Angels Do In Fact Wait for Slowpokes

Where the hell was I the first time I played BioShock!? I mean, I see the game saves from Point Prometheus and I have the achievements to prove it; but why wasn't I as impacted as I am now -- a few years after the fact, on my second play through?

I have to start out by saying that I'm impressed that I kept the promise to myself that I would journey through Rapture again; this time harvesting the cute little urchins with the big, big needles. I could have just as well watched the "bad" ending via YouTube; but I felt I owed it to this marvelous game to dig deeper in my second run. Which is obvious, because it ended up being a much more meaningful experience than my first go around. We can chalk it up to my maturation as a gamer--this time I was less worried about finishing it along with everyone else and bilking it for achievements, content with enjoying the sights, sounds and combat that I somewhat blatantly blasted through the first time around.

Lately I've been wondering why everyone calls out BioShock as a classic. Not that I disagree by any stretch of the imagination; instead, I question it because I felt the game play shined brighter than the plot, which is an unconventional opinion considering most people herald the story. Don't get me wrong--the power struggle between Ryan and Fontaine (it's been three years, I'm blowing the statute of limitations on this baby) is leaps and bounds better than most digital storytelling; however, I was soured by the end game in which they take Fontaine's power play and turn it into an unnecessary boss battle. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Why don't I take it from the top first?

BioShock has a lot in common with 30's and 40's pulp magazine stories. It pulls you in almost instantly with it's introductory plane crash and scenic bathysphere ride to Andrew Ryan's supposed utopia. It was common back then for writers to start their books off with a bang in the hopes that they could get a dime off of a wanting reader, and it's easy to see the parallel here as I can't think of anyone I know of who wasn't drawn in by the first fifteen minutes of the game.

Even more of a similarity is that the entire game takes place in an underwater city that's frozen in that time frame thanks to the fallout over ADAM. Irrational did an amazing job keeping it stylistically relevant to the 40's; a submerged historical note to the times. These days, I really like poking around the nooks and crannies in game worlds and Rapture easily scratches that itch with it's art deco vibe and architecture, and more importantly the little details that kept me addicted for a few weeks. You can tell there was a lot of thought put towards the environments, whether it's the layout of abandoned apartments or a bloodied corpse left crucified after the civil war. What's nice is that I was usually rewarded for my incessant snooping with an audio log detailing the background of Rapture, ammo or just another minute detail pulling me further into the rabbit hole. Considering most shooters are a glut of realistic military campaigns or epic space battles, BioShock is a breath of fresh, salty sea air.

When I wasn't waist deep in overflowing H2O, I found myself slowly warming up to taking on Splicers with what I think is one of the more customizable combat systems. Unfortunately, I'm one of those folks who takes the mindless approach of blasting first and remembering strategies after. Which might explain why no one ever wants me on their team during multiplayer in other shooting games. The firearms are traditional fare: pistols, shotguns and grenade launchers are all par for the course. What gives the fighting it's bite are those lovely plasmids: crazy mutant powers that can be all yours for the low, low price of unwavering addiction.

It's readily apparent that all the direct offense plasmids like Incinerate, Winter Blast and Insect Swarm are similar in use, even if they are visually distinct. It's a sound strategy to distract or incapacitate Splicers and Big Daddies -- in fact, I think I primarily used Electro Bolt almost exclusively during my first play through. They're all rock solid, to be honest; but the fun didn't begin until I started using some of the more quirky powers.

I began to envision my version of Jack as something of a magician or hypnotist; hiding behind the Natural Camouflage tonic and pulling the strings of Rapture's denizens. As much as I enjoyed the hacking mini-game (Pipe Mania FTW), I eventually souped up my gadgetry skills and photographed enough foes to where I just played by setting traps the whole time. I never usually get to see how AI works in first-person shooters because of my itchy trigger finger, but with this play style I was able to understand and enjoy what makes everyone tick. Setting up dummies, pissing off Splicers and having them attack each other, using cyclones as perimeter triggers and marking Big Daddies as targets for threatening turrets became a steadfast hobby of mine.

I rarely ran out of ammo because I rarely shot anything. It was awesome. Except for in that last fight against Frank Fontaine.

I digress; maybe calling out the plot wasn't a wise choice on my part. I just think people take it at face value and nothing more. I've read numerous articles citing Irrational as being inspired by Ayn Rand and her philosophy of objectivism, but really that's just the canvas that the painting is spread upon. Sure, Rapture was built because maybe Andrew Ryan read Atlas Shrugged; but the true heart of the proceedings are due to the fact that no ideology will truly work on it's own, and someone is willing to argue that point. In this case it was Frank Fontaine, whom decided to capitalize on the remote underwater city when ADAM was discovered and he chose to exploit it's potential rather than share it with everyone.

It's all very interesting, from the back story given in audio logs to the bizarre twist in which you find yourself having played the entire game as a slave under Fontaine's guise of Atlas. My point of contention lies in the fact that the reality BioShock gets you to believe in is shattered because someone didn't dip their pen deep enough into the creativity well. The point where you chase Fontaine and he suddenly becomes a superhero is jarring, only to totally feel like "just a game" when it turns into a halfhearted boss battle. Not that I can think of a better premise for the end game personally; I just feel it could have been handled differently, just like the rest of the game was. The choice as to whether or not to harvest little sisters also didn't play out as strongly as it could of; I didn't feel bad about pulling the slugs from their stomachs until the very end. It was emotionally gripping and made me feel guilty--but not until it was too late.

Regardless of my personal gripe, BioShock stands as perhaps my favorite game of this generation. It made me care about the story, it made me care about the game play and every little thing I did felt like as big an accomplishment as any arbitrary achievement or level finish could. So much so that I'm already contemplating a third play through; this time on the hardest difficulty in order to get a 100% completion rate and to see if my play style is still a viable one.

And on that note, I now wait with bated breath for when I inevitably pick up BioShock 2. I've kept myself intentionally naive about it; having heard both good and bad things, in the end I'd like to just experience it for myself. Could BioShock simply been a singular experience? Absolutely. But as popular as it is, I'm not surprised that 2K chose to go back, and my curiosity is strong enough to bite that dangling carrot.

At least they didn't ask if I would kindly play it.

Not Even Scott Wolf Could Save This

There are bad games, and then there's the arcade version of Double Dragon.

A few weeks back I had to re-license all my 360 content after it unceremoniously red ringed on me, and I came across an old remake of Double Dragon I had downloaded and had completely forgotten about. For a good reason. This version is something of a digital rarity because it was de-listed from Live thanks to it's publisher, Empire Interactive, going under. Or so Wikipedia says.

It's for the best, though. Unlike great games that were de-listed (Lost Cities, I wish you had found an audience), I don't think anyone should have to suffer through this under any circumstances. No, not even for historical study. I don' t think Double Dragon was the first side-scrolling beat 'em up, but it definitely popularized the genre. And that, kids, is all you really need to know.

Unfortunately, the reason it fails is because of it's lineage as a quarter munching arcade game. You never get to see the glaring flaws because twenty-five cents just didn't get you far enough in to experience them. Replaying it with my brother and an infinite well of coinage; we found ourselves on a thirty minute adventure of how games were made back in the day, and how not to make them today.

The word cheap comes to mind when I think of Double Dragon. I know the term was thrown around a lot in the eighties -- whether it was falling into a pit that you swear up and down the game wantonly tossed you into or you found yourself trapped against an impenetrable wall of flying bullets in a shmup -- but in this case it's true. But that's the nature of the beast when something is made for stealing money from unsuspecting kids and not for genuine enjoyment. The hit detection would be best described as loose, there's an excruciating part where you have to get the Lee brothers across a seemingly impossible one foot gap and the last boss brings a gun to a fist fight.

In the end, my brother and I invented our own fun; either from trashing it's shortcomings or role-playing that we were traveling in the steamy underbelly of Hollywood. Don't ask me why; there was a baddie who looked a bit like Steve Guttenberg and it felt cathartic to thump him, and it just steamrolled from there. Sometimes you just have to make your own fun; in this case it's the only way to have any. After the laughing subsided and one of us beat the other up after defeating the last boss for the chance at a one night stand with Marion, Double Dragon was summarily put to bed and forgotten about.

Normally I have issues about writing musings that put down anything (I'm obnoxiously nice like that, sometimes), but damn it -- Double Dragon deserves it. It's not as good as you remember it being kids. Or, if you're like me, you're actually thinking of the NES version that, for all it's technical shortcomings, was vastly superior to it's arcade progenitor. Not even Scott Wolf* could save this.

*Scott Wolf starred as Billy Lee in the unabashedly terrible film adaptation. I'm sure he'd rather be known for being in Party of Five.

When World Warriors and Avian Themed Superheroes Collide

I've come to the stark realization that I'm not as big a fighting game fan as I like to think I am. I was an impressionable pre-teen (or tween, as they're called these days) when Street Fighter II took the world by storm; it was a cathartic release to what a twelve-year-old viewed as an oppressive world. I used to pour over the manual, studying the special moves harder than most devout Christians would the Bible. Even though the genre is rooted in competition, I was content with thrashing the computer opponents on the lowest settings. Those were happy times.

Nowadays the thought of novella sized move list scares me heartily and the lowest set AI can hand me my ass faster than you can pronounce "Shoryuken".

Even though fighting games have fallen into the endless abyss known as a niche and I'm about as skilled as your grandma, I can't help but become smitten when something new comes along that promises flaming uppercuts and the ability to do endless punch/kick combos. I don't pretend to know any of the minutiae involved, I just tend to stick with enjoying it to the extent of my admitted feeble abilities. What that means is they have a much shorter lifespan than they used to inside my consoles.

Tatsunoko vs. Capcom: Ultimate All-Stars unfortunately has even less of a shelf life because I'm just not as endeared to the cast of anime brawlers, especially in lieu of me downloading Marvel vs. Capcom 2 a while back. It's not that they don't look cool, because they do; it's just that there's no history behind it for me. Beyond having heard of Battle of the Planets and being forced to watch Neon Genesis Evangelion by my youngest brother - I know nothing of Tatsunoko. As if to assure this game polarizes me, Capcom also included some of their more obscure characters that are known to me but aren't as beloved in my eyes. Hi there blonde guy from Onimusha...where's Ken and those guys?

Usually I can look beyond my inability of being culturally conscientious so long as the game play can pull me in...but that didn't happen, either. In the grand scheme of things, I'm more inclined towards fighters are strictly one on one and a bit more on the technical side. Because the flashy, team-switching battles in Tatsunoko vs. Capcom overwhelmed my old man eyes and more often than not I found myself on the losing end every time. If I've learned anything since Street Fighter II ruled my world, it's that fighting games should be played with other humans, even when said people happens to be your little brother...who can hand me my ass without blinking. Which is, to say, the reason why it's merrily on it's way back to GameFly; because I had no interest in playing it by myself.

I'm sorry this pseudo-review didn't give you a lot of the information you might be looking for. But I wasn't interested in going online and having my soul crushed by fighting savants, and the endings and unlockables weren't compelling enough for me to trudge through the single player arcade mode either. Don't read into my views of Tatsunoko vs. Capcom as being negative towards the game; just that it wasn't my style. I appreciate that Capcom had the stones to bring this stateside, because I'm sure I'm not the only one who doesn't know what a Yatterman is. And something of this pedigree is just unheard of on the Wii; which is slightly sad because people will still look down on it regardless.

In the grand scheme of things, playing Tatsunoko vs. Capcom will probably make me appreciate the simplicity of Super Street Fighter IV when it releases. But it will also remind me that I seemingly can only get my fix with that series; making me the gaming equivalent of a meth addict. What a comforting thought as I close out this post. I don't shoot drugs, just fireballs.

Brought to You By the Numbers 4,?, 6, 7 and 6

I dedicate this post to my wife; for without her, I would not have tortured myself for three months with doing homework that was never issued to me in the first place.

Come to find out, I'm somewhat of a masochistic gamer. It wasn't a conscientious decision by any means; but the fact that I played Personal Trainer: Math to completion is an aversion to the fact that I'm willing to play just about anything, even the lowest common denominator. Sorry, had to add a bit of arithmetical humor in here some where. The fact that a copy found a way into my house was also no fault of my own; my wife is getting her masters in mathematics, she likes to be challenged intellectually and is quite fond of mental acuity videogames in general. Thus my sons and I picked up the DS title as a Mother's Day gift that was a match made in heaven. OK, so maybe it is slightly my fault. But in all honesty; she's loves the hell out of Math, and that's what's important here. The thing is, I feel honor-bound to play any game that happens to find it's way into one of my consoles; if only for the sake of posterity and saying "yeah, I've played that one before". But this wouldn't be a very compelling diatribe if I left it at the fact that women who dig math will in turn love it. I wouldn't say I outright hate Personal Trainer: Math, but I'm not so sure I would go and call it fun, either. My favorite part of the game was the sense of relief when I was told I was a Math Master so that I could move on with my life.

I'm highly convinced that there's a book somewhere that every developer must own that points out the conventions that you must add in order for your game to qualify for a certain genre. Math hits all the obligations required to make it a mental acuity title: playing in daily doses of ten minutes or less, high scores to reach and beat, a fake sense of accomplishment in your life via rote educational mini-games and a bland Japanese M.C. who isn't capable of giving you the motivation that they're there for in the first place. I understand and even enjoy Brain Age for what it does; but every follow-up is so derogatory and formulaic that it's made them all archaic feeling in the few short years they've been cropping up.

The biggest change-up, if you can even call it that, is a leveling progression system that tracks your progress through the game. Rather than giving you the ups and downs of daily testing, you're scored solely on if you get answers right or not. That means, other than personal gratification, there's no reason to try and do any of it as quickly as possible. That point is even further driven into the ground by the fact that you can't compare scores with other players anyways; which was one of the great aspects of Brain Age. For every four days of amazing scores, you move up a level until you hit twenty; at which you're deemed a Math Master. Mental acuity games work in a realm of passive interest. In other words, you can play it here or there and get some kind of satisfaction for a day, a week or even months. But the level progression in Math dooms it to being passed along once you've reached the pinnacle. Or, in my case, the developer has mercy on the player to just end it all with a healthy dose of finality. I wasn't even upset at the lack of end credits.

As if peeling off the social aspects of the game weren't enough, the writing recognition is a few shades darker than awful to the point where you'd be better off getting your answers read by going into an algebra class and just taking a quiz. I should have known it was trouble when the instruction booklet shows you how it wants you to write the numbers down. Unless I had exact lines on the top, my 5's were always met with a question mark wondering what the hell I wrote. Even worse, I looped my 8's in the opposite direction the manual wanted me to; thus they always read as 6's. You could argue that writing recognition is still fairly new tech; but the fact of the matter is that if others got it right years ago, there's no reason Math can't do it too. I can usually live with a slightly defective game; but when you screw up the only real game play mechanic that you have, well that's just a travesty. But the real shame is the fact that I dealt with it for over two months, just to say I finished the damn thing.

And so, the highlight of my experience with Personal Trainer: Math was when the trainer, Kageyama, told me there was nothing more he could teach me and I was done. I literally sighed in relief and thanked my deity of choice. Even though I was underwhelmed, it's still fun to watch my wife play; getting excited and pumping her fist, or shaking said fist because it can't read her handwriting either. Unless you dream lucidly of numbers or have found a career in them; I suggest giving this game a pass.