Intelligence and games: a poor pairing?

Today I read an article about the top games of 2007 in the UK. The chart itself was very different from the popular titles of the United States, but that's to be expected. The biggest difference, as noted by the author of the article, was that 2K's award winning shooter was nowhere to be seen on the UK list. This caused a great deal of discussion among readers of the article. In one disturbing reply, one reader commented in regards to BioShock: "It was a FANTASTIC title, but I'm sure all of this talk about noir, Art Deco, and objectivist undertones must have turned a few of the people off who regard games as day-end relief and not an exercise in artistry. "

While the statement is a factual one, I found myself revisiting it over and over in my thoughts, having discovered a sticking point about it that truly bothered me. I felt true indignation at the idea of being "turned off" by BioShock. The title was the very definition of an intellectual gaming experience - a rich storyline meshed with highly addictable gameplay mechanics. It made an unforgettable impact on me last year, and this article and comment provided a shocking contrast to that, shaking me outside of my own thoughts and into those of others for a few moments.

While it's perfectly understandable that a gamer may not always want a rich, thoughtful gaming experience and sometimes craves something simpler, it's unthinkable for me that a game like BioShock is not a welcome addition to our industry as a whole. More disturbing is the underlying concept, which suggests that "intelligent" games are looked down upon as a nuisance by some people.

I have days where I want to settle down and play a game where all I do is kill shit as much as the next guy. In the case of titles like Diablo, these can be addicting experiences than I go back to again and again. However, twenty of years of playing games puts me in a place where I do crave newness from the hobby I love, and bigger and better versions of what have come before don't always hit the nail on the head. Dynamic storytelling, however, can make all the difference.

If gamers look down on this, and all they want is more of the same, they crush some part of the very craft that creates the things that we cherish. I beg you - if you play games, and they have made a difference in your life, want more for their future than this. In order to continue, games have to be allowed to evolve, and supported by the people who love what they are. You don't have to personally play games like BioShock, but for the love of fucking Christ, use your eyes and see how they have helped break boundaries and push games to be more. They deserve your respect.

The Endgame Syndrome; Why do we abandon games?

As most of my Destructoid compatriots know, I await RPGs with intriguing storylines more than any other type of game. I enjoy nothing more than to sink myself into a rich plot, get to know the characters, and most of all, experience some form of emotional fulfillment at the end of the story for the work I've put into playing it. To my surprise, the last few I have looked forward to I've gotten fifty to sixty hours into and then simply never picked up again. Why this sudden transformation from game committment to total disinterest?

I clearly remember finishing a lot of the games I played for the NES, and I can't blame it on scarcity of product. Between friends that generously shared large cartridge collections and the game rental store down the street (Performance Hobby! I salute you), I played hundreds of games released for the system during its lifespan. Since I started playing often when I was about ten or so, I know I had the free time to complete them, but it seems to me something more was at work as to why I finished those games.

In the case of the games I was most driven to complete, I was so absorbed in them that I thought about them even when I wasn't playing them. Other new releases didn't get in the way because I wasn't interested in them until I completed the one I was playing. Chrono Trigger and Final Fantasy X were great examples. I held them akin to reading a great book - by reading other books at the same time, you distilled the purity of the experience of the story.

In the current state of gaming, releases come out so frequently that we constantly have new "stories" to choose from. The biggest catalyst of "Endgame Syndrome" is definitely this factor. Since production values and budgets have risen to new heights, most games are gorgeous to look at. Some argue that one must wade in a sea of pretty games to try to find the ones that are worthwhile, so consumers are constantly sifting through large amounts of content and don't have the patience to spend on completing a game.

Another major factor seems to be length. BioShock was completely engaging, yet presented the story in a shorter timeframe. The more time you have in which to tell a story, the more challenges one faces to keep a gamer engaged. Considering the average attention span is twenty minutes, it's no small feat to create a game that can remain interesting to a player after 40 hours of play. Structural variance is also a key -- If you're doing more or less the same actions for the majority of the game, are they fun to do?

Most difficult of all is the experience of playing an enjoyable game and then abandoning it after committing many hours to the storyline. Eternal Sonata, I'm sad to say, fell into this category. I was pleased with the story, but I didn't think about it when it wasn't in front of me. It leaves you feeling disappointed when Endgame Syndrome kicks in in these instances. I did want to see the ending, but the drive to do so just evaporated, leaving me as confused as waking up naked with an otter. ( I need to stop drinking at those Zoo-To-Do events.)

Is it that games aren't what they used to be, or is it that gamer attention spans have shortened over time? I fear that some of both are present, although I am always hoping to be pleasantly surprised. The shape of the industry that creates these games has dramatically changed. In 1985, few people would have dreamed that games would one day rival the film industry. As a result, more experimental projects may have turned into playable results, which at the very least promoted creativity.

Whatever the secret formula is, recent feedback proves even RPG giant Square-Enix can't always hit the nail on the head anymore. Avoiding Endgame Syndrome is simply a matter of being choosy about what titles you take home -- and even then, there's no ensuring you'll feel the spark. For me, those unforgettable stories that are worth finishing are worth the search, no matter how many duds I have to sort through to get there.

Moral ambiguity makes a defining mark in BioShock

I have been playing BioShock for a week and a half or so, just like the rest of you. Of course, the relationship between the Big Daddy and the Little Sister had been often discussed by the time the game was released, and everyone was already aware that there was a moral choice involved in harvesting or saving the Little Sisters. It sounded easy enough, and as I've killed plenty of innocents in my time behind the controller, it seemed the obvious route was to harvest the little girls and take them for all the Adam they're worth. We want to win at this game, after all.

I thought this until I attempted my first harvest. Not only is the result profoundly disturbing, but you're left feeling dirty somehow, and the corpse of the fallen Daddy next to you is somehow ominous even after its fall. Even more clever is what happens if you choose to rescue the Little Sister - her reaction to your kindness is somehow sadder than any violent reaction could have been. Even after taking down many of these creatures, I realized I still could not perceive Big Daddy as an actual enemy, even though it was more than capable of pummeling me into a useless pulp. It does not harm the player when it is not aggressively attacked. What are we to make of such a creature?

Some would say we are emotionally affected by this experience because of morals or personal beliefs. Some perceive the Big Daddy as a father, even though it clearly has no relation to the Little Sister in a physical manner. It could also appeal to the empathies of parents who feel the powerful drive to protect their children. Since I have not experienced either being a parent or having the father/daughter connection as it is portrayed here, I know that I must be affected by something else, perhaps a more primal instinct.

The Little Sister test is one which may say a great deal about the player as he or she chooses the child's fate. Perhaps it can be explained away as simple empathy or the desire to take care of others. We are presented with a situation that is affecting either way it is played out. The lines are not as clear as good and bad though; there is a moral ambiguity present here. Is it wrong to kill something that's clearly evil? Or is everything worth saving, regardless of how far gone it may be?

Bioshock demo liveblogged

Let me preface this post by saing that even though I have attached a picture to it, it does this title absolutely no justice whatsoever. Seeing screenshots and gameplay videos does not compare to the experience of seeing the world of Rapture open up before you.

I can say with all surety after playing this demo that 2k has made a masterpiece that is going to redefine the medium and perhaps create it's very own genre altogether. The game is marketed as a shooter, but is is infinitely more than what I know shooters to be, even at their very best. The average shooter lacks a story, and Bioshock is the absolute opposite of that. From the very first moment you emerge into the world, choking on water as you watch the airplane you crash landed in sink slowly into the sea, the story is already pulling you in with urgent intimacy. By the time you step through the golden doors of Rapture, you'll have completely forgotten about everything else.

Total immersion is not a good enough descriptive term for the first ten minutes of Bioshock. We are given a few moments to absorb this flawlessly designed universe before things go completely haywire. The atmosphere has a Art Deco-just-barely-masking-an-underground-cult vibe that somehow manages to strike the perfect balance between melancholy and madness. Meeting some of the residents of Rapture nails it down -- you've stumbled from real to surreal in a transition so smooth you never even noticed it was happening.

One thing I found remarkable about the game was how it exhibits features of multiple genres, but abstractly so, as you may smell many fragrances in a single perfume. The beginning reminds me a bit of the Myst series with it's incredible detail and immersiveness, but there are also traces of PC titles and indie games that it reminds me of. Most of all, Rapture reminds me of a world of adventure gaming we are rarely lucky enough to see anymore, and to see that merged with a popular genre like shooters gives me hope that I may continue to see more of the same -- or the birth of completely new genres altogether.

The only complaint I have is that the demo is short -- I was done in about 30 minutes, and I took my time looking around. Still, it has the intended effect of leaving you drooling for more. Had I been sitting here with the full title rather than a demo, I could have easily played until dawn and probably not have even noticed. It's everything you hoped it was and more. There aren't too many titles that I feel I can claim for the "games as art"argument, but Bioshock truly fits the bill. It's simply astonishing.

Would you play a horror MMO?

My Fourth of July was spent taking it easy (this is a chic phrase for slacking). I stayed in, played some old emulated games, and watched a couple of movies. I've been on a horror kick lately, and I haven't seen a Nightmare on Elm Street film for at least 5 years, so I borrowed a few from a friend and settled down for some bloody camp and bad dreams.

That was a pretty accurate description of what I got, too. Maybe they were scary in the eighties and nineties, but as a hardcore horror fan, I was only enjoying them because I was watching them through my retrogoggles -- and nothing more. I found them most non-frightening when Freddy Kreuger was onscreen, or even worse, when he had actual dialogue. (When were catchphrases EVER cool for evil demons?)

As usual after watching a horror film that I thought could have been more than it was, my inner mental diatribe immediately started on how horror isn't what it used to be, it isn't scary, why can't someone do something decent, and thank God there's a Silent Hill series at my disposal when I want to remember what it's like to be afraid. Magically, the topic of horror flourishing in games blended into another idea before I even realized what I was thinking of. Would I play a horror MMO?

You know, I would. HOLY COCKS YES I would. Immediately, all the secondary ideas came to mind. How would it work? Would people want to log in to a consistently frightening world? Why would it be frightening? Could an idea like Event Horizon's haunted ship be translated into an entire dimension? Bioshock has definitely got the idea -- The Rapture should unnerve many an explorer. However, that's an FPS adventure...and would greatly differ from the logistics of a dynamic world.

One major point of difference is that a horror is rarely a social experience, whereas MMOs thrive on the interactive aspect. Some gamers would say that one difference kills it off before the idea even gets started, but somehow this clash makes me more interested. Could it be possible to play with other people, but only through a complex system (you must rescue a friend or undo a curse before you can play with them)? Would an MMO that made you work to gain interactivity push players to work for it, or simply shut off their PCs in frustration?

Another common complaint of MMO players is that all they do is grind and that the games lack an emotionally engaging story. Perhaps an MMO in a post-apocalyptic setting could kill two birds with one stone -- creating a backdrop of consistent unease and fear while telling a story that all human beings can relate to the terror of. Add in zombies and you could be playing 28 Days Later Online. Imagine the pressure of having to avoid being infected every time you logged in to play, or permanently losing your character if he or she was.

I would like to see the MMO genre electrified, as even consistent WoW players admit to boredom or quitting the game because they just aren't having fun anymore. Bioware claims to be making an online title focused on "story, character and emotion", which gives us something to look forward to. When I think about playing a game that would keep me on the edge when I played, unsure of what could happen each time I logged in, I think that just might be the thing to make me interested in MMOs again. The question is, How do you execute it to strike the ideal balance between fear and playability?