BioShock 2 is what I like to call a “second-string” game. The primary developers, 2K Boston (formerly Irrational Games) crafted an entire franchise on the quality of a single game back in 2007, then publisher 2K Games drafted developer studio 2K Marin (confused yet?) to develop the follow-up, which was almost guaranteed to move units, whether or not the game was quality.

Like other second-string games (Call of Duty: World at War, Knights of the Old Republic II, etc.) Bioshock 2 does not stray far from the core gameplay that popularized the first game. Instead, it introduces subtle tweaks, to varying effect.

2K Marin was not afraid to lay on the fan service, and while much of that will be discussed later, one important change was to the player character. While you played as a relatively ungifted outsider in the first game, BioShock 2 starts you out at the top of the food chain, as a Big Daddy. The first one, to be exact.

That is the party-line, at least. In reality, the shift in perspective has little practical effect on gameplay. It is a cool feeling to look through a Big Daddy helmet and hear the thunder of your footsteps, but your character, Delta, is depressingly fragile. In nearly all conflicts, you will constantly find yourself watching your health bar, hovering over the D-pad to use a Health Kit.

The Gameplay

BioShock 1 vets who have not touched the game since soon after its 2007 release will be surprised to remember just how distinctive the gameplay was. Shooting feels a bit stiff compared to the likes of Modern Warfare 2 and Halo, but after a brief (re)acclimation period, I found myself scoring more headshots and moving skill shots than those games mentioned above.

Headshots are still vital, as the early-game is still characterized by nearly survival horror-level ammo supplies, though you will slowly build and diversify your stores throughout the levels. By the end, enemies come in large enough numbers that you will need to become proficient with multiple weapons and techniques to avoid running dry in any one gun by the end of a skirmish.Once things quiet down, you can usually top off from your fallen enemies, or collect enough cash to purchase more.

One of the talking points of magazine previews before the game dropped was the new arsenal. To better outfit your hulking Big Daddy, the developers upgraded to bigger, more outlandish weapons, like the Rivet Gun to replace the pistol, and a rotating barrel-style Machine Gun to replace the submachine gun. Some of these new weapons are more interesting than others, though.

The new shotgun, for example, is merely a double-barrel, instead of a pump, and the crossbow was replaced with a spear gun. Outside of a few interesting alternate ammo types, most of these weapons return from the first game with nearly identical mechanics. While these are still solid, I was still a bit disappointed to see the game fall in to the classic pistol-shotgun-machine gun-rocket launcher trope.

Plasmids, the ADAM-fueled superpowers of the first game return as well, and benefit from the new ability to wield one without switching away from the current weapon. Outside of this, there have been even less mechanical changes to the plasmids than with the weapons. Active powers like Telekinesis, Shock, Freeze, Incinerate and Hypnotize are back exactly as before, and while I used them more than I did in the first game, I still found myself reaching for my gun much more often than resorting to a plasmid. The ADAM-based economy is a bit more forgiving this time around, so I did feel like I was able to load up my tonics (passive plasmids) more to my liking than in the first game.

It is a bit disappointing that the enemies in the game are practically cut and pasted from the prequel. All Splicer and Big Daddy variants return from BioShock 1, and they are only joined by four new enemies. Brute Splicers and the new Big Daddy variants provide some new experiences, but the Big Sister will get all of the attention. She features heavily into the new ADAM harvesting mechanic, and provides a number of difficult, if not necessarily satisfying boss fights.

In BioShock 1, players were frequently warned of upcoming ambushes and given a chance to create a defensive perimeter. With the introduction of a Little Sister harvesting mechanic, the sequel expands on this and gives you a bevy of new tools to prepare for these sequences. Electrified trip wires and proximity grenades return later in the game, but I found myself relying upon the whirlwind traps, new trap rivets, and (occasionaly, due to their rarity) mini-turrets.

Harvesting

To be honest, I am still split about the harvesting mechanic. To summarize, Big Daddy’s escort Little Sisters around, just as in the first game, and you must kill the Big Daddy to reach the Little Sister. Instead of immediately healing/harvesting her, though, you can now assume the role of her Big Daddy and put her on your shoulder. While she is riding on your back, she is unnoticeable, save for a status icon on the HUD and occasional comments on the action (“Nobody hurts my Daddy!”). At points, I even found myself forgetting that I had retrieved one.

Throughout the levels are preset corpses that smoke slightly when you have a Sister with you. Dropping the Sister here causes her to extract the ADAM from the corpse, and trigger waves of Splicers to attack. Some of these locations are easier to defend than others, and I was frustrated in early encounters before I realized that there were more harvesting locations than Little Sisters.

Well-planned harvests are incredibly satisfying. You can restrict enemies to one or two chokepoints and snicker as you listen to the various sounds of your traps springing. Too often, though, harvests devolve to frantic shootouts and MedKit spamming. This is largely due to the game’s nasty habit of spawning enemies in nooks and crannies they could not possibly reach. I lost track of how many times I set up complex perimeters, only to get shot in the back by a Splicer that had spawned in a closet.

Still, I would not be torn on the mechanic if it was beyond redemption. And I certainly would not have done every harvest in my single playthrough.

The Story

BioShock 1 told the tale of a brilliant idealist who took control of an amazing underwater city, and the long, intricate plot to cause his fall.

So did BioShock 2.

While this is an oversimplification, it is difficult to ignore the many plot elements that were appropriated for BioShock’s second outing. Replace “his” with “her”, and “long, intricate plot” with “contrived mess”, sprinkle on a healthy dose of fan service, and you have the game’s plot in a nutshell. BioShock 1 dared gamers to tackle utopian ideals and the dangers and possibilities of individualism.

BioShock 2 replaces the idealistic and stubborn Andrew Ryan with the sly and manipulative Sophia Lamb. Her broadcasts confront the player at seemingly every turn, accusing Delta of harming “the Family” and putting the needs of the few ahead of the community.

Unfortunately, her high-concept communistic ideals seem out of place as you combat the same greedy Splicers that try to kill Big Daddies and steal ADAM from the Little Sisters. I frequently found myself ignoring Lamb, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The other portion of the story, that dealing with plot and characters, starts out quite similarly to the first one. The first few levels each have their own relatively-sane overseers who you inevitably confront before you depart. These encounters offer some interesting moral choices, but they primarily feel like modules that could have been lifted straight out of the previous game, and the characters themselves do not stray far from a familiar path.

As you get closer to Sophia Lamb, however, the story comes into its own and goes far to redeem this game. You see, you are a Big Daddy, and no Big Daddy exists without his Little Sister. It just so happens that your Little Sister is Eleanor Lamb, Sophia’s daughter.

While the first few levels feel like retreads of BioShock 1 (and indeed, some familiar locales will show up), the last few hours of the game trade the wordless story of a crumbling metropolis for a poignant exchange between Mother, Daughter and Big Daddy. While it is debatable whether the climax of BioShock 2 trumps those three words that shocked players in BioShock 1, I’ll wager that introspective gamers will have just as much to ponder.

In Closing (…)

The original BioShock was a challenge. While any gamer could pick it up and find rewarding gameplay, those who let themselves become engrossed in the storyline found a sobering interpretation of utopianism and a gut-wrenching twist that forced them to ask, “Just who is in control?”

BioShock 2 will see to the needs of the former group, but the latter may find the sequel to be an unsatisfying second course. Gamers who stick around for the game’s closing levels, though, will find instead a thought-provoking character drama.

Yeah, this last section is half-assed. It is really hard to review the ending without giving anything away. For a spoiler-rich analysis, click here. Do not click on it if you intend to play the game!

Every day, I get up and drive to work, where I rub elbows with some of the best game designers in the world. I know things a (true?) game journalist would strangle an ox to find out, but a niggling little thing called an NDA keeps my pen away from the page. I enjoy the work, but it is not permanent. I am a contractor, and my employer/customer owes me nothing. One of these days, they will tell me not to come in tomorrow.

When I saw the new web hosting fees it would take to keep this venture of mine going, I flinched, I faltered, and this blog died. As more of my friends took notice, they asked me why my site was down, and I had to think it through again. A career in journalism covering video games is still very much my dream job, and this website is my best avenue into that job. In the end, I could not give this up completely.

It was easy to ignore the cost of maintaining this site during the first year. I bought the web hosting on a special, and only paid $30 for the entire year. Now, I pay monthly, so I should have much more incentive to get use out of it. That, or I will have to keep justifying it month after month. Either way, this site will not stand idle.

A lot has changed. As I type, I am listening to music from last.FM as it is playing through my Xbox. I am backing up my hard drive right now, so that I can upgrade to Windows 7. Games I salivated over last year are sitting on my entertainment center, thoroughly enjoyed or ignored. A puppy is curled up under my desk, stirring every time I shift in my chair. Tomorrow, I am going to go back to work. At a game studio.

This rambling post is not a second wind. I am not attacking my keyboard with renewed vigor. This is not an upbeat promise that I will get my act together and start posting content on any kind of schedule. This is my way of saying…

…stay tuned.

In one sentence, he managed to dismiss many games I adored. Assassin’s Creed? Fallout 3? Gasp, Saint’s Row? Come to find out, he had an extremely narrow definition of sandbox games. He essentially restricted it to the GTA series and “clones” thereof, such as Saint’s Row. This cooled me down some, but as I prepared to revise his definition, I realized… mine was not very good, either.

What is a sandbox game? Grand Theft Auto III is the classic (some would say archetypal) example. It had a story that was linear, but organized into missions. These missions were started by going to a specific location and meeting with a character. While each “mission giver’s” missions had to be done in order, players could jump back and forth between mission givers, and potentially miss missions depending on the events of another. When not in a mission, the player is in a “free roam” mode. The map remains accessible, and the player may partake in any number of side-missions or miscellaneous activities. Is that what makes a sandbox game?

GTAIII also had a huge, sprawling map. Getting from the eastern shore of the first island to the west shore of the third would take minutes (and probably a couple different stolen cars). While the racing side-missions and on-foot missions tended to be fairly linear, gamers are largely left on their own to navigate through the map, from one point to the next.. While they do, the world goes on around them, reacting to the gamers’ actions when necessary. Is that sandbox?

GTAIII had a number of game mechanics that it integrated into one relatively seamless experience. A single mission could find a player in the midst of a fist-fight, followed by a high speed chase, and concluding with a roaring gun battle. While any one of these components may have been done better in other games, non-sandbox games would never try to combine so many elements with the same ambition. Is that, then, what makes a sandbox game?

I could argue any of these views and more, but I do not know if any one is necessarily better than the other. I discussed it with Jere, another contributor to this site, and he considered the free roam portion of these games as the most indicative of the genre. His fondest memories of the GTA series involved hell-bent rampages through the city, wreaking as much havoc as possible before getting caught or killed by the police. Consider that most sandbox games do not end when the main story arc is completed. Players who fly through the story mode while completing a minimum of secondary tasks may not even see half of the content contained in the game, depending on the title.

Warning: Those with an allergy to academia should hiss and hide under the table for the next few paragraphs. I am about to drop some knowledge.

One avenue of game theory, generally called the “levels of play”, deals with three different categories for interactive activities that people generally consider “entertaining.” The first is the most general, and encompasses the other two: simple play. This can be as complex as a game of chess, or as simple as a baby playing with building blocks. In the latter example, the baby is not following any rules. He or she is simply interacting with the elements of the activity.

Skipping one, the third level is that of a fully realized game. For the sake of this article, do not consider game to mean a video game, necessarily. In the levels of play, a game is a rigidly defined interaction between actors (game players) and game elements (a ball, a game piece, a game controller, etc). The players follow rules dictated by the game (a pawn moves one square, and captures diagonally) to achieve a goal (checkmate, gin, or capturing the enemy’s flag).

The middle level, which is most interesting in this context, is called “ludic activity”. Ludus (not to be confused with “luddite”) refers to the quality of an activity that has defining structure, but not necessarily a goal. That is, you can clearly identify when you are participating in this activity, and when you are doing something different.

The classic example is catch. Typically, catch is played with two players and a ball, usually a baseball. No one “wins” at catch. The first player to drop the ball does not lose. It is simply an activity partaken to improve skills and entertain. While more players can participate, or some different kinds of balls may be substituted without changing the activity to something other than catch, it is fairly easy to determine when catch is no longer being played. If one player throws the ball to another, who then tries to hit it with a stick, that is not catch.

Now, here is the question. Is free-roam a ludic activity? All of the typical game rules apply. A bullet still takes off x amount of health, cops still react to criminal activity. Yet, are there any goals? You still have a controller in your hands, so it is definitely a playful activity, but what are you working toward?

This may not seem relevant, but consider what games are not considered sandbox games, namely, The Sims. While the game can set short term goals, like “Get a job” or “Make WooHoo with this person”, there is no real end game, unless you consider death.

More than anything else, this leads me to believe that sandbox games are more than a free roam mode. What else have we got?

Shifting gears only slightly (pun intended, you will see why), is the map size an important characteristic of the sandbox genre? Consider racing games (see, eh, eh?). In series like Ridge Racer and Gran Turismo, you go from a menu to the track, back to the menu. Few would call these titles sandbox games. Burnout had a similar reputation. Then Paradise came out, and all the sudden, that word, “sandbox” started creeping into all of the reviews.

Instead of a series of tracks, Burnout Paradise takes place in a city. When you finish a race, you shift into a sort of free roam mode. With the exception of collectibles, in the forms of gates you can drive through, all of the events initiated from this exploration mode were analogous in some way to the modes introduced in earlier series entries. Functionally the gameplay had not changed, you could now just screw around in between events.

Frequently, I am drawn to the concept of freedom when trying to define the sandbox genre. Previously, I described the diverse opportunities introduced in a thoroughly developed physics engine. Go over a wall and risk encountering resistance on the other side? Blow through it and fight on with that much less explosives?

There is a mission in Saint’s Row 2 which has you attacking a convoy of rival gang members recently released from an island prison and on their way back to the mainland. When I played it, I stole a motorcycle, waited until the convoy moved to police-escorted buses, and pulled up beside the convoy. Working my way from front to back, I tossed a remote-detonated explosive onto each bus, pulled away, then detonated each in rapid succession. Mission Complete. No cops. The game did not prompt me to do it this way, I just really wanted to.

Later, I discovered that most players stole a vintage World War I fighter jet and strafed the convoy while it was still in the water. Two ways to complete the mission, and I could think of a half dozen more.

To me, this fits with the actual term, “sandbox”. The idea of playing in a sandbox is to take the tools given to you and build something. At the end of the day, you are the primary creative force whether it is fighting gravity and the tide to build a castle made of sand, or getting away with NPC murder.

This definition, of course, has its own outliers and fuzzy boundaries. Assassin’s Creed has wide open maps and diversions, much like clear-cut sandbox games, but when it comes to actual objectives, the game is heavily scripted and linear. Even Fallout 3, with its admirable attempts at open-ended quests, still relies on the developers to come up with the payoffs.

Then you have games like the Hitman series. All of the missions in those games feature multiple ways to assassinate your targets, from pushing them off a ledge to dropping a chandelier on their head to a quick, simple dose of lead aspirin. Yet the game is rarely mentioned in the same breath as titles like Infamous and Crackdown.

If you put a gun to my head (please don’t), then this latter explanation is probably the one I would produce. Yet, there are plenty of sandbox games that feature little in this regard. Perhaps each definition has a grain of truth. Just maybe, “sandbox” is, to steal from computer science, an overloaded term. We expect too much from it, and slap the moniker on games before we take the time to properly categorize them.

One last parting shot to chew on: GTAIII is considered by most to be the reason for the popularization of the term, “sandbox”. With that in mind, I ask, “Why not Shenmue?” Discuss.

Oddly for me, it got me thinking about how graphics have evolved in the past few years, or, rather, how they have not.

Consider this.  2006 saw the release of games like Oblivion, Tomb Raider:  Legend, Dead Rising, and Splinter Cell:  Double Agent.  In 2008, we had games like Fallout 3, GTA IV, Ninja Gaiden II, Metal Gear Solid IV, and Soulcalibur IV (yes, Firefox, one word).

While some of you might argue that the jump from Tomb Raider:  Legend to Underworld is significant, consider that the span between 1996 and 1998 was enough to get us from Quake to Half-Life.  For you visual learners:

(note:  None of these pictures are mine!  All hosting sites are shown in the tool tips!  Formatting in this post is going to be a nightmare!  I can’t stop exclaiming!)

From this...

...to this.

Compare this to the four year (and significant hardware upgrade) between Ninja Gaiden I and II:

Xbox, 2004

Xbox 360, 2008

Yes, I am fully aware that the second image is sharper, and the lighting is more dynamic, but for Pac-man’s sake (hmm, no?) it is a difference of four years and a console generation!  Those were my senior years in high school and college.  Chew on that.

I am not saying that game artists have gotten lazy.  Were that the case, I would be scared to go into work tomorrow (not that any of them read this site).  No, I am saying gaming has reached a point where even sandbox games can render damn good character models, so maybe it is time to start looking in different directions to squeeze more out of our rigs.

I would be foolish to say that we have reached the pinnacle of computer generated imagery, even in the case of on-the-fly rendering (as opposed to pre-rendered movies).  No, if you hear me out, you will find that I am suggesting something of a paradigm shift that would change every aspect of future games.  Not least the graphical side.

Physics.

Again, I would be foolish to say that no work has been done to make our games mimic the world around us.  I remember the first time I saw an enemy ragdoll in Max Payne II.  He was perched atop a painter’s platform, and needless to say, it was a long way down.  Havok changed the way we game, and PhysX cards (dedicated physics processors) made a splash back in 2007 or so.

Yet if engine developers started tackling physics with the same vigor that put Valve’s Source Engine on the tip of everyone’s tongue back in 2004  I do not think it would be long before we saw a resurgence of that hunger.  The need for a playbox.

I remember watching a Half-Life 2 video and practically drooling.  It was just a tech demo.  It contained things like dynamic in-game cameras (Hello, G-man), objects that floated only if they were buoyant, which sank under the weight of non-buoyant objects, and a giant pachinko board.  I loved it.

Hell, I remember being in a game shop back in ‘96, even, and listening to a couple of guys talk about Duke Nukem 3d and Quake.  Even then, the reason why they chose the latter over the former was how the player would fly across the room when he got hit by a rocket.  That little extra bit of realism sold them over all of the cheesy one-liners and boobs.  (‘Cause it sure wasn’t the polygons)

And where should they take it?  How about starting with the environment?  Consider this fan-made video from Crysis.  It is not just that the game can calculate collisions for 3,000 individual objects, but look at how he arranges them into simple shapes half way through, like the house and the chair.  Imagine if every object in a game world was composed with such granularity, with that much potential for interaction.

Instead of objects that follow the same fracture paths, like in the Source engine (see this), imagine a surface that can warp when a bullet hits it.  Bones that snap exactly where the force is applied.  Fabric that shears when cut and stretches when pulled.

There’s a scene in the pilot of the USA show, Burn Notice that I absolutely love.  The protagonist, Michael, brings a hostile drug dealer to the door, then shoots his leg through the wall, between previously located studs, using a homemade silencer.  Then, as the dealer is bleeding in the foyer, holding a gun and waiting for Michael to come in the front door, Michael goes around back to a weak exterior wall, breaks in through it, and sneaks up on him.  This scene is not just an example of the MacGyver-like ingenuity in the show, it is something I want to freaking do in a video game!

Imagine a fully-realized virtual world with this kind of physics system.  Imagine the tactical choices that would crop up in, say, a first-person game.  Do I take the time to run around the wall?  Do I use my last brick of C4 to blow through it?  Do I move that table over and hope it will support my weight, so I can climb over the wall?

As you can imagine, a greater level of environmental realism would require a greater level of environmental interaction, which in-turn means greater attention to the physics of characters in the world.  The Euphoria engine (SW: The Force Unleashed, GTAIV) is a great start in this respect.  I really want to see it used more, especially in tandem with the level of environmental interaction I have in mind.

Let us dream up a little situation to use as an example:  one character tackling another next to a wall.  First, imagine that the tackling character is smaller, and moving fairly slowly.  He hits his target square, the tackled character tips off balance, and reaches toward the wall for balance.  Only the wall is made of paper, and gives under his weight.  Both characters topple through the wall.

Second, the tackler is larger, moving fast, and hits low.  His shoulder hits his target’s knees hard enough to break one, and his upward trajectory knocks the other off his feet, and over the tackler.  Unfortunately, this leaves the tackler with most of his momentum intact.  He slams into the wall, this time made of drywall, with underlying wooden studs and steam pipes running throughout.  His head breaks through the drywall with minimal damage, but his collarbone hits a stud with enough force to crack the bone.  As he reels back in pain, the tackler reaches out and grabs a pipe.  As his weight shifts back away from the wall, he bends the pipe out of its fitting, and steam begins shooting up into the air.

Third, the tackler is smaller again, but moving much faster.  He hits the other character high, transferring most of his weight at the shoulders.  Because the other character is so much heavier, he absorbs more of the tackler’s momentum, and the two separate this time after the impact.  Good thing too, as this time, the wall is made of glass.  His arm shoots out for balance again, but this time punches right through the glass.  The top half of the pane breaks outward, but the bottom half remains in a jagged, deadly edge.  The tackled character comes down almost on top of it, and the glass cuts at his fatigues.  They hold at first, but as he twists and slides along the edge, the fabric catches and the glass cuts through it, and deep into his armpit and chest.  As more of his weight is transferred to the glass, it too breaks, leaving a number of shards in the character, and he topples through the pane.  Blood is dripping and torn pieces of his uniform may be seen hanging from what remains of the window.

Damnit, is anyone else excited about this stuff yet?  I know I am not the only one who would lose his shit if I saw this in a tech demo.  I just want to know it is in the works.

(Last minute addition)

From what I hear, Red Faction: Guerilla is a step in the right direction.  I played a demo and was not particularly impressed, but I’ll give it points for enthusiasm.

Despite encouraging acts of lust, I’d like to put the morality of the issue aside.  I say this because when I first saw this contest I thought with my head, “Aww yeah!”  Then I thought with my other head, “Wait, this is a load of bullshit.”

Because how is this really in any way a legitimate video game promotion?  I pitched their idea as unbiased as I could to the first person I saw who I knew wasn’t in any way a gamer; my dad.  He replied, “So….it’s a video game promotion that doesn’t net you any video games?”

The Grand Prize is vague at best, getting invited to something called “The Event” escorted by two booth babes.  Despite the estimated retail value for the grand prize only being a lackluster $595.00 the grand prize doesn’t even give mention of a video game prize!  That’s right; the runner ups are the only ones who get mention of video game memorabilia.  Interestingly enough, actual contents of grand prize seems to differ from advertisement to official contest rules.

So I’m trying to figure out what EA is marketing.  Sex appeal is one thing, but they’ve effectively separated the sex appeal from their product.  Is EA a company for sexually repressed men and boys?  Is that the gamer affiliation I’m supposed to draw from this?  And what’s the incentive to female gamers for this….to shoot for second place?

If you stop and think, or fantasize if you’re like me, the grand prize really isn’t that appealing.  I mean, these women are like Geishas except they lack culture.  If you honestly think these women give a damn about video games beyond the fact that it’s a paycheck your fantasies are far less realistic than mine.  If you’re optimistic in that there will be more than a few lines of conversation between you and the booth babes the conversation can only go one of two ways:  1)You talking about video games and them tuning you out while nodding idly.  Hey at least you aren’t groping them anymore! OR 2) them talking about how tough it is working as a booth babe, especially having to let people like you invade their personal space.

And let’s be honest here.  One of these options is blatantly rude.  The other option implies you have the courage to talk to these girls in a social setting in the first place, which EA clearly doesn’t think you do or they wouldn’t be trying to give you a $600 pick-me-up conversation with two of them.  Let’s face it this grand prize is cheap: both morally and monetarily.  And if EA isn’t just trying to use the hype from such a lewd idea, they’re trying to send a subtle message of what they really think of you — their sheepish consumers.

“Pathetic.”

Okay, so in Prototype, you can sneak into bases disguised as military personnel.  You can also “patsy” another soldier.  What this means is that you essentially accuse the soldier of being… you.  The target freaks out, his comrades gun him down, then panic a few seconds later as they realize they just shot a fellow human.  This skill is mildly amusing, and is usually a good way to distract large groups of enemies while you slip around the back of a crowd and stealthily consume another of their comrades.

So now you know all the mechanics you need to.  I was sneaking around a base, I had consumed all key personnel, so at this point, I was just screwing around.  I patsied one soldier out in the middle of the base floor, near some large storage containers.  Gunshots ensued, and even a few explosions from rocket launchers.  These sounds are common occurrences in Prototype, so I didn’t think much of them.

I started walking nonchalantly around the base afterward, showing zero remorse for “incorrectly identifying” my “mortal enemy”, when all of a sudden, I came across the bodies of three soldiers I did not kill.  And the rocket launchers next to them.  And then I noticed that the crate next to their charred corpses happen to lie in a direct line with the soldier I had just patsied.  And it was twisted into a burning mess.

You put it together.  I just burst out laughing.  Rocket surgery indeed.  I think I will go stealth consume the entire base now, just for fun.

Part 2, thirty minutes later:

Okay, so stealth consuming an entire base is impossible.  Sure, you can nab a few of the roving guards, but the rest of the guys stand around in groups, chattering like school girls.  They need to be distracted so you can grab the one in the back and work your way up.  So I started systematically patsying enemies and snagging stragglers until everyone in the base was pretty on edge.

I am doing it pretty randomly.  Rifleman here, grenade launcher guy there, etc.  I patsy my eight or ninth soldier, and he is surrounded by three or four rifleman, so he goes down pretty quick.  Right before the last bullet gets him, though, I hear the whoomph of a rocket launcher going off.

By this point, I am pretty familiar with the layout of the remaining groups in the base.  I realize, at the last possible second, that I am standing directly between the patsied soldier (already dead) and two guys armed with rocket launchers.

Boom!  Rocket hemmorhoids.

Splinter Cell Conviction

This game was supposed to come out around the same time as Assassin’s Creed, and I remember this because both were Ubisoft games, and both happened to feature a hiding-in-plain-sight mechanic with crowds.

It went back to the drawing board, and looks quite a bit different.  Frankly, I don’t really like the direction they’re taking.  There’s two approaches to stealth games:  ninja and ghost.

Ninja stealth games glorify the takedown.  You sneak around, memorize paths, and take out enemies one by one, until all that’s left are you and your objective.  Tricks and gadgets are all well and good, but when it comes down to it, these games are about you, your weapon of choice (blade or gun) and the poor, unlucky sap eighteen inches away.  The Tenchu series is a perfect example of this.

Ghost games are all about the objective.  Sure, you’ll kill people, or at least render them unconcious, but tidiness is next to godliness in these games.  The best operative is the one no one knew was there.  Splinter Cell always seemed this way.

After watching the “Behind Closed Doors #1″ segment on Xbox Live, I get the impression that the developers want the game to go more towards a ninja game.  They want to capture the feeling of being a world-class stealth operative busting into a room full bad guys and taking them out before they even have a chance to reach for their guns.  How do they want to do it?  By automating it, of course.

I am all for making a game stylish.  The problem is that outright combat in Splinter Cell games has always lacked weight.  When you get shot in the game, your character jerks slightly, grunts, and maybe your controller rumbles a bit.  Shooting an opponent was similarly lacking in feedback.  Shoot him enough, or in the right place, and he would lurch over like a drunk and fall on the ground.  From the footage I saw, nothing makes me think that the series has shirked this shortcoming.

The other problem I have with the developers wanting to make Splinter Cell into a ninja game is their aim for a more organic, stealth-to-gunplay-to-melee-to-stealth feel, similar to, say, the Bourne franchise.  What the developers seem to forget is that said franchise already spawned a game.  It sucked.  Much for the same reasons I expect the current vision of Conviction to.

Splinter Cell was about patience.  It was about a offensively weak but well-equipped operative staying the hell away from everyone else.  I mean, come on, there were levels where you could not kill anyone.  I understand why they feel the need to revitalize an old formula, but the direction they are going is just going to bite them in the ass.

People will buy the game, but it is only going to reach Splinter Cell faithful.  Everyone else is going to dismiss it as a run-of-the-mill action-stealth title.

Halo Reach

Not as much to say on this.  The fall of Reach has already been chronicled in a novel by Erik Nylund called, well, The Fall of Reach, not that 98% of Halo fans would know that.  What is interesting is the scope of the game.  If I recall, the battle for Reach only lasted a day or two.  With multiple Spartans taking part, Bungie’s got a chance of crafting an awesome multiple-viewpoint story.  Short, sweet, and strong.

I did not play Halo Wars, so I do not know how Bungie handled multiple Spartans in canon, but I think they absolutely dropped the ball by not reuniting the Master Chief with his cohort in Halo 3.  Screw the Arbiter and his Elite cronies.  Can you imagine playing as the Chief and some of the Spartans he bled and trained with since childhood?  And then the ending, where they could totally get away with having one or all sacrifice himself/themselves to ensure the others can complete the mission?  To “finish the fight”?  Grr.  Sorry.

</rant>

Dead Rising 2

Same shit, different day, place, protagonist, and ways to kill zombies.  This is not a bad thing.  Dead Rising 1 was good shit.  Hopefully they will include the zombie poodles from that “game” they released for the Wii.

Assassin’s Creed 2

The gameplay footage trailer up on XBL talks a good talk, but this still looks like Assassin’s Creed to me.  Ezio seems to have the same capacity (or lack thereof) for stealth as his ancestor, Altair, though this is not necessarily a bad thing.  My fondest memories of the first game were the ~25-soldier brawls that followed a dirty execution, the way they became terrified as I cut down one after another of their brethren, and rallied as reinforcements arrived…

Climbing and movement, in particular, seem unchanged, and I found myself licking my lips at the thought of getting to do it again.  That was one of the things in the first game that I felt just appealed to a baser joy, the thought of climbing something like a monkey and looking down like a conqueror.  I am sure that I will get bored of climbing buildings in video games soon, but even after some quality time with Infamous, it has not happened yet.  For now, I am looking forward to seeing the Florence from the rooftops.

As far as everything else goes, I can do little more than speculate.  The game used repetitive filler to beef up the playtime, and was a much worse game for it.  The developers claim that the game will have much more variety, but it will take more than a four-minute demo to prove it.

And now for something completely different…

Usually, mentioning a potential post before I write it seems to be a death knell for the content, so I have been spending a lot of time with Prototype and Infamous, so I might write a comparison piece, but I make no promises!

Also, whilst I am talking games on the horizon (let’s ignore that last bit where I mentioned two games that are already out), do look into Fallen Earth.  It’s being developed by a company in the area, Icarus, which happens to employ a friend of mine.  I do not really do MMO’s, but this one might be worth a peek.

Oh, and keep an eye out for Shadow Complex, because the parent of that developer happens to employ, well, me, at least for the moment.  And, it looks pretty bitchin’.

My first experience with the excellent Call of Duty 4 came in the weekend after it came out, when I rented it during a dog-sitting spell at my sister’s.  My playthrough on Normal was sublime, but short…

I remember getting through the final confrontation with Zakhaev ready to write this game off as a short, sweet gaming experience.  I chuckled as I listened to the credits, complete with a rap song by Griggs’ voice actor, and went to put a load of laundry into the dryer.

Now, I had long since learned not to turn games off during the final credit roll.  Achievements, New Game + modes, artwork, developers will do anything to make you go through the credits.  If I could skip them, I would, if not, I would do something else.  In this case, fiddle with the laundry in the hallway while the game continued to play.

Now, just as I was about to go to the bathroom, I hear some playful action music, and this little exchange:

“We’re going deep, and we’re going hard.”
“Surely you can’t be serious?”
“I’m serious… and don’t call me Shirley.”

I delighted in the Airplane! reference, and sat down just in time to take out the first terrorist walking out of the bathroom.  I was shot down six seconds later.

For those who never had the pleasure, “Mile High Club” is the final, bonus level.  The level has no context, and very little script (mostly what you hear at the beginning).  It is also the hardest level of the game.

There are practically more enemies than there are bullets to kill them with, and a crazy time-limit: two and a half minutes in my mode, one minute in the hardest (Veteran).

I beat my head against this one for a few run throughs, then finally worked my way to the climactic finale.

The clock was ticking down as I bounded the stairs.  I sprinted forward and hoped I had faced the last of the enemies.  I wondered what the closed double doors would do when I reached them:

They burst open to reveal a terrorist holding a pistol to a hostage’s head.  The game goes into one of its signature slow-motion events.

A few seconds pop back onto the clock, then start ticking inexorably down.

My pistol comes up.  Good thing, my rifle was dry.

I struggle for a shot, but the two are so damn wiggly.  I know I have to do something.  Finally, I see daylight.

I shoot the terrorist in the three inches of his hip he has swung outside of the protection of his shield.  I jerk my aim back up to his head, just as he bucks in pain.  The hostage stays down.

BAM!

One beautiful headshot.

Once again, I put the controller down, convinced that Infinity Ward had crafted one hell of a game.

Then I remembered that I really had to go to the bathroom.

When the weekend was over, the game went back to the rental store.  It was not until Best Buy dropped it to $30 while it was still $45-50 everywhere else that I took home a copy of my own.

I also like the idea of keeping them short.  If I can’t express it in 140 characters or less, then, well…I’ll do it in 280.  Anyway, bottom line is keep an eye on the Twitter Feed.  That widget only works half the time, so feed on the raw stuff, here.

This website, at its core, is about stories, so I think it is fitting that our first Gamer Account (yeah, just made that up) describes a video game completely devoid of graphics:

Hello all, I’ve been asked by Scops to bring to you one of my finer moments in gaming.

This particular story takes place in a MUD (Multi-User Dimensions) called Aetolia.  MUDs are essentially text-based MMORPGs where the world is represented by a series of interconnected rooms with various exit/entry points to each room without graphics.

In this game I chose a class, Syssin, with some of the most unique and engaging mechanics present in gaming even to this day; mechanics that would be almost impossible to implement accurately in a three-dimensional world.

For example Syssin are a snake-based class with control over various venoms which may be loaded into their fangs and injected upon biting their target.  As one grew in power as a Syssin they gained mastery over various venoms each with a wide variety of side effects.  However this ability was not without its downsides.  Each injection required you to reload your fangs with more venom, even if you planned to use the same venom in succession.  Even worse, if you failed to use your venom after a short time the venom would enter your own bloodstream wreaking havoc on your own system.

What makes the venom itself hard to implement in a three-dimensional world were some of the various effects.  Few types of venom caused direct damage or even damage over time. Rather most venoms caused things like paralysis, blindness (something which truly limited information of your surrounding, rather than any accuracy mechanic typically used), crippled certain limbs, etc.  Syssin were not the only ones with mastery of some of these afflictions.  Indeed the game’s combat revolves around carrying the various antidotes and methods of treatment to reverse these conditions.

What makes the system complex is that for example you might have to apply a salve to cure one illness but another illness cripples your arms so you cannot apply said salve.  This meant that you could have several afflictions on you requiring you to unravel a sort of puzzle of afflictions in order to regain your combat potency.

However, what made Syssin truly shine with their venoms was their ability to create Illusions.  An illusion in a text based game basically means “/illusion <insert text describing said illusion here>”.  After which it will display the message to anyone in the same room as you as the illusion dictated.

This allowed a talented Syssin player to broadcast an illusion with a combat message that their target had begun suffering from an effect of Venom A while at the same time the real message that they were suffering from an effect of Venom B would be displayed.  Considering how fast combat can whirr by your opponent could either: 1)take a moment and examine their conditions to find out which is real, and thus risk being afflicted by something new preventing treatment of Venom B, or 2)they can take a gamble and potentially waste resources trying to cure one of the venoms they were assaulted with.

Needless to say it took me a long time to get a hang of playing a Syssin.  With fragile political situations I could have been attacked by a player long before I was ready for it.  Lucky me I got to read up on a lot of this information via in-game manuscripts in virtual libraries written by other players.

My first non-Syssin friend was some kind of Infernal Knight.  Yet, while I was familiar with many afflictions I was not familiar with the full extent of who could do what.

So I challenged this friend to a duel!  The arena was much like a miniature world with several inter-connected rooms containing areas such as an open field, wooded areas, and caves.

The duel began and placed us in random although separate, rooms within the arena.  Peering into surrounding areas I was able to locate him first and sneak up on him.  And while I got the drop on him I had no idea what I was getting into.

I started things off by paralyzing him.

I wasn’t capable of adding many compounding inflictions to keep him from curing paralysis so I hurriedly tried inflicting as much raw damage as I could while he was incapacitated.

However, he quickly saw through my illusion and was back on his feet in no time. Afterwards he proceeded to melt my face off, quite literally. By basically melting my face shut I was utterly blind.

At this point I panicked and paralyzed him again but unsure I’d survive another assault I loaded up a venom known as “Loki”. Aptly named, Loki was a venom which randomly acted as any venom in the Syssin arsenal; including those I had not yet become familiar with.

After loading him up with a few Loki’s I bolted in random directions attempting to scurry away and regain my composure before he could cure paralysis and come back after me. Little did I know I wound up in a cave.

I quickly came to the conclusion I already feared to be the truth. The blindness seemed to be permanent and I had nothing to cure any affliction. So there I stood in some dank cave watching the only thing I could, my health, ready to lash out at anything once my health changed in the slightest.

Match Over.

Winner: Me.

“What?”

There I stood, outside the dueling arena, my friend in the room with me. I was dumbfounded. I read in awe as my friend went on to explain his downfall.

He was an avian character capable of flight. And after he had cured his second dosing of paralysis he flew up above the trees into the air to better ascertain my location. To his horror he discovered that one of my Loki injections had made him highly allergic to sunlight.

Got a story you want to tell?  Shoot me an email at daniel@scopsblog.com, with “My Story” in the subject line.  As long as it’s largely coherent and a fun read, I’ll post it.  For now, peace.  I’m going to bed.