berryer

[berryer]

Yakuza 0 Review (PS4)

My problem is this:

I’ve played the first few hours of NiOh, and I love it. Horizon: Zero Dawn is about to be released, and is already exceeding quality expectations. Both the Nintendo Switch, and Zelda: Breath of the Wild are coming out next week and Mass Effect: Andromeda isn’t far behind.

There’s a lot to play, and so little time to do it. So no matter how hard I try, why can’t I stop playing Yakuza 0?

Here’s the short answer: it’s the most engrossing game I’ve played in years.

Majima has the best eye patch this side of Metal Gear Solid 3.

Like all the games in the series preceding it, Yakuza 0 is an open-world, chapter-based Action RPG. There’s a heavy emphasis on its no-nonsense gangster narrative, with snarling Japanese gangsters that are bordering on soap opera melodrama.

On the other hand, there are also 80+ substories (or sidequests) that are frequently over-the-top ridiculous that you wonder how they originate from the same game. Within the span of an hour, you can watch a shamed Yakuza family Lieutenant slice his pinkie off to pay reparations, secretly infiltrate a cult to rescue a young girl from giving her life savings to a hippie scam artist, and reunite a father with his son over a stolen video game. These disparate stories shouldn’t be able to live in the same zip code, much less the same house, but Yakuza 0′s greatest strength is its ability to balance tone.

In fact, the more I played, the more I realized that neither of these tones could exist without the other. The reason the substories come off as entertaining as they do relies heavily on the life-or-death scenarios that come with the main story. When your protagonist treats the betrayal of his clan with the same sincerity as he does when losing a Pocket Car race, it provides much-needed levity for the narrative, and a hilarious juxtaposition for everything else. It also helps that almost every substory ends with a “What did we learn today?” synthesized piano tune that sounds like it came from Full House.

And speaking of protagonists, this game comes with two: the hero of the former games, Kazuma Kiryu, and the insane gangster later known as Mad Dog, Goro Majima.

As the name implies, Yakuza 0 is a prequel, so we get to see Kiryu before he becomes the “Dragon of Dojima,” and Majima before he turns into an insane, snakeskin-wearing thug. Newcomers to the series like myself will have no trouble hopping on board with the story, while I’m sure series veterans will enjoy gleaning new shades of these classic characters. I enjoyed my time with both of them, but I finished the story caring far more about Majima than I did Kiryu.

And while the story may be filled with melodrama, it’s so wonderfully written and acted (all in Japanese), that I was hooked from Chapter 1. There was a bit in the last third of the game that seemed drawn out, but the momentum built by the game’s strong introduction propelled me through to the end without a problem.

Special takedowns can be brutal.

Amid the story’s lengthy cutscenes, your primary interaction with the game will come in the form of fisticuffs. Yakuza is a 3D brawler, and often reminded me of something like Final Fight. Each character has three fighting styles (and a fourth to be unlocked way down the line), each with its own skill tree. It’s not necessary to grind for cash and build out your character to the extreme, but it sure makes it more fun. For instance, I mostly relied on Kiryu’s “Brawler” and “Rush” styles, largely neglecting his “Beast” Mode. But after finishing the game, to keep things interesting, I started exploring this style I had forsaken, and found that the great throwing and crowd control abilities it provided would have been a godsend in the game’s later chapters.

And while the combat isn’t nearly as refined as something like the Arkham games, the bone-crunching sounds and forceful impacts feel great, so much so that I’m still seeking out random battles after sixty hours with the game.

In those sixty hours, about ten of them have come from Premium Adventure mode. Unlocked after you finish the main story, Premium Adventure gives you free access to everything the game has to offer, including Disco, Karaoke, Darts, Pool, batting cages, and many more. Most of the side activities have substories built right in, each with separate Friendship Meters you can unlock for certain NPCs. All of these activities are accessible during the main game, but I found Premium Adventure to be where I had the space to try everything without being emotionally yanked back to the story.

The surprising thing about these side activities is that most of them are genuinely fun. Karaoke is not a challenging rhythm game, but seeing these hardened gangsters jump around while dressed like pop idols brings me a delight I can’t describe. Pool plays exactly how you think it would, and provides a good respite from a world where most of the people on the street wish to do you bodily harm. All these side activities also have an in-game achievement system tied to them called Completion Points that provide benefits to your character in various ways, in and out of battle.

And I haven’t even touched on the businesses. Both Kiryu and Majima have a business they can build from the ground up (Real Estate and a Hostess Club, respectively) that, when given enough attention can become your primary cash flow. I spent ten hours on a single Saturday only building up Majima’s club, and was never bored.

Yakuza 0 is a massive game, not by sheer square mileage, but by density. You can spend dozens of hours on each element, or you can mainline the story and still experience a great narrative. I’m eagerly awaiting the remake of the first game, coming out this summer, but until then, I have to get back to not playing all the new games that are coming out. Yakuza 0 is just that much fun.

Score: 9.3 out of 10.

[berryer]

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc Review (PS Vita)

Let’s talk about Dis-Bear.

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc is a game that knows exactly what it wants to be. During the eighteen hours it took me to play through the main story, I was often confused, but usually delighted. Even if I didn’t understand what was happening or what I was supposed to be feeling, Danganronpa trucks forward with such momentum and confidence in its own insanity that I was compelled to put off sleep in order to experience more of it.

In its most simple terms, Danganronpa is one part visual novel, and one part adventure game. You play as Makoto Naegi, an average student, who through a stroke of “luck” gets a chance to attend one of the world’s most prestigious high schools, Hope’s Peak Academy. Upon his acceptance to the school however, a manic, psychopathic robot bear (yep) appears and drops a bomb on the new students: “You are locked in here, and the only way you’ll get out is by killing a classmate and getting away with it.”

It’s a fun and ridiculous premise, but it’s the writing and the characters that really take the ball and run with it. Each student is known as the “ultimate” in whatever they do. From the “Ultimate Programmer” to the “Ultimate Fashionista,” each character is given a fun archetype to springboard from and build their personality around. The most ridiculous is likely the “Ultimate Clairvoyant,” although the “Ultimate Fanfic Writer” might give him a run for his money.

The fact that these characters are so likable is what gives the game its dramatic heft. You can spend your free time in the game talking to and building relationships with whomever you wish, but any one of them may be the next one to be murdered.

Hiro does not take well to captivity.

The game expands into a greater story beyond the individual cases, but it’s the Class Trials that provide the bulk of the story and gameplay. Once a classmate is found dead, there is an investigation phase followed by a class trial. These trials are a strange mix of minigames and critical thinking; sometimes a debate will take place as a short rhythm game, and other times you have to literally shoot holes in opposing arguments. These seem to mainly exist to break up the dialogue, but they do their job well as the trial system provided just enough gameplay variation to keep the story flowing.

There are plenty of reasons to not like Danganronpa. There’s not much to the gameplay, it wears its anime influences strongly on its sleeve, and every few seconds, one of the characters is bound to scream at the top of their lungs in surprise (see above photo).

But to dismiss the game on those merits would mean dismissing fantastic writing, great characterization, a fun handful of mysteries, and some of the best localization I’ve heard in a while, especially given how quirky and Japanese this game is. While it may not be for everyone, Danganronpa knows exactly what it wants to do, and executes it perfectly. 

Final score: 8.7 out of 10

[berryer]

DOOM (2016) Single-Player Review

To Hell and Back Again.

The original DOOM was a little before my time. I was only two when it released, but scattered among my earliest memories is a clear vision of my dad gleefully chainsawing demons into pieces. It’s a vision accompanied by a synthesized two-measure-long guitar riff that I forgot I still knew twenty-three years later. It’s also accompanied by a feeling that is wholly unique to me even today. I don’t have a word for it, but when I recall those memories, I can say with certainty that it lies somewhere in the intersection of focus, anxiety, and unbridled delight.

I think I’ll just call it DOOM.

There were several moments in my fifteen-hour playthrough of DOOM’s campaign in which I was struck by how cool I felt (if you know me personally, you should know that any time I feel cool, it’s a pretty big deal). I didn’t just feel cool because I was playing as a space marine/killing machine, because that’s actually pretty common. You can’t swing a dead cat in a Gamestop without hitting a space marine.

DOOM makes me feel cool because I’m constantly fighting for survival. The gameplay triad of firing a weapon, evading an attack, and ripping an enemy apart with your bare hands is the foundation on which id Software built the game, and it shows. DOOM just feels right.

Now when I say “fighting for survival,” I don’t mean to give the impression that you’re powerless in the game, far from it. DOOM gives you a huge arsenal of tools and expects you to use all of them. But in each of the combat arenas, they swarm you with several different enemy types, all of whom require your focus in different ways. 

First, there are the imps, who usually keep their distance, but can cause quite a bit of damage as they climb up walls and throw arcing long-range fireballs. You also have the Cacodemons who control the air and fire a steady assault of fire your way, demanding your constant attention. However, if you give them that attention while standing still, you will most likely be slammed off your feet by a Hell Knight or even a Pinky, DOOM’s demonic battering rams.

By the end of DOOM’s campaign, you will have fought all of these enemies at the same time. While that may seem like an overwhelming proposition, the power curve the game sets you on is consistently empowering, and every new skill or weapon you acquire feels like just enough to get you past the next arena. It’s a testament to the game’s design that my fate in most encounters hinged on a set of split-second decisions, and when I chose poorly, I always knew it was my fault, and not the result of a broken system.

Decision, decisions...

Aside from the excellent combat, DOOM’s levels are relatively open, and just asking to be explored. There are power-ups, collectibles, and weapon mods to be discovered, and even a few retro levels from the original DOOM. These secrets were a welcome reprieve when I needed to wait for my heart rate to come back down.

Another way to break the action is by browsing the in-game codex. One of the wisest choices that id Software made was mainly relegating DOOM’s story to the pause menus. There are short cutscenes (several of them optional) to tie the levels together, but most of the details can be browsed at your leisure. That’s not to say the story is bad as I actually enjoyed quite a bit of it, but no one boots up a game called DOOM to be touched by a stirring tale of heroes and monsters. They wanna shoot stuff in the face.

This attitude is also enforced by the game’s soundtrack. Featuring quick drums, crunchy guitar pedals, and creepy synth sounds, the audio isn’t accompanying you as much as pushing you forward. I haven’t tried it, but I’d imagine playing the game with the music off would be quite an empty experience by comparison. Mick Gordon deserves praise, not only for creating a great album in its own right, but for building something that is so harmonious with the rest of the experience.

If I have any real gripe with this campaign, I’d say it’s just a bit too long. I know I captioned this article with “To Hell and Back Again,” but in reality it’s closer to “To Hell and Back Again and Again and Again.” The game reaches a climax several times, only to come back down to another short bout of exploration before again sending you into the fray. For the last three hours or so, I thought I was playing the game’s ending, and was already anxious to restart on a higher difficulty. This could be intentional, in fitting with the game’s over-the-top tone, but it really broke the flow of the campaign for me.

I walk away from DOOM with a dumb smile on my face. Few modern games have captured the sense of fun, urgency, and empowerment that this game has. It makes me think of my dad, sawing away at demons in ‘93, and cackling in glee. That is a sign of a great video game.

That’s DOOM.

9/10

If you’re interested in learning more about the development of this game, noClip is an awesome YouTube channel that just posted an 80 minute documentary on DOOM. I get no money from this channel, but I do support them monetarily, because I think they’re awesome.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0fDG3byEcMtbOqPMymDNbw

[berryer]

CRITICAL GOALS, Pt. 6: The Final Chapter

(This article is part of a series during which I catalogue my playthrough of Divinity: Original Sin. I know next to nothing about CRPGs, but I was greatly inspired by the show Critical Role. Click here for part five of this series.)

So this is how it ends. Not with a bang, but with slack-jawed boredom.

After extensive testing, I have come to the conclusion that CRPGs are not for me. Now, before you start yelling, I want to build a case for myself. I believe I really did give the game its due. 

If a game, especially an RPG, can’t hold my attention after fifteen hours, the only responsible thing for me to do is put it down. I was in the middle of a vast universe-spanning conspiracy; magic, murder, and betrayal swirled all around me, and I was bored out of my mind.

The breaking point came at a precise moment. My party was exploring the basement of a dungeon, and there was a trap on the floor, so I separated my party to let my thief slip past without activating the giant fireballs of death and reach the deactivation lever on the other side. He did so successfully. And then he came to a locked door.

If this sounds familiar, I must thank you for reading the rest of my articles, for I’ve explained in detail how locked doors in this game can go straight to hell.

This time, however, I was prepared. I equipped my thief with lock picking gear, and casually sauntered up to my adversary with a hearty chuckle. I then realized that I had run out of lock picks because I am a dumb person.

Sighing in annoyance, I called the rest of my party over, once again preparing to spend ten minutes blasting the wooden door down with woefully ineffective fire, apparently, and they set off the trap I thought I disarmed moments earlier.

As I watched my intrepid band of merry rogues scream and retch as they were simultaneously set on fire and poisoned, I realized that I did not care whether they lived or died. In fact, I happily watched them all futilely struggle as their life bars slowly drained away and they finally breathed their last.

And then I closed the game and deleted it off my computer.

I know there are dozens of ways I could have gone about that situation differently. I know that the beauty of games like Divinity: Original Sin is in the multitude of choices. I know that this game in particular is held in very high esteem by people that I hold in very high esteem. So if at any point it sounds like I am attacking those who enjoy CRPGs, please know that this is not my intention; Baldur’s Gate II is held in high regard for a reason. I simply believe I do not have the time nor the patience to give this genre the attention it needs to thrive.

In the moment before I shut the game off, I had already begun to think of what I would need to do to get past the door. But buying more lock picks would have cost me five minutes to trot back to the market, another five minutes to sell off treasure, declutter inventory, and buy lock picks, and another five minutes to return to the scene of the crime (the murder of my entire party, committed by me).

No part of this solution sounded fun. I was then hit with the realization that no part of this game had been fun.

If you take one thing away from this series, let it be this: even if you spend a lot of money on a game, if you don’t enjoy it, put it down. Your time is so much more valuable than your dollars will ever be, and this was a lesson I needed to teach myself again.

I began Critical Goals with the intention of exploring a new gaming genre, and I have achieved that goal. I also stated at the beginning that I thought gameplay would be the hurdle I needed to clear to enjoy this game. I was correct.

I leave this article with an awed respect for CRPGs and those who play them, and a continuing distaste for both my place in the genre and myself in general. 

I shall now return to the shallow end of the pool. It’s clearly where I belong.

[berryer]

Titanfall 2 Impressions

I never owned the first Titanfall. I played the beta on PC, and like most I fell in love with the way the game handled movement. The wall-running and double jumping felt incredible, and the maps were laid out to take full advantage of this strength. The other huge draw was the titular Titans, which added a great power curve to the game; however, despite all these bullet points, it was still a competitive shooter.

This was great news for those who rejoiced in the thought of high skill ceilings and tense action, but all it meant for me was a week of fun followed by endless frustration as my nameless assailants killed me without effort and moved onto a real challenge. Other than Overwatch, I’ve never been fond of the competitive shooter scene. It requires quick reflexes, diligent study of maps and weapons, and simply more skill than I’ve ever had in the genre.

This is not to belittle the shooter scene, as I greatly respect what it brings to the table. It’s just not for me. All that being said, I am extremely excited for Titanfall 2.

Aside from the issues mentioned before, what really bothered me about the first Titanfall was the lack of a single-player campaign. I adored the mechanics and wanted to spend more time with them, I just didn’t want my freerunning fun to be cut short by a bullet to the jugular. Apparently, I was not alone in this complaint, as Respawn Entertainment is building what looks to be a lengthy and exciting journey with a Titan pal.

A story mode with the same mechanics I fell in love with sounds wonderful, but the technical test I played was multiplayer only. I decided to jump in anyway, as I wanted to test something: since the first Titanfall’s movement mechanics have been copied by everyone under the sun, are they still enough of a draw?

After about three hours with the beta, I'm happy to report back with a hearty and professional “hellz yeah,” and I don’t give that grade lightly. The movement actually feels a little better than I remember, most likely due to the addition of a grappling hook. 

The great thing about the game’s new hook is that it doesn’t only work as a point-to-point system. If while strafing right you jump off a roof and throw your grapple out in front of you, it will connect where you are aiming, but not change your momentum immediately. Rather, it will work as more of a pendulum, with you travelling in a circle around the attach point. This led to some great moments during my short time with the beta, the greatest of which was when I grappled onto an enemy titan that was firing at me, swung around it in a circle to the other side, and then jumped on its back and pulled out it’s battery before it exploded.

But Titanfall 2 would not be complete without the metal monsters for which it was named, and two are included in the technical test: Scorch and Ion. Scorch is a fire-based titan, while Ion is a long range gunner. I haven’t spent enough time with either to decide which is my favorite, but they both supply the game with a satisfying power curve. And since the game includes Grunts, easy-to-kill AI bots which populate the map in certain modes, I was able to earn enough credit to call down a Titan in each of the matches that I played. This always led to rampant destruction, which happens to be my favorite kind.

The joy in Titanfall 2 comes not from the mass chaos taking place on the battlefield at any one moment, but in the small heroic vignettes I was able to accomplish in my short time. “Did you see that?!” will most likely be the predominant phrase uttered during Titanfall 2′s bouts, and if the singeplayer campaign can magnify those moments and not stretch the action too thin, I might have a new favorite shooter.

[berryer]

Critical Goals, Pt. 5: End of Time and Space

(This article is part of a series during which I catalogue my playthrough of Divinity: Original Sin. I know next to nothing about CRPGs, but I was greatly inspired by the show Critical Role. Click here for part four of this series.)

Today’s journey begins with the end of time.

Apparently, entering the area where Councillor Jake’s corpse once lay triggered a surprise teleportation to The End of Time and Space, also known as the hub world of Chrono Trigger. I’ll spare you the Ron Burgundy GIF, but things have indeed escalated quickly.

Upon my party’s arrival, I was promptly brought up to speed: A dragon known as The Void is devouring Time and Space. For some reason, my characters exist outside of Time, so they are outside of the dragon’s influence (I think). The Weaver of Time, the magical lady responsible for weaving everything into existence believes that in order to weave new threads to combat this destruction, she needs me to collect star stones. Thankfully, the Sourcerers (yes, it’s spelled that way) that I’m hunting are also after these stones. I shall kill two birds with one star stone. I’m not proud of the previous sentence.

Aforementioned Devourer of Time and Space.

Much to my delight, the party reacted in a way that I found consistent with their personalities. Vex wanted to help, Ronny was highly skeptical (annoying jerk), Madora wanted to go kill things and Jahar gave a lecture on not dealing with demons, for some reason. Pretty much par for the course.

Since this new, grand plot aligned nicely with my previous task, I continued to investigate Councillor Jake’s murder with his flirty wife Esmerelda as the chief suspect. And then, just like Vox Machina, I came across my party’s greatest enemy: a locked door. 

Those familiar with my travels will remember that in my last journal entry, this very door prompted my party to spend an hour and a half shopping for gear and adding members to unlock its wonders.

Still didn’t work.

So after shooting fireballs at the Level 2 door for ten minutes and being equally awed by both its craftsmanship and my party’s incompetence, we managed to break in and find a few items:

A love poem, from a Duke to Esmerelda

A bloody dagger

All of her valuables (we just sold them)

“These items mount a rather strong case against this woman,” I thought, having spent the last few hours gathering evidence. “I should confront her and be hoisted onto the town’s shoulders like the wondrous detective I am.”

After she quickly shot down all my evidence as circumstantial, she ventured a suspect of her own: the doctor’s apprentice, Evelyn. I then followed this trail to Evelyn’s house, where I broke in (I had a key) and found some rather interesting information about my new suspect:

She’s in a cult

She’s much more skilled with healing than she should be at her age

She's from Silverglen, a village in the north

She’s apparently hot

She be crazy

She be real crazy

I don’t think I can actually enter the last three as evidence, but there’s definitely something strange going on here. And if this game has taught me one thing... it probably hasn’t actually. Clefairy GIF still applies.

Odds and Ends

I’ve used far too many bullet points in this article

No battles at all during this chunk of game

I think I’m starting to understand the appeal of this type of game, but it’s very hard to play piecemeal like this

What I may do for my next entry is play quite a bit more, and report back how I’m feeling about the game rather than explain the plot and my actions. Right now, I feel that I’m right on the cusp of getting lost in it, in a good way, but the constant note-taking is keeping me from really experimenting. I’ll try to play for a long, uninterrupted session and see how I feel.

I’ll be back soon!

[berryer]

CRITICAL GOALS, Pt. 4: See Clefairy below

(This article is part of a series during which I catalogue my playthrough of Divinity: Original Sin. I know next to nothing about CRPGs, but I was greatly inspired by the show Critical Role. Click here for part three of this series.)

In the 2 hours I’ve been playing Divinity on this playthrough, I've only fought twice. This was the result of the second conflict:

It turns out that when you start a new game with two ranged characters with little to no armor, you can die real quickly. Thankfully, I don’t have to start over again, because I picked up three neat companions. But more on that later.

This tooth-and-nail victory that was so brilliantly won by my two heroes was against an army of orcs. And by army, I mean two of them. They were really big though. 

They were led by a human, which is strange, because orcs apparently hate humans, because orcs are racists. Or the humans are. Or something. This game requires too many dependent clauses. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Right after the fight, I learned the real reason why Vex and Ronny had to come to the town of Cyseal: they’re Source Hunters (Sourcery is an evil, tainted magic in the realm of Divinity), and a city councillor has been murdered through nefarious means. 

I was given two leads by the Cat/Mage that briefed me on the situation (I don’t know either, just roll with it). The first was the prime suspect, the late councillor’s wife, Esmerelda. I went to pay her a visit.

As soon as I walked into Esmerelda’s bar, I found her flirting with a Legionnaire. Not cool, Esmerelda. Your husband just got smited. Smitten? I’ll stick with smited.  

Smote?

Not believing her pleas of innocence, nor those of her boy-toy, I snuck around back to pick the lock on her door. I then found out my friends sucked at lock picking, so I went to find some new friends (like junior high all over again). 

I was able to find two recruitable party members: Madora and Jahar. Madora was a fellow Source Hunter from a different town, and a two-handed warrior. Jahar was a wizard that specialized in Air and Water Magic. Unsurprisingly, they too sucked at lock picking, so I went to find some equipment to raise that particular skill.

After browsing through the inventories of the various shopkeepers scattered about Cyseal, I realized that (again, just like junior high) money was hard to come by at my current level. With this avenue currently blocked, I decided to hunt down my second lead, the Legion captain Aureus.

Aureus had a bit of a chip on his shoulder. It seems that not many trust the Legion anymore and he was a little bitter about it. I feel I can best describe his attitude using a visual aid:

After patiently waiting for Aureus to finish, I finally managed to convince him to let me check out the crime scene. This is where I stopped my playthrough for the day, on the threshold of the crime scene.

Odds and Ends:

Existential crisis of the day: Ronny the wizard is really getting on my nerves. This is especially troubling when you consider the fact that I’m role-playing as myself.

A brown-nosing NPC tried to get me to join an adventurer’s guild called The Fabulous Five. Vex’ahlia wanted to join, but Ronny was being too cautious. See above bullet point.

Along with Madora and Jahar, I also recruited a feral woman named Bairdotr. Since she’s a ranger and redundant to my party comp, I stripped her of all my gear and told her to stay home, naturally.

I think the plot really kicks into high gear as soon as I step into the crime scene, so I should have a lot of info to report for the next article. To sign off, I will now explain my headline.

[berryer]

CRITICAL GOALS, Pt. 3: This time, for reals.

(This article is a continuation of my series CRITICAL GOALS, during which I catalogue my playthrough of Divinity: Original Sin. Parts 1&2 can be found at berryer.tumblr.com.

When I last left this series, I was at an impasse; should I give into my misgivings and start over with new characters one more time? Or should I suck it up, and carry on like a man?

I think we both know where this is going.

Once again I was met with the quiet tyranny of the character selection screen. After literally hundreds of seconds of deliberation, I decided to defeat this problem using half measures. I’m going to be role-playing both characters, but one of those roles just happens to be myself.

Ah, Ronny, you scoundrel. We meet again.

It’s like looking in a mirror, honestly, give or take 85 pounds of lean muscle. But I’ll take what I can get.

As you can see, I finally decided on a ranger (as Vex’ahlia, from Critical Role), and a wizard (as me, in my wildest fantasy). Having played this intro section three or four times already, I know that I will quickly pick up two new characters to help round out my party: a two-handed warrior, and an air/water mage.

In theory, this should solve all my problems. I can learn to RP, while still having a balanced class build.

In theory.

[berryer]

CRITICAL GOALS, Pt. 2: Rolling, Re-rolling, Re-rolling.

(This article is a continuation of my series CRITICAL GOALS, during which I outline my plan for playing through Divinity: Original Sin. Here’s Part 1.)

I have a serious problem, you guys.

In the first part of this series, I surmised that I’ve never liked CRPGs because I’ve never truly been role-playing. I would always choose what I wanted rather than letting the characters speak for themselves.

I’ve logged 8 hours into D:OS, and I still have no idea what these little punks want from me.

Before I continue, I should clarify: I’ve had the game open for 8 hours, but I’m only 2 hours into my current save. I’ve started over three times. And I’m thinking about starting over again.

Since I started this game due to my love of Critical Role, I started by role-playing as two characters from the show, Vax and Vex. But when I got into the nuts and bolts of the mechanics of the game, I found out that a rogue and a ranger makes for horrible starting party composition about two hours in.

This is fine, I thought. Now that I know the mechanics, I can go back and get a better party comp and really dive into this game. So I chose two other Critical Role characters, Grog and Pike.

In Critical Role, Grog is a Goliath barbarian with high strength and low intelligence. Pike is a gnome cleric. Those two sounded like a fun pair! Think of the wacky hijinx they could get up to!

Very quickly it became apparent that I needed someone more capable of magic than a cleric, and that Grog’s build was a better choice for negotiations and bartering. I had two choices: I could make the game much more difficult by continuing to RP and saying ‘to hell with the consequences,’ or I could let a few character inconsistencies slide and play the game efficiently as far as character builds are concerned.

Naturally, I chose to restart completely.

REALLY starting to hate this character selection screen.

This time, I went with characters I knew extremely well: a travelling pair from my favorite book series, The Wheel of Time. Specifically, Lan and Moiraine. 

I thought this would work well because I know the characters, could RP easily, and they also make a great party comp. But I soon fell into the same issue: Lan, who was supposed to be the stoic, silent protector was better suited to be the charismatic one. Back to the drawing board.

So I’m back to my original quandary. Should I re-roll the character selection again? Or should I suck it up and continue with the party I’ve created for myself? I feel I’m quickly reaching the point of no return, and I really want to see this experiment through to the end.

[berryer]

CRITICAL GOALS

(Editor’s Note: this article was originally posted on my personal website in 2016. I moved it here when the website was discontinued. I do not own the pictures, but I wrote the article.)

If you talk to me about video games for more than three minutes, I am bound by law to bring up my love of RPGs. Well, maybe not law, but I'll do it anyway. I'm not even sorry.

I've written in past articles about my love for JRPGs in particular. The pillars of my childhood are comprised of adventures from my SNES glory days, and my love for those now worn-out conventions persist even to this day.

Once I got older, this affair began to bleed into games with more western sensibilities. If Secret of Mana represents my childhood, Skyrim and The Witcher mark my DPB (Days Post Beard). The genre trappings of "too many buckles" and barely pronounceable names gave way to the trappings of "too many question marks on the map" and barely pronounceable names. You can replace the windows, but the house still stands.

However, in the space between JRPGs and modern western RPGs, there existed another type of RPG: the CRPG, or computer RPG.

CRPG is a bit hard to define, but I'm using the term mainly as a way to identify top-down "Infinity Engine" games such as Baldur's Gate or Icewind Dale. They often include highly customizable parties, incredibly deep gameplay systems, and high barriers for entry.

I know because I've tried to play them. I've tried so hard.

This looks nothing like my childhood. We didn't even have a palace gate.

When the first Baldur's Gate came out in 1998, 7 year-old Ronny didn't have a computer capable of running it. I was still playing Chip's Challenge (which is great) on our family machine and whatever console JRPG I could get my hands on. By the time I finally had a capable PC, Baldur's Gate, Fallout, Icewind Dale, & Planescape were already in the rearview mirror.

The more entrenched I grew in the gaming industry, the more I recognized this gap in my knowledge. About two years ago, I again tried to rectify it: I bought Baldur's Gate II: Enhanced Edition, a game set in the Forgotten Realms setting of Dungeons & Dragons, the cream of the crop for CRPGs.

Upon loading the game up, I was excited at the dozens of decisions I was allowed to make: stat allotments, personality alignments, and a myriad of possible futures all laid out before me. And then I got past the starting menus.

I'm not going to spend time talking about gameplay systems I know nothing about, but to this day I live in fear of the helplessness I felt in those first few moments. Wringing my hands at what my curiosity had wrought, I quickly closed out the game and sighed in relief, as my ninety minutes in the character creator sat just below the "time played" threshold I needed to still guarantee a Steam refund. Bioware's masterpiece was kicked to the curb like an unwelcome house guest.

Life went on. Seasons changed. The circle of life continued. And I became content with the knowledge that some games just aren't for me, and never will be.

And then I found Critical Role.

Critical Role is, by their own admission, a game where "a bunch of nerdy-ass voice actors get together and play Dungeons & Dragons." This group of nine (now eight) men and women had been playing together in private for two years, but were then approached by the production company Geek & Sundry to livestream their games on Twitch. By all admissions, this shouldn't have worked. Livestreaming a game that takes place completely in the players' heads seems like a fast-track for someone at Geek & Sundry losing his or her job.

But it did work. Not only did it work, it's also one of the most fascinating and engrossing forms of storytelling I've ever seen.

Mirth abounds.

In some ways, I believe Critical Role is a perfect storm. It took the right timing, the right group of people whose schedules must be nearly impossible to coordinate, and it took the right format.

It took patience in a generation that had none. It took engagement from a community that had next to no visuals to work with. It takes at least a two hour block of time from anyone who wants to watch even one of the shorter episodes. Ask any successful person working in online video right now, and they will tell you that long-form content is a stupid thing to do for stupid stupidheads, as Vine videos are becoming just a little too long for the average attention span.

But despite all these hurdles, or maybe perhaps because of them, watching Critical Role is a very rewarding experience for someone who loves stories. And it makes me want to try CRPGs again.

I know watching someone play D&D and playing a CRPG are not even close to being the same thing, but hear me out. I think watching Critical Role has helped me to understand that despite my love of role-playing games, I was never truly role-playing in these games. I was taking stories as they were given to me and when faced with choice, I was simply looking for the most expedient outcome, and not thinking "What would this character actually be doing in this situation?" This time, I plan on letting the characters do what they want, even if it's not what I want.

However, I'm fairly certain the gameplay hurdle will still be there, so I've decided on a compromise: a playthrough of Divinity: Original Sin accompanied by my impressions on this very site.

I have two reasons why I think it will stick this time: D:OS is supposed to be much more user-friendly and nicer to my baby brain, and I will have these articles to keep me accountable.

I mean, it's not like I'll get past the starting menus and get scared and quit again, right?

...

Right?

... Guys?

*cricket cricket*

You really should check out Critical Role, by the way. Here’s a link.

- Critical Role

[berryer]

CLICK

(Editor’s Note: this article was originally posted on my personal website in 2015. I moved it here when the website was discontinued. I do not own the pictures, but I wrote the article.)

Do you ever wonder why you like something?

Sometimes it's easy to pinpoint. I love A Knight's Tale, a weird movie with mixed-to-negative reviews, because it's never boring and imminently quotable. Movie and television quotes already take up more than half of my memory bank, so that one's a no-brainer. Or would that be a half-brainer? (Pause for laughter. Enjoy the silence).

I bring this up because I just feverishly finished Fire Emblem: Awakening on the 3DS. Just now. Three years after I bought it. The sequel is already out.

I played it for roughly five or six hours when I first bought it, put it away, and didn't touch it for another year. I thought "Surely, I'm just not in the mood for this right now. I'll pick it back up again later."

And I did. In 2014. I played for another five or six hours and put it away again. This pattern continued over the last two years; I could only play in fits and starts. Until I finally picked it up again about three weeks ago. I kept seeing coverage for the sequel and decided to give Awakening another shot. Believe it or not, I hit the same roadblock and was on the verge of putting it down.

And then I felt the click.

To fill in some of the blanks, Awakening is a pretty punishing game. Combat takes place on a tactical grid and gives you full control over inventory, skillset, and personnel. But combat is only half the battle. Yes, I'm aware the previous sentence makes no sense. Hear me out.

"Untoter" sounds like someone who really hates bags.

Your placement on the tactical grid relative to other characters affects the relationships between those characters. If Robin and Frederick engage an enemy while adjacent to one another, their bond grows. Not only does this bond have story implications outside the battle, it also gives stat boosts during combat. It's another great example of something I've praised before: synergy between story and gameplay systems.

This hook doesn't end there, however. All Fire Emblem games include a feature called permadeath. If a character falls in battle, he or she dies. Not just for the duration of the battle. Forever.

Permadeath is not a new concept. Many games have done it for years. But because of the love you literally build between the characters in Awakening, you aren't losing a soldier. You're losing a family member. That bond is severed, and someone has lost a husband. A wife. A friend. A father.

And it's your fault.

My first few attempts at playing this game resulted in resetting every time someone died. I wasn't going to have wasted all that time just to lose one of my best characters. And then I finally let someone go.

I lost a thief named Gaius. You get him relatively early on, and he's definitely a character. He's a mercenary. And he only take payment in sweets. He also had the highest speed of any other of my other characters. I got careless and moved him too close to an enemy knight at the end of a half-hour long battle. He was struck down.

In memoriam.

I froze for just a moment, ready to restart the fight. But I didn't. I kept going. I killed the boss, and then saved over my file. I hesitantly started the next battle, the music kicked in, and CLICK.

I thought to myself: "I love this game."

I think it was the sudden realization that my choices had consequences. Not just temporary ones, but consequences that would be felt over the course of my full experience with the game. I lost many more in the battles to come. Cherche. Vaike. Frederick. Tiki. Virion. Lon'qu. Panne. The list goes on. Some of them were unavoidable casualties of war. Some of them fell due to my negligence. But they were part of my story. The losses my characters suffered in their relationships presented themselves every time I set my formation and saw a Frederick-shaped hole in the line.

They were then paraded in front of me during the ending credits. Not cool, guys.

Is there anything you can remember, game, movie, or otherwise, for which you can pinpoint your "click" moment? I'd love to hear about it! I can be reached on Twitter @Ronny_Barrier.

(Note: You can turn permadeath off with Awakening's "Casual" mode, but I would advise against it. Strongly.)

[berryer]

Nothing but the Blood

(Editor’s Note: this article was originally posted on my personal website in 2015. I moved it here when the website was discontinued. I do not own the pictures, but I wrote the article.)

Blood is a funny thing. Not in the literal sense of course, unless you are a crazy person. (Welcome!)

It's gross. It's sticky. The mere mention of it implies violence, injury, or death. People will get sick or even faint at the mere sight of it.

And yet it's necessary for all sentient life. We all have it, we all need it, and we will die if we lose it.

"So Ronny. You're being weird. Why do you keep talking about blood?" Well I'll tell you why! I just finished a game called Bloodborne. And Bloodborne has a WHOLE lot to say about blood.

(If you are one of the aforementioned "faint at the sight of blood people," please turn away now.)

- Bloodborne Debut Trailer

That trailer does a good job of setting up Bloodborne's tone. Set in the fictional town of Yharnam, a twisted, gothic-horror version of Victorian London, Bloodborne is an action game that radiates a constant sense of discomfort, in the most mild of terms. Beast-slayers called Hunters have invaded Yharnam to destroy the monsters that patrol the area. However, there's just (way more than) one problem. The same blood that the Hunters used to empower themselves is what created these beasts; the blood has corrupted the hunters.

You play as one such Hunter, and begin the game by receiving a transfusion of corrupted blood. And then the game gets weird.

Always use sunscreen, kids.

I've beaten Bloodborne once and started another playthrough, spent quite a bit of time researching, and have listened to several podcasts from others trying to dissect the world that From Software, the game's developer, has created.

From Software has always had a history of implanting its games with dense lore. While "dense" stories often run the risk of being either nonsensical or a series of boring exposition dumps, all games said to be in the Souls family, Demon's Souls, Dark Souls I & 2, and Bloodborne, contain almost no exposition to clue the player into their surroundings. Rather, item descriptions, cryptic notes, and enemy names all present a narrative that you have to dig into to understand. There's even a form of currency in the game called "Insight" that you accrue by observing events and enemies. This insight literally changes the game world, and makes it much harder. The more you understand about Yharnam, the more terrifying it gets. For instance, what may look like a normal building to most passersby looks quite different when the player character gains more than 40 insight:

What’s Yharnamese for ‘freaking terrifying?’

Examples like this portray what I appreciate most about Bloodborne: its cohesiveness between the narrative and the gameplay systems. In other words, the story, and the world From Software has created, is reinforced by how you play.

First off, the game is hard. It requires a steep learning curve from the player and harshly penalizes failure, erasing possibly an hour or two of progress after a misstep. It's impossible to play a game that treats you this way and not feel dread, even without a mini-Cthulu jumping out from behind a wall and trying to eat your face. Which they do. Constantly. Freakin' mini-Cthulu's.

The leveling system also ties into the lore of the world. When you defeat beasts, they drop what are called Blood Echoes, or the remnants of the blood they have devoured in the past. You can collect these Echoes and use them to make your Hunter stronger. Rather than spending "points" or "Rupees" to make yourself stronger, you use what a Hunter would really be using.

I really like this type of game design. No overhanging parts, and nothing is wasted. For the small amount of characters that do speak in the game, the animators did not even animate their mouths to lip-synch their dialogue. While some developers pour millions of dollars to realistically portray the twitching of facial muscles (which there is most certainly a time and place for), From Software spends time on what matters to them: tight gameplay, dense yet intentional world-building, and the firm marriage between the two.

I've written this post slightly out-of-order because I wanted to speak on a few more specifics of Bloodborne's world. If you want to avoid SPOILERS, or you don't want to hear some really gross ideas about this game, this is your final warning. Please don't scroll past the picture of the giant anthropomorphised spider that's named after the section of the human brain that controls fear. Seriously. It's called an Amygdala.

He was actually one of the easier bosses. Still... pretty gross though.

So, back to all that blood. Most theories that I've heard, and up to this point I'd have to agree with them, postulate that the blood this game revolves around is actually menstrual blood.

I told you to stop scrolling down.

Many things in Bloodborne, both in the narrative and in the gameplay (YAY, cohesion) happen in cycles. There isn't a game over screen, just character death and rebirth. Many characters worship the moon. Hunters consume blood to fight beasts, and then become those beasts. The game even starts over immediately once you finish it, continuing the cycle of The Hunt. On and on it goes.

There are several characters in the game that even offer you their own blood as a gift. All of these characters are young women, one of whom stops offering when she becomes pregnant. So yeah... gross.

While the story, as I mentioned before, is quite opaque, I believe I've been able to piece together a little bit of why this aspect of the game is necessary to the narrative. Godlike creatures called Great Ones have corrupted normal blood (called Paleblood by some of the characters) through a group called The Healing Church. The Healing Church is famous for "blood healing," a concept on which I'm still a bit shaky. Regardless, the transfusions that occur as a part of this "blood healing" is how the corrupted blood is spread.

Remember how I said earlier that much of the story comes through item descriptions? Here's the description for the Blood Vials your character uses to heal him or herself:

"Special blood used in ministration. Restores HP.

Once a patient has had their blood ministered, a unique but common treatment in Yharnam, successive infusions recall the first, and are all the more invigorating for it. No surprised that most Yharnamites are heavy users of blood."

So this blood is introduced into the population, and the only way to escape death is to continue to inject it into the body.

There's much to be said here about man's role in relation to women, the sacredness of childbirth, and God's relationship to man, but there may be no bottom to this rabbit hole. I'll let smarter people than I dissect the finer social and existential issues. If you want a few resources from people who have really dug deep (including an 89 page examination, not kidding), I recommend these pages:

- The Paleblood Hunt

- Bloodborne Lore Wiki

While it's fun to joke about how strange this all is, I greatly admire From Software's commitment to the world they wanted to create. In a rapidly evolving industry of over-tutorialized phone games and hand-holding, the developers did the absolute best they could to create the world they envisioned and let the player discover the rest.

[berryer]

The Witcher and Loneliness

(Editor’s Note: this article was originally posted on my personal website in 2015. I moved it here when the website was discontinued. I do not own the pictures, but I wrote the article.)

Since I'm a real-life grown up now (debatable), my window for spending time with games has gotten smaller and smaller. Driving forces of my childhood have taken a backseat to responsibilities and a sense of "I really need to be doing something productive right now." While these are worthy, necessary thoughts, I have a constant yearning to be lost in another world for a time. As I've written before, while growing up, it was Final Fantasy. When I was in college, it was The Wheel of Time. And right now, it's the story of a monster hunter: The Witcher. 

The Witcher is best known as a series of video games by CD Projekt Red. However, it started as a collection of short stories by Polish author Andrzej Sapkowski. The name of the series comes from the species/job of its main character, Geralt of Rivia (seen above). A Witcher is a man who was once human, but has undergone severe mutation and emotional repression in order to become an expert monster hunter. These mutations are caused by the (sometimes) forced ingestion of chemicals and mutagens that would normally be fatally toxic. If the exceptional man in question survives the mutations, with a lifetime of training, he can become a Witcher.

Had Wesley’s opponent been Geralt, this would have been a very long scene. 

Geralt's mutations in particular gave him superhuman reflexes, hearing, speed, strength, jedi-like mind-manipulating and telekinetic powers, and several physical oddities such as snow-white hair and yellow, cat-like eyes. Sounds pretty awesome, right? Not everyone thinks so.

Witchers are often met with disgust, hatred, and scorn for being freaks. As such, they are often ostracized from society, even while many still require their services. Because of an event in this world's history, many supernatural monsters terrorize and attack humans, most of whom are ill equipped to deal with them. Witchers are supernatural bounty hunters; they accept contracts to rid towns and villages of these monsters, even though their clients are often disgusted by their very existence. Witchers only exist because they are necessary evils to those who employ them.

I should probably take an aside here. Witchers are often violent people. Even Geralt, if you choose to play him that way, may not think twice about beheading someone in public for disagreeing with or threatening him. A witcher in the previous game assassinates kings as part of his contract. Sometimes, the public's mistrust of witchers is well-founded.

Although, as is often the case with blind prejudice, there is much more to Geralt than meets the eye. He has a long and complicated past that would take too long to explain in this post, but the impetus for his journey in The Witcher 3 is to find his adoptive daughter, Ciri.

Apparently, white hair and awesome left-eye scars run in the family.

Everything Geralt does in the story is to find her, to keep her safe from those who are pursuing her. With all the heinous things he's done in his life (another story that would take longer than this post), Ciri may be his redemption. She's a child that he saved and taught to fend for herself. Even despite his unnaturally long life, if Ciri dies, so does his only chance of leaving something behind besides death. And so begins his hunt.

The Witcher takes place in a beautiful, if ruined world. Even though war has ravaged the landscape, and monsters' pestilence has tainted the air, there are spots of beauty to be found.

I’m a leaf on the wind.

But when you put a character that's universally shunned into a world as big and beautiful as any that's ever been in a game, you come away with something unexpected: profound loneliness.

I've played both the Witcher 1 & 2, and I've beaten the second one, but never did I encounter such a sense of solitude as I did with the open world of The Witcher 3, and I've been trying to pinpoint the reasons.

I think the first reason is Geralt's agency, or his capacity to act. The first two games let you roam in large, walled-off areas, but the world of The Witcher 3 literally hands you the reigns (they give you a horse) and sends you on your way, even giving you the ability to sail across the world to remote islands in search of your ward.

Geralt, to me, has always seemed a victim of his circumstances. As powerful and crafty as he is, he cannot resist kingdoms sweeping over the land, and he is always caught up in one conflict or another, often not by his own doing. Not so this time. Although the kingdom of Nilfgaard (lots of weird Polish names) is invading the area you inhabit, creating a literal warzone everywhere it touches, Geralt does not take sides in the conflict. He accepts contracts for coin from both sides.

To find Ciri, Geralt is acting of his own volition. He is consorting with emperors and dealing with kings because they are means to an end. He sometimes involves himself in conflicts, but only to further his own cause. He is a man apart, always passing through.

Velen is lovely during wartime.

I believe the second reason for the permeating solitude is the player's agency. Geralt is still his own man, but the player now decides where he goes, what he does, and how he spends his time. While this was partly true for previous games in the series, it's never been near this scale. When I'm in a city or village, every cry of "Freak!" is taken a little more personally. I chose to be here, to subject myself to this mockery.

Intellectually, I know I don't really have a choice. I have to go to the city at some point, and no matter what I do, most people will react to Geralt the same way. But my role in Geralt's actions make a definite difference to me psychologically, and every threat and insult cuts just a little bit deeper.

When I replayed The Last of Us last year, I was again profoundly moved by the story, the world, and the actors' performances, and it remains one of my favorite stories in any medium. But I felt as if I was a spectator in Joel and Ellie's tale. In The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, I'm the freak. I'm the monster. I'm the outcast.

And, to quote the Kingpin: "It makes me feel alone."

[berryer]

Final Fantasy XV Impressions

(Editor’s Note: this article was originally posted on my personal website in 2015. I moved it here when the website was discontinued. I do not own the pictures, but I wrote the article.)

Media from our childhood tend to burrow their way into our hearts and minds. If you hum a quick excerpt from "A Whole New World" or drum out the beginning pattern of "Under the Sea," I bet most millennials could complete the phrase without thought. Repeated viewings sear into our brains like cattle brands, albeit less painfully (although young parents experiencing the seven-billionth sing-along performance of "Let It Go" may disagree).

My Disney is Final Fantasy.

For the uninitiated, Final Fantasy  is a series of video games that started back in 1987. Loosely connected by themes, music, and terminology, the series' individual entries don't act as direct sequels to one another, with some exceptions. The title Final Fantasy came about as the game's developer, Square, was on its last legs, and needed a Hail Mary pass so they could go out in a blaze of glory should the public deem them worthy.

Final Fantasy I: known for its classic tracks, such as Beep Boop Boop.

Unexpectedly, the game was a MASSIVE success and led the series to become one of the most valuable gaming properties in the last 27 years. But enough of the history lesson.

Final Fantasy is immensely important to me because of its presence in our home. By the age of three, I was already watching my brothers play through Final Fantasy IV and staring slack-jawed in wonderment, much as I still do now.

These games were so consistent in our house that Final Fantasy IV and VI taught me how to read. Yes, you read that right. I was so enamored by what I was seeing on the screen, that I continually pestered Bob and Jeff to tell me what things meant and how to say them, which, I believe, is the basic foundation for reading still today. I may be wrong though. Reading is hard.

I would also be remiss to not mention the music. Some of the most profoundly moving experiences I've ever had with an art form (yes, I said art) have come from the soundtracks from these games. But that is a whole separate article--one that I am sure I will write eventually.

I bothered with all this tomfoolery simply to say: I have high expectations for Final Fantasy XV.

Beep Boop indeed.

After being announced as Final Fantasy Versus XIII eight years ago, the game has been re-branded as Final Fantasy XV. And last week gave the public their first playable experience in the form of a demo named Episode Duscae. As I'm sure you could tell from the preceding "intro" (ahem), I jumped all over that thang, and the most I can say about it is that I am most definitely... not crazy about it. Intrigued, yes, but not head-over-heels.

Should I fault my sky-high expectations? Perhaps. But I expect a standard of presentation quality that the demo did not achieve. I wanted to be wowed by the game's vast vistas, but jagged lines, lower resolutions, and performance issues that included severe frame rate drops left me wanting.

Final Fantasy XV has also changed from a turn-based combat system into a nearly full-on action game, and the infancy shows. The targeting system cannot keep up with the fast action, and the performance issues were only compounded when they affected my ability to fight. Precise timing is not helped by an unstable frame rate.

Quick disclaimer: I am fully aware that this is a demo and that the full game is a over a year out from release. Much will change during this time, hopefully for the better, and many of my issues will hopefully be assuaged. I just wanted to relay my qualms first and foremost.

Now that all that negativity out of the way, I can also see the skeleton of the game. And I must say, it may be the sexiest skeleton I've ever seen.

Second disclaimer: for the reader's own safety, DO NOT PERFORM A GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCH FOR SEXY SKELETONS. SOME THINGS CANNOT BE UNSEEN.

Moving on.

XV, during its development, has been billed as "a Fantasy based in reality," and that concept shines through. Mountainous creatures co-mingle with modern cars, structures, and clothing styles, and you're as likely to find a gas station as you are a floating city made of crystal. At first I found this juxtaposition jarring, but I came to really appreciate it over the course of my time with the demo.

Combat also has some great ideas, as it forces players to manage a three-way tug-of-war between offense, evasion, and tactical retreats. You only control the main character, Noctis, but his interaction with his buddies does a great deal to both personalize the characters and justify their existence during battle. When you're knocked down, your teammates act as big brothers, and back up to shield you from harm. And it's not just visual, they will actually stop enemies from getting through to you. This camaraderie is something I hope they really focus on in the final game, both for story and gameplay purposes. And the finale of the demo, involving something with the scale never before seen in a Final Fantasy game, made me pee just a little. In a good way.

I could go much, much more in depth here, but other sites have already done that in a better way than I, so I will just leave you with my final (hur hur) impressions.

As I said before, the skeleton elements leave me intrigued, and tentatively excited for the future of the series. If they can clean up the performance issues, and deliver on the lofty promises of combat and presentation, the wait may just be worth it.

[berryer]

HEADSPACE (In Every Sense)

(Editor’s Note: this article was originally posted on my personal website in 2015. I moved it here when the website was discontinued. I do not own the pictures, but I wrote the article.)

This post could have just as easily gone on my "Nerdspace" page, but I think it's a bigger issue than just games.

I want to talk about VR.

When confronted by our imminent "screen strapped to our face" future, my attitude is one of both unparalleled excitement and existential dread. On one hand, VR is an extremely exciting technology. Aside from just gaming, imagine the implications of connecting with loved ones. Skype and Facetime has done so much already to help us feel connected to those we can't see in person. Imagine how cool it would be to virtually inhabit the same room as your family while hundreds of miles away, to be the closest thing to physically present in the moment.

At the same time, think of your current family get-togethers. How many people are in their phones, physically present but virtually absent?

There's a picture that I want to post here that fully exhibits my fears for our future, but I would probably face a copyright strike. If you google "oculus vr mark zuckerberg" it's one of the first results: a conference room full of people with devices strapped to their faces who have no idea that one of America's premiere billionaires is strolling past them.

VR is going to break out soon. If not this year, then most likely the next. The Oculus Rift, the HTC Vive, Sony's PSVR, Samsung Gear, Google Cardboard- they'll all be out by October. They may take a while to catch fire, but with the companies and names behind them, they will be front and center this holiday season. How many family Christmases will consist of people gathered in the same room, virtually (I can't use this word without it being a pun anymore) ignoring each other?

I know I sound like a doomsayer, but I'm honestly trying to work through my own thoughts on this subject. Once the price is right, I'll probably be buying one of these devices myself, as they possess the potential for unprecedented immersion. I'm just hoping the excitement they generate brings us together in giddy discussion, rather than compelling us to retreat to our own independent worlds.

Let me know what you think! I can always be reached on twitter @Ronny_barrier.

[berryer]

Crimson Chic

(Editor’s Note: this article was originally posted on my personal website in 2015. I moved it here when the website was discontinued. I do not own the pictures, but I wrote the article.)

I've been sitting here for around ten minutes trying to figure out how to start this blog post. The question I'm currently mulling over is a simple one: "Did I like Crimson Peak?" 

It's certainly a beautiful movie. It's immaculately shot. The soundtrack, which mainly consists of variations on a story-centric waltz, is wonderful. The actors do a fantastic job, and everyone is well cast. But the answer still eludes me.

Crimson Peak follows Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowska) and her romance with The Baronet Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston). The dashing Thomas quickly works his way into Edith's affections, and after a few story events I won't spoil here, Edith leaves the country to join Thomas and his sister Lucille at their beautifully dilapidated estate in England.

Oh, and I forgot to mention, there's terrifying ghosts everywhere. Hence the creepy hand in the header image.

This may sound strange when describing a man who had an entire mansion built specifically for this movie, but I greatly admire director Guillermo Del Toro's restraint. To quote Edith while describing the short story she pens in the film: "This is not a ghost story. It's a story with a ghost in it."

The first rule of scaring an audience is to not let them see what's scaring them. Fear of the unknown is always worse than staring at a CG creation (looking at you, MAMA, which, ironically, was produced by Del Toro himself). To that end, Del Toro (who shall henceforth be referred to by what I hope is his wrestling name, GDT) breaks the cardinal rule by showing the monster in its entirety in the first act.

"But Ronny, why you so dumb?", you may be asking. "GDT just up and shows you a ghost in full view near the beginning of this flick. That ain't restraint, dawg." Normally, I would agree. But GDT's intention isn't to scare you with ghosts, it's to scare you with people. And he found wonderful actors to do so.

There may not be an actor living today with such a fantastic mix of charm and menace as Tom Hiddleston. It's no small wonder that he was cast as Loki in the MCU. You always want to be his friend, while also being fully aware that he could be planning the best way to eat your eyeballs. Jessica Chastain is equally as wonderful, if entirely less charming. Lady Lucille Sharpe is straight-up menacing for much of the picture. I don't want to be her friend.

There's one other star I would like to mention: the Allerdale House. Thomas and Lucille's mansion, as I mentioned before, was built specifically for this film. GDT has a history of creating astonishing monsters for his movies, and to me, his creations have always had a very tactile feel.

I know it's annoying to always hear "Practical effects are SOOOO much better" as many modern movies would not be possible without amazing CG artists, but Production Designer Thomas E. Sanders and GDT definitely took the correct route by building a complete, physical house. I mean look at it!

I actually let out a Keanu Reeves-like "whoa" upon seeing the first wide shot of the Allerdale House. A stark, gothic castle sitting on a snowy white hill. There's also the matter of the clay resting underneath the ground that's brought to the surface with the pressure of a footstep. Yes, you read that right: the property leaves bloody footprints everywhere. Nothing creepy here, right folks?

This stark, contrasting imagery is an example of what I liked most about the movie. It's just plain beautiful. The old film adage "every frame a painting" often comes into play here. Crimson Peak is a movie I would watch on mute just to take in its visuals.

Actually, now that I think about it, that may be a better option.

There are a few things about the movie I didn't like. To begin with, much is made about Edith's writing career in the opening act of the film, a subplot I enjoyed. But once she moves to Allerdale, that storyline is all but dropped. I'm not saying she had to finish the movie as a successful writer, it was just disappointing that they spent so much time on character development that went nowhere. Her short stories were a great foreshadowing of the things to come, but they brought no fulfillment. The movie had a plot arc, but I felt that her character did not.

A second issue I had was while GDT did a great job balancing the tone between romance and horror, I felt that he didn't play the suspense card quite enough. Straightaway, you know that Thomas and Lucille are up to no good, but the reveal in question, their motivations and grand plan, are not that interesting. If you're going to show the ghost upfront, you have to have something worse lurking at the end.

There is much more I'd like to say about the movie, and that I may say in the future, but for now, I believe I've reached my limit on parentheses and colons. (Bad habits are hard to break; sorry, that was the last one).

I come away from Crimson Peak astounded by GDT's imagination and vision, but a bit underwhelmed by his characters and plotting.

But yeah, I liked the movie.