Mega Man 2 (NES)

The Mega Man franchise has long been a blind spot for me. I found them too difficult and quickly became frustrated. It wasn’t until the Switch Online service added the five versions for the original Game Boy that I played through any game in the series, and it started to click with me. After these few successes, I decided I should play the one commonly held up as one of the best games ever made. I can honestly say I now understand. It may be the most perfectly paced games I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing. I ran through the eight bosses and their respective levels in one sitting, then journeyed through Wiley’s castle a few days later. This time around, I did not encounter anything so aggravating I had to put it down. It sounds obvious, but the game gives you all the tools in the first half to be able to get through the second, an excellent warm-up for the eventual conclusion. The rising and falling action makes for a delightfully satisfactory experience. You don’t need another person to tell you, but this game is a gem.

Mad Dash Racing (Xbox)

This year, I’ve fallen into the 25th anniversary nostalgia of the original Xbox, and I’ve felt the desire to play some more games from that system. I picked up this game chiefly because it has the unique distinction of being, as far as I can tell, the only game released two weeks before the console itself. I don’t know if that’s true, but the novelty of it made it worth a try. This one turned out to be surprisingly fun! It’s a cart racer, even if the characters are technically on foot. The gameplay is not enough that anyone is going to give up Double Dash!! or Crash Team Racing (picturing college dorm rooms of that era), but it’s definitely good enough to hold your attention. I didn’t play any multiplayer, only the solo adventure mode which is actually quite deep. The levels are branching and intricate, and because they are only one lap, you are not redoing them constantly. But because there are multiple paths, it does inspire a want to go back and run some of the levels again. Speaking of replay-ability, there are medals to earn for finishing levels with each character, finding hidden medals (of which I found zero), and doing attacks and stunts, which gives plenty of satisfying reasons to want to go back. It’s also worth mentioning this game has insane rubber-banding, meaning no one is truly ever out of a race. There were plenty of times where I had a comfortable lead the entire race and lost at the end. Frustrating. But there were just as many times where I would get stuck in a wall for several seconds at a time (this is a launch game, after all), turn the wrong way after exiting, only to be in 1st place within a minute. Exhilarating. As such, there is not much reason to restart in the middle of a race. Fully competent racer, well worth playing more than once.

Dr. Robotnik's Mean Bean Machine (Sega Genesis) & Kirby’s Avalanche (Super Nintendo)

This is technically about two video games, but it’s really about the same game. When I say these are the same, I don’t mean they are comparable or one inspired the other or one is a spiritual successor. No, they are the same exact game, except for having Sonic characters or Kirby characters. Fortunately, it’s an excellent game!

I always fell more in the Dr. Mario camp of falling icon puzzle game preferences, so when my closest friend and Mean Bean advocate said he was clicking with Dr. Mario 64, I had to give Puyo Puyo another try. I immediately got stumped by the second (of thirteen!) levels. But once I learned the patterns and the importance of combos, things started to make sense. I was eventually able to progress through and vanquish King Dedede and Dr. Robotnik in their respective games, even as the blocks are dropping faster than I could see them. It’s almost not possible to watch them fall, you simply have to line them up and hope. I can see how someone can get good at this, but it took fairly lucky massive combos for me to finish both games. And at the end of the day (literally), I’m closing my eyes and seeing beans fall. That’s a bonus win for me.

The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap (Game Boy Advance)

Zelda is very much a winter franchise for me. Something about the holiday time inspires me to pick up a game to chip away on. This year, I landed on a new-to-me entry, as I didn’t own a Game Boy Advance growing up, and this game was a blast. While the overworld was a bit trite (forgivable, considering it’s on a mobile device) the dungeon puzzles were highly satisfying. I thought the music, when I remembered to turn up my Game Boy’s volume, was particularly magnificent, directly reminiscent of Ocarina of Time. There were moments I thought I had played this before, but it was only the music grounding me. This was not my favorite Zelda game, not even my favorite 2D Zelda, possibly not even my favorite handheld 2D Zelda, but even a “not my favorite” in this series is still a tremendous game. Especially after feeling burned by the Zelda output on the Switch, this reminded me what I love about the series.

Halo 2: Anniversary (Xbox One)

My memories of my first time playing through Halo 2 are hazy, as I was a pre-teen, but some moments do slip through. Being able to carry two weapons simultaneously. Playing as the enemy species for the first time. Encountering an entirely new enemy in the brutes. What I also recall, though, is the sense of anticipation to getting a sequel to what, at the time, had to be my favorite-ever video game. I also remember the slight uneasiness when it didn’t capture me the same way the first one did, surely not my first time being let down by a sequel in media, but one of the first I can bring to mind. The fact that it ended in a singular boss fight, without a climactic chase sequence, felt like a letdown then, and the franchise returned to an escape with its follow-up. While I was too young to be following game reviews and criticism, it seems like that was a commonly expressed sentiment around the game. Now, the online multiplayer aspect is recognized as a paradigm shift, and I can attest to that being formative for me as well. 

All of that said, with the 20-year wave of nostalgia cresting right now, I wanted to replay the campaign even if I was basically experiencing it fresh. The Anniversary re-release, as it is presented in the Master Chief Collection, is an excellent product, and the way to play it today. The entire game, including its cutscenes, is redone in a way that feels totally modern. And because I was coming to it nostalgically, I found myself mashing the Select button to alternate between original Xbox and Xbox One graphics multiple times every level. The boss finale does still seem anti-climactic, but not enough to detract from the totality of the game. A wonderfully tight experience, only whetting my appetite for more from the Halo universe, not to mention more romanticizing of the original Xbox.

Game Review: What Remains of Edith Finch

The term, "walking simulator," does a disservice to most games. Okay, the majority of such a game is spent walking around, interacting with, and discovering facets about surroundings. It is not a "game" in the traditional sense of challenging puzzle solving or action-based levels. Such games are experiences which tell a story through interactions with the environment. Think of it like a book with more to do than simply turn pages. The term, "walking simulator," is reductive. It may be an accurate description, but it should not be a derisive one. That said, What Remains of Edith Finch is a walking simulator. It is also one of the finest examples of storytelling I have encountered this year--in any art form.

I should be up front: the developer of this game did something very nice for me. They exchanged a digital Steam code on my ancient PC for a shiny new code for the Xbox One version. It does not affect my opinion of the actual game, but it should be mentioned. Regardless, please note: the developers are pretty cool.

The story is told in a dozen or so short vignettes over the span of two hours. The short time frame, however, does not deter from the overall narrative. It is a collection of fascinating stories--some which are better than others--all told in a sitting or two. Each chapter follows events or moments in the lives of individual members of the Finch family. The theme is macabre (I mean, death is constantly encompassing) but not necessarily horrifying. And honestly, to say anymore about the experience would be a detriment.

When I say some of the stories are better than others, each episode takes a different approach. They all follow a different character, take place in another wing of the house, and utilize a new gameplay mechanic. Will all of these variations, some do fall short. Some characters are less interesting than others, or the new mechanic does not feel quite right. The beauty of the game’s format, however, eases from one story to the next so a weaker one does not linger. On the other hand, the stories are diverse and inventive, so they feel fresh. The highlights are very high.

The events spread throughout the brilliant set piece that is the Finch family house. A massive, sprawling structure complete with secret corridors and hideaways, simply exploring the house is a marvelous experience. For the couple hours spent in the house, the player begins to feel like another inhabitant. The house feels handcrafted yet bolted together, like a jigsaw puzzle. In reality, it would be a desirable place to explore.

Suffice to say, What Remains of Edith Finch is well worth the time. It is the type of game anyone could enjoy, from experienced players to those who have never before used the machine. The actual gameplay is never too difficult to bar someone from enjoying it. At two hours long, the game is the length of a tight movie. It tells an impactful story in about a dozen vignettes. After confronting the game’s conclusion, and after a brief chill runs down your spine, you will witness video games as storytelling at its very best.

Best Thing I Did Last Week: Play Bastion

When the word “craft” comes up in a conversation about video games, it often refers to the title of the game. Here, I’m thinking of the Mine-, Star-, [World of] War-, and so on. In rare cases, however, the word refers to what is going on behind the scenes. The word “craft” evokes the amount of time and effort it takes to a game with a certain style. Nothing about a well-crafted game is generic; nothing is boring. “Craft” is the word which constantly ran through my mind while playing the 2011 game, Bastion.

I have the tendency to come to games a few years (or decades) late. Usually, this works out in my favor, and I get to experience something classic that has withstood time. Of course, I miss out on the conversation around the game in the height of its popularity, but many times, it is nice look at the progression several years removed. In the case of Bastion, players have continually praised its style, despite being a small product from a little-known, first-time development team. Comparatively, a lot of praise for its small size. I certainly was never disappointed.

First, the gameplay itself is extremely engaging. It is no secret that Diablo II is my favorite game. The amount of times Bastion reminded me of Diablo was amazing. Not tonally (to be sure) but in the style of play. The view is top-down with a diagonal, isometric view that was so reminiscent of Diablo (but with much less red blood and dark shadows. The similarities do not end with the camera. The primary focus of the game is to fly to varied zones and recover a piece which in turn rebuilds the main world. On several occasions, my character was dropped in the middle of four roads with a choice towards the goal and--not unlike Diablo--I had to choose a route and hack and slash my way to the end. Whether or not these comparisons were intentional, it was hard not to be at least reminded of one of my favorite games.

There are differences, of course, in the art style, which was absolutely stunning. Each zone is unique in terms of terrain, color, brightness, enemies, and landforms. Every part of each zone looks to be hand-drawn. As your character moves about, the path builds its way up around you with pieces falling into place which literally makes it feel (here’s that word, again) crafted. Time after time, I would just run through levels and wonder at the visual display in front of me (which is dangerous, because you can fall off the map). Even if the act of playing doesn’t grab you (which shouldn’t be a problem) the sheer artistic merit makes it a worthwhile experience.

The soundtrack alone is worth turning the game on and leaving it running in the background. Each area has a unique sound that coincides with the gameplay. Not unlike the visuals, the music makes each zone feel like an individual part of a special world. The soundtrack has the kind of music that makes you want to grab a guitar and play along. In many ways, the music can stand independent of the game and still be praised for its quality. But the ways it works in conjunction with the game are superb.

Although I unintentionally seem to come to a few games late, I am usually rewarded for the long wait. And with a game like Bastion, it is most certainly better late than never.

The Future of the Phone Game

If you take a critical look at modern video games, there are two basic opinions about the mobile phone. Either a) games on a phone are the extent of known video games or b) games on the phone are not even considered games. Now, both of these opinions are missing part of the story, and I would disagree with either one.

The history of playing video games on-the-go is not a recent one. Nintendo’s Game Boy has been popular since 1989; Sony has been at it for a few tries as well. Many times, games on these handhelds follow in the footsteps of their larger market console versions, and while perhaps at a smaller scale, they are accepted into the broader canon of a franchise. For instance, Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening and Metal Gear Acid are two games that are a part of a grander franchise on consoles. Regardless of quality, these are two examples of franchises continued on their proprietary handheld consoles. Phones do not have the same luxury. Of course, licenses would preclude many franchises from appearing on certain consoles and on phones, but that does not mean equally affecting experiences can turn up there. Instead, phone games are for passing time on a boring commute. Why is it that games released on such consoles are more legitimized than games appearing on phones?

The first opinion is that games on phones are the only games to play. This would be someone whose idea of playing games is hours and hours of Candy Crush on an iPhone. If this sounds like fun to you, then that is wonderful! But there are longer experiences on phones that can be so much more rewarding and enjoyable.

The second opinion is that phone games do not “count” as proper video games. An example of this person would be someone who self-identifies with the detestable term, “hardcore gamer.” In such a person’s view, games require at least a few hours of dedication and are played on high-end computers or retro consoles. At least if it is a “real” handheld game, it had better be on a Nintendo or the like. Again, if this sounds like your concept of a traditional video game, that is perfect! But there are a handful (no pun intended) of great games that, while not being as graphically intensive as those on a modern TV, can deliver the same amount of exciting or emotional punch.

Mobile video games exist in a truly bizarre realm. People who play games regularly refuse to take phone games seriously. Those who exclusively play one or two endless mobile games are not aware of what other great opportunities they can get on their tiny computers. People who do not play any games at all disdain mobile games as a waste of time altogether. Mobile games really can be valuable in their own right, more so than just a time waster.

One hindrance to the phone’s ability to compete with established handhelds is the ratio of quality to bulk. If you watched the Super Bowl this year, or any amount of TV for that matter, you have probably seen huge ads for certain mobile games. It’s true, there are some insidious games that use addicting feedback loops to pry quite a bit of money from consumers. The sheer size of the respective app stores means that thousands of games can be produced at virtually no cost and only a small few will gain any sort of notoriety. The games of lasting quality, then, can get easily buried if the market is not followed constantly.

I predict the increase in valuable mobile game experiences will be akin to that of television. There was a time when the sheer production value of television shows could not attempt to compete with those of film. As TV began to tell more sophisticated stories, however, we began to see shows advance to a quality, which (in my opinion) now rivals many films. Sure, there will still be mindless puzzle games that sadistically trick millions of dollars out of its player base, but here and there, worthwhile experiences will come to fruition on mobile phones and anyone interested in games will take notice. In many cases, that renaissance is already here; players just need to start accepting it.



We have already seen the rise of independent games, or simple, short, artistic experiences that do not rely on action to draw in players. There is no reason such games cannot transform the mobile game market in years to come.

As Solid as Ever

There is a pantheon of franchises in the world of video games that can only be considered iconic. In a world of popular culture where we are seemingly obsessed with series¹, consumers are always looking forward to the next entry in the set. With video games, players are always eager to try the new Mario or Zelda or Final Fantasy or Halo. The consistency for these games have endeared them in video game history.

In any type of popular media, franchises are significant, and they deserve to be. There is a reason a series becomes popular and remains relevant. Part of what make game franchises important is that they are somewhat genre-defining. They initially popularize the genre, and then tweak and improve it with each iteration. The two-dimensional, side-scrolling platformer does not exist as it is today without the first Super Mario Bros. StarCraft shaped the way we know real-time strategies. Together, Metroid and Castlevania literally named a certain style of games, “metroidvania.” Basically any genre of video game can be traced to one or two franchises that are still pervasive today. Such games may not have invented the genre, but they propelled them into popularity enough that they can continue making games in the series today. This is what Metal Gear Solid did for the stealth game.

To tell the truth, before this fall, I had never really played through any stealth game properly, much less a Metal Gear game. I couldn’t play Thief, and I barely made it out of the training level of Splinter Cell. I even had issues with some parts of Dishonored, a stealth-lite game. I just couldn’t get the hang of it. I’m not patient enough to plan out events and bide my time in a video game, and when something goes wrong, I don’t like to painstakingly retrace my steps to get back to the same point. Needless to say, I thought I was in for more of the same when I bought the complete collection of Metal Gear Solid games.

Why did I make such a purchase if I was fairly certain that I would not enjoy myself? The long answer is that the newest entry to the series (The Phantom Pain²) had just come out and was receiving rave reviews for being more accessible than previous games as well as just being incredibly bizarre. There was also the possibility of this being the final game in the series. This, coupled with the long time between releases in the series, meant that the zeitgeist for Metal Gear games was palpable. I wanted to experience the fascinating series that people seem to either love or hate, and I wanted to start at the beginning. The short answer is I’m just not smart with money.

In any case, I purchased the collection knowing full well that I might just hate it. I figured I would turn it on, not be able to make it out of the first zone and never try it again. Then a few years later, I would try one of the later games to see if that was any better. And that’s okay, I still had to see what the game was like. I wanted to see what all the buzz was about and be able to tell myself that at least I tried it, and I had at least a passing, academic understanding of it. I could never have guessed how wrong I would be.

I downloaded 1998’s Metal Gear Solid and sat down to play, essentially going in blind. I knew some characters’ names, but that was really about it. Immediately, the opening cutscenes began to draw me in. It’s difficult to explain, but the opening sequence seems both ludicrous and believable at the same time. It’s done with a level of self-seriousness that is really hard not to like. It’s hard to be so stupid and so deep at the same time. This is not supposed to sound like criticism; the opening sequence (and any of the ensuing cutscenes) is highly amusing. The game’s not dumb, just extremely ridiculous.

I expected to have some issues with the controls. The game is old, so the movements are a bit unrefined. It was definitely jarring at first to use the directional pad for movement³ and to press Circle to start⁴. But it did not take me long at all to grow accustomed to the obscure movements. It got to the point that when I used a thumbstick to play another game, it felt strange.

To some extent, I also expected to be stymied by the game’s puzzles. With older games, there is commonly a less-is-more approach to instruction as to what to do or where to go. And I have the unfortunate tendency to get easily frustrated when I cannot figure out the next step. For whatever reason, though, I had no issues. The game provides references to call that provide numerous helpful hints. In this way, it is impossible to be stuck for too long in one area. Longer fights against major enemies also provided enough of a challenge without being impossible.

Finally, I fully accepted the gimmicks of the game that I could only characterize as ‘zany,’ even if I was already somewhat aware of them. The best examples of these comes in one longer sequence against a certain character (I’ll speak delicately, even though you must know the tricks by now). Without giving too much away, in the scene, a character reads the player’s thoughts, the TV screen goes black, and the controller moves of its own accord. I was all in.

It’s weird to speak so highly about a game that was released so long ago. I have come to learn what many other players already knew:  Metal Gear Solid is a sublime game. Beyond appreciating the significance as one of the most popular games on the original Playstation, I legitimately enjoyed every minute I spent with it. There are only a handful of times I can recall feeling better about a game throughout the entirety of it. I can’t wait to move on with the rest of the series.⁵

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1 Of the top ten grossing films of 2015, seven are parts of a multi-film franchise and one is a remake.↩
2 Interestingly, this pushes Star Wars: Episode One further down the list of things that begin with “The Phantom…” behind The Phantom Tollbooth and every form of the The Phantom of the Opera.↩
3 You may have known, the original Playstation controller did not have thumbsticks.↩
4 You may have known, traditionally Japanese games use Circle instead of the Cross or “X” that we’re used to.↩
5 Upon finishing the first game, I immediately played through the short prologue to the newest game, 2014’s Ground Zeroes. I liked it, and I noticed some of the elements derivative of the first game, but it did not capture me in the same way the original did. Not enough to discourage me from the whole series, though.↩

In Defense of Achievements

In the last generation of consoles, video game players saw the rise of in-game achievements. At the time of their introduction (around 2005 or ‘06), they became popular, almost unbelievably so. So popular that users would go through nefarious hoops to accomplish these tasks just so that they were displayed on a profile. In recent years, appreciation for trophies or achievements has become more or less divided. Some people still obsess over maxing out their score; others could not care less.

So what are achievements, and why do they matter (or not)? Ostensibly, they are minor awards given to the player for accomplishing certain feats in video games. Microsoft debuted the concept with the releases for its console, the Xbox 360. PC games, including many on the Steam and Blizzard platforms, added them soon after, with Sony following suit in 2009 with trophies on the Playstation 3. While trophies did not have points associated with them, they did introduce a Platinum-level for getting 100% of the trophies in the game. It is a good way for developers to observe exactly how many players buying the game actually complete goals. Only Nintendo consoles do not have an established achievement-like system¹. For the vast majority, these awards have absolutely no effect on the game itself; they are merely for a player to display on his or her profile.

Despite having no discernible value, for whatever reason, these became incredibly popular. When Xbox achievements unlock, an addictive “pop” sound accompanies them that elicits a near Pavlovian response in players. It is exciting to play through a game and have notifications as you complete an especially difficult task. Players would trade games to boost their scores or rent games with especially easy points. Gaming websites in the mid-2000s ran articles about the “10 easiest games to 1000 points!” ranking the quickest ways to get the then-maximum amount of awards. Then, players would seek to gain them with questionable motives. Tamer players wanting to “cheat” could play some games with their friends offline; the more hardcore cheaters actually unlocked achievements by unlawfully manipulating the data. For a short time, the achievements seemed more popular than the games themselves.

There is quite a wide range of tasks required to unlock the award, but most games will follow certain rules in achievement development. Story driven games will often have achievements for each mission or chapter completed. Also common are exploration goals, encouraging users to go out and find new locations. Sports games feature tiered achievements, like scoring so many points against the other team. Then there are online multiplayer tasks, as in bringing down 100 aliens with a certain weapon. Obviously, tasks vary by skill and are awarded as such. For example, most people will get the five points for completing a tutorial, but very few will get the fifty points for finishing a game without failing once.

Almost as quickly as they rose to popularity, they became passé. The many people illegally acquiring achievements were banned, but their actions still devalued the concept and people seemed to start realizing how they were actually quite worthless. There has never been a great way to look at your aggregate awards and compare them with friends, like a social network. Nearly every game that comes out today still has the same amount of achievements, but mostly gone are the hunters who work to gain every single award.

As I said, there is a fairly divided split in the favor of achievements. The pragmatic side sees achievements for what they truly are: meaningless and almost totally unrelated to the game’s experience. It is possible to play through the game and have a great time doing it without ever noticing a trophy unlock. Nintendo proves this quite well. Super Mario Galaxy is still a perfect game without an achievement for each unlocked planet². The other side views achievements as the most important part of the gameplay experience. Don’t start a game if you can’t finish raise your completion ratio³! Nothing matters as long as you have more points than your friends! It doesn’t matter if you don’t like a certain mission: you have to do it nineteen more times to get the award! Of course, I’m exaggerating, but the point is, you either like achievements or you don’t care about them.

That is why I feel like the worst an achievement can possibly be is just pointless enough to inspire apathy. Like many people, I was very big into gathering achievements in the mid-2000s. In fact, I used to be too much into them. I definitely participated in matches where players were working together just to accomplish the inane tasks required. Embarrassingly, I might have even chose to play one game over the other simply because of the achievements. I have gotten much more realistic about them since then, but I still maintain that they are great for games.

On the contrary, the best kinds of achievements inspire new ways to play a game. If you generally play a game in one style, an achievement might make you go out and try new combinations of weapons or skills. Exploration tasks might send you out to new locations you wouldn’t have discovered otherwise. Some other awards may get you to play the game again at a higher difficulty. So while I still get a sense of enjoyment from seeing the announcement that I’ve unlocked a goal, and I still strive to gather as many as I can, I treat them as a fun side effect to the larger overall enjoyment of the game.

Trophies and achievements may not be that important to every person who plays a game, but they are not going away. If nothing else, they provide new reasons to dig further into games. I’m sure I’m not the only player who still looks over the achievement list before I start playing. It gives the player a list of goals to do that is, by definition, achievable. Even if some of them seem impossible. Happy hunting!

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1 I should take this opportunity to highlight an amazing website called Retro Achievements. It allows users to play through emulated versions of their own classic games with user-created achievements. It gives a great new reason to replay through classic games. And it does include Nintendo games.^↩
2 Although isn’t it fun to dream up trophies for 100 Skulltulas in Ocarina of Time, every Pokemon in Red/Blue, or escaping Zebes in less than a minute in Super Metroid?^↩
3 Completion ratio is, of course, the percentage of achievements unlocked. Unabashedly, I still care a little bit about my ratio.^↩

Doing Things for Free: Part 2

In 2015, at least in the US, video arcades are certainly no longer the hubs of activity they used to be three decades ago. Places that used to be packed with children, flashing lights, and pinball machines now look sort of sad. Even when I was young, arcades were already on the decline in all but the more heavily populated areas. Modern arcades, however, are hardly updated and--from personal observation--mostly empty. For many reasons, this is disappointing. Children (and adults) miss them dearly; parents miss having a place to send their kids.

This is due, in large part, to the rising availability of arcade games on home consoles. People no longer needed to feed quarters into a machine to make endless runs of games. Instead, with one moderately sized purchase, a game could be played over and over again, in the comfort of one’s own bedroom. It would not take long for the purchase price to offset the quarter pay per play method. It became the case that many popular console games were ports of arcade standbys. But it could not recapture the feel of arcades.

Home computers interconnected by the Internet was steadily more popular in the mid-1990s. This lead to innovative new ways to distribute games, such as message boards and shareware. This new term meant that content creators could make their software instantly available to anyone who wanted it. In all likelihood, these were the first examples of “viral” distribution. A piece of software that received a bump in attention could suddenly spread like wildfire. And there was no go-between interfering with the producer and the consumer. It was a direct link.

As it were, playing video games at home turned out to be desirable. The iterations of the Atari were basically mini arcades. Companies like Nintendo and Sega warred with competing consoles and playing games on the computer became even bigger. And as time passed these games became part of the history of the larger game industry as a whole. Games now seen as history, however, are increasingly difficult to enjoy as fewer people have access to actual working machines. Luckily, there is a legal home for these classic titles so that they can still be accessed today. Of course, it’s on the Internet.

The Internet Archive, also famously known as the Wayback Machine, is a nonprofit collection of links and files. One of its primary uses is archiving slices of the Internet so that it can be visited in the future. Want to see what your favorite website looked like in the early 2000s? You can bring up a sample of it in a matter of seconds. The other use of the website is to browse millions of files, including books, audio, and software, such as games.

While the collection is fairly small still, users can download and play many classic titles for the PC or for Atari and Sega systems. Some games do not hold up, to be sure, and appear outdated and uninspired. Others were and still are considered to be masterpieces. But they are all available for one to peruse at no cost, regardless of quality.

Being able to broaden one’s horizons is becoming easier all the time with the aid of the Internet. There is no cost barrier to entry with so much entertainment, just as it’s never been easier to freely share one’s own creations. Content goes from the producer to the consumer effortlessly. Anyone with an Internet connection has the freedom to experience new things. Or in some cases, old things which help ground our current landscapes. In any case, it’s a good time to be connected.

Destiny and Fate: The Future of a Franchise

Destiny is a weird game. If possible, the months leading up to its release made it an even weirder one. And it really shouldn’t be. There is nothing so dramatically groundbreaking in Destiny to garner the response it has received. But I think this is what makes it so weird: its adherence to traditional games makes it so non-spectacular compared to the massive amount of anticipation that it originally held. That said, it was a fully competent game, and I had a lot of fun playing it.

The expectations leading up to this game were incomparable. For many people, Destiny was a viable reason to step into the new console generation and purchase a shiny, new Playstation 4 or Xbox One. The reputation as a system-seller was bolstered by the incredible marketing scheme. With a television ad that read something along the lines of: “From the creators of Halo and the team that brought you Call of Duty…” how can a game go wrong? The appeal was there, and everyone seemed excited. When it came out, though, the enthusiasm evaporated like a popped balloon.

This seems due, in part, to the fact that because the game was so anticipated, it simply could not match the hype. Common complaints were that it was not the game consumers were promised. This is a bit unfair, as no one had a very clear grasp about what the game was before its release. This is akin to reading a synopsis and watching a trailer and comparing about the direction of a film. A second complaint was that the game was too repetitive, that the overall content was lacking. This is a little more fair; no one wants to do the same things over and over again. The final complaint is that the game does not really take off until after the main points of the story are finished. This is very fair. Destiny is not the kind of game where a large amount of time needs to be dedicated to truly get the game. It is a game where the player shoots a lot of aliens.

Not to be swayed by the negative critiques, I was still very interested in trying it out. I should first make three very important points to bear in mind which likely affected my experience with the game. First, I played the game on an Xbox 360, an obsolete piece of equipment barely worth a dime. (Just kidding, I still use my 360 a lot and plan to get a few more years out of it.) But it does make me much less qualified to mention how great it looked. Second, I rented the game. I know what you’re thinking: here it is, 2014, and he’s renting games and playing them on outdated consoles. Whatever. I rent a lot of games these days because I’d rather pay $7 than $60. But having a game for only three days does rush the experience and force me to get to the end a lot quicker than I probably would like. Finally, because my time was limited, I never once took the game online to play with or against other users. I payed my $7 to see the campaign, and I was happy with that. That said, I know I missed a quite a bit of content that I will probably never see.

What expectations I had for the actual gameplay, I’m slightly ashamed to admit, I got from the trailer. Reductively, it looked like a fair mix of Halo and Call of Duty. Since Halo is a personal favorite, I was prepared for this type of combat. I was not disappointed; the gameplay was quite fun, as I could only hope from the experienced Bungie team. I had a great time traversing the map and taking out aliens. Getting around a large map was not a hassle, as easy as hopping on a vehicle and driving¹. And I should mention that the views were absolutely gorgeous (on my Xbox 360).

Prior to release, a highly emphasized feature of the game was the diversity of the equipment that could be picked up by the player to use. This came across well. While they included possibly too much equipment, it was exciting to pick up a new and better weapon and have to learn how to use it. This learning of new equipment forces the player to be adaptive. Furthermore, characters are continually progressing to a higher level where, obviously, they are better prepared to combat tougher enemies. All of this customization and player growth took a different approach to a modern first person shooter like infusing a bit of Borderlands. This sense of progress was rewarding.

I also found the main mission design to be well made. Following objectives, the player runs through several locations before arriving at a final battle against a large enemy (or large group of enemies). What made the levels great, though, was a feeling of tension not often achieved in an FPS. Hitting the final battle gives a sense of no-turning-back in each level. Playing by myself, there were times when I needed to slow down and work through waves of enemies. Being impossible to rush through made the game feel much more skill based, and finishing a level often brought a sigh of relief.

As I said, I did not even have online access to the game when I started. I did not have the time to invest in getting good at playing against other players, and I just wanted to see the main game anyway. So you can imagine my surprise when I entered the world to find dozens of other players running around with me. I thought something was wrong, but it turned out non-online users could still work together on certain missions, a point that was not made clear to me when I started. As it turned out, this lead to some of the better moments in between missions. Randomly throughout the level, events would emerge that would have to be completed by a group of people: defend this place, take down that enemy. These pseudo-online moments gave me a pleasant reminder of working cooperatively with friends back in school.

While the gameplay was quite good and I had a lot of fun running through the missions, Destiny was certainly not without complaints. For one, the missions, which I commended earlier, were ultimately forgettable. In the moment, they were great; but taken as a whole, they failed to make a satisfying arc. There was a break after each mission, so that there was never a sense of ongoing progress. The missions only linked by their locations. After each mission, the player is given the option to select a new planet or game-type to play. Each mission! Or the player can go back to another world, watch a video cutscene, or replay an old level without knowing if it’s already been completed. While I realize this is to give the option of going out to attain higher levels and be better prepared, jumping back out into space each time completely destroyed the continuity².

Again, the biggest complaint about the game was that there were not enough new locations to visit. As a result, this did make for some repetitive scenarios. Basically, there were four different locations to explore, three planets and one moon. Divided among ten hours, these four places grow a little stale. The transition to a new planet is certainly a breath of fresh air. Furthermore, if you are in need of some quick powering up, one way to do so is by completing inane extra missions about hunting aliens, collecting materials, or just standing in one area for a few seconds. When these are interspaced with the main missions at each place, it begins to feel like you are doing the same things over and over again, regardless of the change in scenery (which is pretty, on my Xbox 360). All of these side steps supposedly benefit the ongoing story, but they never seemed to ultimately lead to anything substantial.

Not that I think a continuous narrative would have fixed the problem completely. The story was convoluted, yet empty of much meaning. Not for lack of trying, I could not really follow what was going on, and so I did not really care what was happening. Part of what made Halo so great is that the enemies were clearly defined and there was an overarching goal at the end. Not so in Destiny, at least as far as I could tell. Enemies were bland and the goal was unclear. I was surprised to have even finished the game when an option (an option!) to view the credits came on screen after the final mission. From what I’ve read of the story online after finishing the game, it sounds like it will be dealt with better, ahem, in the sequels. One of the cutscenes near the end heavily implied the emergence of a grander villain.

For better or for worse, I found myself wondering if the Destiny franchise is going to be like Assassin’s Creed. The first game in the Assassin’s series was released in 2007 to high hopes for something new. While the game was impressive, people soon complained that the gameplay was repetitive, and that missions or areas were not different enough to be engaging. Looking back now, it is remembered as a fairly weak entry in the series. It was, however, the launchpad for a now-annualized series that certainly has its ups (the excellent Brotherhood) and downs (III). What if Destiny turns out to be the same thing? I, for one, enjoyed the first Assassin’s Creed, but I found the later ones to be much improved. It has already been confirmed that we should expect a decade from this franchise; is it wrong to hope that Bungie will learn from the flaws of Destiny so that 2 and 3 will be something great?

In the end, I really enjoyed my ten or so hours with Destiny. Of course, it is not without its faults, but that happens. It probably did not sell as many new consoles as the developers envisioned. But taken separately from all the superfluous space travel and lackluster story, the gameplay was just fun and the vistas looked amazing (on my Xbox 360). Looking at all of the gameplay options in between levels made me think that maybe this first entry in the series was just trying to do too much. For something with a name like Destiny, we will have to see what the future holds for the franchise.

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1 Driving is something that is difficult to pull enough in an otherwise decent video game, apparently. It’s fine in Destiny.^↩
2 Also, jumping out into space made for some long loading movies that looked cool but were tiring after the first dozen.^↩

On Alan Wake

Anytime Steam rolls out one of its amazing sales on video games, like many people, I browse through and pick up way more than I need. And why not? If you can pick up a title for an incredible 90% off, you would be crazy not to buy it, right? Well, I know I’m not the only one who does this. Spending habits notwithstanding, one such game that I found at this price level was the collection of action/horror games featuring fictional writer, Alan Wake.

I did not know much about the game other than seeing some generally positive reviews upon its original release. The story seemed interesting, and the gameplay sounded different enough to be intriguing. So, when it flicked across my screen (for less than three dollars), I decided to pick it up. It didn’t hurt that I was reading some Stephen King at the time and had recently finished the stunning TV series Twin Peaks. This game seemed like a personal can’t-miss.

At any rate, I bought it, and like so many games from sales, put it away for a later time. That time came one winter night when I decided to install it and sit down with it for an experience. I did it correctly: I waited until it was dark outside, put on headphones, and took it in. I was in for a disappointing time. I played through the first of six episodes at a mind-numbingly slow pace. The enemies were annoying; controls were frustrating. There was a story there, but it was hidden behind too many discouraging battles. I finished the episode and went to bed feeling that I had bought a dud. At least I wasn’t out much.

Several months later, I decided to give it another shot. I had never uninstalled it, because I knew I would never go back to it if I had. And since it was the week before Halloween, and since I am a living stereotype, I thought I would try the survival horror game one more time. I opened it up and--at the risk of sounding like a “casual”--turned the difficulty down from ‘Normal’ to ‘Easy.’ That was exactly what the game needed. Now, I understand the desire to challenge yourself and play through a game on the hardest difficulty. Finishing something like Halo on ‘Legendary’ feels great; but Bioshock or The Last of Us on ‘Normal’ feels just as good. That’s because for a game driven by an engaging story, sometimes minimizing the gameplay is necessary to get to it.

This should not, however, excuse the gameplay. The game makes some innovative choices involving using light as a weapon, but at time even just a few of the simplest enemies were more annoying than they were worth. I did not feel a sense of accomplishment moving from location to location. Instead, I just felt relief that one more part of action was over. This is all too harsh, though. Lowering the difficulty was enough to make it manageable, and I even began to appreciate some of the light-as-weapon mechanics. As you progress, there are even some simple puzzles that need to be solved using various lights to combat the darkness.

But again, this is not a game you play for the action; you play it for the story. It absolutely lived up to the Stephen King-in-Twin Peaks level of anticipation I had pre-determined. The action revolves around the titular Alan Wake, a mystery writer who visits the quaint, mountain town of Bright Falls in order to clear his head and do some writing. The setting of the game is just gorgeous. Even on my four-year-old PC, the sun setting over the mountains looked incredible and added to the sheer scope of the game. But of course, disaster strikes. Wake’s wife is kidnapped, and the town is not as it appeared. To reclaim his wife, Wake must deal with the terrors of the town as well as his own enveloping madness. All of this sounds like clichéd horror--and it is--but it actually does work well during the hours you spend in this world. It is not all psychological fear, though. There are some well-placed moments that jump out at you, especially in a dark room with headphones on.

The episodic qualities of the campaign do wonders for the storytelling. Each episode is essentially a self-contained series of scenes that ended with cliffhangers, making it feel like an intense serial story. By the end, I was interested enough to play through the supplementary bonus episodes which I rarely do. While maybe not quite as good as the aforementioned Bioshock or The Last of Us, the story is certainly worth seeing. I was invested in the lead character, and the setting provided the perfect foil to Twin Peaks. 

As I played through the story over the course of a week, I was actually not surprised by how much I was enjoying it. It was the enjoyment I had originally expected when I purchased it. The first time I tried playing must have just been an anomaly. So, if you have some spare time and care about video games with something interesting to tell, Alan Wake is a good one to start with. Turn the lights out, put on headphones, and enjoy the vacation to Bright Falls.

Truck No. 722626

OCTOBER 1980… The clock struck 9:30, and the alarm began to buzz. Mann leaned over to grab a cigarette, pausing to shut off the alarm on the way back. Exhausted, he rubbed his eyes before sitting up. Another night, he thought grimly.

Patrick Mann stepped across his meager, but comfortable apartment to the bay window and raised the blinds. Not much seemed to be happening. The sun had just set over the monstrous skyscrapers of Midweigh, leaving the sky in a dark blue haze. The lights of the buildings made the city seem even more expansive. It always looked less intimidating from this level, forty stories above, looking down into the dark streets below. It still looked like a maze, to be sure, but it was much more terrifying turning each corner and not knowing what to expect. He thought of the thousands of other people looking down on the city, at the same time. They just do not know how hard it is, he told himself. But Mann knew what to expect when he left for work every night. He had a job to do, and he did it well. He’d lived in the city his entire life, after all.

He stepped out onto the street and headed towards the garbage plant, opening and subsequently consuming a greasy breakfast burrito along the way. Four months on the job had adjusted his daily habits, and he had gotten used to taking his meals at different times. But still he missed his other routines that were interrupted by taking this job of driving the night garbage truck. It’s only temporary--as he lit a second cigarette, his mind flashed back to the conversation with his younger sister the previous week. 

“But what if it’s not, Pat? You’re twenty-five years old. What kind of life is driving a garbage truck at night?” his sister, Pam, begged. It seemed every time the two of them shared a meal lately, the subject inevitably turned to his working life. Tonight they were sitting in Pam’s kitchen. Pam was showing off some of her prints from her sophomore art school class when the topic turned to work.

“I’ll make it work. This is only temporary until I can find something better,” Patrick replied. “Besides, it’s not actually that bad. If you make a game out of it, it can be fun.”

“Oh, how can you say that?” Pam cried. “Do you know how you sound? You sound like you’re stuck in a rut, and now you’re making excuses for it.”

Patrick thought for a moment. “Don’t worry about me, Miss. I’ll be okay.”

As these words faded from his mind, Mann looked up to realize he was at the plant.

* * *

“722626, again?” muttered the foreman at the plant, as Mann stepped up in line. Mann nodded. He did not know why, but he had grown attached to the garbage truck. Others complained that it did not handle well, that it was slow to turn, but he found it a comfort. “Problem with the user,” he would always say to those who questioned his choice.

His job was actually incredibly simple. As much as he did not want to admit it to Pam, he had actually begun to enjoy it. Not that he could see himself doing it for a long time, but now it seemed like a bit of a pastime. Every employee took responsibility for one area of blocks. Shifts rotated in three eight-hour cycles. There was no time built in for a meal, but he was allowed to bring snacks in the truck for a boost of energy. In an effort to offset his quick and unhealthy meals, he typically brought fruit such as cherries, oranges, or apples. Starting from the plant, he wound the streets of his district picking up trash as he went along.

The amount of trash in the city was truly remarkable. It always stunned him that with all the technological advancements of the day, they could not find a better way to dispose of garbage. Nearly every corner he turned, every few steps, there was another pile of junk. The most baffling part was that he never actually seemed to finish his district. Just when he thought he had gotten every bit of it, he would find more. If he drove long enough, he even found trash in places he knew he had already picked up. Mann did not have a personal route that he took every time; instead, he took inefficient paths down side streets. It did not matter as long as he stayed in his district. And, as long as he was picking up trash. That was the important thing.

Throughout his life, he had truly begun to appreciate the intricacies of the Midweigh streets. They were always winding, with few entrances or exits. But Mann had learned some shortcuts, sometimes even by accident. One night, he took a left turn that he had not taken before. It led to a tunnel that was nearly invisible. As he later found out, it was even difficult to spot from the vantage point of his apartment. Following the tunnel, he emerged in an area completely different from where he started. Or so he thought. He had never really bothered to find out exactly where it went.

The only true danger to his job were the bandits. An eerie, roving troupe, they seemed to glow a faint, pale blue in the dim street lights. “Ghosts,” he and the other drivers called them. He knew there could never actually be more than a half dozen at a time, but they appeared around any corner without the slightest forewarning. Different gangs of them patrolled the different blocks like turfs. They moved somewhat unpredictably:  sometimes he would encounter an individual rogue, other times they would stack up in a group. Worse yet, there was really no defense against them. If one approached, drivers were forced to turn their truck around immediately and continue on a different route.

Drivers were not caught often, but still there were horrific accidents. If a driver got too careless in his work, he could easily find himself trapped by three or four of the bandits in a dark corner. When this happened, hope was lost. Supposedly, the bandits suppress a stranded driver, raid the truck for everything of worth, and finally inject the driver with a unknown venom. Even if a cure was discovered, the alleyways in which the bandits attack are so desperately bare that no one could be saved in time. Postmortem analysis indicates that death occurs in a matter of minutes. When a driver failed to report back at the end of his shift, it was the duty of the next shift to locate the body and notify management. They were a vicious, godless group.

* * *

Mann sipped softly on his second cup of black coffee and smoked another cigarette. He was almost six hours through his shift and taking a small, but well-deserved break. He had had a good night, making several tours of his block. He had picked up a lot of garbage, on pace to have his best night yet. As an added incentive to keep them working, his pay was based in part on his results. He found that turning it into a game, competing against himself, made the night hours pass easier.

He finished his cup of coffee, throwing it into the back of his truck. As he did so, a rat leaped out of the nearest dumpster and hit the ground. He drew in his breath sharply. In this neighborhood, the slightest sound was enough to cause a spark of fear. Seeing it was only a rat, he laughed softly and got into his truck.

Starting up, he continued down the street, ready for his seventh pass through the streets. As he expected, trash was left in neat little piles equidistant apart on the side of the street. How can these people go through this much garbage? he thought. It truly was disgusting. 

Finishing the block he made a sharp right, taking a route that he knew had no exits. One could only go straight through--or turn around. It was better to get these areas clear when the night was quiet. If anything caught him back here, he could get into trouble in a hurry. He was proficient enough to turn around on a dime, assuming the robbers had not followed from behind. He made the full turn around the corner. Nothing there; he’d made it. He made a left onto the longest straightaway in his department.

Mann peered through his dirty windshield down the long, orange-lit street, half-expecting some action. It was not uncommon for him to see the thieves a few times a night, but tonight, they seemed less active. He had seen one near the beginning of his shift and what looked like a pair moving towards him later, flickering through the dim streets. A simple turn and they were not seen again. Still, it had been a fairly dull night.

As he looked, sure enough, he could distinguish a bluish shape scuttling towards him. Feeling the familiar flutter of anxiety, he eased into the next alley. Instantly, he spotted another bandit, distinctly orange, much closer. Mann swore loudly. Just like that, his heretofore quiet night had become a trial. 

Performing a finely-executed reversal, he returned to the straightaway, sneaking a quick glance at the oncoming thief. It was closer, much closer than he had expected. Further down the street, he saw in his rearview mirror, the two of them joining together in their approach. Not a problem, he thought, in an attempt to calm his racing heart. Just stay ahead of them. Don’t let them get me into a one-way street. Looking at his gas gauge, he evaluated that he had enough to get back to the plant for the night. He had never experienced two of the creatures this determined to get to him. Better to just head back to the plant, take his losses, and go home early. His supervisors would understand completely.

That’s when he heard the hiss and felt his truck grind to a halt.

What the hell?! he thought frantically. He took a mental calculation of his truck, his trusty truck, knowing that nothing should be out of date. Depressing the pedal, the engine revved, but the axle made a horrible wrenching sound. He had no choice but to exit the vehicle.

He took a quick inventory of what he saw. The bastards had put a hole in the rear left tire, rendering it unusable. Unbelievable! They had been known to carry guns for some time now, but he had never heard of them actually using them. No drivers had ever been found with gunshot wounds; the only known video recording of a mugging showed them using guns to threaten. Any time a gunshot was even heard, news reports had never linked the bandits to the event. At any rate, he had to move now. 

Choosing to stay inside the truck would be suicidal. Any truck that had been attacked in the past probably lasted all of twenty minutes, from the looks of their wrecked returns. No, he had only one choice: flee. He dashed away from his truck, previously his only protection against these things. Now he really had to use his wits to make it back to the plant. He crouched behind a pile of trash twenty meters away to take in his surroundings. Fortunately, he was not completely lost and could find his way back, although his preferred route home was currently blocked by two menaces.

He looked back, saving one last hope that they would stop at his truck only and disperse when they were through. It was a longshot, but a possibility. He had no idea how these things reacted when a driver was not in the truck. For all he knew, it had never happened before. He was in totally new territory.

They slowed as they approached the truck. Flitting about, one ransacked the back of the truck while the other checked the cab. At once, they both stopped. So it was true, they were not going to stop at the truck if he was not in it. Turning towards his direction, the one that he had taken for blue made a horrendous shriek, the likes of which he had never heard. Probably, no one had ever heard. No one still living, at least. Mann’s blood chilled.

He sprinted away from the pile as fast as he possibly could. He knew now that he could not stop running. Surely the two were following him. Risking one more look, he could see they were even closer. Whether it was his sleep-dulled perception or agitated imagination, Mann swore they were moving quicker. He’d heard rumors that they moved quicker later in the night. Hadn’t he? No, he could not afford to spook himself now. Not at a time like this.

He turned the corner and saw another bandit, this one with a reddish hue, coming at him down the straightaway. Darting into a side street, he took a quick evaluation of his surroundings. There were two following from one direction with a third joining pursuit. It took a second glance at the nearest sign to realize where he was: the mysterious tunnel he had discovered a few months back. Although, he had taken it before, he could not explain it. He had no idea where the other end came out, only that it felt like another district. Nor could he tell who was on the other side waiting for him. So far he had seen three bandits; how many did that leave? Would they know about the tunnel and anticipate his movements? He had no choice. They really were moving more rapidly now, he was sure of it.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the tunnel.

The Universe for a Generation

Think about the console video game world in 1997. Although fans of Sony’s Playstation enjoyed core releases Final Fantasy VII and Gran Turismo, which ultimately became the system’s bestselling games, Sony was not a major video game entity until the Playstation 2 in 2000. Likewise, Microsoft’s Xbox would not be available for another four years. Sega saw the coming decline of its console career with the Saturn, released one final successful system, the Dreamcast, the following year, and essentially became the software developer we know of today. That left the gaming behemoth, Nintendo.

By far, Nintendo passed the 1990s as the most successful corporation in gaming. Since the mid-1980s, Nintendo had established itself as the most popular family gaming company. In 1997, the Nintendo had three successful platforms selling effectively--the newer, slimmer Super Nintendo, the updated Game Boy Pocket, and the immensely popular Nintendo 64--with arrival of the Game Boy Color in the queue. It is safe to say no other gaming company could compete with Nintendo, especially in handheld systems.

What could Nintendo possibly do to better themselves? The two best-selling franchises for the corporation were, and still are, the Mario series and the Pokemon series. In 2006, games involving Mario had sold over 185 million copies; Pokemon, 106 million copies. Since then, considering the releases of new consoles and new handhelds, these numbers have skyrocketed even higher.

The sheer amount of these games sold deserves a closer look, though. It may first appear that Mario games simply outsold Pokemon games by some 80 million copies. Keep in mind, however, that Pokemon games hit the market in 1996, fifteen years after Mario premiered in Donkey Kong in 1981, ten years after the release of Super Mario Bros. in 1985. At that rate, the Pokemon franchise sold quicker, moving almost one and a half times as many units per year than Mario. Furthermore, the Pokemon series was limited by the fact that it was sold almost solely on handheld games. Mario had the advantage of having hit games on every console--including handhelds. 

It would seem, then, there was one last project that would seal Nintendo as the greatest video game company in history:  create a Pokemon game for a console.

* * *

Before we begin, let me just say that I have no technical understanding of a Nintendo 64 video game. None. It might have been totally impossible to create a game of such scale on a cartridge. Maybe the random encounters would have been too much for the system to handle. It is possible the region of Kanto would have been severely compromised by the technical limitations of the machine. And I can accept that. But I can dream, right?¹

Of course, some Pokemon games were released on the N64, although they were “Pokemon” by name only. They were more just scaled down certain aspects of the original games. (Anyone up for some Pokemon Puzzle League?) And Snap was fun for plenty of reasons other than its adherence to the Pokemon universe. Having the sprawling region was probably possible on later consoles, but I’m really only concerned here with the late 1990s.

Another factor that I’m choosing not to take into consideration is the financial possibilities of the project. Maybe it was just not feasible to put a development team on such a massive undertaking. Or perhaps no one could have predicted the popularity of Pokemon at that time that it should have merited a full-scale world, causing publishers to back down. I’m no economics student, but when I look at the numbers retrospectively, I think Pokemon 64 (as I’ve affectionately taken to calling it) would have made a lot of money. That’s my expert opinion.

At any rate, here’s what I would have liked. Imagine Ash Ketchum rolling out of bed late, missing an appointment with one Professor Oak, only to be embarrassed by your mother while you get stuck with an annoyingly cute electric mouse. Sound familiar? As you know, this was the start of the anime series. An effective origin, but one that was lost in the original games for the Game Boy. The beginning to the Red/Blue amounts to little more than being gifted a free Pokemon for wandering into grass. Now imagine yourself playing as this character in a fully colored, three dimensional world.

In my mind, I have an image sort of like the beginning to Ocarina of Time. Even the story is somewhat similar for the first few minutes: lazy boy has to run around Kokiri Forest/Pallet Town equipping the tools necessary to set out on a long and arduous journey. After the opening trials, you, the player, would be off. Remember “That Moment” when you first walk out onto the sprawling Hyrule Field as the music soars? It could have been the same in Kanto.

I realize at this point it just sound like a fanboy’s wishful thinking for the impossible. But it’s true! This hypothetical game has such unbelievable potential, and so far, nothing seems out of the realm of possibility. In this analogy, Pokemon Red/Blue would be the series’ equivalent to Link’s Awakening.² Assume an alternate universe in which a three-dimensional Zelda game was never made but Pokemon 64 existed. You could just as easily make the argument the opposite direction. And who wants to live in a world without a 3D Zelda game?

Onto the actual gameplay. Specifically: random encounters and turn based battles. Random encounters had been around for several years (Dragon Warrior, Final Fantasy, etc.), but were still relatively new to 3D games. One reason the random encounters worked so well in Red/Blue was the fact that there were certain areas where you could expect to find encounters and certain areas where they were not possible. This could easily work in a 3D game. I can almost transpose it in my mind. If I close my eyes, I can picture my TV screen displaying Ash running through grass and the screen freezing and flashing, signalling a random encounter. 

Another quality I liked about the Pokemon series was the fact that areas were limited to smaller sizes. It was kind of necessary to account for the handheld devices. The game had the feel of a large world, but not an open world. I would like to think that if ported to a console, the size of the area would increase slightly, though not too much. Sure, it would be exhausting to traverse such a large area without some sort of boundaries, so there could even be a system for fast travel, for when your Pidgeotto learns Fly. Why not?

Finally, there was the turn-based battle system. The core mechanic to every Pokemon game (or any JRPG, for that matter) was the alternating style of attack and defense. Fortunately, this part was already done! Pokemon Stadium, which actually showed up on the Nintendo 64 twice, featured such battle arenas as its main game.³ Long battles--however intense--bordered on tedious in Red/Blue, yet it was enough to make two entire games on the Nintendo 64. Logically, that should prove how profitable the fictional Pokemon 64 could have been.

I don’t know. Maybe the game would have been terrible. Maybe it would have ruined the franchise. I mean, the early 3D Castlevania games weren’t great. But when I think of the list of successes (Super Mario World to Super Mario 64, Donkey Kong Country to Donkey Kong 64, Super Metroid to Metroid Prime, etc.), I can’t help but wonder. If you’re interested enough, you can find mods that effectively run the game I’ve imagined on your computer. They seem to be quite popular, too. But they just can’t recapture the nostalgia.

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1 Also noticeably absent is a Metroid game for the Nintendo 64. What happened between Super Metroid and Metroid Prime? Oh well. That’s a different question for a different day.^↩
2 To be clear: many people, myself included, think Link’s Awakening was an excellent game.^↩
3 And some really bitchin’ mini-games!^↩