the experience.
Any way you choose to break down what 'entertainment' actually means--an activity people find either enjoyable or interesting, or a form of escapism--relates back to this as far as videogames are concerned. And let's not forget, as much as it may be a shocking revelation to some, that art does not have to be a chore. We are allowed to enjoy it. More than that, we have to 'enjoy' it--be interested enough in it, connected to it, feeling it on the intended level--for it to work at all.
Relatedly, returning to an artist's consideration of the recipient, it would be daft to say that any of these media are used as if there is no recipient, real or potential. Even the most self-absorbed and egotistical of authors wouldn't write a novel eschewing the very idea of a recipient--it makes no sense. The creation of art isn't just some spontaneous emotional fart; it's the act of putting it out there in the world for people to experience. There's a distinction, then, that has to be made between consciousness of a work of art being received and that work of art being moulded to the desires of the recipient in the way that Wilde meant.
As for interactivity, letting the player move bits of the world about, whether that be using an avatar or the avatar itself, does not qualify as this kind of moulding. Neither does allowing actions that result in changes to the world, because again this possibility has been intended. In other words, limited choice within the context of the gaming world is not the same as letting the player do whatever they want with that world. The rules of the world, and the scope of things that can happen (notwithstanding the exploitation of unintended bugs and glitches), have been put in place by the creators, and the player moving something across a field the designers created does not result in the artistic terms of this world being undermined. Why should it? The designers intended for you to be able to do this. Even if you have multiple options for movement--which you nearly always will, even in a fairly linear game--the designers letting you pick whichever option does not undermine their expressed world because what is being expressed is not dependent on absolutely scripted events, and was never meant to be.
A game designer has as much control as he or she desires. If they really want total control over every move and a completely scripted outcome, then this medium is not appropriate for what they are trying to achieve, and they should make a film or write a book instead.
In theory, then, a game can be built according to whatever terms the designer likes and they don't even have to consider what the player wants, beyond ensuring that everything has been done to maintain the player's engagement on a technical level--just like a badly-written novel or a poorly-made film aren't going to be very effective no matter what the people behind them are trying to present.
In practice, of course, market conditions mean that most games are churned out exactly according to what the designers think people like, and we get a lot of the same unimaginative thing as a result. Wilde probably wouldn't like that too much. But then the same is, again, true for films and books.
And besides this, not every activity in life has to be such a deep experience. Sometimes our brains just like being preoccupied, and we don't have to be enhanced as a person for it to be a worthwhile activity for thirty minutes every day, or a couple of hours every once in a while.*
So I'm under no illusion that all gamers are looking for some profound experience beyond 'beating' the game. But, for as long as we're talking about the art of it, most games use this specific goal-oriented immersion to take us places that transcend the simple act of beating it, and the best games are those that do this the most meaningfully. That's where the art is. I'll talk about this some more when I get on to videogames and story in more detail.
*Games are often deemed a waste of life on this account, but think of sports: there are obviously health benefits to doing sports, but how many people play a particular sport just for the health benefits? The same goes for transferable skills: even if we accepted the (somewhat dubious) claim that football skills, say, are transferable to other areas of our life, as well as the claim that videogames give us no such skills, who can honestly say that they play football primarily for the development of such transferable skills? People play football because they think it's fun.
This is because gaming is there in sports too: you've got your rules, your objectives and your challenges, all contrived and predefined. Of course, the experience is very different from sitting down and playing a videogame, the physicality of it making it different even if health had nothing to do with it (and I'm not saying that videogames could ever replace sports). But it's perfectly acceptable to say you're playing these games for the sake of the game. Everything in moderation, obviously, and addiction is always a possibility with anything like this, but there's no reason why gaming should be such a guilty activity. Five minutes of Pong is probably not going to be a huge experience for you, but it's not going to hurt.
Labels: i am the ramblemaster, videogames
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Shamelessly Sexy Merchandise
I unearthed this thing. Look at its face.
One of those 'FREE INSIDE' cereal box things, from 1999 or thereabouts. If I remember correctly, she was promoted alongside Crash Bandicoot and Spyro the Dragon. Hot stuff.
One of those 'FREE INSIDE' cereal box things, from 1999 or thereabouts. If I remember correctly, she was promoted alongside Crash Bandicoot and Spyro the Dragon. Hot stuff.
Labels: tomb raider, videogames
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Just Finished Halo 3...
...in a day.
Courtesy of brother, who got an Xbox 360.
Observations:
(1) That was immense.
(2) It was also way too short.
(3) Where is my life.
Courtesy of brother, who got an Xbox 360.
Observations:
(1) That was immense.
(2) It was also way too short.
(3) Where is my life.
Labels: halo, videogames
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Yes, They Look Like Turds
Sometimes we do things that we just can't explain. Here is one of them.
Organza and the Minislugs, NOW IN 3D. Recreated, with a limited set of tools, in the Spore Creature Creator free trial:
Here's a few more.
Further notes:
(1) Spaceslugs not to scale.
(2) The trial was appallingly low on wig material.
(3) Yes, I got carried away.
(4) If the Nousus danced, they would dance like this:
(5) I just defiled my blog.
Organza and the Minislugs, NOW IN 3D. Recreated, with a limited set of tools, in the Spore Creature Creator free trial:
Here's a few more.
Further notes:
(1) Spaceslugs not to scale.
(2) The trial was appallingly low on wig material.
(3) Yes, I got carried away.
(4) If the Nousus danced, they would dance like this:
(5) I just defiled my blog.
Labels: starcustard, videogames
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Portal
The cake is a lie.
A few days ago I downloaded Valve's action puzzle game Portal from their Steam service - which is, to be honest, a pain in the backside, because I usually have to launch the thing at least twice before it actually decides to work.
But Portal...Portal is a good game. The word 'innovative' has been thrown around a lot, which is always one to be wary of, in the same way that people who describe themselves as 'creative' are usually too preoccupied with being 'creative' to actually create anything worthwhile. But Portal does seem quite innovative, while at the same time being a wholesome and satisfying, albeit brief, gaming experience. The following review is very spoilery.
The basic mechanic of the game is actually quite simple, and comes with your only weapon, the Portal Gun, which you can use to set up an entry and exit portal anywhere in a room (surfaces allowing). Using these portals, you are required to solve a series of increasingly difficult and complex puzzles in the form of various 'Test Chambers', overseen by an artificial intelligence known as GLaDOS who continually promises the reward of cake at the end - although you soon realise that these 'tests' are something more sinister, and that you may never get the promised cake.
Due to mandatory scheduled maintenance, the appropriate chamber for this testing sequence is currently unavailable. It has been replaced with a live fire course, designed for military androids. The Enrichment Centre apologizes for the inconvenience and wishes you the best of luck.
While the puzzles themselves are enough to keep you entertained, the Test Chambers in which they take place are quite monotonous in their white, clinical appearance. But what I found was that as the story began gradually to seep through, this made the telltale signs, like the desperate graffiti scrawled on the walls in hidden places, all the more effective in building up a feeling of tension and paranoia. Coupled with GLaDOS's increasingly blatant attempts to trick and murder you (all the while firing increasingly passive-aggressive remarks in your direction), the game becomes an immersive, darkly amusing, and singularly odd experience.
The Enrichment Center reminds you that the Weighted Companion Cube [a big cube with a pink heart on it] will never threaten to stab you and, in fact, cannot speak. [...] In the event that the Weighted Companion Cube does speak, the Enrichment Center urges you to disregard its advice.
Some of GLaDOS's best ramblings can be found for your listening pleasure here, including 'Still Alive', the song played at the credits after you've fought GLaDOS in the weirdest boss fight you'll probably ever have witnessed.
There was even going to be a party for you. A big party, that all your friends were invited to. I invited your best friend, the Companion Cube, but of course, he couldn't come because you murdered him. All your other friends couldn't come either because you don't have any other friends, because of how unlikeable you are. It says so right here in your personnel file: unlikeable. Liked by no-one. A bitter, unlikeable loner, whose passing shall not be mourned. Shall not be mourned. That's exactly what it says. Very formal. Very official. It also says you were adopted. So that's funny too.
I could go on quoting GLaDOS all day, but I'll stop here. Whoever wrote all this stuff is some kind of genius. Portal certainly has some of the most original storytelling I've seen in a game. I heartily, with a heart just like the Weighted Companion Cube's, recommend it.
Labels: videogames
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Fight Unfinished
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.
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
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Indeed
I've been clearing out my room ready to head off to Uni. These sort of diggings always unearth some interesting, forgotten old stuff, although having done this before and stored many things away for safekeeping in a myriad collection of files and folders already, there wasn't really much left to find this time around. But I did find this thing, which I guess is a sort of sequel to this:
Kind of appropriate, considering I just fired up the old PlayStation to play Tekken 3.
Also, this:
I've been singing it. I think I remember it now.
Kind of appropriate, considering I just fired up the old PlayStation to play Tekken 3.
Also, this:
I've been singing it. I think I remember it now.
Labels: fat men in tweed, sketches and doodles, tekken, videogames
Saturday, November 18, 2006
A Foreword In Hindsight
When you begin a story, you don't really know in which direction it's going to go. Well, I don't. And it can take a while for things to start to come together and for ideas to solidify, and sometimes I'm left changing something over and over and over because every single time there is something I'm not satisfied with. Every time I'll say, 'This is it! This is the absolute final version!', more recently prefixed with the word 'hopefully' with as much emphasis through italics, bolding, underlining or capitalising as I feel my desperation warrants, but then a week or a month later I'll want to go back and change it.
This has been a chronic issue with one story in particular. But then, that's what I get for deciding that I want a story revolving around a character called Master Beef. Why have I been so intent on writing a story about Master Beef? It's been causing me to tear my hair out at various points for the last three years, and with each revision there's been something that I'm just not happy with; something not quite right with how I've written it.
I think...I may be mad. How it's even got to this stage, I do not know.
But now I can honestly say things are finally starting to come together. As I have discussed at intolerable length before, the various components of The Aberration have come from all over the place, but now everything feels relevant, coherent and properly part of the whole, although it has taken a long time for it to be this way.
It is still a story about Master Beef. It has always been a story about Master Beef, and it always will be. There are still one or two characters shamelessly based on people I know that I just thought it would be cool to include. There are also still gratuitous references to a certain video game. There are still these ideas from all over the place, but everything finally feels as though it's starting to properly come together, and although I most definitely do not have it all completely figured out yet (where would be the fun in that?), I think I'm ready to present this story more or less as I want it to be.
I'm not going to lie and say that I won't go back and make some more changes if I see the need to, but whereas with previous revisions there have been feelings of, 'Gngh. It's not great, but it'll do,' thus leading to further revisions later on, this time...I'm just about happy with it. So go read it again!
And here's Chapter 6. It's odd that for so long I've been striving to get Beef just right, basing it on some perception of the character that never was in any previous version of him. But I think I've finally nailed it.
This has been a chronic issue with one story in particular. But then, that's what I get for deciding that I want a story revolving around a character called Master Beef. Why have I been so intent on writing a story about Master Beef? It's been causing me to tear my hair out at various points for the last three years, and with each revision there's been something that I'm just not happy with; something not quite right with how I've written it.
I think...I may be mad. How it's even got to this stage, I do not know.
But now I can honestly say things are finally starting to come together. As I have discussed at intolerable length before, the various components of The Aberration have come from all over the place, but now everything feels relevant, coherent and properly part of the whole, although it has taken a long time for it to be this way.
It is still a story about Master Beef. It has always been a story about Master Beef, and it always will be. There are still one or two characters shamelessly based on people I know that I just thought it would be cool to include. There are also still gratuitous references to a certain video game. There are still these ideas from all over the place, but everything finally feels as though it's starting to properly come together, and although I most definitely do not have it all completely figured out yet (where would be the fun in that?), I think I'm ready to present this story more or less as I want it to be.
I'm not going to lie and say that I won't go back and make some more changes if I see the need to, but whereas with previous revisions there have been feelings of, 'Gngh. It's not great, but it'll do,' thus leading to further revisions later on, this time...I'm just about happy with it. So go read it again!
And here's Chapter 6. It's odd that for so long I've been striving to get Beef just right, basing it on some perception of the character that never was in any previous version of him. But I think I've finally nailed it.
Labels: halo, i am the ramblemaster, the aberration, videogames
Sunday, May 07, 2006
The Fat Men In Tweed (A History of Development: Part 2)
So why did I choose fatmanintweed.com? Where did the fat men in tweed come from? Such things would most suitably be answered in...
Part 2: The Fat Men In Tweed
So... there is this Tesco Value notepad I have, with only a few pages filled. On the first of these pages is a list of poems that never got written, bar one.
I'd walked in on my brother playing one of the Grand Theft Auto games on his laptop. The third one, I think. He was wreaking havoc with a rocket launcher in a cybercafé. I remember seeing a fat man flying up into the air. He may or may not have been wearing tweed.
I don't quite know what happened next. But then there was this idea for a poem. I'd been having lots of ideas for poems. Well, lots of images and concepts, that I liked, and wanted to make into poems.
There are seven ideas written on that first page. Only the first one got written. The third one says, Ten Fat Men in Tweed.
I'm standing on a hill. This is the image I had in my mind. I'm standing on a hill, the land vast and green and undulating all around me. And then, over the horizon, they come running at great speed. The narrative pays close attention to how they run, how their flab moves about, how the ground shakes. I start running.
Something something something something, the ten fat men in tweed. There was a rhythm to it. I remember that being part of the reason I liked it. It sounded good. It sounded like it would make a good poem. It rolled off the tongue. The Ten Fat Men in Tweed.
I never wrote the poem. But I liked the idea. It amused me. It intrigued me how you could make something like that so inhuman, and scarily powerful. How the hideous mass made it evil and repulsive. How this could all be processed in the mind, while accepting that they're wearing something as dull and down-to-earth as tweed. There was a novelty to this image, a weird paradox.
I liked it so much that the fat men in tweed ended up appearing in all sorts of places, in all sorts of forms.
-- From the drafts for the original Agaffa.
-- From The Pterry Board Epic.
-- From my GCSE English coursework.
As an image that still amuses me, fatmanintweed.com seemed only appropriate.
Part 2: The Fat Men In Tweed
So... there is this Tesco Value notepad I have, with only a few pages filled. On the first of these pages is a list of poems that never got written, bar one.
I'd walked in on my brother playing one of the Grand Theft Auto games on his laptop. The third one, I think. He was wreaking havoc with a rocket launcher in a cybercafé. I remember seeing a fat man flying up into the air. He may or may not have been wearing tweed.
I don't quite know what happened next. But then there was this idea for a poem. I'd been having lots of ideas for poems. Well, lots of images and concepts, that I liked, and wanted to make into poems.
There are seven ideas written on that first page. Only the first one got written. The third one says, Ten Fat Men in Tweed.
I'm standing on a hill. This is the image I had in my mind. I'm standing on a hill, the land vast and green and undulating all around me. And then, over the horizon, they come running at great speed. The narrative pays close attention to how they run, how their flab moves about, how the ground shakes. I start running.
Something something something something, the ten fat men in tweed. There was a rhythm to it. I remember that being part of the reason I liked it. It sounded good. It sounded like it would make a good poem. It rolled off the tongue. The Ten Fat Men in Tweed.
I never wrote the poem. But I liked the idea. It amused me. It intrigued me how you could make something like that so inhuman, and scarily powerful. How the hideous mass made it evil and repulsive. How this could all be processed in the mind, while accepting that they're wearing something as dull and down-to-earth as tweed. There was a novelty to this image, a weird paradox.
I liked it so much that the fat men in tweed ended up appearing in all sorts of places, in all sorts of forms.
ZimmaZoom™ flew across the conveyer belt, which was one of many in the massive network that ran throughout Tokyo. Of course, there were faster forms of transport: bean-shaped aircrafts flew around in the air above them, weaving their way through skyscraper tips (of which were neatly rounded as part of the Tokyo Sky-Safety Act of 2215).
Agaffa, Tokyo's notoriously grouchy elderly pensioner, sped up ZimmaZoom™ (zimmer frames were so outdated) and knocked over a dozen business people and a fat man in tweed. 'Muahaha!' she chuckled, patting her loyal machine. As Zimma (the name she gave it sometimes) slowed down, the conveyer belt passengers started to return to normal.
So Agaffa decided to reverse.
The fat man in tweed got his arm caught in the propellor in the back and he was spun round, making odd whimpers as he went.
-- From the drafts for the original Agaffa.
Not even evil horses could withstand such immense evil as this. It would break their backs and then poke their corpses mockingly. This evil: the Ten Fat Men In Tweed, forever drawn to the power of a new item of magical clothing: the Whatever Waistcoat. Tweed hats, jackets, trousers and black shoes so shiny you could see your reflection in them. Lord Winterseeson didn't know what he was getting himself into...
-- From The Pterry Board Epic.
Meanwhile, a hologram in the form of a portly man dressed in tweed appeared. He plodded over to the dead body which was sprawled untidily across the ground, sat down on it, and smoked his pipe. He had nothing to worry about.
-- From my GCSE English coursework.
As an image that still amuses me, fatmanintweed.com seemed only appropriate.
Labels: a history of development, agaffa, excerpts, fat men in tweed, i am the ramblemaster, the aberration, videogames
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Bananas and Laxatives (A History of Development: Part 1)
My Big Orange File, or BOF, is something of a personal artefact. It spans roughly a year's worth of writing, starting from the end of 2002 to the fruitful backside of 2003, and contains the beginnings of such, er, well-loved creations as Agaffa, Master Beef, and the G'raffe Song. This, along with a mostly-empty Tesco Value notepad containing only a list of strange poem titles and the single one that actually got written, is my starting point, as I attempt to answer... a question.
In almost every interview with an author I've read, the author gets asked, 'Where do you get your ideas from?', which has always struck me as a rather stupid thing to ask. But, whereas most authors will answer vaguely, 'Oh, from all over the place, really...', and while I make no claim to being a 'proper', published author, I'm going to attempt to answer it properly. And I'm going to do it through The Aberration, because doing stuff through examples is the best way, dudes.
Alright, yes, this is just a bad excuse to waffle at length about a lot of my old stuff, and probably the only person it's remotely interesting to is myself, but I'd rather procrastinate on a grand scale than do any kind of proper work, and as this is my blog, I can do what I like. And anyway, there are some answers to such vitally important questions as, 'Why "Master Beef"?', 'What made you pick Fat Man In Tweed as your website name?', and 'Why does Amelia call you "muffinkid"?' in there somewhere. And also: pretty pictures.
Note: this won't be in much of a coherent order, as ideas don't have a habit of forming coherently. Be warned: random tangents abound.
Part 1: Bananas and Laxatives
(From the Fod conception scripts. Olli went over the green writing to make it more legible, using an illegible font.)
Fod, started in February 2003, was another attempt, after a long line of them, at a collaborative website with friend Olli Smith. My first idea for it was a spoof of the video game Halo. I named it Bananas and Laxatives, and it was the first time I'd really put any of my writing online. It was consciously bad quality, containing gratuitous swearing and all the character mutilations and twisted ways to mess up the Halo universe that my fourteen-year-old mind could think of. The Covenant, the main enemy, became the Convent: an alliance of nuns, prostitutes, politicians and pro-wrestlers.
(Random aside: on page 299 of The Fall of Reach, one of the official Halo novels, 'Covenant' is actually typo'd as 'Convent'. Well, I laughed.)
Most chapters were accompanied by a screenshot from the game, beautifully transformed in Microsoft Paint. (Ironically, Cortana ended up with long hair in Halo 2 anyway. They obviously modelled her on her B&L equivalent, Bore-Tana.)
The line of thought when I wrote this was 'What rhymes with "Master Chief" that would be hilarious?' Of course, 'Master Beef' was the spectacular end result. His pink rabbit costume was just another result of the mounting ridiculousness...
And so it continued...
(I later used the muffin on the right of the image above as an avatar on a message board. Eyebrows were raised, questions were asked, and, well, the muffin became an integral part of my dazzling persona. That, ladies and gentlemen, is why Amelia calls me 'muffinkid'.)
343 Salty Mark, also known as The Microwave, was the result of a conversation with my brother as I was playing the final level of Halo, jumping around and throwing grenades into things. He commented on how he thought it was all very unfair on Guilty Spark and the Sentinels, because they were just trying to protect themselves. I asked how the machines had formed, not really knowing the background to the game in much detail. He replied, 'I don't know, they evolved from microwaves or something.'
We laughed.
Bananas and Laxatives was never properly completed, although I did start writing the sequel, Bananas and Laxatives 2: Fragmentation Memories, supposedly the 'third person' diaries of Master Beef chronicling the events that took place after Beef returned home. It was to feature the return of such characters as the Convent, Sam and Salty Mark, along with new characters such as Lara Schmoft, Captain Knees, a talking walrus taking residence at WarrenWorld themepark, and Master Cheese. Most of the ideas I had for the sequel were jotted down on several post-it notes that I still have. A third story was also considered, a Matrix parody in which Beef wasn't even the main protagonist, but was to die spectacularly at the end.
But...it wasn't to be, and Bananas and Laxatives was abandoned after a rather nonsensical final chapter for the original story was posted on a message board and completely ignored, revealing Halo and the events surrounding it as a huge conspiracy staged by a massive laxatives company.
And, well, I quite liked writing about the character of the hilariously named Master Beef. And so I continued to do so.
In almost every interview with an author I've read, the author gets asked, 'Where do you get your ideas from?', which has always struck me as a rather stupid thing to ask. But, whereas most authors will answer vaguely, 'Oh, from all over the place, really...', and while I make no claim to being a 'proper', published author, I'm going to attempt to answer it properly. And I'm going to do it through The Aberration, because doing stuff through examples is the best way, dudes.
Alright, yes, this is just a bad excuse to waffle at length about a lot of my old stuff, and probably the only person it's remotely interesting to is myself, but I'd rather procrastinate on a grand scale than do any kind of proper work, and as this is my blog, I can do what I like. And anyway, there are some answers to such vitally important questions as, 'Why "Master Beef"?', 'What made you pick Fat Man In Tweed as your website name?', and 'Why does Amelia call you "muffinkid"?' in there somewhere. And also: pretty pictures.
Note: this won't be in much of a coherent order, as ideas don't have a habit of forming coherently. Be warned: random tangents abound.
Part 1: Bananas and Laxatives
(From the Fod conception scripts. Olli went over the green writing to make it more legible, using an illegible font.)
Fod, started in February 2003, was another attempt, after a long line of them, at a collaborative website with friend Olli Smith. My first idea for it was a spoof of the video game Halo. I named it Bananas and Laxatives, and it was the first time I'd really put any of my writing online. It was consciously bad quality, containing gratuitous swearing and all the character mutilations and twisted ways to mess up the Halo universe that my fourteen-year-old mind could think of. The Covenant, the main enemy, became the Convent: an alliance of nuns, prostitutes, politicians and pro-wrestlers.
(Random aside: on page 299 of The Fall of Reach, one of the official Halo novels, 'Covenant' is actually typo'd as 'Convent'. Well, I laughed.)
Most chapters were accompanied by a screenshot from the game, beautifully transformed in Microsoft Paint. (Ironically, Cortana ended up with long hair in Halo 2 anyway. They obviously modelled her on her B&L equivalent, Bore-Tana.)
A violin tune that sounded like a strangled cat (if they make any noise) played as Captain PLEEEAAASE gave Bore-Tana the bad news the Convent was rapidly approaching. Bore-Tana had a tantrum. 'But I don't wanna be a nun!' she wailed.
Reveille It Up!
Meanwhile, in the cry-o-tube place thingy, Master Beef awoke. He started crying as he got out and a small man rushed to him. It was Pitri.
'It's OK, sir,' he said. 'We'll have you warmed up in no time!' He handed Beef a hot cocoa with marshmallows as he sniffled. He slurped at it.
'Why's he crying?' asked Sam, calling and leaning on the very big fragile glass window on the wall.
'It's a cry-o-tube, Sam, you dumbass!'
'Sorry Pitri. I'll just bring his health online then.'
'I suppose you should.' said Pitri.
'He needs his shield, Pitri. Give him that, if you can manage.'
'Dumbass!' Pitri handed Beef a silver tea tray. 'It will come in very handy, sir!'
'Thank you, Pitri.' said Beef. 'Thank you, Dumbass!' he called up to Sam.
'Sir, my name isn't Dumbass!'
The line of thought when I wrote this was 'What rhymes with "Master Chief" that would be hilarious?' Of course, 'Master Beef' was the spectacular end result. His pink rabbit costume was just another result of the mounting ridiculousness...
There was a knocking at the automatic door (is that bloody possible?). Dumbass...er...I mean Sam...opened it. Then they flooded in; ghostly figures in black that glided across the room and surrounded him. 'We come in the peace and the harmony of the Universe,' one sang in a high voice. 'Stay calm as we melt your...BRAIN!!!' The last word was particularly high and screechy and the huge glass panel smashed, causing Sam to fall to his doom. What a dumbass...
Luckily, the few nuns that fell through with him ended their lives with a sticky splat, but Pitri and Beef were running out of time. 'Quick sir!' said Pitri. 'This way!' The two of them ran through an automatic door (which apparently you can knock) and Beef knelt down to tie his bootlace. Pitri ran on ahead, but the nuns' echoing voices made his head explode.
'Bugger!' exclaimed Beef. Now he had no weapons and, because Pitri was gone, no shield either. The nuns had probably engulfed his tea tray. He looked back through the door window. NO!! They were using it to have a tea party! They had those cursed china toy cups and saucers too!
'Would you like some tea, Maggie?' one sang. 'Yes please!' chirruped another.
This whole thing was a disaster! Maybe if he looked into his new costume he would find help. NOOOOOOOOOOOO! It was a fluffy pink bunny costume rented from WarrenWorld Theme Park! The best thing he could do was to take a sharp turn left and go through the girls' bathroom.
And so it continued...
'Beeeeeef!' came a deep, irritated voice from one of the other cubicles. Beef plodded through the cubicles following the voice until he opened the final cubicle door and there was a head sticking out of the toilet. 'Beeeeeef! You made it!'
'What the fuck are you doing in there?'
'It's a long story,' said the captain. 'But I'll bore you with it anyway!'
After some confusion, Bore-Tana and Master Beef found themselves stuck in Gecko 4-19 with Poo Whammer and five mindless Marines. One, called Billy, had a perpetual smile and wouldn't take his eyes off Beef. 'I have new socks on!' he grinned, revealing red socks with some balloons on.
'Right, you motherfuckers, get off my Pelican! I have work to do!' The metallic ship suddenly went on a slant and the seven of them slid out of the cargo bay and hit the sandy ground hard. As Gecko 4-19 flew off, another Pelican landed and dropped off five more Marines.
'Wahoo! All right! Let's party!' The ten of them started doing the conga as Master Beef and Bore-Tana watched in dismay.
Beef armed himself with his assault rifle and followed them, keeping his distance.
He rubbed his hands together. 'Oohoohoo, this'll be fun!' He climbed in and made doubly sure that he found the turret switch while Sam got in beside him. 'Here comes Master Beef, protector of the universe that's not even worth saving!' He laughed loudly. 'Ooooooooh, it has machine guns, too!'
The tank, in all its half glory, rolled over and crushed the landscape, proudly and merrily. The three comrades sang true patriotic songs ('The wheels on the tank go round and round...') as they aimed for nowhere in particular.
'Brghgeehfghe!'
'What was that?'
'What?'
'Brhghefhghe!'
'The door, it's...opening!'
'God, no! How can this possibly be?'
'Shut up, Jenkins!'
'Brhghegfhdgfdgehghe!'
'Argh! It's on my face! It's small and brown and tasty and it's attacking me! Argh!'
'Haha!'
'Shut up Jenkins and fire your weapon! No, Jenkins, don't pick your nose again. What the--argh!'
'Hello, Mr Small Round Person! Wha? Get away from me! I don't like you! Argh!'
>>>UNEXPECTED HALT X. BLOCKBUSTER NOTICE: DAMAGED TAPE FINE $10. PLEASE VISIT US AGAIN SOON.
The Crud
Beef took his helmet off. 'That was odd.'
'Brhhghgefhehhghe!'
'What the--'
'Brghghghfhfhghfhfgmmmmmmmmm!'
'Uh oh...'
Suddenly, small, round, brown creatures came oozing through the doors.
'M...M...' Beef stuttered.
They crawled and bounced closer towards him; he armed himself with his assault rifle.
'Muffins!'
One of them lunged at his mouth and exploded in his fur.
'Oh my fuck, they're double chocolate!' He fired rapidly at them; dozens of chocolate explosions alerted more of them, and soon all six doors became muffin entrances.
He turned to the door he had originally come through. There, stood the Sarge of the previous gang, but he wasn't the old Sarge. He was...one of them. There was a strenuous fart, a constipated sounding wheeze and the mutated Crud-form Sarge lunged himself at Beef.
The shotgun was always the answer to everything.
Beef escaped while he could, running through the continuous waves of Crud, who had conveniently starting appearing since they were introduced to the storyline. Beef encountered countless muffins, Crud-Marines and even Crud Nuns. The most horrific of all, though, were the huge muffin-headed ones that stupidly fell over and exploded, scattering dozens of new muffins.
(I later used the muffin on the right of the image above as an avatar on a message board. Eyebrows were raised, questions were asked, and, well, the muffin became an integral part of my dazzling persona. That, ladies and gentlemen, is why Amelia calls me 'muffinkid'.)
Suddenly, a microwave started to hover over his head. 'Greetings!' it said in an accent that was supposed to be English but you could tell it was American. It pinged, its door flung open and a pie went flying into a huddle of nearby muffins. 'I am 343 Salty Mark. This has got out of hand. I ask you to come with me, but in the end you haven't really got a choice, because I'll just teleport you anyway. Come.'
There was some yellow ambience and the two of them disappeared.
'Beef?' came the voice of Poo Whammer on the radio. 'Beef, I've lost your signal! Beef? Beef! Haha, sucker.'
343 Salty Mark, also known as The Microwave, was the result of a conversation with my brother as I was playing the final level of Halo, jumping around and throwing grenades into things. He commented on how he thought it was all very unfair on Guilty Spark and the Sentinels, because they were just trying to protect themselves. I asked how the machines had formed, not really knowing the background to the game in much detail. He replied, 'I don't know, they evolved from microwaves or something.'
We laughed.
Then Salty Mark remembered that the Crud were lurking closely. 'We must avoid the you-know-what,' he said. 'I am not a public cafeteria and do not have enough pies for all of them!'
Beef took a book off one of the shelves.Salty Mark Snacks
The Definitive
Salt Snack Guide
'You're an author?' Beef asked.
'I prefer to think of myself as a chef, but yes, if that's what you want me to be.'
'Actually, I couldn't care less.' said Beef. 'I'm just trying to make small conversation for the hell of it.'
'Debt Reclaimer?'
'Yeah?'
'You are an ass.'
''K.'
Bananas and Laxatives was never properly completed, although I did start writing the sequel, Bananas and Laxatives 2: Fragmentation Memories, supposedly the 'third person' diaries of Master Beef chronicling the events that took place after Beef returned home. It was to feature the return of such characters as the Convent, Sam and Salty Mark, along with new characters such as Lara Schmoft, Captain Knees, a talking walrus taking residence at WarrenWorld themepark, and Master Cheese. Most of the ideas I had for the sequel were jotted down on several post-it notes that I still have. A third story was also considered, a Matrix parody in which Beef wasn't even the main protagonist, but was to die spectacularly at the end.
But...it wasn't to be, and Bananas and Laxatives was abandoned after a rather nonsensical final chapter for the original story was posted on a message board and completely ignored, revealing Halo and the events surrounding it as a huge conspiracy staged by a massive laxatives company.
And, well, I quite liked writing about the character of the hilariously named Master Beef. And so I continued to do so.
Labels: a history of development, agaffa, bananas and laxatives, excerpts, halo, i am the ramblemaster, the aberration, videogames
Saturday, October 08, 2005
117 Words
A couple of months ago, a competition was started at HBO where the challenge was to come up with something (anything) Halo-related with the length of 117 words. Apparently there were about 175 entries in all. Today they posted the top 117. Contrary to what I initially thought, that list is not in the order of competition ranking. I'm guessing it's the order in which they were submitted, but I don't know. They picked the best 117, and then shortlisted 14 of them, and then picked the three winners from that.
I submitted two entries. I am now in a happy mood because they both made it into the top 117. The first, In Character (which is about the story and characters), is number 21 on that list, and the second, Handshake (which is more about the technical aspect of the game), is number 94. I'm surprised my second entry made it into the top 117 considering it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I can't help wondering how they would have fared if they had been posted in rank order, but meh. I be content. :)
P.S. Please ignore any horrific grammatical errors.
I submitted two entries. I am now in a happy mood because they both made it into the top 117. The first, In Character (which is about the story and characters), is number 21 on that list, and the second, Handshake (which is more about the technical aspect of the game), is number 94. I'm surprised my second entry made it into the top 117 considering it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I can't help wondering how they would have fared if they had been posted in rank order, but meh. I be content. :)
P.S. Please ignore any horrific grammatical errors.
Labels: halo, videogames
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath
About a week ago, I bought the game Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath. It is now one of my favourite games ever, possibly even beating Halo and Halo 2. Those of you who know me and know how much I like those game will probably be quite astonished to hear that. I've decided to share just exactly why I enjoyed this game so much. This is my first full review of a game, and this blog seems the perfect place to post it.
To start with: some slightly sentimental background. Feel free to skip it.
In 1998, my brother and I got a PlayStation. I got two games, one of which was Oddworld: Abe's Exoddus, a 2D platform game, the main aim of which was to save as many Mudokons from the greedy corporate cluthes of the Glukkons as possible, with 300 in total, a million secret areas making this task especially difficult, and you being a Mudoken yourself. If these names make no sense to you at all, go look them up. You, Abe, had to do all this by getting through various situations by jumping, rolling, creeping, running away from and generally avoiding things like mines, drills, Slig gunfire (Sligs being one of the best video game characters EVER), and getting eaten alive by the world's various inhabitants. You could also chant, to open portals so that Mudokons could escape, and to allow you to possess nearby enemies, who could kill and sometimes control other enemies.
I didn't get very far in it for a while, what with having no memory card and all, but when I eventually managed to make some progress with it, one of the things I really liked about it was the rich story, with all the various creatures and characters and all the different places you went. It had a perfect balance of darkness and humour, and incredible backdrops everywhere you went.
The next Oddworld game, Munch's Oddysee, was how my brother managed to persuade me that getting an Xbox was a better choice than getting a PS2. He wanted Halo. I didn't know anything about Halo and I didn't care. Oddworld called, now in 3D! It was a good game, but it lacked the same feel to it - it was much more cartoony, and despite its potentially darker storyline, it wasn't all that dark. The breathtaking aspect of the environments was lost in the change to 3D, and a lot of the textures were repeatedly and obviously tiled.
At the start of this year, in a moment of renewed interest what with the imminent release of the new game, I grabbed a copy of Abe's Oddysee, the first Oddworld game, off Ebay. It was the first of the 'Quintology', with Exoddus being a bonus game and Munch being the second. It had all the amazing art of Exoddus, but being an earlier game, was a little more restrictive in the various things you could do, and due to the lack of 'quicksave', it was much harder. The humour wasn't as present, but it was equally as dark.
Now onto the actual Stranger's Wrath review. Stranger's Wrath departed from the Quintology and its characters, but it saw the return of all the qualities that made the previous Oddworld games so good. You start the game off in an Old West-type environment and make your way up the Mongo River as the game progresses. For a while you're a bounty hunter, needing 20,000 Moolah for an operation. As you make your way through the various towns, each one has a list of outlaws that they want you to catch, dead or alive. To make it interesting, it's easier to catch them dead, but they're worth more alive. Each outlaw you go after is a boss of a group of outlaws, and the same applies to every single one of them, making the gameplay much more interesting. The final battle with each outlaw is set up differently, maintaining this interest.
One of the most talked-about feature in all the reviews I read was the ability to switch between third- and first-person views, with the running around and meleeing done in the third-person, and when you switched to first-person, how it became a proper first person shooter. The other strongly-advertised feature was that the ammo you use is literally 'live'. Throughout the places you go, usually just before a battle or confrontation, you are given an area where your ammunition is flying around in the air or bouncing along on the ground, and you have to hunt it: fire at it and take it. You can buy ammo in a general store as well, but it costs. You can get explosive Boombats, hard-hitting Thudslugs or rapid-firing Stingbees, to name a few. As the game advances, upgrades become available. You can load up to two types of ammo at any time onto your special crossbow, which appears in the FP view. It all gives the game character, one which I personally find really appealing.
I was very sceptical about an Oddworld FPS at all, because it was such a departure from the other games, but it really works. The different types of ammo are needed for different situations because of their various functions, perhaps more so than other FPS games. The strategy and having to work out how you're going to go about getting past certain parts is also still present to some extent. Use a Chippunk to draw an enemy to the spot where you want them, fire Fuzzles around around a doorway so as soon as someone steps through it they're ripped apart, fire a Zapfly at switches to activate mechanical devices.
The most striking thing about the whole game is how spectacular the environments are. The industrial areas are dark and creepy, the mystical natural places are even creepier. The detail is outstanding. Forests feel like forests, snow looks like proper snow, dust clouds blow through the streets of the towns... everywhere you turn you see something visually appealing. At one point early on in the game I remember being in a spot with a few plants and some seeds or something floating around in the air, and Thudslugs buzzing around... and the world felt real. It's an incredible improvement on Munch's Oddysee, and I haven't seen environments like it in any other game.
The gameplay remains interesting throughout the bounty-hunting stage, but gets really interesting, both in gameplay and story, roughly halfway through, after a brilliant twist in the tale. Here you really see some classic Oddworld, with the perfect balance between dark elements and humour that was seen in Abe's Exoddus. But I won't ruin that for you. Go buy it and see for yourself.
To start with: some slightly sentimental background. Feel free to skip it.
In 1998, my brother and I got a PlayStation. I got two games, one of which was Oddworld: Abe's Exoddus, a 2D platform game, the main aim of which was to save as many Mudokons from the greedy corporate cluthes of the Glukkons as possible, with 300 in total, a million secret areas making this task especially difficult, and you being a Mudoken yourself. If these names make no sense to you at all, go look them up. You, Abe, had to do all this by getting through various situations by jumping, rolling, creeping, running away from and generally avoiding things like mines, drills, Slig gunfire (Sligs being one of the best video game characters EVER), and getting eaten alive by the world's various inhabitants. You could also chant, to open portals so that Mudokons could escape, and to allow you to possess nearby enemies, who could kill and sometimes control other enemies.
I didn't get very far in it for a while, what with having no memory card and all, but when I eventually managed to make some progress with it, one of the things I really liked about it was the rich story, with all the various creatures and characters and all the different places you went. It had a perfect balance of darkness and humour, and incredible backdrops everywhere you went.
The next Oddworld game, Munch's Oddysee, was how my brother managed to persuade me that getting an Xbox was a better choice than getting a PS2. He wanted Halo. I didn't know anything about Halo and I didn't care. Oddworld called, now in 3D! It was a good game, but it lacked the same feel to it - it was much more cartoony, and despite its potentially darker storyline, it wasn't all that dark. The breathtaking aspect of the environments was lost in the change to 3D, and a lot of the textures were repeatedly and obviously tiled.
At the start of this year, in a moment of renewed interest what with the imminent release of the new game, I grabbed a copy of Abe's Oddysee, the first Oddworld game, off Ebay. It was the first of the 'Quintology', with Exoddus being a bonus game and Munch being the second. It had all the amazing art of Exoddus, but being an earlier game, was a little more restrictive in the various things you could do, and due to the lack of 'quicksave', it was much harder. The humour wasn't as present, but it was equally as dark.
Now onto the actual Stranger's Wrath review. Stranger's Wrath departed from the Quintology and its characters, but it saw the return of all the qualities that made the previous Oddworld games so good. You start the game off in an Old West-type environment and make your way up the Mongo River as the game progresses. For a while you're a bounty hunter, needing 20,000 Moolah for an operation. As you make your way through the various towns, each one has a list of outlaws that they want you to catch, dead or alive. To make it interesting, it's easier to catch them dead, but they're worth more alive. Each outlaw you go after is a boss of a group of outlaws, and the same applies to every single one of them, making the gameplay much more interesting. The final battle with each outlaw is set up differently, maintaining this interest.
One of the most talked-about feature in all the reviews I read was the ability to switch between third- and first-person views, with the running around and meleeing done in the third-person, and when you switched to first-person, how it became a proper first person shooter. The other strongly-advertised feature was that the ammo you use is literally 'live'. Throughout the places you go, usually just before a battle or confrontation, you are given an area where your ammunition is flying around in the air or bouncing along on the ground, and you have to hunt it: fire at it and take it. You can buy ammo in a general store as well, but it costs. You can get explosive Boombats, hard-hitting Thudslugs or rapid-firing Stingbees, to name a few. As the game advances, upgrades become available. You can load up to two types of ammo at any time onto your special crossbow, which appears in the FP view. It all gives the game character, one which I personally find really appealing.
I was very sceptical about an Oddworld FPS at all, because it was such a departure from the other games, but it really works. The different types of ammo are needed for different situations because of their various functions, perhaps more so than other FPS games. The strategy and having to work out how you're going to go about getting past certain parts is also still present to some extent. Use a Chippunk to draw an enemy to the spot where you want them, fire Fuzzles around around a doorway so as soon as someone steps through it they're ripped apart, fire a Zapfly at switches to activate mechanical devices.
The most striking thing about the whole game is how spectacular the environments are. The industrial areas are dark and creepy, the mystical natural places are even creepier. The detail is outstanding. Forests feel like forests, snow looks like proper snow, dust clouds blow through the streets of the towns... everywhere you turn you see something visually appealing. At one point early on in the game I remember being in a spot with a few plants and some seeds or something floating around in the air, and Thudslugs buzzing around... and the world felt real. It's an incredible improvement on Munch's Oddysee, and I haven't seen environments like it in any other game.
The gameplay remains interesting throughout the bounty-hunting stage, but gets really interesting, both in gameplay and story, roughly halfway through, after a brilliant twist in the tale. Here you really see some classic Oddworld, with the perfect balance between dark elements and humour that was seen in Abe's Exoddus. But I won't ruin that for you. Go buy it and see for yourself.
Labels: oddworld, videogames
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Why, Hello There!
Do you know what I have now, what with all my exams being over? Lots and lots of free time.
I admit, I'll probably be spending a lot of it playing Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath, but here's some of the stuff that's coming up...
Starcustard Chapter 4 isn't far from completion. It hasn't been for weeks, but, well, you know... I'm also part way through a Starcustard-related drawing. I'm making my first task finishing this off.
Olli mentioned revising/rewriting the first few chapters of Agaffa in a conversation at school. I don't know if we're still going through with that. We managed to finish Chapter 6 back in April, and we started Chapter 7, but there's most of that still to write.
(See also: Gnome Milk.)
The Aberration is the same as it has been for a while. The first three chapters are being partially rewritten, there are a few minor adjustments to make to Chapter 4, and Chapter 5 has barely been started.
The first part of City of Anarchy, a new project (with the characters based on the members of a message board I'm part of), will be posted online sometime next week. The second of the two drawings I'm currently working on is related to this.
And I want to make some progress with A Room Full of Zombies, my zombie game. I've had some neat ideas for this that I'm going to try and implement.
Nothing except the powers of procrastination and video games are standing in my way now. Time to get things done.
FATMANINTWEED.COM. COMING SOON.
I admit, I'll probably be spending a lot of it playing Oddworld: Stranger's Wrath, but here's some of the stuff that's coming up...
Starcustard Chapter 4 isn't far from completion. It hasn't been for weeks, but, well, you know... I'm also part way through a Starcustard-related drawing. I'm making my first task finishing this off.
Olli mentioned revising/rewriting the first few chapters of Agaffa in a conversation at school. I don't know if we're still going through with that. We managed to finish Chapter 6 back in April, and we started Chapter 7, but there's most of that still to write.
(See also: Gnome Milk.)
The Aberration is the same as it has been for a while. The first three chapters are being partially rewritten, there are a few minor adjustments to make to Chapter 4, and Chapter 5 has barely been started.
The first part of City of Anarchy, a new project (with the characters based on the members of a message board I'm part of), will be posted online sometime next week. The second of the two drawings I'm currently working on is related to this.
And I want to make some progress with A Room Full of Zombies, my zombie game. I've had some neat ideas for this that I'm going to try and implement.
Nothing except the powers of procrastination and video games are standing in my way now. Time to get things done.
FATMANINTWEED.COM. COMING SOON.
Labels: agaffa, city of anarchy, starcustard, the aberration, videogames, zombies
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Halo There
Now that the Easter holidays have started, I can start getting things done. And who knows? Maybe I even will. I have exam revision to be doing, but I'll still have quite a lot of free time.
The Aberration, Starcustard, Agaffa, A Room Full Of Zombies...and fatmanintweed.com. It's odd, I never really considered Kommingle as a 'project' as such...at least, not in the same way I consider all these other things to be...but with Fat Man In Tweed, it's different. It's a much bigger challenge now that I don't have anybody to rely on for the financial side of things, or for the webdesign.
Anyway.
Something completely unrelated: Master Beef, the protagonist of The Aberration, was originally created as the main character of a spoof of the first Halo game. The spoof was called Bananas and Laxatives. I intend to bring back some of the characters from the spoof. This will mean some nice Halo references for fans of the game(s), but it won't ruin it for those who don't really know anything about it.
You could always go and look up some information on the Halo games if you want to try and guess which characters' spoof versions are going to be used. :P
Or, alternatively, you could just not bother. Up to you, really.
The Aberration, Starcustard, Agaffa, A Room Full Of Zombies...and fatmanintweed.com. It's odd, I never really considered Kommingle as a 'project' as such...at least, not in the same way I consider all these other things to be...but with Fat Man In Tweed, it's different. It's a much bigger challenge now that I don't have anybody to rely on for the financial side of things, or for the webdesign.
Anyway.
Something completely unrelated: Master Beef, the protagonist of The Aberration, was originally created as the main character of a spoof of the first Halo game. The spoof was called Bananas and Laxatives. I intend to bring back some of the characters from the spoof. This will mean some nice Halo references for fans of the game(s), but it won't ruin it for those who don't really know anything about it.
You could always go and look up some information on the Halo games if you want to try and guess which characters' spoof versions are going to be used. :P
Or, alternatively, you could just not bother. Up to you, really.
Labels: agaffa, bananas and laxatives, halo, starcustard, the aberration, videogames, zombies
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