#i also finally found the first Splatoon game! now I have all three and technically could start playing them now!
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I haven't checked out the retro game store this month yet so I thought it's time to do it today.
Did find a good bunch of games!
#dragon's stupid thoughts#biggest win here is probably the original mario rpg for the snes! with manual. and a flyer that's apparently worth 40 bucks#i also finally found the first Splatoon game! now I have all three and technically could start playing them now!#if I had motivation for anything...#anyway.#i also found m&l paperjam bros! i love to find more m&l games cuz they are so much fun and wholesome!#other finds are: wario woods. kirbys dream course. princess Peach ds. pkmn dash.#was a bit expensive all together but well. when else am I gonna have the chance again. right? ha... goodbye moneyyyy
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Salmon Run and Presentation
A (not so) brief dissertation on narrative framing in video games, featuring Splatoon 2
With the holidays in full swing, I took advantage of a deal one day when I went into town, and finally got my hands on Splatoon 2. Having loved the prior game as much as I did, waiting this long to get the sequel felt almost wrong. But like many another fellow meandering corpus of conscious flesh, I am made neither of time nor money.
Finally diving in, I figured I might take this excuse to remember that I write game reviews, sometimes. You know, when the tide is high, the moon blue, and the writer slightly less depressed. I ended up scrapping my first couple drafts, however. You see, a funny thing was happening; I kept veering back into talking about Salmon Run, the new optional game mode the sequel introduces.
Also I might look at the Octo Expansion later, on its own. After I get around to it…
Look, the base game already has a lot of content to explore, and as previously stated, I am sadly corporeal, and not strung together with the metaphysical concept of time itself.
My overall thoughts, however, proved brief, so I’ll try to keep this short.
(Mild spoilers coming along.)
Gameplay wise, I think the story mode is much improved upon by handing you different weapons for certain levels which were specifically built with them in mind. Whereas the prior game left you stuck with a variant of the starter splattershot all the way through. This keeps things interesting, pushes me outside of my comfort zone, and it’s a good way to make sure players will come from a well-informed place when deciding what weapon they want for multiplayer; which, let’s face it, is the real meat of these games and where most players are going to log the most time.
I also love the way bosses are introduced with the heavy drums and rhythmic chants and the dramatic light show. It endows the moment with a fantastic sense of gravitas, and manages to hype me up every time. Then the boss will have an aspect of their design which feels a bit silly or some how rather off, keeping the overall tone heavily grounded in the toony aesthetics the series already established for itself.
Narratively, I felt rather okay about the story aspect of Story Mode. The collectible pages in the levels still have a certain amount of world building, though this time it seems more skewed toward explaining what pop culture looks like in this world, such as, an allusion to this world’s equivalent to Instagram.
Cynical as it is…
That’s definitely still interesting in its own right, though perhaps it’s less of a revelatory gut-punch as slowly piecing it together that the game takes place in the post-apocalypse of Earth itself, and the inklings copied ancient human culture.
We still got some backstory for this game’s idol duo, though. And that, I appreciate. It means Pearl and Marina still feel like a part of this world, rather than seeming obligatory for the sake of familiarity, given the first game had an idol duo as well.
Meanwhile, perhaps it is a bit obvious that Marie’s cousin, Callie, has gone rogue, and that she is the mysterious entity cracking into the radio transmissions between her and Agent 4. If I recall correctly, that was a working theory that came about with the first trailer or two. That, or she had died.
As soon as Marie says aloud she wonders where Callie has gone, I knew right away. And that’s just in the introduction.
That said, on some level, after stomaching through certain other games and such that actively lie or withhold information to force an arbitrary plot twist for plot twist sake, it feels almost nice to go back to a narrative that actually bothers to foreshadow these things. Plus, having gotten already invested in Callie as a character from the first game, I still felt motivated to see the story through to find out why she went rogue. And, loving the Squid Sisters already, there was a hope in me that she could be redeemed, or at least understood. In terms of building off the prior game’s story, Splatoon 2 is moderately decent.
Also, I mean, c’mon. The big narrative drive might be a tad predictable, but hey, this game is for kids. It’s fine.
That, I think, is something I love the most about Splatoon. Despite feeling like you’re playing in a Saturday morning cartoon, and being aimed primarily at children, it doesn’t shy away from fairly heavy subjects. Such as the aforementioned fact that the humans are all long dead and you’re basically playing paintball in the ruins of their consumerist culture.
Which brings me to what fascinates me so much about Splatoon 2: the way in which Salmon Run is framed.
You see, on the surface, Salmon Run appears to be your typical horde mode; a cooperative team (typically comprised of randoms) fights off gaggles of foes as they take turns approaching their base in waves. Pretty standard for online shooters these days, as was modernly popularized by Gears of War 2, and Halo ODST.
I say “modernly,” as the notion of fighting enemies as they approach in waves is not exactly a new concept for mechanical goals within video games. Rather, the term itself, as applied to multiplayer shooters, “horde mode,” became a point of game discussion when Gears of War 2 introduced the new game mode by that same name back in… 2008?
No, no that can’t be right. I played Gears 2 back in high school (I had worse taste back then, okay?). Which, from my perspective, was basically yesterday. That game being ten years old would mean I myself am old now, and that just can’t be. I’m hip. I’m young.
I am, to stay on theme here, fresh.
But okay, existential crises and game talk terms aside, the writing team behind Splatoon 2 probably decided to absolutely flex when it came to the narrative surrounding Salmon Run. It is one of the most gleaming examples of the nontraditional things you can do with writing in video games, to really elevate the experience.
Let me explain.
You see, narrative in video games typically falls into one of two categories: either the story sits comfortably inside of the game, utilizing it like a vehicle to arrive at the destination that is its audience’s waiting eyes and ears. Or the narrative, on some level, exists rather nebulously, primarily to provide something resembling context for why the pixels look the way they do, and why the goals are what they are.
Not to say this is a binary state of existence for game writing; narrative will of course always provide context for characters, should there be any. It’s primarily older, or retro games that give you a pamphlet or brief intro with little in the way of worrying over character motivation, and the deeper philosophical implications of the plot, etc (though not for lack of trying). These would be your classic Mario Bros. and what have you, where the actual game part of the video game is nearly all there is to explore in the overall experience.
Then you have games like Hotline Miami that purposely sets up shop right in the middle to make a meta commentary about the state of game narrative, using the ideological endpoint of violent 80’s era action and revenge-fantasy genre film as inspiration and the starting point to draw comparison between the two. It’s bizarre, and I could drone on about this topic.
But I digress.
Despite falling into that latter category, that is to say having mainly just an introduction to the narrative context so you can get on with playing the game, Salmon Run is a stellar example of how you can make every bit of that context count (even if it does require the added context of the rest of the game, sort of, which I’ll explain, trust me).
First, a (very) brief explanation of how the game itself works, for the maybe three of you who haven’t played it yet.
A team of up to four inklings (and/or octolings) have a small island out in open waters. Salmonid enemies storm the beaches from various angles in waves. Each wave also comes with (at least) one of eight unique boss variants, who all drop three golden eggs upon defeat. Players are tasked with gathering a number of said golden eggs each round, for three rounds, after which their failure or success in doing so shows slow or fast progress towards in-game rewards.
And it’s all an allegory for the poor treatment of labor/workers, utilizing the fishing industry as both an example and a thematically appropriate analogue. Yes, I’m serious.
First, Salmon Run is not available through the main doors like the other multiplayer modes. Rather, it is off to the side, down a dingy looking alley. And when you’re shown its location, either because you finally entered the Inkopolis plaza for the first time, or because the mode has entered rotation again, Marina very expressly describes it as a job.
A job you should only do if you are absolutely, desperately hard strapped for cash. You know, the sort of job you turn to if, for one reason or another, you can’t find a better one.
An aside: technically, playing Salmon Run does not automatically net you in-game currency, with which to buy things, as regular multiplayer modes do. Rather, your “pay” is a gauge you fill by playing, which comes with reward drops at certain thresholds; some randomized gacha style capsules, and one specific piece of gear which gets advertised, to incentivize playing.
The capsules themselves drop actual paychecks in the form of aforementioned currency, or meal tickets to get temporary buffs that help you progress in the multiplayer faster via one way or another. Which, hey, you know, that helps you earn more money also. Working to get “paid,” so you can get things you want, though, still works perfectly for the metaphor it creates.
When I first saw it open up for rotation, I found out you had to be at least a level four to participate. Pretty par for the course, considering it’s the same deal with the gear shops. But, again, it’s all in the presentation; Mr. Grizz does not simply say something akin to the usual “you must be this tall to ride.” He says he cannot hire inexperienced inklings such as yourself, because it’s a legal liability.
After returning with three extra levels, I was handed off to basic, on-the-job training. Which is only offered after Mr. Grizz (not ever physically present, mind you, but communicating with you via radio), the head of Grizzco, uses fairly typical hard sell rhetoric when it comes to dangerous, or otherwise undesirable work: calls you kid, talks about shaping the future and making the world a better place, refers to new hires as “fresh young talent,” says you’ll be “a part of something bigger than yourself.” You know, the usual balancing act of flattery, with just the right amount of belittlement.
Whoa, hang on, sorry; just had a bad case of deja vu from when the recruiter that worked with the ROTC back in high school tried to get me to enlist… several times… Guess he saw the hippie glasses and long hair and figured I'd be a gratifying challenge.
The fisher imagery really kicks in when you play. Which, I figure a dev team working out of Japan might have a pretty decent frame of reference for that. A boat whisks you out to sea with your team, and everyone’s given a matching uniform involving a bright orange jumper, and rubber boots and gloves. If you've ever seen the viral video of the fisherman up to his waist in water telling you not to give up, you have a rough idea. Oh, and don't forget your official Grizzco trademark hats.
It’s on the job itself where a lot of what I'm talking about comes up the most; that is to say, despite buttering you up initially, Mr. Grizz shows his true colors pretty quickly. While playing, he seems to only be concerned with egg collecting, even when his employees are actively hurting. This is established and compounded by his dialogue prior to the intermediate training level, in which informs you about the various boss fish.
Before you can do anything remotely risky, even boss salmonid training, Mr. Grizz tells you he has to go over this 338 page workplace health and safety manual with you. But, oops, the new hire boat sounds the horn as you flip to page 1, so he sends you off unprepared. “Let’s just say you’ve read it,” he tells you, insisting that learning by doing is best.
This flagrant disregard employee safety, in the name of met quotas; the fact we never see Mr. Grizz face to face, making him this vague presence that presides over you, evaluating your stressed performance with condescension; that we are not simply given the rewards as we pass thresholds to earn them, having to instead speak with another, unknown npc for our pay… It all drives toward the point so well.
The icing on the cake for me is when a match ends. You, the player, are not asked if you’d like to go back into matchmaking for another fun round of playtime. Rather, you are asked if you would like to “work another shift.”
The pieces all fit so well together. I shouldn’t be surprised that, once a theme is chosen, Splatoon can stick to it like my hand to rubber cement that one time. It has already proven it can do that much for sure. But it’s just so… funny? It’s bitterly, cynically hilarious.
Bless the individual(s) who sat in front of their keyboard, staring at the early script drafts, and asked aloud if they were really about to turn Mr. Grizz into a projection of all the worst aspects of the awful bosses they’ve had to deal with in life. The answer to that question being “yes” has led to some of my favorite writing in a video game.
All of these thoughts, as they started forming in my skull, really began to bubble when I noticed Salmon Run shifts become available during my first Splatfest.
Splatfest is, to try and put it in realistic terms, basically a huge, celebratory sporting event. Participation nets you a free commemorative t-shirt and access to a pumping concert featuring some of the hottest artists currently gracing the Inkopolis charts.
The idea, the notion, that a hip young inkling (or octoling) might miss out on one of the biggest parties of the year because they need money more than they need fun? It’s downright depressing.
It got me thinking. I looked at my fellow egg collectors. In-universe, we were a bunch of teen-to-young-adult aged denizens missing out on all the fun because we desperately needed the cash. We became stressed together, overworked together, yelled at by our boss together. But in those sweetest victories, where we’d far surpassed our quota? We celebrated together.
Spam-crouching, and mashing the taunt, something changed. I felt a greater sense of comradery with these squids and octos than I did in nearly any other coop game. And it’s all thanks to the rhetorical framing of the game mode.
It accomplishes so many things. It’s world building which wholistically immerses you in the setting. But mainly, its dedication to highly specific word choice does exactly what I mentioned earlier: it elevates the experience to one I could really sit down and think about, rather than use to while away the hours, then move on to something else. So many games make horde modes that feel inconsequential like that; it’s just for fun.
There’s nothing wrong with fun being the only mission statement for a game, or an optional mode of play. But this is exactly what I mean when I say this is the nontraditional writing games can do so much more with. And Splatoon 2 saw that opportunity, and took it. And what a fantastic example of bittersweet, cold reality, in this, a bright, colorful game meant mainly for children…
Happy Holidays, everyone!
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Nintendo Switch Experience Experience: Day 2, Part 1
Day 2 began with a brisk sprint from the station to the Big Sight. It was much colder than the previous day, and the cold air stung in my chest with every breath. I had no regrets; Sunday had brought far more attendees. This time, I had the wisdom to bring a jacket and headphones. I had four pokemon evolve while waiting, which was pretty exciting in and of itself. Once the line began to move, we were once again divided into our three groups. I decided to line up in the "Other" line, which soon proved to be a wise decision. The line for Breath of the Wild was decently long, but Splatoon 2's was gargantuan. Meanwhile, we, the Others, summed up to about 14 people total. I recognized a few faces, so the others must have had the same idea I did. The thought process was as follows: We already got to try out Breath of the Wild, and trying to experience more in the measley 20 minute demo was futile. Splatoon 2, while it does look awesome, is not pressing because the core of the game is basically the same. In short, just watching is enough. By going to the other category, we would get to try out software designed with the Switch in mind and we would have a better shot at getting to try out multiple games.
I first headed to the 1-2-Switch booth, held behind the joycon gates. Upon entering, our small group was gathered in front of a TV, and a chipper lady wearing a top hat came out to explain 1-2-Switch to us. Long story short, it's a minigame collection using the Joycons, in which all of the games are played facing your opponent instead of the TV. She then proceded to explain the various games we could play.
The minigames available to us were Gunmen (called "Quick Draw "in English), Shinken Shirahadori ("Samurai Training"), Milk, Copy Dance, Count Balls, and Eating Contest. We were allowed to play two of our choice. Each demonstration takes place in a small room ("world") that houses its master, the wacky people you may have seen in my previous pictures. The masters of their worlds are eccentric, and, of course, masters of their respective minigames as well. They all have silly get-ups and pose for the people outside when not playing with their guests. During the explanation, we were given a little backstory and setting for the masters and their minigames. For instance, the master of Milk was an old man who had been milking cows on the family farm his entire life, and he is now looking for an apprentice to carry on his craft. The master of Shinken Shirahadori is the master of a kendo dojo, and we were his rivals, coming challenging him. The master of Eating Contest is just some American that really loves sandwiches. Possibly the strangest, the master of Count Balls is obsessed with guessing, and we come to help him with his guesses and hopefully get over his obsession.
Yesterday's stage demonstrated Count Balls, and it gathered the majority of the crowd. I decided to burn time with Shinken Shirahadori before getting in line for Count Balls. It seems that many foreigners don't know what Shinken Shirahadori actually is, so I'll explain the concept before discussing the actual demonstration.
Shirahadori (白刃取り) is the act of stopping a sword swung at you with your bare hands. Shinken Shirahadori is doing such with a real sword. One person swings the sword with a downward strike, and the other, kneeling, swiftly claps his hands together and catches the blade before it cleaves his skull. It should show up in anything that has ever parodied a Jidaigeki; if you've watched a lot of One Piece for instance, you've probably seen it.
With this explanation out of the way, it should be very easy to imagine what the game is like. The game randomly chooses the attacking and defending sides, which alternate, seemingly indefinitely, until one person has a sword stuck in their head. Interestingly, the attacking side holds the Joycon with both hands facing up, like you would present a business card, instead of a sideways grip like you'd assume. It feels strangely natural. The defending side holds their joycon face out in their palm and simply claps their hands together around it.
They provided headbands and other fitting costume parts, but I forgot to put anything on. Once I entered the dojo, the master greeted me with a firm "ossu," and I responded in kind. It took me a while to understand the beats of the game, and after a few tense rounds, I was defeated by a keen fakeout. Not only that, I'm certain he spared me at least once before then. Truly a master. At the end, we bowed, and he stared me straight in the eyes, and said with a completely straight face, "You have much training ahead of you." Between the audio cues from the Switch setting the mood, the HD rumble's feedback as you clasp the imaginary sword between your hands, and straing straight into your opponent's eyes as you find your chance to strike, the game truly had a fitting sense of tension. This is of course supplemented with the ace context provided before the demonstration, and the stellar acting by the demonstrator. The man I faced is the man on the right in the picture below, also found in the Day 1 article.
I moved into the Count Balls room with two other people. They were to compete against each other, whereas I was once again pitted against the Master. Completely opposite of the previous demonstration, the mood in the Count Balls room was very relaxed. The master began explaining the game to the other two, stopped suddenly, and asked if I understood Japanese. I answered, and he replied in English, smiling "Yeah well you're probably better than me."
The concept for Count Balls is very simple. The joycons represent a black box with a certain number of balls inside. The HD rumble simulates the feeling of the balls rolling and bouncing around inside of the "box," and you have to guess how many balls there are within the time limit. You use the analogue stick to count up or down, then place the Switch on the table when you are confident in your guess (a very nice touch). It's really hard to explain through text, and it's hard to take at face value, but the motion controls and HD rumble, combined with the audio from the Switch, really do create the illusion that there are balls inside of the Joycon. You can rotate the Joycon around and feel them roll and hit the sides, and shake it to feel the balls bounce. This battle of perception proved to be my forte, and combined with a bit of luck, I succesfully deduced that there were 2 balls within the Joycon, defeating the master, who had guessed 3. Once the answer was displayed on the Switch's screen, the master leaned back in his chair, shouting "Uso!", then leaned forward, one hand clasping his head, exclaiming, this time in English, "Seriously?!" He then checked in on the other two in the room, and once they were done, he thanked us for our assistance with his strange hobby. The one I faced off against is once again on the right in the picture below.
I very much enjoyed my time in the strange universe of 1-2-Switch. Much of it was because of the stellar acting and ace context delivered as part of the presentation, but none of that would have mattered if the games weren't unique, interesting, and fun. They really demonstrate a type of fun you can't get anywhere else, and strike home to the core of what makes games (note: not video games, just plain ol' games) fun. Stupid side note: It reminds me a lot of the original Yu-Gi-Oh manga where Yugi would challenge people to all kinds of simple (albeit usually very dangerous) games on the spot. I think anyone with friends/family who aren't sticks-in-the-mud will get a lot of value out of this game, presuming it has a decent volume of games like the trailers seem to promise. Both of the games used the HD Rumble in very different ways, and I'm very convinced of its value now. Hopefully developers outside of Nintendo will learn how to use it to enhance their games.
Can they put Money and Knife in 1-2-Switch, please?
Next, I immediately headed to the ARMS booth, received a ticket to play the game a few hours later, and did the same for another booth simply titled "Nintendo Switch Tour". In the mean time, I checked in on various stage programs and took a lot of pictures that I missed out on during the first day. For convenience's sake, I'll explain ARMS now and save the bulk of the pictures for later.
First of all, the ARMS booth was gigantic. I'm not sure if booth is even an appropriate word for it. It was very similar to the set-up that Nintendo gave Splatoon at E3 when they first unveiled it, which may be very telling of their intentions for this new IP. I struggle to find a single picture that properly depicts how large it was, so here are three, depicting part of the right wing, the stage in the middle, and part of the left wing.
As shown above, the booth has a stage, where they would regularly hold exhibition matches between Arms Boy and Arms Lady (strangely, there were two Arms Ladies fighting when I took the previous picture). Before every exhibition match, a recorded announcer would kick it off with a little narration in slightly stiff English. (Warning: slight paraphrasing ahead) "Ladies and Gentlemen! It is the moment that you have all been waiting for! We present to you.... ARMS!" It's cheesey just like the rest of the game and I love it. The developers also came out to explain game mechanics to the crowd in front of the booth, and even commentated a few of the exhibition matches.
Once I was finally able to play the game, I was given an endearing explanation by an attendant who seemed to think I was not very comfortable with Japanese, and prepared to face off with a stranger who was in line next to me. It's disappointing to say, but we experienced some technical difficulties while playing the game. Apparently there were some interference issues, and they had to resync our joycons. This kind of stuff tends to happen in environments such as this, so I don't expect to run into issues playing the game at home. While the game was working, however, it felt fantastic. The controls were very responsive, and the HD rumble really added tacticality. Put frankly, I'm in love with this game. Time will tell if Nintendo is willing to go in for the long haul on this new, quirky title like they did with Splatoon.
Originally, I had skimped out on details of the game, fearing going too indepth and veering off topic, but now I feel this would be disrespectful to the game and its creators and disrespectful to anyone who actually reads this article. But fair warning, this may be long.
The presentation of the game is fantastic. Firstly, the characters are very unique, yet share this common cheesiness that binds the whole game together. Some people may scoff, but it reminds me a lot of professional wrestling personalities that are hammed up to the extreme. In general, I really like cheesey stuff like this. I'm a big fan of Spring Man and his spring-shaped pompadour, and of Master Mummy if only for his badass name. I strongly believe having unique, iconic characters is the most important thing for a fighting game, and so far ARMS is hitting the marks. The various animations in the game are very fluid and it's very fun to watch the characters move around the ring. You control the game by holding the two Joycons in what they call the "thumbs up position." You tilt in the direction you want to move, and punch to punch. Twisting left or right allows you to aim your fist. Pressing L dashes, and R jumps. Like many fighting games, there is a super meter that fills up as you play. Pressing ZL or ZR activates the Rush Attack, which allows you to send rapid punches flying into your opponents face for massive damage. Tilting your arms inward allows you to block, and thrusting both arms out will grab the opponent. The whole game is rooted in classic fighting game rock-paper-scissors mindgames. Blocking beats out attacking, throwing beats blocking, attacking prevents being thrown, and doing the same option generally ties. This is the first key to how enjoyable this game is: it gives you the core fighting game experience with very little barriers of entry. This is the point where the layers start getting added. You have a set of three pairs of gloves with different abilities, which you can change out between rounds. Some gloves travel slowly but do a lot of damage, some gloves rely on charge abilities to do decent damage, some gloves launch projectiles, some gloves are fast but light and lose out to heavier gloves. There is a lot of variability, and you're able to change your strategy between rounds. Each character also has their own abilities and stats. For example, Ribbon Girl has superior aerial mobility, Mechanica can float in the air using boosters, and Master Mummy restores health while guarding. Hopefully we see more characters in the future. Yet another point of interest is the stages. Each stage has its own theme, as well as a unique "gimmick." The seemingly default arena has trampolines aorund the edge, which are fascinating. They allow for more mobility while in the corner so you can escape more easily, but they also enable the attacker to extend combos by bouncing cornered foes into them. Another stage is set on a flight of stairs, which is simple, yet adds vying over the high ground to the mix. Yet another has giant tubes containing spring-armed monsters that act as obsticals, but can be broken. One strategy is to use a heavy hitting glove to tear through them, but one can also use gloves such as the boomerang or chakras to curve around them and hit the opponent by surprise. The game is set to feature a single player as well as online multiplayer. Hopefully they really deliver content-wise and make sure ARMS will be a fully-featured game and not just a "gimmicky" launch title.
Click here for Part 2 will continue on with the Nintendo Switch Tour booth and other events from Day 2
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