GameblurgKids Talking About the Future

Playing civilian roles are tough to get excited about. As a current civilian, I run errands, I exercise, I talk to people. During one of these countless “errands” a car could hit me, but I can’t dig into my start menu for a health pack or get up and pull the driver out of his car window and make a mess out of him in the street. Unfortunately, normalcy just doesn’t work like that. Instead, I’m just lying there, rethinking my crossing-the-street strategies.

This is what I fight with while I’m playing Alan Wake. From the beginning, I spotted a normal guy and wondered what will I be able to do other than shine a flashlight at people.

I’m fighting for a reason to love the guy’s shoes I’m in, but I can’t jump behind him. Every occurrence around him is stellar but I’m not causing a good majority of it. The game around me (atmosphere, enemies, non-playable characters) is spectacular but my character is ordinary. A majority of the dialog consists of Alan monotonously narrating the current events of the game. Even Alan’s treks through the woods are plagued with repetition.

I like him, but I don’t want to be him. The main problem with this game is that it doesn’t have enough memorable moments that the player create. The fire fights and fighting flying poltergeists are fun but nothing outstandingly mind-blowing happened to leave me with the impression that I’ve accomplished an enormous feat. They’re all little bits of cute moments that consists of me clearing an area until I get to the next cut scene.

There are so many brilliant moments behind the game: The creepy television series you can follow through the in-game televisions, the weight and depth of the fog and darkness that envelopes my character as I move throughout the environment, the outstanding lighting engine. However, I wanted Alan to be brilliant as well. I wanted my arsenal to be more creative.

It’s worth noting that this game gets incomprehensibly stale through the ending act of the game. A time where my arsenal should be used at full force in new and creative atmospheres was replaced in a familiar run-gun-pause-recover routine that’s stretched over a 20-30 minute interval.

My most memorable gaming moments consists of me doing amazing things. This game doesn’t present an opportunity for me to add anything exciting to this memory bank. Alan Wake is a thriller and executes the chilling effects on ideal levels, but the experience is forgettable. Protagonists in games should blend with the story, not disappear into them and slowly, but surely, Alan’s presence mutates into an irrelevant memory worthy of only a whisper.

Assassin’s Creed 2 historical highlights captures my interests much like attractive artifacts would at a museum. Initially, I didn’t know how to take this. I’m not used to stopping and raising my eyebrows at small facts and tidbits in a videogame.

I’m used to enjoying exhilarating, emotional roller coasters that force me to cringe at the sudden appearance of zombie waves or throwing my controller at the screen when I’m “un-fairly” sniped from afar.

Assassin’s Creed 2 is a different kind of monster: It makes me pause and ponder instead of pausing and breaking things (which is pretty good for the longevity of my controllers). As I walk around, there’s something new to embrace about the culture of the European Renaissance that is re-imagined for the sake of the game. You can step among the Palazzo Vecchio and learn about its cultural impact. As you step passed other historical structures, even more historical beings like Leonardo da Vinci (famed painter, inventor, philosopher) and Pope Alexander VI (notorious for corruption and immoral nepotism) exist behind their walls, choosing to aid or negatively impact your quest.

Like an interactive museum, each step leads away from one artifact and towards another. You can experience what it was like to hear the call of the town herald recite news and other announcements because an overwhelming percentage of the town may be illiterate.

You can also experience what it’s like to engage in a free-running rooftop pursuit of a random pickpocket who decides that your money would look much better in his pouch instead of your own.

The culture captured in Assassin’s Creed 2 bears the responsibility of revealing the environment of the Renaissance during the late 15th and early 16th century in Italy, and so far, the game has done a convincing job depicting the chronicled atmosphere.

Now, if the story didn’t awkwardly run dry and the combat system was just as engaging as the atmosphere, we might have a really good game on our hands.

After EA’s previous installation of the Harry Potter series, I was confident that I could satisfy my prejudiced love for flying dragons and Hermione Granger, but eventually, my wizardly bias couldn’t fight the snail’s pace of the Half-Blood Prince’s beginning.

I like the “3 strikes” rule when approaching videogames: within the first 15 minutes of a videogame, if I encounter 3 major hazards, I move on to another game.

This concept is simple, and it has saved me plenty of time over the years.

Although this 3 strikes rule is in existence, when I grabbed a hold of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, I was sure I wouldn’t have to apply the rule to this game.

After EA’s previous installation of the Harry Potter series, I was confident that I could satisfy my prejudiced love for flying dragons and Hermione Granger, but eventually, my wizardly bias couldn’t fight the snail’s pace of the Half-Blood Prince’s beginning.

Let’s take it from the top:

The first slew of unstoppable cut scenes are stuffed down my throat. The thing that depresses me more than the bad acting is that I know there will be more of these to come.

(We can considered this as a strike, but I know Hermione is in some of these cut scenes, so I can just start paying attention when she shows up again.)

The game begins play with Harry conveniently placed on his flying broomstick outside of a rundown house called the Burrow. Practicing for Quidditch, the wizarding sport played between two teams of seven players who ride broomsticks and four balls to score points, we are instructed to flying throughout the sky and capture the Golden Snitch, a flying, darting object that must be captured in order for the game to end.

As I chase the Snitch, I start to notice how the flying sequence drags on monotonously. My movement is restricted to the thumb stick in which, all I can do is move in four basic directions and move through obstacles in order to gain speed.

Historically, the Snitch is extremely fast, which can be provided for an argument that defends the developer’s need to provide a linear and sterile path to track the Snitch down. Regardless, I’m still bored.

As I ride, I can not change speed, reach out to grab the Snitch when I’m near it or do any cool broom tricks. Not to mention, no Hermione sighting. (Strike one-Abysmal opening sequence)

Thankfully, we land and end this mess only to endure another. Harry finds his best friends Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger (five minutes too late) lurking outside of the Burrow.

Just as soon as I was ready to forgive the 1st strike because of Hermione’s appearance we encounter our second major hazard.

I learn that I’m being instructed to remove wasted cauldrons from a lawn. No catch, no hidden goals, just moving cauldrons up and over a fence because someone spilled them. Ron’s subtle sense of humor saves me from complete boredom as I continue manipulating the cauldrons.

If you haven’t noticed by now, Harry Potter uses magic. I can not fathom any fan of the series, or sane human being getting excited over removing cauldrons from a pool of waste with his wand that’s capable of so much more.

Doing chores are as boring as it sounds, and in a world where I can cast killing spells and levitate, you’d think there were better things available to do versus cleaning messes. (Strike two-Failure to elevate excitement)

The cauldrons are gone, and I hopelessly wish for that whole fun thing everyone’s always talking about. Recovering from my exciting cauldron escapade, the gameplay stops and awkwardly, the game skips from one setting to another without warning or smooth transition.

Experiencing annoyance, I’m prompted with another long, unskippable cut scene. (I can not describe much of it as I shamelessly started scribbling notes instead of glancing to see more characters try that whole “good acting” thing.)

(Side note: Harry Potter’s tales are gigantic in scope, so the movies are scaled down to a two/three hour experience, so it often feels like a summary of all of the events going on, resulting in awkward pacing. A game can offer more than two hours of play to move from the beginning to the end of the story, so I can only blame the game’s terrible pacing on laziness and/or poor project planning.)

The gameplay returns as I’m dumped outside of Hogwarts with another friend of Harry’s, Luna Lovegood. We take a long, boring trail north to return to the school. I don’t have any funny quotes to describe how fun it was, because it wasn’t. (Strike three- Slow transition into the story)

Here, a smarter me would have given up and moved on to Google-ing for Hermione stills, but my blinding bias will not allow me to shake this game off that easily.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to splash my face with water to keep awake, my bigotry gets the best of me, convincing me that this experience will get better. I do not recall any substance abuse in my bathroom, and to this day, I have no idea what I was thinking.

I eat another long, dragging cut scene as I finally enter the boarding school. The headmaster Professor Dumbledore explains the school’s new teachers and more info about the school that I did not care to remember.

After more trite dialogue, the gameplay resumes, allowing me to navigate the school, following Nearly Headless Nick, an ghost who provides his guiding services for myself and Ron to get to our class. Wait, class? After nearly falling asleep, I’ve got to go to class?

I accept the punishment and trek down the flights of stairs. The school is replicated accurately and seems alive as it’s populated by active children and teachers.

As I explored more of the school, my interest began to surface. “Maybe it’ll be exciting,” I thought as I moved in and throughout Hogwarts. Naively, I stepped into the Potions class room and receive the final blow to my enthusiasm for the game.

I’m instructed to take a seat and begin mixing potions. At this point, I’m desperate to find any reason to continue. “Maybe the school will explode and I’ll get to fight dragons?” I said, stuffing imaginary (but encouraging!) thoughts into my head.

The process of mixing potions consists of the following: one by one, by one, I retrieve the specific ingredient and add it to a kettle of liquids and while controlling the temperature, I create a mystical mixture of…we’re done here.

You’re busy. I’m busy. Videogames that carry the goal of entertainment must do so within 15 minutes to obtain and keep the attention of the game’s player, or you risk losing him forever to something more satisfying like Spongebob or streaming internet pornography.

It’s as if developers and publishers forget that their competition is stiff, smart and creates a similar experience. Remember, your game isn’t the only one on the shelf: I have options and you should make yours a superior one.

In the span of 25 minutes, I was driven to a point of ultimate boredom and I firmly believe that the Half-Blood Prince’s only saving grace would’ve been making Hermione Granger a playable character.

I quit games that slow and stall on the regular and suggest you do much of the same for the sake of your sanity.