Fit the First I alighted on an ingenious idea when I first played Monkey Island 2: LeChuck’s Revenge. When I got stuck, I could simply write a letter to LucasArts describing my situation and, within about two weeks, they would write back, describing a solution.
Since our tiny fists first clutched the Atari 2600 controller, we’ve been taught that story-driven games need to have stories – stories with beginnings, middles, and ends. Maybe that was wrong all this time.
I’m proud to present our latest Celebrity Guest, Thomas J. Allen, Executive Director of the National Academy of Video Game Testers and Reviewers (NAViGaTR). My first collaboration with Tom was back in 2005, an article on Quality of Life in the games industry, eventually (after after 18 months and 21 drafts) published in Develop Magazine across the pond in Europe. Tom and I have since appeared together on industry panels, collaborated on other articles like this one, and generally created our own brand of trouble. Tom is one of those people with 10-12 wild schemes cooking at once, and I’ve managed to participate in a few of them without losing my life or spotless criminal record.
One of Tom’s many passions is film, so today he presents us with a rumination on what the last few years might have been like had the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, which so recently announced that it was switching to ten nominees for Best Picture instead of five, decided to do so earlier. As with our other Celebrity Guests, Tom will hang around for a while to respond to comments. Enjoy!
— Steerpike
In a recent New York Times Magazine article by Tom Vanderbilt, he wonders how the Internet data centers we have built can keep up with our massive use. After reading the article, I felt like crawling into the fetal position, covering my head and eyes, and just waiting for the end of the universe to arrive. For surely, the end of the universe as we know it is near.
In a recent posting, I expressed curiosity about what makes a game a sure fire winner.Statistically, only two percent of games actually return a profit to their developers, so I asked the question, “Why do some games, like Grand Theft Auto, Halo, Max Payne and others become such winners in the marketplace?” One of you supplied an answer that intrigued and pleased me.The response agreed with the theories I had proposed in my article while …
Few things are more immersive than visiting a fully realized universe. This doesn’t mean we aren’t looking for great story or boffo gameplay. But often as not, the world that keeps us playing, drawn to that altered state that only gaming can provide.
Recently, I asked the question: “Why do some games, like Grand Theft Auto, Halo, Max Payne and others become such winners in the marketplace?” Ever since then I have been trying to unlock the secret to developing and selling winning games. So, the question for today should be pretty obvious. What makes gamers line up at midnight before a release to purchase these games?
Video games are about imagination. They’re about going to places you might not otherwise go and doing things you might not otherwise do; they’re about meeting people and entities you might not otherwise meet and having experiences you might not otherwise have. The medium allows us, essentially, to take a life for a test drive. And the more advanced the technology gets, the less hard imagination work is required to “be” there. I don’t know whether this is good or bad, it’s just the way things are. But one thing’s remained the same since day one: there is always you, on the other end of the mouse or controller, always you separated from the other world by a screen. Video games can be about anything, but they always have you in common.
While I have never been what one might call an “intense” gamer, I have for years been a student of visual and printed forms of media.I have particularly followed the on-going argument related to computer gaming as art.I do this largely because it amuses me to find politicians who can barely spell “computer,” and lawyers who have an opinion about almost everything, expressing their remarkably intense and often nonsense-laden opinions.I truly believe they need to …
The Local and GamePolitics report that Germany has banned paintball and laser tag in response to the recent school shooting in Winnenden that left 15 dead, including the shooter. Germany has a long and storied tradition of opposition to violent entertainment, the result of massive and not entirely misplaced sensitivity over the perception that any presentation of violence may awaken dark memories of Nazism. It will be many decades before time “heals” that wound, and …
It is my belief that the term “computer game” is a misnomer.I have no trouble accepting the word computer, since indeed, we experience them on a computer.It is the word “game” that I have problems with.Surely most gamers are sophisticated enough to accept the fact that we have progressed to the point that the word “game” is not only incongruous, it is incorrect.
Kotaku weekend editor Owen Good has a terrific and thought-provoking article worthy of discussion: he’s currently acting as a live-in caregiver for his 86-year old grandfather, a WWII vet and Harvard MBA who’s been asking him recently about video games in general. Owen asks the Kotaku crowd how best to introduce a man who’s never once experienced one – but is genuinely interested – to the medium we all love.
Numbers aren’t happy for Platinum Games’ latest Madworld, the artistically gory black-and-white-and-red-all-over chainsaw brawler for the Wii. NPD reports that U.S. sales for the title hit a pathetic 66,000 for the month of March, and this in a period when we’re not seeing a lot of console blockbusters jockeying for attention. It’s a pity, but not unexpected.
Sometimes the deepest ideas come from the shallowest places.
Fear is our most primal, basic instincts; encouraging us to flee the unfamiliar or dangerous. In entertainment we call it horror. Fear is an emotion; horror is a genre, with clichés, conventions, and innovations.
Back in 1998, my friends introduced me to the survival horror genre in the form of Resident Evil 2. I remember the hallway, screaming when the horde of bats breaks the glass. I remember the first encounter with the Licker on the ceiling, his sightless face locking onto yours, drool slavering from his jaws. I screamed, panicked, and was promptly eviscerated. These encounters and others carved themselves into my memory, making them pinnacle horror game moments. I still remember pausing the game to wipe sweat from the controllers.