proximete
2019
little game--big thoughts, though! i really like witcheye, this reworking of kirby's skeleton to create something more challenging and addictive (in short bursts). instead of both copying abilities and floating around, you're the latter except weaponized, and obstacles lie in navigating stage hazards detrimental to floaters like you and enemies who vary in ways to defeat. all of this is wrapped up in a package of absolutely gorgeous pixel art and a heaping of sickeningly sweet 16 bit groove (so much midi bass).
it's pretty fun to figure out how to defeat new enemies as they appear, soon mastering the ability to just wipe 'em out the moment they appear on screen, your forward momentum undeterred. sometimes it can feel very sloppy and you'll somehow effortlessly glide through a level despite not really knowing what's happening, but you learn. a particular highlight is the kirby styled locked miniboss fights, many really inventive. there's also this whole deal about collecting gems, but it's honestly horseshit: many, many times a gem will clip through the ground and disappear, and i'm having fun, sure, but i'm really not that interested to replay a level just to grab more bing bing jewels.
you know, probably the worst and weirdest thing about this game is the design of the main character and her alter eye ego. exceptionally bland: why? all of the enemies are charming even if many are reskinned waddle dees and gordos. the bosses are pretty cool, too... so why does the main character look so nothing? her name's mabel syrup but how could you even know that when all she sports is a dumb purple frock and matching hairbun? and the eye is just... an eye. i'd really like to draw some fanart for witcheye, but good lord it won't be the main character.
0 Comm
it's pretty fun to figure out how to defeat new enemies as they appear, soon mastering the ability to just wipe 'em out the moment they appear on screen, your forward momentum undeterred. sometimes it can feel very sloppy and you'll somehow effortlessly glide through a level despite not really knowing what's happening, but you learn. a particular highlight is the kirby styled locked miniboss fights, many really inventive. there's also this whole deal about collecting gems, but it's honestly horseshit: many, many times a gem will clip through the ground and disappear, and i'm having fun, sure, but i'm really not that interested to replay a level just to grab more bing bing jewels.
you know, probably the worst and weirdest thing about this game is the design of the main character and her alter eye ego. exceptionally bland: why? all of the enemies are charming even if many are reskinned waddle dees and gordos. the bosses are pretty cool, too... so why does the main character look so nothing? her name's mabel syrup but how could you even know that when all she sports is a dumb purple frock and matching hairbun? and the eye is just... an eye. i'd really like to draw some fanart for witcheye, but good lord it won't be the main character.
0 Comm
"if you can't slam with the best, jam with the rest"
there's a million words i could write about the million b-balls dribbled dunked and slam jammed throughout the brief 4-6 hour adventure of barkley and his crew of basketball renegades but the simplest i can write is this: if you have an absurd concept, you need to see it through. riding off the name alone a la kanye quest is a surefire way to make an ass of your lazy self. barkley, shut up and jam: gaiden goes all the way, and it does so with a level of ambition in its writing that shines past its asset rips, and does so with gameplay where diabetes is a status effect, and does so with humor so deadly funny, barkley's practically a litmus test for weeding out those who have a charred black heart and those who don't.
in a world where great stories are a rarity, barkley gaiden will stand the test of time. because they went all the way.
all the way.
there's a million words i could write about the million b-balls dribbled dunked and slam jammed throughout the brief 4-6 hour adventure of barkley and his crew of basketball renegades but the simplest i can write is this: if you have an absurd concept, you need to see it through. riding off the name alone a la kanye quest is a surefire way to make an ass of your lazy self. barkley, shut up and jam: gaiden goes all the way, and it does so with a level of ambition in its writing that shines past its asset rips, and does so with gameplay where diabetes is a status effect, and does so with humor so deadly funny, barkley's practically a litmus test for weeding out those who have a charred black heart and those who don't.
in a world where great stories are a rarity, barkley gaiden will stand the test of time. because they went all the way.
all the way.
2021
when it comes to failing in a video game and trying, trying again, it's easy for me to reach for the quickload key to avoid repeating already made progress. anything less feels like a head against the wall, a repetition so repetitive i'd rather repeat uninstalling the game. over-exaggerating obviously, but it's easy to crutch saves to keep the flow going, and this is a reason why rougelites and like--even prey's mooncrash--are so fearsome to me. this is also a reason why deathloop initially put me off, a full fledged project built off said prey dlc. no quicksaves, no quickloading, and you're going to see these levels a whole, whole lot...
and it works brilliant.
deathloop offers you four distinct playgrounds, each filled with npcs set to schedules and routines for you to observe and plan around. and when you disturb them? you can't go back on your word, so you either take a stand and empty some clips or bail and haul ass to the complete other side of the map. it can feel frustrating entering unfamiliar territory and constantly getting caught by surprise... just as much as it can feel rewarding to weave through learned territory to the degree it becomes colt's proving ground.
colt's the main character by the way, and he and primary antagonist julianna spend much of the game bickering across the radio and trying to kill or escape one another during gameplay. players can control julianna, by the way, in a form of dark souls-esque invasions less about dueling (and taking advantage of inexperienced players) and more about cat-and-mousing (and taking advantage of inexperienced players). the feeling is intoxicating for a well played arkane player. with the dishonoreds, thiefs, and deus exes under my belt, i take a lot of pride in the ways i stalk unsuspecting players, distracting them and rerouting them and waiting on them until suddenly my blade's in their back. i also take my fair slice of humble pie when a julianna invades my own world and drops every peg in my leg... three times, too.
right, you get three lives in a loop, and it allows for a fine sweet spot of allowing for experiments and punishing strings of one too many failed. and you'll want to experiment: colt's got a lot of tools ripped from arkane's previous work in addition to some fun new ones, and there's a lot of ways to traverse levels through combat, stealth, and somewhere inbetween. it's not perfect, though... ai is at a bizarre level of simple where you can get away with a lot more than you think just as much as you can suddenly have the entire half of the map zeroed in on your location because you stepped on a fucking rock wrong. and when you see enemies, you're going to want to mark them: this works half the time, and every mis-click or mis-mark will... get rid of the ones you actually got successfully marked. yeah, you'll want a sniper, and don't even try doing this shit through a fucking window for whatever reason.
but you'll keep fucking pushing through it, and not just because it's fun... you want to know what's going down with the fucking story. also, the fucking story sucks. deathloop features a cast of just 9 fucking characters and every single one of them fucking sucks. dialogue is fucking wretched. these characters fucking talk like they're trying to out-quip or out-annoy each fucking other, and the personalities themselves of the fucking targets could not be any fucking duller. i'm having a tough time caring about the fucking drugged out painter who slurs words or the fucking party owner who sounds like a prissy yuppie, and it's a fucking shame because it could be so much fucking cooler than it fucking is. also, i wish they fucking swore more if i'm fucking honest because i love when characters fucking swear over and over and over and fucking over and fucking over and fucking over like they're a fucking sixth grader let fucking loose onto the fucking internet with un-fucking-supervised fucking access. goddamn.
sorry had to get that out of my system--the dialogue really is wretched and the ending, in classic arkane fashion, won't deliver on anything either because of course it won't, it's a classic arkane game. these fools know how to create masterclasses in game design and generate incredible intrigue in their narratives only to fumble the fucking ball legitimately every single time. with how fast and done these games' endings always are, arkane's next project may as well have the player just walk up to a button that says "PRESS HERE TO END GAMEPLAY AND ROLL CREDITS".
and while all that's unfortunate on the writing end, it's not something i expect out of an arkane experience: i look for damned good imsim shenanigans and gameplay that rewards planning and experimentation. deathloop is damned good imsim shenanigans, and deathloop is gameplay that rewards planning, experimentation, trial and error and successes and failures and wins and losses and personal, weighty progress. it's not about the destination even if that certainly docks it a few points: deathloop is about tools and rules, and how you break them from loop to loop to loop. and it's damned fun. or fucking fun. fuck.
and it works brilliant.
deathloop offers you four distinct playgrounds, each filled with npcs set to schedules and routines for you to observe and plan around. and when you disturb them? you can't go back on your word, so you either take a stand and empty some clips or bail and haul ass to the complete other side of the map. it can feel frustrating entering unfamiliar territory and constantly getting caught by surprise... just as much as it can feel rewarding to weave through learned territory to the degree it becomes colt's proving ground.
colt's the main character by the way, and he and primary antagonist julianna spend much of the game bickering across the radio and trying to kill or escape one another during gameplay. players can control julianna, by the way, in a form of dark souls-esque invasions less about dueling (and taking advantage of inexperienced players) and more about cat-and-mousing (and taking advantage of inexperienced players). the feeling is intoxicating for a well played arkane player. with the dishonoreds, thiefs, and deus exes under my belt, i take a lot of pride in the ways i stalk unsuspecting players, distracting them and rerouting them and waiting on them until suddenly my blade's in their back. i also take my fair slice of humble pie when a julianna invades my own world and drops every peg in my leg... three times, too.
right, you get three lives in a loop, and it allows for a fine sweet spot of allowing for experiments and punishing strings of one too many failed. and you'll want to experiment: colt's got a lot of tools ripped from arkane's previous work in addition to some fun new ones, and there's a lot of ways to traverse levels through combat, stealth, and somewhere inbetween. it's not perfect, though... ai is at a bizarre level of simple where you can get away with a lot more than you think just as much as you can suddenly have the entire half of the map zeroed in on your location because you stepped on a fucking rock wrong. and when you see enemies, you're going to want to mark them: this works half the time, and every mis-click or mis-mark will... get rid of the ones you actually got successfully marked. yeah, you'll want a sniper, and don't even try doing this shit through a fucking window for whatever reason.
but you'll keep fucking pushing through it, and not just because it's fun... you want to know what's going down with the fucking story. also, the fucking story sucks. deathloop features a cast of just 9 fucking characters and every single one of them fucking sucks. dialogue is fucking wretched. these characters fucking talk like they're trying to out-quip or out-annoy each fucking other, and the personalities themselves of the fucking targets could not be any fucking duller. i'm having a tough time caring about the fucking drugged out painter who slurs words or the fucking party owner who sounds like a prissy yuppie, and it's a fucking shame because it could be so much fucking cooler than it fucking is. also, i wish they fucking swore more if i'm fucking honest because i love when characters fucking swear over and over and over and fucking over and fucking over and fucking over like they're a fucking sixth grader let fucking loose onto the fucking internet with un-fucking-supervised fucking access. goddamn.
sorry had to get that out of my system--the dialogue really is wretched and the ending, in classic arkane fashion, won't deliver on anything either because of course it won't, it's a classic arkane game. these fools know how to create masterclasses in game design and generate incredible intrigue in their narratives only to fumble the fucking ball legitimately every single time. with how fast and done these games' endings always are, arkane's next project may as well have the player just walk up to a button that says "PRESS HERE TO END GAMEPLAY AND ROLL CREDITS".
and while all that's unfortunate on the writing end, it's not something i expect out of an arkane experience: i look for damned good imsim shenanigans and gameplay that rewards planning and experimentation. deathloop is damned good imsim shenanigans, and deathloop is gameplay that rewards planning, experimentation, trial and error and successes and failures and wins and losses and personal, weighty progress. it's not about the destination even if that certainly docks it a few points: deathloop is about tools and rules, and how you break them from loop to loop to loop. and it's damned fun. or fucking fun. fuck.
what a horrible piece of shit. you can apply all the resolution tweaks and game altering mods all you want--you're still bandaging a rough corpse of a video game, a shallow followup to some of stealth's finest. basic movement is fucked, every single action is clunky and awkward, guard AI interaction is ridiculous, and the simplified level design leaves an ugly taste in my mouth. a game not even worth finishing its first level.
2019
kind of boring. like, maybe aggressively boring. i'm not explicitly saying give me a gun and an enemy (actually, that'd be great) but having a majority of the obstacles appear to be 1) get good at flying (which i more or less mastered by the end of my four hours), 2) wait around for things to happen or unhappen (wow!), 3) walk around in mazes (exciting), or 4) dodge cacti (challenging) all sort of wears down on me and makes me want to do something else.
i guess to enjoy this game you have to have your eyes explode out of your head at the concept of spaceflight or be really uncomfortable about aiming virtual guns. outer wilds feels barely a step above walking simulators, something i don't outright dislike but would rather experience with the novelty of VR versus through a flat experience.
writing's fine but nothing really sucks me into the world like that one black hole sporadically eating other orbs. it's a reflection on myself, i'd say--i'm so tired of audio diary video games. i just don't fucking care.
honestly, the best way to put this is that i had more fun watching my friends play it than i did playing the game myself.
i guess to enjoy this game you have to have your eyes explode out of your head at the concept of spaceflight or be really uncomfortable about aiming virtual guns. outer wilds feels barely a step above walking simulators, something i don't outright dislike but would rather experience with the novelty of VR versus through a flat experience.
writing's fine but nothing really sucks me into the world like that one black hole sporadically eating other orbs. it's a reflection on myself, i'd say--i'm so tired of audio diary video games. i just don't fucking care.
honestly, the best way to put this is that i had more fun watching my friends play it than i did playing the game myself.
This review contains spoilers
what a charming, heartfelt, unique experience this is.
what a beyond rushed, artificially extended, transparent experience this is.
wind waker is the ultimate yin and yang for me, an opinion born from my two 100% runs played back to back within the past eight months. i have been exposed to absolutely every single piece of brilliance the game has to offer just as much as i've found myself facing cracks of all sorts of varied shapes and sizes--it's often with wind waker that those cracks may as well be gloryholes for their size... at least the stall door it's cut from's so lovingly rendered and lit.
the moment the title screen opens, wind waker hits you with a mini presentation of the gorgeous visuals and models awaiting your adventure: good.
as soon as you leave your home island, an agonizingly boring "stealth" section slams you in the chest: bad.
the pace continues to suffer as the story brings you to peaceful windfall and as peaceful as a predungeon gets with dragon roost island: also bad.
the game brightens up once again with its first dungeon, followed quickly by a second island and too its dungeon: good.
under duress of deadline, the game tricks you into finding your third destination in tatters, the hero too late: badass.
this does not eventually lead to a dungeon but, instead, a quick cutscene inside a rock: bad.
our collectathon quest culminates in a tower of challenges and a peek at something much, much larger: good
then we fuck ganon's fort up: badass.
then we get to ride in the great sea with medli and makar on the boat: adorable
but we're riding straight to dungeons, and hitting [a] on either has them slowly chastise you for not picking up the pace: excruciating
triforce hunt: sure
the peek at something much, much larger was actually just a fancy hallway: no
boss rush final dungeon: what
easiest final boss in zelda history after: what.
but the cracks go deeper--it's the barely there existence of forest haven, how there's very little to do or see beyond moving onto the dungeon and on your way out. it's the existence of stealth at all, complete with wall peaks and barrel hiding, being absolutely worthless and unused. it's this fucking boat who drags out his dialogue as molasses as possible nagging the piss out of your tunic for every single possible little thing. when that old asshole bit it at the end, i didn't bat an eye. were i given the choice to slide ganon's domer right out of his stone noggin, i would've had my next target not more than a couple feet away.
perhaps the biggest issue of the wind waker is its flat, generic story full of flat, generic characters existing in a completely unique, captivating world full of unique, well-crafted designs. i mean, EVERYTHING has a great fucking design. and the silhouettes are so goddamn impressive--character and island alike. turn a model pitch black and i could just about identify every single one of them from posture alone. and these islands are filled with mystery and intrigue: a thin island scraping the air with its needle... a land shaped around the ocean's deadliest, an assembly of green topped minecraft blocks... but there's just not fucking much done with them. you pop in, do one of three generic mini-dungeon designs, and you leave with either a piece of heart (if you're lucky) or another worthless helping of rupees in a game where they're handed out like candy, in a game where there isn't anything at all to spend them on. no seriously, what are you meant to do with these besides buy bait, pears, and the occasional blue gatorade? yeah you're gonna dump a load into tingle's pants with all those garbled charts begging to be ungarbled, but every triforce chest is surrounded by rupee showering pots in the first place, so what the fuck does it matter?
you know, it seems like i'm endlessly dumping onto this game with reckless abandon, and that's because i AM dumping onto this game with reckless abandon--i have spent eight long, long months scraping up against every single inch of the wind waker, attempting to view every possible possibility of dialogue npcs could offer, attempting to scrounge up all available rewards this great sea could conjure up for me. and i did it twice. issues are unavoidable in doing so, and staying silent on annoyances and problems is a disservice to anyone who spends that long playing a game. but it's clarifying the wind waker's cracks that makes it extra special because, here we are--me writing, you reading--in a 4.5 starred review.
in other words--this game freaks it, and it freaks it all over the place. and yet, its strengths are so strong, its ambition so contagious, that the wind waker navigates the currents and waves its haphazard development and hypocritically miyamoto induced crunch creates... and finds itself successfully sailing out from the storm and onto calm waters. the secret to the game's success is found in its simple execution of grand ideas, aforementioned sailing its highlight.
i adore sailing. i love the distance and scale between islands, rendering complaints about long "waiting" times too silly for me. the time passed is a part of the experience, the time spent with king charting courses through white and blue. the experience is spotting a watch tower and parking king to stab its occupants--if bombing the shit out of them from below isn't an option taken, of course. the experience is finding you've inadvertently come across a sea chart's x, treasure soon to be yours. the experience is passing by enemy ships and deciding whether to wage war or spare them (and your time). the experience is passing by beedle and deciding whether to wage war or buy bait (and remember: one can very well do both). it's being chased by sharks and deciding whether to take them on or hope to outrun them. it's fighting against the wind to navigate a reef and win against its occupants. it's circling an island's coast in search of cartographers. it's heading dead straight for a circling of seagulls while deciding whether it's time for bombs, boomerang, or the arrows for a change.
the experience is sleepily making your way back to outset island, the moon finally dipping below the horizon and lighting your boat in the first few glimpses of morning.
and on that note, it's actually downright criminal how incredible the main hubs of the wind waker can look in sunset/sunrise conditions. you don't know what that's like, do you? that's because i'm almost certain it's impossible to see such without exploiting the game in some way. but it's incredibly worth it to find windfall bathed in the last of the day's light, to see dragon roost's shore as the sun greets valoo. these sights are intoxicating, and this is just again one of the many ways to praise wind waker's extremely sharp use of lighting, its fantastic models, its brilliantly simple colors.
every screen is an art piece.
dungeons are cool, too. they're all pretty piss easy and about as braindead as any ocarina of time dungeon that isn't the forest or water temple, and that's disappointing, but they each carry such strong aesthetics on their backs as well as offering unique enemy variety and puzzles that it's hard to forget any of them. it's also doubly hard to forget the dungeons given there's only, what, five of them? christ, lol. so i suppose if a dev's going to be rushed and must make the work done count, it's good they opted for tightening what they had versus thinly spreading a meager plate before their players. i don't think anyone would've appreciated a wind waker with twice as many dungeons half as much if they featured... half as much. still, i really wish they were harder. this aspect can't even stem from my eight months of continuous playing--the wind waker was outright one of the first discs i ever pressed into my gamecube, and even the young asshole who played then snored his way through everything that wasn't the wind temple. well, okay, the earth temple scared me, so i was wide awake for that one. it was still easy, though. spooky... but easy.
have i mentioned link's eyes yet? i've been kind of vaguely praising models and all, but our protagonist for this zelda's just the best. see something interesting? so does he. see something spooky? so does he. get scared of your fucking mind? so. does he. link and i were certainly not alone in the earth temple (also literally, since the bird woman was there). also, wait, i put medli in parentheses, but she's a really interesting example of something wind waker sucks and excels at i for sure have mentioned already: great models, terrible writing. medli's cute. damn cute. i crushed on her as a kid, but it was all in the design, and i was reminded of that with every playthrough as i'd be repeatedly exposed to her flat characterization and how pathetic it whimpers: she exists for other men. that's her character. medli exists to serve link, serve valoo, and serve komali. she plays the harp, but only because another woman who served their dragon freeloader told her to. half her dialogue concerns prince komali--her fucking LAST LINE in the GAME is about komali. and i think this wraps back around to a particular point of failure with the wind waker that's reflected in another nintendo classic: chibi robo. both feature lovely music, lovely gameplay, lovely art... and flat, dead, bonedry writing.
guess that's why i always loved the thousand year door a little more than this as a kid. but believe me, i still loved them both.
and i still do love this game! i wouldn't have spent eight months playing it if i felt any less so. i wouldn't have invested so much time and energy into a passion project completely built off the skeleton of what these devs poured their souls into with what little time they had. and god fucking damn do i wish they'd been given more time, but i'm thankful the wind waker released at all, and i'm thankful it became a cornerstone of my childhood. i played the game to such depths and scourings that i would return to the great sea just to create my own stories and narratives--i'd be running from some evil dude who's tracking me island to island, or i'd be running mail deliveries for the rito, or--what i'm trying to express is THIS is the extent to which i adored this zelda's gameplay and sailing, its aesthetics and presentation.
and i still adore all these things, and the faults may be several golfball sizes too large, but let me re-emphasize: the wind waker is the best stall door i've ever pissed next to in my life. and... wait... there's something etched into it that i can just barely make out.
"A delayed game is eventually good, but a rushed game is forever bad."
oh, fuck off, miyamoto.
what a beyond rushed, artificially extended, transparent experience this is.
wind waker is the ultimate yin and yang for me, an opinion born from my two 100% runs played back to back within the past eight months. i have been exposed to absolutely every single piece of brilliance the game has to offer just as much as i've found myself facing cracks of all sorts of varied shapes and sizes--it's often with wind waker that those cracks may as well be gloryholes for their size... at least the stall door it's cut from's so lovingly rendered and lit.
the moment the title screen opens, wind waker hits you with a mini presentation of the gorgeous visuals and models awaiting your adventure: good.
as soon as you leave your home island, an agonizingly boring "stealth" section slams you in the chest: bad.
the pace continues to suffer as the story brings you to peaceful windfall and as peaceful as a predungeon gets with dragon roost island: also bad.
the game brightens up once again with its first dungeon, followed quickly by a second island and too its dungeon: good.
under duress of deadline, the game tricks you into finding your third destination in tatters, the hero too late: badass.
this does not eventually lead to a dungeon but, instead, a quick cutscene inside a rock: bad.
our collectathon quest culminates in a tower of challenges and a peek at something much, much larger: good
then we fuck ganon's fort up: badass.
then we get to ride in the great sea with medli and makar on the boat: adorable
but we're riding straight to dungeons, and hitting [a] on either has them slowly chastise you for not picking up the pace: excruciating
triforce hunt: sure
the peek at something much, much larger was actually just a fancy hallway: no
boss rush final dungeon: what
easiest final boss in zelda history after: what.
but the cracks go deeper--it's the barely there existence of forest haven, how there's very little to do or see beyond moving onto the dungeon and on your way out. it's the existence of stealth at all, complete with wall peaks and barrel hiding, being absolutely worthless and unused. it's this fucking boat who drags out his dialogue as molasses as possible nagging the piss out of your tunic for every single possible little thing. when that old asshole bit it at the end, i didn't bat an eye. were i given the choice to slide ganon's domer right out of his stone noggin, i would've had my next target not more than a couple feet away.
perhaps the biggest issue of the wind waker is its flat, generic story full of flat, generic characters existing in a completely unique, captivating world full of unique, well-crafted designs. i mean, EVERYTHING has a great fucking design. and the silhouettes are so goddamn impressive--character and island alike. turn a model pitch black and i could just about identify every single one of them from posture alone. and these islands are filled with mystery and intrigue: a thin island scraping the air with its needle... a land shaped around the ocean's deadliest, an assembly of green topped minecraft blocks... but there's just not fucking much done with them. you pop in, do one of three generic mini-dungeon designs, and you leave with either a piece of heart (if you're lucky) or another worthless helping of rupees in a game where they're handed out like candy, in a game where there isn't anything at all to spend them on. no seriously, what are you meant to do with these besides buy bait, pears, and the occasional blue gatorade? yeah you're gonna dump a load into tingle's pants with all those garbled charts begging to be ungarbled, but every triforce chest is surrounded by rupee showering pots in the first place, so what the fuck does it matter?
you know, it seems like i'm endlessly dumping onto this game with reckless abandon, and that's because i AM dumping onto this game with reckless abandon--i have spent eight long, long months scraping up against every single inch of the wind waker, attempting to view every possible possibility of dialogue npcs could offer, attempting to scrounge up all available rewards this great sea could conjure up for me. and i did it twice. issues are unavoidable in doing so, and staying silent on annoyances and problems is a disservice to anyone who spends that long playing a game. but it's clarifying the wind waker's cracks that makes it extra special because, here we are--me writing, you reading--in a 4.5 starred review.
in other words--this game freaks it, and it freaks it all over the place. and yet, its strengths are so strong, its ambition so contagious, that the wind waker navigates the currents and waves its haphazard development and hypocritically miyamoto induced crunch creates... and finds itself successfully sailing out from the storm and onto calm waters. the secret to the game's success is found in its simple execution of grand ideas, aforementioned sailing its highlight.
i adore sailing. i love the distance and scale between islands, rendering complaints about long "waiting" times too silly for me. the time passed is a part of the experience, the time spent with king charting courses through white and blue. the experience is spotting a watch tower and parking king to stab its occupants--if bombing the shit out of them from below isn't an option taken, of course. the experience is finding you've inadvertently come across a sea chart's x, treasure soon to be yours. the experience is passing by enemy ships and deciding whether to wage war or spare them (and your time). the experience is passing by beedle and deciding whether to wage war or buy bait (and remember: one can very well do both). it's being chased by sharks and deciding whether to take them on or hope to outrun them. it's fighting against the wind to navigate a reef and win against its occupants. it's circling an island's coast in search of cartographers. it's heading dead straight for a circling of seagulls while deciding whether it's time for bombs, boomerang, or the arrows for a change.
the experience is sleepily making your way back to outset island, the moon finally dipping below the horizon and lighting your boat in the first few glimpses of morning.
and on that note, it's actually downright criminal how incredible the main hubs of the wind waker can look in sunset/sunrise conditions. you don't know what that's like, do you? that's because i'm almost certain it's impossible to see such without exploiting the game in some way. but it's incredibly worth it to find windfall bathed in the last of the day's light, to see dragon roost's shore as the sun greets valoo. these sights are intoxicating, and this is just again one of the many ways to praise wind waker's extremely sharp use of lighting, its fantastic models, its brilliantly simple colors.
every screen is an art piece.
dungeons are cool, too. they're all pretty piss easy and about as braindead as any ocarina of time dungeon that isn't the forest or water temple, and that's disappointing, but they each carry such strong aesthetics on their backs as well as offering unique enemy variety and puzzles that it's hard to forget any of them. it's also doubly hard to forget the dungeons given there's only, what, five of them? christ, lol. so i suppose if a dev's going to be rushed and must make the work done count, it's good they opted for tightening what they had versus thinly spreading a meager plate before their players. i don't think anyone would've appreciated a wind waker with twice as many dungeons half as much if they featured... half as much. still, i really wish they were harder. this aspect can't even stem from my eight months of continuous playing--the wind waker was outright one of the first discs i ever pressed into my gamecube, and even the young asshole who played then snored his way through everything that wasn't the wind temple. well, okay, the earth temple scared me, so i was wide awake for that one. it was still easy, though. spooky... but easy.
have i mentioned link's eyes yet? i've been kind of vaguely praising models and all, but our protagonist for this zelda's just the best. see something interesting? so does he. see something spooky? so does he. get scared of your fucking mind? so. does he. link and i were certainly not alone in the earth temple (also literally, since the bird woman was there). also, wait, i put medli in parentheses, but she's a really interesting example of something wind waker sucks and excels at i for sure have mentioned already: great models, terrible writing. medli's cute. damn cute. i crushed on her as a kid, but it was all in the design, and i was reminded of that with every playthrough as i'd be repeatedly exposed to her flat characterization and how pathetic it whimpers: she exists for other men. that's her character. medli exists to serve link, serve valoo, and serve komali. she plays the harp, but only because another woman who served their dragon freeloader told her to. half her dialogue concerns prince komali--her fucking LAST LINE in the GAME is about komali. and i think this wraps back around to a particular point of failure with the wind waker that's reflected in another nintendo classic: chibi robo. both feature lovely music, lovely gameplay, lovely art... and flat, dead, bonedry writing.
guess that's why i always loved the thousand year door a little more than this as a kid. but believe me, i still loved them both.
and i still do love this game! i wouldn't have spent eight months playing it if i felt any less so. i wouldn't have invested so much time and energy into a passion project completely built off the skeleton of what these devs poured their souls into with what little time they had. and god fucking damn do i wish they'd been given more time, but i'm thankful the wind waker released at all, and i'm thankful it became a cornerstone of my childhood. i played the game to such depths and scourings that i would return to the great sea just to create my own stories and narratives--i'd be running from some evil dude who's tracking me island to island, or i'd be running mail deliveries for the rito, or--what i'm trying to express is THIS is the extent to which i adored this zelda's gameplay and sailing, its aesthetics and presentation.
and i still adore all these things, and the faults may be several golfball sizes too large, but let me re-emphasize: the wind waker is the best stall door i've ever pissed next to in my life. and... wait... there's something etched into it that i can just barely make out.
"A delayed game is eventually good, but a rushed game is forever bad."
oh, fuck off, miyamoto.
This review contains spoilers
the first thing i need to talk about is brevity, and the cruel, cruel lack of it in many circumstances. the game opens with a strong, meaty first case that dares to blow out any other series starting trial thus far--and succeeds. the great ace attorney then follows this up with a second case that is completely investigation--no trial--and does so with a lack of respect to player's time as it drags things out as far as it can with walls and walls of, frankly, not very funny text. compare and contrast the mountains of dialogue one has to sift through just to examine, say, a clock versus the first investigation of phoenix wright: ace attorney in which objects may give you... one line, two maximum. it's this rampant time wasting that really unfortunately stains the first half of the game--but! it does pick up, at least.
more complaints. the writing gets tipsy and attempts to walk a tightrope between cartoonish goofy and actually sickening cheese. what this means is that much of the dialogue is light hearted but never actually funny, though this much isn't offensive or anything. it's really just bad when you get a bunch of overly sappy lines thrown at you towards the end that land with complete cloying emptiness. it also means sherlock holmes and his goblin assistant fail to really nail much of their attempts at humor. it also also means the eye rolling dramatic moves from your law partner towards the end are aggravating. i could go on.
but this is a four stars review. that's because at great ace attorney's heart lies some incredibly iron tight trials with incredibly delightful twists and turns that always feel natural and logical. especially logical--my favorite aspect of the game is how many lines of reasoning the developers account for, in that you could reasonably assume a theory and piece of evidence for the WRONG testimony, and so they have bonus dialogue to account for it and steer you in the right direction. it's a validating feeling. i'm also memorized by the jury, that which makes the world of ace attorney feel more lively and connected--it's nice to see familiar faces. there's a little jury summation system where you have to pit jurors against each other and i honestly love it. oh, the multi wit dialogue system is cool, too, to a degree--i don't really like having to press every statement JUST in case there's going to be an "outburst", but i simultaneously love how they play with the system in the very last case.
one more massive bit of praise: case 4. case 4 is easily the best "middle" case of ace attorney history, hands down. why? it's desperate. it's shockingly desperate. the case revolves around what should be open and shut, and your attempts to defend the alleged perpetrator come off as even further cementing him as the killer. it's the one time in this series' history where i genuinely felt backed up against a wall, grasping at anything and everything i could think to get my client off.
on one last note, i find it very disappointing that the protagonist is yet another phoenix wright/apollo justice. it seems this series can only think to write one specific type of main character, and it's seriously getting limp.
more complaints. the writing gets tipsy and attempts to walk a tightrope between cartoonish goofy and actually sickening cheese. what this means is that much of the dialogue is light hearted but never actually funny, though this much isn't offensive or anything. it's really just bad when you get a bunch of overly sappy lines thrown at you towards the end that land with complete cloying emptiness. it also means sherlock holmes and his goblin assistant fail to really nail much of their attempts at humor. it also also means the eye rolling dramatic moves from your law partner towards the end are aggravating. i could go on.
but this is a four stars review. that's because at great ace attorney's heart lies some incredibly iron tight trials with incredibly delightful twists and turns that always feel natural and logical. especially logical--my favorite aspect of the game is how many lines of reasoning the developers account for, in that you could reasonably assume a theory and piece of evidence for the WRONG testimony, and so they have bonus dialogue to account for it and steer you in the right direction. it's a validating feeling. i'm also memorized by the jury, that which makes the world of ace attorney feel more lively and connected--it's nice to see familiar faces. there's a little jury summation system where you have to pit jurors against each other and i honestly love it. oh, the multi wit dialogue system is cool, too, to a degree--i don't really like having to press every statement JUST in case there's going to be an "outburst", but i simultaneously love how they play with the system in the very last case.
one more massive bit of praise: case 4. case 4 is easily the best "middle" case of ace attorney history, hands down. why? it's desperate. it's shockingly desperate. the case revolves around what should be open and shut, and your attempts to defend the alleged perpetrator come off as even further cementing him as the killer. it's the one time in this series' history where i genuinely felt backed up against a wall, grasping at anything and everything i could think to get my client off.
on one last note, i find it very disappointing that the protagonist is yet another phoenix wright/apollo justice. it seems this series can only think to write one specific type of main character, and it's seriously getting limp.
2017
play along with the ride and it all makes sense. try to go against it and your character will devolve into some sort of deranged schizophrenic who just does things arbitrarily. the illusion of choice couldn't be more annoying, but you know what's even worse? the complete absence of a fastforward/skip button. these scenes once is enough--twice and more and i'm done.
just about anything your cruel, wicked hands can make using funny, rudimentary drawing tools is available here tightened together with both a charming artstyle and ost (when it isn't complete dead silence, sfx included). apparently ghibli had a hand in this and it shows with the magical design of the game's city hub and its simple but cute cast of citizens. the dialogue they spit out's bone dry unfortunately, but i'm figuring this is more of a case of cleaned up we-don't-give-a-shit machine translation than it is the japanese dev's fault.
anyway you make hideous or cute or both rock-paper-scissor fighting pokemon and battle in of two arenas for four hours--i didn't venture past that much. and it's not as if the gameplay loop isn't funny, but it's less so when grinding is inevitable and the sameyness dulls your excitement. the voice actors sound about as excited as the story writer
but frankly for those four hours, i had a ton of fun. victor frankensteining red limbs and blue teeth and calling it "DENTIST" is fun, and seeing him and an among us melon clobber a bunny earns way too much a smile. it's just i could sense the writing wasn't going to get any better, the location wasn't going to change any time soon, the educated guessing games were running together, and a glitch crippled "DETER" the well dressed corn
https://imgur.com/a/DBdgBGk
anyway you make hideous or cute or both rock-paper-scissor fighting pokemon and battle in of two arenas for four hours--i didn't venture past that much. and it's not as if the gameplay loop isn't funny, but it's less so when grinding is inevitable and the sameyness dulls your excitement. the voice actors sound about as excited as the story writer
but frankly for those four hours, i had a ton of fun. victor frankensteining red limbs and blue teeth and calling it "DENTIST" is fun, and seeing him and an among us melon clobber a bunny earns way too much a smile. it's just i could sense the writing wasn't going to get any better, the location wasn't going to change any time soon, the educated guessing games were running together, and a glitch crippled "DETER" the well dressed corn
https://imgur.com/a/DBdgBGk
let's lay it all flat: paper mario: the thousand year door has much less interesting level design and enemy variation than its predecessor on the n64. while paper mario 64 goes all in on a diorama aesthetic, ttyd's stylistic choice is the stage, the drama, the theater, and the long rectangular hallway design that reflects such, as if it's all continuously moving before a curious audience. i appreciate this, but much less so do i when backtracking is so prevalent--it's like the worst aspects of shy guy's toybox and flower fields back for round 2. and let's be clear--i'm not complaining about the backtracking in, say, chapter 4, because your circumstances differ (almost) every journey. but it's that last backtracking, and it's the backtracking in chapter 2, and it's the monumental one all done for a piss-take towards the end, and it's everything else--it's cruel and stupid, a transparent attempt at lengthening out the game. and with the enemy designs, it's disappointing to face so many recolors when even paper mario 64 was able to pull out some unique final creatures to spar with in its finale.
and on one more negative comparative point: ttyd is so fucking easy. like, leaps and bounds easier on the player than paper mario 64 is, although i hesitate to describe whether or not this is a legitimate problem. why? well, a lot of the ease of access to ttyd comes in the form of skillbased timing--press well and defend against attacks, but press perfectly and you'll completely negate damage. that much is all on the player and an interesting way of forgoing standard jrpg grinding. but then there's just general cheese, like power punches and charges and multibonks. and then there's fucking danger mario, although that's hilarious so whatever.
... lots of negatives, right? and yet, 5 stars. paper mario: the thousand year door is one of the few examples i can point to where a game's writing and aesthetic can more than make up for its faults, where the story progresses with a great flow and rhythm, complemented by well spoken characters not content to stay in the background like mario's 64 bit partners. the game's easily my biggest writing inspiration: when characters speak, i pay attention because it's always funny or interesting. when the plot develops, it does so with simple, tangible consequences and causes and effects. when new chapters start, there's such an indescribable amount of excitement that wells up within wanting to know just what could be in store next... and how can it disappoint when locations vary from wrestling goons at an arena in a bid to win the champion belt or leading a revolution within a massive tree against its invading occupants or solving agatha christie novels aboard a train in a doubling down of shiver city from paper mario 64?
that last bit is important, because something i've noticed between replays of these two initial paper stories is a series of parallels: thousand year door does so much of what 64 does, but grander. both games see mario sailing to an island, but one has it off the back of a whale you briefly meet before while the other has you paired up with a crew you've assembled, then besieged by ancient spirits and shipwrecked onto what is ostensibly deserted. both games see peach baking an item, but while 64's is a cake, ttyd's is an invisibility potion to help her infiltrate the head office of the head goon of the head terrorists, dude. they both have trains and trainrides, murder mysteries and penguins, a goomba who'll prattle off about every npc and location in the game... but ttyd does it better.
aesthetic's incredibly unique, too, and also a big inspiration on myself. while 64 could best be described as a binary tool heaven a la mspaint, ttyd is the now defunct macromedia flash 8, every character a saturated in color motion tweened black outlined standout. combat felt stiff in 64, but ttyd contrasts such with the smoothest you could ever anticipate. and the designs! 64 has a goomba with... a hat. and a koopa with... a scarf. and a bobbomb that's... pink with angel wings. exciting. thousand year door has a goombella decked out in archeological gear, a koopa covered in bandaids and casual wear, and a sea-salty bombomb donning an admiral cap. pretty fucking stark.
also the music fucks an insane amount.
no need to worry about spoilers, but goodness, ttyd concludes so satisfyingly. it's a story you can tell was thought out right from the start, and the way it reflects all your journey up to its ending... yeah, that's ttyd for you. a game with something to prove, a sequel that wanted to not only build off the foundation of its predecessor but carve out an entire world for itself. that's ttyd for you. oh, but also, some villains should never be forgiven, you know. not everyone changes. anyway...
and on one more negative comparative point: ttyd is so fucking easy. like, leaps and bounds easier on the player than paper mario 64 is, although i hesitate to describe whether or not this is a legitimate problem. why? well, a lot of the ease of access to ttyd comes in the form of skillbased timing--press well and defend against attacks, but press perfectly and you'll completely negate damage. that much is all on the player and an interesting way of forgoing standard jrpg grinding. but then there's just general cheese, like power punches and charges and multibonks. and then there's fucking danger mario, although that's hilarious so whatever.
... lots of negatives, right? and yet, 5 stars. paper mario: the thousand year door is one of the few examples i can point to where a game's writing and aesthetic can more than make up for its faults, where the story progresses with a great flow and rhythm, complemented by well spoken characters not content to stay in the background like mario's 64 bit partners. the game's easily my biggest writing inspiration: when characters speak, i pay attention because it's always funny or interesting. when the plot develops, it does so with simple, tangible consequences and causes and effects. when new chapters start, there's such an indescribable amount of excitement that wells up within wanting to know just what could be in store next... and how can it disappoint when locations vary from wrestling goons at an arena in a bid to win the champion belt or leading a revolution within a massive tree against its invading occupants or solving agatha christie novels aboard a train in a doubling down of shiver city from paper mario 64?
that last bit is important, because something i've noticed between replays of these two initial paper stories is a series of parallels: thousand year door does so much of what 64 does, but grander. both games see mario sailing to an island, but one has it off the back of a whale you briefly meet before while the other has you paired up with a crew you've assembled, then besieged by ancient spirits and shipwrecked onto what is ostensibly deserted. both games see peach baking an item, but while 64's is a cake, ttyd's is an invisibility potion to help her infiltrate the head office of the head goon of the head terrorists, dude. they both have trains and trainrides, murder mysteries and penguins, a goomba who'll prattle off about every npc and location in the game... but ttyd does it better.
aesthetic's incredibly unique, too, and also a big inspiration on myself. while 64 could best be described as a binary tool heaven a la mspaint, ttyd is the now defunct macromedia flash 8, every character a saturated in color motion tweened black outlined standout. combat felt stiff in 64, but ttyd contrasts such with the smoothest you could ever anticipate. and the designs! 64 has a goomba with... a hat. and a koopa with... a scarf. and a bobbomb that's... pink with angel wings. exciting. thousand year door has a goombella decked out in archeological gear, a koopa covered in bandaids and casual wear, and a sea-salty bombomb donning an admiral cap. pretty fucking stark.
also the music fucks an insane amount.
no need to worry about spoilers, but goodness, ttyd concludes so satisfyingly. it's a story you can tell was thought out right from the start, and the way it reflects all your journey up to its ending... yeah, that's ttyd for you. a game with something to prove, a sequel that wanted to not only build off the foundation of its predecessor but carve out an entire world for itself. that's ttyd for you. oh, but also, some villains should never be forgiven, you know. not everyone changes. anyway...
2020
Saying Half Life: Alyx was made for virtual reality is a factual statement. Declaring that virtual reality was made for Half Life: Alyx is ambitious, yet it's exactly what I stand by.
What am I to really write when penning words alone feels hollow? I don't want to tell you how fun it is or how immersive it feels or the genuine tension you'll experience, the sweat that'll mount on your brow. Words don't work! I want to take you, you who are on the fence of whether Alyx is worth playing, you who believe VR to be a gimmick, you who couldn't possibly care less about a shooting game, and I want to slap a headset on you and push you forward and have you PLAY it! Because it is only when Combine forces are firing upon you and you scramble to find cover, shoving boxes aside and pulling out drawers in a desperate bid for ammunition that you can understand why Alyx exists. It is only as you step through the streets of City 17 just as well as you pass under and into the innerworkings beneath the city do you understand how impressive the scale of Alyx is. It is only as you inch forward, slowly--ever so slowly--through a building of shatterable glasses and corked wine bottles, accidentally bumping into a drawer and failing to catch the now smashed vodka--an alert to all who dwell there--that you understand how immersive Alyx is.
But I will defer to some concrete notions and let you put the rest of the pieces together. First and foremost, Alyx does wonderfully by the Half Life series--City 17 is more than a return to home. It is built upon, elaborated, expanded in ways that make sense and ways you never could've anticipated. It is lovely to see the Combine once again, and it is lovelier to put a bullet in them. The level design is superb, as all Valve games are, and there are several memorable locales that I fail to shake days, weeks after.
The biggest compliment I can give is how Valve solves the "VR problem" when it comes to grabbing objects that are simply too far away. In some games, you have no choice but to go up to it and pick it up yourself. In games like Boneworks or Blade & Sorcery, you instead can use a Star Wars-like "force pull" where you hold out your hand, press a button, and the object slowly comes into your hands. The issue with these solutions (and lack thereof) is that it never feels elegant nor natural--it feels, instead, like a growing pain of not being really in your world. Personally speaking, I'd always find myself purposefully avoiding using the aforementioned force pull because it just felt like cheating VR.
But what does Valve do?
They make that cheating a part of the gameplay. The gravity gloves become a real world item, a real world tool utilized by the player. When you see an object from a distance that you want, you may outstretch your arm until the object is in your sights, and then yank the item towards you. Flying in an arc, it hurtles in your direction to which you then must catch it. It's amazingly interactive, and it's a simple gameplay motion that never gets old. I applaud that.
There isn't really much else I can offer. If you do not have VR, bide your time. Alyx is not a game to be played with the sticks and stones you're used to. It's the future.
What am I to really write when penning words alone feels hollow? I don't want to tell you how fun it is or how immersive it feels or the genuine tension you'll experience, the sweat that'll mount on your brow. Words don't work! I want to take you, you who are on the fence of whether Alyx is worth playing, you who believe VR to be a gimmick, you who couldn't possibly care less about a shooting game, and I want to slap a headset on you and push you forward and have you PLAY it! Because it is only when Combine forces are firing upon you and you scramble to find cover, shoving boxes aside and pulling out drawers in a desperate bid for ammunition that you can understand why Alyx exists. It is only as you step through the streets of City 17 just as well as you pass under and into the innerworkings beneath the city do you understand how impressive the scale of Alyx is. It is only as you inch forward, slowly--ever so slowly--through a building of shatterable glasses and corked wine bottles, accidentally bumping into a drawer and failing to catch the now smashed vodka--an alert to all who dwell there--that you understand how immersive Alyx is.
But I will defer to some concrete notions and let you put the rest of the pieces together. First and foremost, Alyx does wonderfully by the Half Life series--City 17 is more than a return to home. It is built upon, elaborated, expanded in ways that make sense and ways you never could've anticipated. It is lovely to see the Combine once again, and it is lovelier to put a bullet in them. The level design is superb, as all Valve games are, and there are several memorable locales that I fail to shake days, weeks after.
The biggest compliment I can give is how Valve solves the "VR problem" when it comes to grabbing objects that are simply too far away. In some games, you have no choice but to go up to it and pick it up yourself. In games like Boneworks or Blade & Sorcery, you instead can use a Star Wars-like "force pull" where you hold out your hand, press a button, and the object slowly comes into your hands. The issue with these solutions (and lack thereof) is that it never feels elegant nor natural--it feels, instead, like a growing pain of not being really in your world. Personally speaking, I'd always find myself purposefully avoiding using the aforementioned force pull because it just felt like cheating VR.
But what does Valve do?
They make that cheating a part of the gameplay. The gravity gloves become a real world item, a real world tool utilized by the player. When you see an object from a distance that you want, you may outstretch your arm until the object is in your sights, and then yank the item towards you. Flying in an arc, it hurtles in your direction to which you then must catch it. It's amazingly interactive, and it's a simple gameplay motion that never gets old. I applaud that.
There isn't really much else I can offer. If you do not have VR, bide your time. Alyx is not a game to be played with the sticks and stones you're used to. It's the future.
2001
it's bursting with charm, it's deceptively simple, and it doesn't really overstay its welcome. i really enjoyed figuring out the different boss fights and all the varied places the game sends you. it's impossible for this game to be worth five stars, however, and it is because of its complete and utter lack of explanation concerning a crucial mechanic. indeed, the game has no tutorial, and it doesn't need one for the most part, but if you don't know how to exorcise enemies (which, by the way, costs points on every use and doesn't even always stick...), you can't finish the game, and there is absolutely nothing in your playthrough that'll warn you of this.
that's just crazy.
that's just crazy.
there have been so many bad games ive played. halo 4. nu thief. so forth. but i cant really bring myself to hate any of them--just a great distaste or disliking, i guess
but this shit right here. this is easily the worst video game i've ever played in my life, firing on all cylinders as a completely miserable experience to both established paper mario fans of old and approachers of new. an ugly art style plastered with generic, boring designs mixed with a soulless soundtrack and obnoxious dialogue all make for an ugly exterior, but all of this could be good and it still wouldnt save the baffling gameplay. who in fuck thought it would be a good idea to make a combat system where the only winning move is to not play? i think i treated sticker star like a stealth game with all the running past enemies i did, considering the combat consists of wasting your resources and giving you nothing but coins for your effort, a complete waste of currency. when you're not surviving these encounters, you're either solving puzzles that range from brain dead easy to "this is legitimately not possible without a strategy guide on hand unless i want to spend three hours wandering around aimlessly." this game will never fail to not make me angry in some way, and i feel even angrier knowing that, slowly but surely, a new wave of defenders is building for this shitty revival of paper mario.
i was pissed off back then, i'm pissed off now writing this, and i'll be pissed off forever. fuck this game to hell.
but this shit right here. this is easily the worst video game i've ever played in my life, firing on all cylinders as a completely miserable experience to both established paper mario fans of old and approachers of new. an ugly art style plastered with generic, boring designs mixed with a soulless soundtrack and obnoxious dialogue all make for an ugly exterior, but all of this could be good and it still wouldnt save the baffling gameplay. who in fuck thought it would be a good idea to make a combat system where the only winning move is to not play? i think i treated sticker star like a stealth game with all the running past enemies i did, considering the combat consists of wasting your resources and giving you nothing but coins for your effort, a complete waste of currency. when you're not surviving these encounters, you're either solving puzzles that range from brain dead easy to "this is legitimately not possible without a strategy guide on hand unless i want to spend three hours wandering around aimlessly." this game will never fail to not make me angry in some way, and i feel even angrier knowing that, slowly but surely, a new wave of defenders is building for this shitty revival of paper mario.
i was pissed off back then, i'm pissed off now writing this, and i'll be pissed off forever. fuck this game to hell.
2010
welcome, agent. you are america's most clandestine weapon, a secret kept even from the president because obama can't know all the crazy earth shattering work you're doing like bugging terrorist organizations or punching brown people. your mission is simple: shoot off a bunch of marvel movie one liners and spend hours crawling around in the same middle eastern environments every crouch high wall shooter was just obsessed with at the time. what, you thought a game about being a secret agent would be all tuxedos and dangling from the ceiling? well, if it is, none of that certainly happens in the game's first four hours (and believe me, there's a lot more sand world to go on my end). don't fret, though, because you want that james bond smooth talking, yeah? well there's definitely conversations--you get vague dialogue options set on a quick timer that make people like or dislike you based on your schizoid responses (if you play anything like me). you should have a good grasp of this by the way because you sit through, like, a twenty minute long lecture given by your boss who's concerned you haven't yet been briefed on what "talking" is.
well okay, so it's the desert. but is it fun to play? well, if you play stealth you get to face a threat that back and forth wavers between intellectually disabled and eagle eye replacement surgery, and any time you die (or get caught and don't want to spoil the ghost run), you have to load an arbitrary checkpoint (which happens before new dialogue, so you'll hear it every. single. time). and you'll get caught for an amazing amount of reasons--you'll use the cover system to hide behind a wall only for the wall to not actually fully shield you so you get spotted away. you'll walk on sand outside and a bad guy on the other side of an iron door will panic that the base is under attack. and sometimes the game will just decide they get to spawn in full alert, those bird eyes scanning right through walls with infrared.
well, what if you just roll with getting caught? yeah, ethan hunt's definitely killed a few, so you can too. and i say go for it and time how long before you realize you're just now playing a straightforward third person military shooter, 100% completely unchallenging. and let's run back to stealth for the topic of unchallenging because, again, that ai is just insanely stupid most of the time when they're not on alert. this is no doubt an accommodation for the game using a checkpoint system, given that really REALLY tough stealth would just be a nightmare with that. but this is a horrible trade off, what the hell? why not the opposite--smart ai and a manual save system? not like we don't have games like deus ex or thief out a decade earlier helping lay that sort of framework.
i like that the game's an rpg and has different areas to allot skill points and upgrade, even though most of the upgrades feel really, really useless to a morally acting agent. i like that the game has conversations, even though the commitment to having conversations realistically flow comes at the cost of saying really stupid, shitty things you never would've intended had you known what you're psycho of a character was actually going to say. i like... two of the hacking minigames, i guess. lockpicking one is total ass, but the other two are alright. i know--i'm scraping the bottom here trying to find anything positive to say, because it's clear that there are some interesting aspects to the game otherwise i wouldn't have bothered playing past the agonizingly boring first twenty minutes, but here we are.
if there is a better game hidden further in, i am very sorry they don't lead with it, and i am very sorry they hedge their bets on another fucking afghan sand-em-up aesthetic. apparently this game isn't even offered for sale on steam anymore, and you know what? consider sega doing you a favor.
well okay, so it's the desert. but is it fun to play? well, if you play stealth you get to face a threat that back and forth wavers between intellectually disabled and eagle eye replacement surgery, and any time you die (or get caught and don't want to spoil the ghost run), you have to load an arbitrary checkpoint (which happens before new dialogue, so you'll hear it every. single. time). and you'll get caught for an amazing amount of reasons--you'll use the cover system to hide behind a wall only for the wall to not actually fully shield you so you get spotted away. you'll walk on sand outside and a bad guy on the other side of an iron door will panic that the base is under attack. and sometimes the game will just decide they get to spawn in full alert, those bird eyes scanning right through walls with infrared.
well, what if you just roll with getting caught? yeah, ethan hunt's definitely killed a few, so you can too. and i say go for it and time how long before you realize you're just now playing a straightforward third person military shooter, 100% completely unchallenging. and let's run back to stealth for the topic of unchallenging because, again, that ai is just insanely stupid most of the time when they're not on alert. this is no doubt an accommodation for the game using a checkpoint system, given that really REALLY tough stealth would just be a nightmare with that. but this is a horrible trade off, what the hell? why not the opposite--smart ai and a manual save system? not like we don't have games like deus ex or thief out a decade earlier helping lay that sort of framework.
i like that the game's an rpg and has different areas to allot skill points and upgrade, even though most of the upgrades feel really, really useless to a morally acting agent. i like that the game has conversations, even though the commitment to having conversations realistically flow comes at the cost of saying really stupid, shitty things you never would've intended had you known what you're psycho of a character was actually going to say. i like... two of the hacking minigames, i guess. lockpicking one is total ass, but the other two are alright. i know--i'm scraping the bottom here trying to find anything positive to say, because it's clear that there are some interesting aspects to the game otherwise i wouldn't have bothered playing past the agonizingly boring first twenty minutes, but here we are.
if there is a better game hidden further in, i am very sorry they don't lead with it, and i am very sorry they hedge their bets on another fucking afghan sand-em-up aesthetic. apparently this game isn't even offered for sale on steam anymore, and you know what? consider sega doing you a favor.
2000
in a way, i feel very spoiled by having played paper mario the thousand year door first in the same way i felt spoiled playing saints row 1 after having ventured through its sequel in which every single concept was built upon to soaring heights, because that's exactly what's going on here. paper mario 64 lays out strong concepts: a battle system that, despite being turn based, feels very involved and greatly rewards strategy just as much as it does reaction time and timing. an aesthetic that celebrates simple, cel shaded art displayed on various dioramas atop dioramas. writing that isn't afraid to get cheekier than mario ever has before.
but all of these named concepts are half baked, its sequel completely forcing paper mario 64 into its shadow given its sequel's focus on mastering that combat, mastering those dioramas, mastering that cheek factor. let's examine each point closely.
paper mario's gameplay is simple but effective. you've got your health, a pool of special action points, some items masquerading as stars, and then the combat itself which exemplifies small numbers... 0's, 1's, 2's, and so forth, thank god. time your actions and you'll deal more damage, time your blocks and you'll lower the consequences. but it isn't the most rewarding: badges are gimped at the paltry 30 point cap, limiting your toolset, and that toolset itself is a little ridiculous when some badges are retired by "improved" versions of themselves (compare charges and power smashes/jumps) and others being just point hogs (why in fuck is a 20% chance to dodge a whopping 10 points total? that's a THIRD of your entire badges!). and of course, there's no way to fully negate damage with perfect, precise timing--a very, very satisfying improvement made in ttyd.
paper mario's locations and locales are... just alright. they follow the "mario format" so to speak: grasslands, desert, forest, jungle, ice world--but not completely. the grasslands and desert are ho hum, but that named forest is actually a pitch black one with twists and turns that leads to a haunted mansion which leads to a dried up gulch which leads to a stealth mission within a large manor.... and that's pretty incredible. there's also a miniature world mario visits, which conceptually is cool, but in action turns out to be a backtracking hell (something ttyd did not learn from, unfortunately). but beyond these two, the locales mario visits end up being about as bog-standard as they come (minus a murder mystery...). they're by no means boring, but they're foundation laying, and what is built upon them in ttyd is....
anyway, the writing. i don't really know what's going on here. there are moments where it's hard to hold back laughter at just the absurdity of a moment, such as a flower pointing out her assaulting miscreants and choosing to randomly include a passer-byer with comical timing, but then there's also a diary kept by your brother where most of the entries lack any sort of punch at all, and you wonder why they even bothered. who's at fault here? the japanese devs? the american localizers? it's strange how half of paper mario 64 can make you smile and the other half can leave you with a straight face. your partners also get it the worst, here--they have nearly zero personality aside from their introductions. you can sort of tell as you play through that the writers get more into the groove and start handing out unique lines, but it's a little late on the delivery. of course, not to worry... ttyd doubles down on it and spit-shines the writing into absurd heights.
while i've spent the entire review denigrating the experience and offering its sequel as a worthier play, by no means would i ever suggest anyone skip such an interesting first entry in the paper mario series. it's definitely good! it's very good! but the shadow it lives in is massive, and perhaps paper mario 64's worth playing if only to see what improvement from game to sequel can truly be.
... oh, but that shouldn't be the last note to leave on, actually. i know what you want to read: what did paper mario 64 do BETTER than ttyd? and actually, a few things. there isn't a single chapter in the sequel better paced than pm64's island chapter. the reoccurring rival of an egg shelled turtle is enormously endearing and his absence in ttyd is missed. the binary art is also very endearing, although the flash 8 presentation of ttyd is by no means bad, either--just different. the soundtrack, helmed by koji kondo, is phenomenal of course, although ttyd's is no slouch, either. and i absolutely adore those fanmail letters mario can receive, complete with original art and everything--such a concept is sorely missed in paper's sequel.
but, ah... yeah. that's it. it's a great game, and then you play ttyd, and suddenly it becomes demoted to "pretty good". this is by no means a bad thing--i thought about this earlier with artists who create landmark albums despite having previous, great entries. said landmarks do not delete the existence of what came before and, in fact, it's worth checking out to every fan of the artist to explore the discography beforehand... because it preps the appetite for a feast not too soon after.
but all of these named concepts are half baked, its sequel completely forcing paper mario 64 into its shadow given its sequel's focus on mastering that combat, mastering those dioramas, mastering that cheek factor. let's examine each point closely.
paper mario's gameplay is simple but effective. you've got your health, a pool of special action points, some items masquerading as stars, and then the combat itself which exemplifies small numbers... 0's, 1's, 2's, and so forth, thank god. time your actions and you'll deal more damage, time your blocks and you'll lower the consequences. but it isn't the most rewarding: badges are gimped at the paltry 30 point cap, limiting your toolset, and that toolset itself is a little ridiculous when some badges are retired by "improved" versions of themselves (compare charges and power smashes/jumps) and others being just point hogs (why in fuck is a 20% chance to dodge a whopping 10 points total? that's a THIRD of your entire badges!). and of course, there's no way to fully negate damage with perfect, precise timing--a very, very satisfying improvement made in ttyd.
paper mario's locations and locales are... just alright. they follow the "mario format" so to speak: grasslands, desert, forest, jungle, ice world--but not completely. the grasslands and desert are ho hum, but that named forest is actually a pitch black one with twists and turns that leads to a haunted mansion which leads to a dried up gulch which leads to a stealth mission within a large manor.... and that's pretty incredible. there's also a miniature world mario visits, which conceptually is cool, but in action turns out to be a backtracking hell (something ttyd did not learn from, unfortunately). but beyond these two, the locales mario visits end up being about as bog-standard as they come (minus a murder mystery...). they're by no means boring, but they're foundation laying, and what is built upon them in ttyd is....
anyway, the writing. i don't really know what's going on here. there are moments where it's hard to hold back laughter at just the absurdity of a moment, such as a flower pointing out her assaulting miscreants and choosing to randomly include a passer-byer with comical timing, but then there's also a diary kept by your brother where most of the entries lack any sort of punch at all, and you wonder why they even bothered. who's at fault here? the japanese devs? the american localizers? it's strange how half of paper mario 64 can make you smile and the other half can leave you with a straight face. your partners also get it the worst, here--they have nearly zero personality aside from their introductions. you can sort of tell as you play through that the writers get more into the groove and start handing out unique lines, but it's a little late on the delivery. of course, not to worry... ttyd doubles down on it and spit-shines the writing into absurd heights.
while i've spent the entire review denigrating the experience and offering its sequel as a worthier play, by no means would i ever suggest anyone skip such an interesting first entry in the paper mario series. it's definitely good! it's very good! but the shadow it lives in is massive, and perhaps paper mario 64's worth playing if only to see what improvement from game to sequel can truly be.
... oh, but that shouldn't be the last note to leave on, actually. i know what you want to read: what did paper mario 64 do BETTER than ttyd? and actually, a few things. there isn't a single chapter in the sequel better paced than pm64's island chapter. the reoccurring rival of an egg shelled turtle is enormously endearing and his absence in ttyd is missed. the binary art is also very endearing, although the flash 8 presentation of ttyd is by no means bad, either--just different. the soundtrack, helmed by koji kondo, is phenomenal of course, although ttyd's is no slouch, either. and i absolutely adore those fanmail letters mario can receive, complete with original art and everything--such a concept is sorely missed in paper's sequel.
but, ah... yeah. that's it. it's a great game, and then you play ttyd, and suddenly it becomes demoted to "pretty good". this is by no means a bad thing--i thought about this earlier with artists who create landmark albums despite having previous, great entries. said landmarks do not delete the existence of what came before and, in fact, it's worth checking out to every fan of the artist to explore the discography beforehand... because it preps the appetite for a feast not too soon after.