Stolen Pixels #68: Poetic Injustice

By Shamus Posted Friday Feb 27, 2009

Filed under: Column 34 comments

I’ve been playing Overlord. Go and read my comic about it or feel my wrath, peasant.

Or don’t. That’s okay too, I guess. I mean, it’s there, and I worked hard on it, and I’d be upset if it didn’t get the attention I feel it deserves. Some people say I don’t react to rejection in a positive, productive manner. Sometimes fire is involved, is all I’m saying.

I’m more of a passive-aggressive supreme undead overtyrant, really.

 


 

The Escapist Presents: NY Comic Con 09

By Shamus Posted Thursday Feb 26, 2009

Filed under: Movies 18 comments

At the fifty second mark:

I assume that’s a made-up name?

If not, then God help that poor, poor man.

 


 

Fifteen Minutes with Resident Evil 5 Demo

By Shamus Posted Thursday Feb 26, 2009

Filed under: Game Reviews 94 comments

  1. I launch the demo. There are two levels for me to play: Public Assembly, and Shanty Town. That seems pretty reasonable. I pick Public Assembly.
  2. Loading screen. It gives me the “here is all the controls you will need, just in case you have a photographic memory” image. The kind of thing which was lampooned in this Penny Arcade strip.
  3. I’m in the game. I’m a dude. I have a woman following me. We are in some ramshackle buildings. There is a cutscene of a guy with a megaphone, whipping some zombies into a frezny. Up on a roof, a guy with an axe decapitates the only non-zombie guy around. Then they notice my dude and his female companion and run at us.
  4. Back up a second here. Who am I? What am I doing here? Do I have any particular goal? Who’s my friend? Where are we? (From reading what people are saying about the game I’ve gleaned that it all takes place in Africa. But “Africa” is a little broad. And are we really going to include people talking about the game in forums as part of the narrative?) Is it too much to ask for someone to put things in context before throwing me into zombietown? I have nothing invested in these characters yet. I don’t even know my dude’s name. I know this is the demo and they couldn’t put in all the cutscenes, but could they throw me a bone and give me a little text as to who I am, what I’m doing, what time period the game is set in, who I’m working for, that sort of thing?
  5. The zombies start crawling out of the woodwork. I shoot a few. Ten seconds later I’m out of bullets. That was quick. Even if every bullet had scored a kill, I wouldn’t have anywhere near enough of them. Oh wait… I have a shotgun. I use that.
  6. There are a lot of quicktime events and button prompts popping up. Help your friend! Shake off the zombie! Ask for help! Perform a finishing move! That zombie dropped money (?!?) pick it up! Colored circles are popping up so fast I feel like I’m playing guitar hero.
  7. The shotgun runs dry. Maybe if I had been super-perfect with aiming I could have cleared them. But I have no bullets and lots of zombies are swarming us. I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong. They keep getting back up. Should I be taking more time to score headshots? Did I miss some ammo in all the confusion? Am I even supposed to be fighting these guys? Maybe they’re endless and I’m meant to run away?
  8. A guy comes on the radio, says he’s coming to help us. We have radios?
  9. A seven foot guy with an axe has entered the room. I can do awesome martial arts moves when a zombie grabs me, but I don’t know how to just switch to fisticuffs. The axe comes down. I’m dead.
  10. The game shows me a little advertisement for the full version, proclaiming, “FEAR YOU CAN’T FORGET”. Erm. I love me some scary games. Silent Hill 2 and 4 both rattled me so bad I thought about quitting several times. But this is just random violence. It’s about as frightening as watching a bunch of unrelated b-movie zombie attack clips chained together. How can anyone find this frightening?
  11. I am dumped all the way back to the title screen. I guess the designers didn’t think anyone would want to keep playing after that. I think they’re right, but I decide to give the game another chance.
  12. I have no idea what I’m doing, and I don’t remember the controls, so I decide to bump the difficulty down until I get the hang of it, if only to save myself another trip all the way back to the title screen.
  13. Sigh. There is no difficulty adjustment. Wow. Good thing all gamers everywhere in the world are at exactly the same level of skill, I guess.
  14. Loading screen. Controls. The game begins again and I realize it’s cleared the controller settings. I re-invert the camera axis and dive back into zombietown.
  15. I try making sure I score nothing but headshots. This proves to be rather hard. Zombies are mobbing me and I can’t tell if this approach is worse or better. It’s all open mouths and quick time events. I run out of ammo anyway. Axe dude shows up again. I decide to leg it.
  16. The area we’re in isn’t very big. It’s a couple of shacks and a house. I can get up onto the roof, jump to another roof, and then climb back down again. This lets me run laps around the area. The zombies always pause before they lunge, so I’m basically invulnerable as long as I can keep jogging.
  17. Our nameless friend radios us from his undisclosed location again and promises to send help. Whatever.
  18. Jog, jog, jog. Zombies climb up to the roof just as I jump down. They leap down just as I hit the stairs again. Sometimes I run right past one as he lunges at the air behind me. The scene takes on an absurd slapstick feel. Yakety Sax pops into my head and I begin grinning.
  19. I can see a gate – a perfectly climbable gate – but my big strong hero can’t figure out how to open or climb it. The zombies start to clump up around me so I go back to jogging.
  20. Radio Guy cuts in again and promises that he’ll be here to help in a minute. Whatever man. No rush. I’m good here. Everyone’s jogging.
  21. Radio Guy shows up in a helicopter. We have helicopters? He uses a rocket launcher to blow open the gate. Honestly, if my guy is too lazy or stupid to haul his butt over an obstacle like that then it’s probaby best to let him die, but whatever. At least the gate is open, so we can finally see the rest of this lev-
  22. Title screen again. I guess that’s it for that level? Kind of… pathetically small. And I guess the designers didn’t think that after completing the first level we might want to go on to the second?
  23. I start up the second level. The game has once again forgotten all my settings, so I go and invert the camera again.
  24. This level looks pretty much like the last. Corrugated metal buildings. I still have no idea why my character would be screwing around in this hellhole instead of jumping on the helicopter and leaving town. And I’m tired of groping for reasons to care.

You know what pisses me off? All through the 90’s, games struggled to shoehorn a story into their pixelated adventures. Before they had voice acting, or motion capture, or facial expressions, or any other fancy tools, they were trying to create characters and stories. Now developers have more money than they know what to do with and technology that would have been indistinguishable from magic to a developer in 1994, all they can think to make is “Guy Shooting Zombies”. This demo had less story and less context than Wolfenstein 3D.

This wasn’t scary at all. It wasn’t very fun. It was unintentionally hilarious when I discovered the joys of the zombie rodeo. But to see such lavish visuals yoked to such wanton idiocy fills me with despair.

I would not buy this game were it not for Stolen Pixels. I do plan on picking it up, but only so that I can heap shame on whatever nonsense plot the full version contains. And I cringe at the responses I’m going to get to those strips from the die-hard fans: “u dont get it RE5 not about story its all about the gameplay!!!” As if “good story” is some sort of unobtainable technological goal, some lofty ideal nobody can attain. As if story doesn’t add anything to the richness of a game. As if it’s hard to devise scenarios that simply make sense. The only zombies I’m afraid of are the ones that will mob me for pointing out the wasted potential.

EDIT: I re-did the last couple of paragraphs, as it sounded like I was calling all RE fans idiots. That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to point out that this is a series, like Final Fantasy, that will draw ankle biters if you take it to task for its shortcomings. It’s cool if you like the game, but I remain firm in my belief that a coherent story would act as a multiplier to whatever entertainment the game has to offer.

 


 

Inkscape

By Shamus Posted Wednesday Feb 25, 2009

Filed under: Projects 30 comments

I mentioned in my previous post that I need a vector version of my site logo. Someone identified the font I needed, and others suggested Inkscape. I’ve never done any vector drawing before, and my logo is kind of complex. It has a three-part angled gradient, an outline, a reflection, and faux-perspective shadows. I was prepared for a steep learning curve and a lot of work.

Forty minutes after starting Inkscape for the first time:

logo_part.jpg

Amazing. The entire logo, done, in about the same amount of time it took me to make the original logo, using a program I’d been using for years. As should be evident from my site design, I am not a student of the graphic arts. The fact that I could get so far so quickly says a lot about the quality of the Inkscape interface.

Thanks for all the helpful suggestions.

 


 

Site Logo

By Shamus Posted Wednesday Feb 25, 2009

Filed under: Projects 18 comments

Good: I’m joining Themis Ad Network
Okay: I need to put together promotional materials for this site so that advertisers will know what they’re getting into.
Bad: I need the logo of the site in vector format, and I saved the original as a not-particularly-high-res PNG.
Worse: I no longer own or even remember the font used in the logo.
Worst: Looks like I’ll need to re-make the logo, more or less from nothing. Using vectors. Which I’ve never done before and I’m not even sure if Paintshop Pro 8 supports.

I know my current “Web 2.0” is horribly dorky, and doesn’t really match the whole “Roleplaying Games” theme. I knew it when I put it up. It’s much too corporate and plastic, but dangit, I like(d) that shiny white iPod plastic look. Right now I’m a fan of the whole “Sideways logo” like I have going on my Twitter Page, although I’m not convinced that would be a good idea for a blog. (Simply because it’s so unconventional.)

So now I’m mulling over what to do. If anyone has any suggestions or pointers on logo design that don’t involve spending money, I’d love to hear them. If any of you web design Jedis can I.D. that font, even better.

And just to be clear: I’m not planning on overhauling the site or anything. Everything else should stay pretty much the same.

EDIT: chabuhi identified the font in the comments below. Apparently I used Bank Gothic Medium. Thanks chabuhi!

 


 

How Long is a Campaign?

By Shamus Posted Wednesday Feb 25, 2009

Filed under: Tabletop Games 72 comments

die6.jpg
This is a variant on the “how long is a piece of string?” question, I suppose.

The games I’ve run last a few months. Ten to twenty sessions seems ideal. The last one I ran was fifteen sessions. I know some people have settings and characters that they play for years and years, their tale spooling ever onward as their rulebooks get dog-eared and their character sheets fade with age. As someone who loves inventing new settings and populating them with characters, I don’t want to be stuck in any one place for too long.

Changing systems usually means changing the setting, but a change in setting doesn’t always mean a new set of rulebooks. Anecdotes suggest that some groups are system-hoppers. They leap from one system to another, trying a little bit of everything like kids at a candy buffet. Other groups pick a rulebook and a setting, and then hunker down for a long stretch without possibility of parole. And if you can’t tell which approach I prefer from those descriptions then communication between us is simply not possible.

But as a connoisseur of anecdotal input on roleplaying games (and really, what other kind of data is there on stuff like this?) I’m curious how other people do their thing. How often do you jump systems? How often do you wipe the board clean and start a new setting? And how often do you end a campaign arc and begin a new one?

Bonus question: Assuming your campaigns end, what is the survival rate of characters going from the first session to the final one?

 


 

D&D Interview

By Shamus Posted Tuesday Feb 24, 2009

Filed under: Links 40 comments

Fantasy Magazine has a great interview with the Comic Irregulars, the team behind Darths & Droids.

David Karlov comments that making the comics has given him a new appreciation for Star Wars Episodes I & II. That’s interesting, since the opposite happened to me in making DM of the Rings. I can’t see the movies without thinking of the jokes connected to each scene.

The one question I would have asked them is how in the name of Yoda’s tiny lightsaber do they divide up the work between seven people? Most webcomic teams max out at two. I suppose you can divide this sort of comic into a few distinct jobs:

  1. Plotting, story arc. D&D is obviously much more elaborate in this regard than DMotR ever was.
  2. Coming up with individual jokes and writing dialog.
  3. Gathering up the required screenshots.
  4. Comic layout.

If these were stand-alone gag strips then I could see how they could all contribute jokes, but D&D is carefully plotted and each strip leads directly to the next. I can’t imagine how you could balance the workload without people getting in each other’s way. It would be like seven guys trying to move a single end table. I think D&D in wholly unique in this regard. I can’t think of another webcomic with such a large team or ambitious plan.

EDIT: Last time I talked about D&D, Henebry left the following comment, which nicely heads off arguments over which comic is “better”:

Daimbert: I've had the same thought (Shamus would have done it funnier) more than once while reading Darths and Droids, but as they rounded out the first movie I had a new thought: they're not really aiming to do what Shamus accomplished. Shamus' take on LoR is, at bottom, parodic, theirs not.

Both start with the same premise: given that this narrative has played such a seminal role in the consciousness of gamers, how would these narrratives have played out if current tabletop rpgs had given rise to them rather than the other way round? They differ, though, in their responses.

Shamus answers the question with the cynicism of a great satirist. His GM is a self-important fool who has crafted a campaign of unplayable complexity; his players are too engaged in petty rivalries and private obsessions to be interested in the epic story set before them. This produces a wonderful tension between the gorgeous screencaps taken from Peter Jackson's movies (in which the scenery and actions really are epic) and the low-comedy dialogue spoken by the players. We readers are led to expect that these images record what's going on in the imaginations of the GM and players, but this expectation is defeated, again and again. In this way the comic pokes fun at the grandiosity of tabletop rpgs, the notion (endemic among us) that in our raucous sessions we can achieve a narrative scope akin to the great work of Tolkien or Robert E. Howard. And we gamers laugh because we're geeks and we've learned to take joy in laughing at ourselves. That is our great strength, the thing that separates us from the jocks.

By contrast, the Comic Irregulars answer the question with the idealism of true believers in the promise of tabletop rpgs to elevate poorly conceived plotting through occasional flashes of insight. Sure, in Jim (Qui-Gon) and in Pete (R2D2) we get satirical portraits (the gung-ho treasure-seeker and the superstitious min-maxer). But with the others (and even sometimes with Jim and Pete) the outcome is a story with moments of dramatic tension far more interesting than the original movie. Case in point: Sally's Jar-Jar, who (far from Lucas's oafish Stepin Fetchit) exhibits the wild inventiveness of a child's imagination. The Phantom Menace storyline in Darths isn't a preconceived epic crafted by an overambitious GM, but rather something produced organically by a group of people working interactively, and often with surprising but brilliant results. True, the story which emerges is too convoluted to make a good movie â€" but we already knew that, right? :) And the storyline that matters is at least as much the story of Sally and Ben and Jim as it is of Jar-Jar and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. As if in response to Shamus' satire on tabletop rpgs in DM of the Rings, the Comic Irregulars demonstrate that the real aim of tabletop gaming is not the simulation of cinematic epic, but rather the collaborative enactment of epic action.