Breath of the Wild: the straight-A student, the Link with the think, the blade with the grade – the game with more tens than a Western’s soundtrack.
And like a straight-A student, Nintendo’s latest efforts are so accomplished that otherwise great achievements appear almost mundane against its backdrop of sheer awesomeness. This is a game defined by the story you choose to tell, not by the story you’re told; a game by which I’m inclined to describe its flaws simply by what it does less well – not by what it does badly.
When writing about Breath of the Wild, then, I can’t talk about how it’s picked last in gym or how it doesn’t quite grasp the complexities of those fancy-shmancy quadratic equations. The new Zelda is a bit like Superman – it’s almost impossible to characterise without mention of that one fundamental weakness.
Problem is, I’m not sure it has one.
And that makes Breath of the Wild an absolute pain in the arse to write about. But like a certain pig-faced antagonist, I persist.
So, here’s some words about a game I said I can’t make up some words about.
Continue reading “Skyward scored: why Zelda’s latest legend is almost nearly impossible to talk about”
There’s a game called Resident Evil – it’s a slow, methodical trek through a monster-infested house with handguns, shotguns, knives, herbs and an
item-themed save system.
There’s a game called Resident Evil 7 – it’s a slow, methodical trek through a monster-infested house with handguns, shotguns, knives, herbs and an
item-themed save system.
Both these things, according to a vocal minority on Metacritic, aren’t from the same series. This is what I call a ‘logic sloppy joe’ – something moderately
tasty-looking until you pick it up and it starts to fall apart.
What about you’re about to read, then, is what logic-food-metaphor industry insiders call a ‘logic sandwich’: a stack of delicately-sliced logic foodstuffs neatly layered between slices of tasty logical goodness.
Just don’t get any logic crumbs in the carpet.
Because that’s how spontaneous galaxy-destroying black holes happen.
And sequels to Twilight.
Continue reading “Why that new game you say isn’t part of the series it claims to be part of is actually part of the series you claim it isn’t part of”
In the PlayStation era, my Final Fantasy wasn’t your Final Fantasy.
And your uncle’s Final Fantasy wasn’t your aunt’s Final Fantasy. Your cousin’s best friend’s hairdresser’s mum’s Final Fantasy wasn’t your boyfriend’s great grandfather’s gardener’s Final Fantasy, either.
And your dog’s Final Fantasy absolutely wasn’t your cat’s Final Fantasy.
Because Final Fantasy of old was a combined effort of player and creator partying-up to bring the latter’s blocky, text box-driven machinations to life.
But before you continue to the inevitable disappointment that will be this post, let’s be clear: your dog’s Final Fantasy and your cat’s Final Fantasy probably weren’t the same because your dog’s Final Fantasy featured a spiky-haired pup venturing to ensure the demise of an evil time-travelling feline called Ultimeowcia.
And your cat’s Final Fantasy was probably about its dastardly plot to destroy the world, humanity and all of creation.
Because, you know – cats.
Continue reading “Final Fantasy and your cat’s fairly blatant desire to destroy the world”
Know what’s awesome? Giant robots. Know what’s even more awesomerer? Giant robots with giant guns.
But do you know what’s even more awesomerer than giant robots with guns? Giant robots with giant guns punching other giant robots with giant guns in their giant, robotic faces.
So, it’s not difficult to imagine my delight when Respawn Entertainment tightened every conceivable nut and bolt on its robot-face-punching super formula in Titanfall 2 – a notable upgrade on its two-year-old predecessor in every possible way.
But some titans – Woofers, for instance – may never get the chance to face punch or be face punched. And that’s why you, reader and pilot to be, need to adopt a titan this Christmas.
Because it very much feels like an entire franchise – and the very existence of Woofers and his metal-skinned kin – depends on it.
Continue reading “Titanstalled: why you should adopt a titan called Woofers this Christmas”
Look at that face. That face right there is the grizzled mug of Mr. Marcus Fenix – an old, battered war veteran who’s seen things we can’t possibly imagine. And that expression? That expression is his reaction to the fact that Gears of War’s next-gen debut could be accessed four days early for twice the price.
Naturally, he’s wondering what went wrong.
And, frankly, so am I – because Microsoft’s pay-for-priority price structure couldn’t have landed a deadlier blow to my enthusiasm for its chainsaw-laden whack-a-mole simulator just months prior to release.
Wait, sorry — prior to its pre-release release.
If this post were an episode of Friends, it would be ‘The One with Rage, Bitter Disappointment and Too Many References to Rear-End Gas Expulsions”.
Continue reading “Tiers of War: why premium access really grinds my gears”
Marvin, that’s what we’ll call him. Marvin. Let’s say this Marvin worked on Final Fantasy X HD Remaster. And let’s say Marvin had one job: the in-game combat menu.
But let’s say Marvin was having a bad day, a bad week – a bad everything. And let’s suppose Marvin forgot to push the ‘let’s-make-the-in-game-combat-menu-awesome-like-it-was-15-years-ago’ button.
And as a result of Marvin’s ‘off everything’ – a Moogle-sized blunder with Sin-sized consequences – Final Fantasy X Remaster is now almost unplayable. This lovely, pixel-injected, re-textured, re-recorded beauty of a remaster is – because of silly old Marvin – inferior to its 640×480 counterpart.
Because of Marvin – that absolute son of a behemoth – an otherwise brilliant remaster is not so brilliant.
Goddamit, Marvin, you had one job. One job.
Continue reading “Final Fantasy X Remaster and the story of Marvin the menu guy”
The red ones – you know, the ones that set things on fire. Wait, no – it’s the green ones, the ones that corrode things. They’re my favourite. Wait, wait, no – it’s definitely the one that looks like a shotgun but shoots rockets. Or maybe it’s the one that tracks things. That’s pretty cool, too.
Or – or – maybe it’s that one, that gun, which has a scope, an orange hue, sets enemies on fire and has an incredibly fast fire rate. It’s huge, too. It’s better than your gun; it’s the best gun on Pandora. It’s the bestest gun everer, and it’s all mine – gunzilla is mine – all mine.
Ahem, as I was saying.
Continue reading “Re-view: Borderlands 2”