This Thanksgiving I want to give the bulk of my thanks to one company for helping me answer a question that has been bothering me for over 15 years. The company? Capcom. The question? Put simply, do I really have preternatural Street Fighter skills?
I still remember the first time I saw a SF2 arcade machine. It was at Walley World Six Flags Magic Mountain in the Spring of 1991, and the first character I chose was Dhalsim. The inspired lovechild of Iyengar and Reed Richards got me hooked and my freshman year of high school was a non-stop deluge of fierces, roundhouses, and quarters. There was no practice mode, no free play, and no internet to turn to for tips and tricks. Becoming a BAMF in a fighting game back then took nonstop on-the-job training. And I trained well - so well, in fact, that I soon ran out of people willing to sacrifice their money for my amusement. Even when the home version arrived my friends soon tired of me whupping on them. Being able to defeat them with my eyes closed probably didn't help. The thought of being a big fish in a small pond never occurred to me. All I knew was that I had a gift and no one could prove me wrong.* Would that natural talent hold up if I ever faced real competition?
I recently sat down to watch Reign Over Me, a drama with Adam Sandler and Don Cheadle. Not a bad movie, a tug-at-your-hearstrings affair about about a man whose wife and daughters died on 9/11 and the friend who, running into him 5 years later, tries to help him cope with the reality he has withdrawn from. Somehow I managed to miss the discussion during the film's release about the role of Shadow of the Colossus in the film, so I was a bit surprised and delighted at what I assumed was a mere cameo. At the same time in the back of my mind I thought this might be another gross misrepresentation of games that further promotes gamism - negatively stereotyped portrayals of video games and video gamers. Doesn't this send the not-so-subtle message that games are escapist tools that players use in a mentally unhealthy way to ignore the reality around them?
Being the upstanding PSFanboy that I am I have been devotedly playing, creating, and (not quite) sharing since I got my grubby, cotton-filled sack paws on a copy of LittleBigPlanet. As we are all well aware this season is particularly pregnant with A-list new releases, but I think it safe to say that Media Molecule's monster is the game to play if you want a uniquely PS3 experience (sorry Bioshock, Fallout, and Dead Space - there will be time for you in the next life I suppose).
We all know the selling points of the game. It's not just a cute, side-scrolling platformer and despite it's graphical style and E for Everyone rating it's not necessarily a targeted "kid's game". The real appeal of Sackland is in creation, making us as much game makers as game players. But here's the rub: how is it feasible that there is market among consumers for something that essentially makes them producers?
Why am I spilling out the sordid details of games I recently deflowered myself on to you? Because in learning how to play all of these games I made an interesting if obscenely obvious discovery - I learned how to play no less than 12 games in a mere 14 days! While that may not sound strange for an avid gamer it sounds odd put in other contexts: learning to play 12 musical instruments in two weeks, learning 12 new sports, learning the ins and outs of a baker's dozen worth of operating systems. Such feats are certainly doable, but rarely does anyone have the drive to add that many new wrinkles to their brain. What is it about games that makes us so willing to learn entirely new systems of play on a regular basis?
This is the second of a two-part column on digital distribution and its effect on the psychology of your average gamer. In part one we discussed the pros and cons of replacing physical discs and game boxes with digital downloads. This week we discuss the way our gaming habits themselves, from the type of games we play to the time we spend playing them, may be affected by digital downloads.
It looks like Sony Japan has finally gotten hip to the idea that when it comes to portable systems digital distribution is the way to go. Heck I've taken plenty of advantage of the UMD Legacy archives for my PSP. After all, there's nothing portable about lugging around a physical library of discs just in case you happen to get the urge to bludgeon an undead abortion in public. There are many arguments in favor of digital distribution for handhelds, particularly as handhelds fit well with the type of "quick-fix" games that most original property digital downloads tend to be. But this column isn't about what makes a good handheld title. It's about what sort of games we want crowing up space on our 806040 20GB hard drives.
With so much user-generated content being placed onto the PlayStation Network through Game 3.0 titles, like SingStar and LittleBigPlanet, it's unsurprising that Sony's terms of use have a clause that allows them to redistribute and use user-generated content without compensation for the original creators. "You authorize and license SCEA a royalty free and perpetual right to use, distribute, copy, modify, display, and publish your User Material for any reason without any restrictions or payments to you or any third parties."
For example, Sony could show off your latest LittleBigPlanet level in a commercial they air. Or, they may show off your amazing drunken SingStar vid in a magazine ad. Maybe they'll make money off ads that run in your private apartment in Home. There are a lot of possibilties.
However, there is one fear, as pointed out by I have the Princess. Could Sony also redistribute user-generated levels from LittleBigPlanet as paid DLC? If so, there's no entitlement for the creators to gain a single penny off of those purchases. We doubt something this drastic will happen. Instead, we still believe LBP creators might, just might, have a chance to get rich off the game.
This is a two-part column on digital distribution and its effect on the psychology of your average gamer. In part one we look at the change from the aesthetic of a well-stocked gaming shelf to a digital software library and what is lost or gained by it. Next week we will look at the they way smaller, quick-fix digital game downloads may change our gaming habits.
Sorry for the brief hiatus, Inconstant Readers, but I was too busy making repeated trips to the store to pick up more Dramamine and an extra Dual Shock 3 after the PSN update last week. Let's just say that what Wipeout HD lacks as an epileptic stimulant it makes up for with motion sickness at 60fps. Mega Man 9 should also carry a warning about possible "controller malfunction" - here's a tip kiddos: the original Sixaxis is slightly lighter than the Dual Shock 3 and thus has a smaller chance of cracking televisions and denting walls when thrown.
Still, I wouldn't have traded this weekend's gaming experiences for anything short of an LBPbetakey. Generally after some frantic gaming and letting my house devolve itself into a special level of disarray I rather savor picking up the pieces - smoothing out the crumbled instruction manuals and reinserting them into their cases while finding the perfect organizational spot on the shelf for the box art (alphabetically? by genre? producer?). Imagine my lament when come Monday morning I realized I had nothing but broken controller pieces to pick up. The game's I'd spent my weekend with were all digital downloads!
It's Thursday as I write this, a day that most PS3 owners (and perhaps a small number of well-connected PSP owners) look forward to as PSN update day. I too love Thursdays but not without a small amount of anxiety. I'm a bit of a completist (yea really, a gamer that's a completist. . .) and much like my obsessive drive to own a mint package of every Kool-Aid flavor ever made, each week when new game demos and vids are uploaded I am preternaturally compelled to download them. The videos are no big commitment, generally a quarter hour of passive watching and they're sufficiently digested, but demos are a real time sink. You see, I don't just download the demos of games or genres that interest me. Nor do I spend a few minutes with each demo, just long enough to decide if the game has me hooked and I should commit myself to buying it or not. Ladies and gentlemen, fanboys and fangirls, I present for your toxonomic consideration the newest discovered species of gamer - homo sapeins completus demotaris.
Pet simulators have come a long way since our English teachers were giving us detention for trying to feed our pathetic, whimpering beeping Tamagotchi in class. Now we've got simulated dogs for our handhelds and virtual animals to keep our virtual people company on our PC. With the development of better robotics we've even seen geek's best friend jump through the LCD and follow us into tangible world. By this time next year (hopefully!) we should have a new kind of digital cuteness to keep us amused when no one is watching - the EyePet.
I recently wrote about some of the difficulties beyond realistic rendering that developers face when trying to make us emotionally attached to a character. Human behaviors and emotions are so much more difficult to mimic than those of animals, no matter how abstract. You'd find me silently weeping for the destruction of little Metal Gear Mk. II long before I'd be shedding tears for Solid Snake. Why is it easier to evoke a nurturing and protective instinct in a virtual pet than in a virtual human?
I wrote a few weeks back about the uncanny valley and Hideo Kojima's possibly telling observation that war machines of the future may exploit the creepiness of robotic simulations to instill fear in their prey. I want to turn my attention now to a discussion of the valley as it applies more directly to us as gamers - overcoming the creepiness of computer generated people. Quantic Dream has already boasted of successfully traversing the valley with its upcoming (and secretly acclaimed) PS3 exclusive Heavy Rain. While realistic graphics are one thing (and it's up to interpretation whether they succeeded in the tech demo almost two years ago), is there more to escaping the valley than mere realistic modeling?
Kylie Prymus is the first columnist for PS Fanboy. A Ph.D candidate in philosophy, Kylie specializes in the sociology of technology. Through this new weekly column, Kylie will explore the impact of PlayStation on thought and culture.
My PSN profile tells me that I am a Trophy n00b. An abysmal 1st level collector. I've acquired most of the trophies that you averageprimate could gather with ease, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get many more. I have a paltry 8 trophies, all of them from PixelJunk Eden. That puts me at a 33% completion rate, firmly in the middle of category: l-o-s-e-r. Still, I didn't download Eden for the Trophies any more than I downloaded it hoping it would teach me to finally get my snozzberry* plants to grow. I downloaded it because it was a much lauded and quirky, not to mention exclusive, PSN title and I happen to have a soft spot for such qualities (particularly the exclusivity). Being able to collect Trophies through the game is just a bonus, a diversionary side quest that makes the whole package slightly more appealing.
As I venture for the first time into this whole trophy business I've had to ask myself why I should even bother. What is the appeal of achievements Trophies? Do they add to or take away from a game? What is it about the Trophy system that made it such a sought after addition to the PSN? Milestones? Bragging rights?
Kylie Prymus is the first columnist for PS Fanboy. A Ph.D candidate in philosophy, Kylie specializes in the sociology of technology. Through this new weekly column, Kylie will explore the impact of PlayStation on thought and culture.
I have returned, noble fanboys and fangirls! Yes returned to the land of milk and honey - if by milk you mean PixelJunk Eden and by honey you mean Soulcalibur IV. As I sat in my car staring at long stretches of side questhighway for hours, drooling at the though of returning home to days upon days of new games and DLC (not to mention resolving the heart-wrenching gamus interruptus of a few keytitles ), I couldn't help but wonder if my extended absence from the PS3 had taught be anything. Besides the hard lesson that I most definitely need to invest in an HDMI capable monitor - or even better, a PS3 laptop - what did I learn from 6 weeks of quality time with naught save my PSP?
With the release of the new Home beta, we now have a much clearer idea of how these region restrictions, that we discovered at E3, are being implemented. It seems that the client reacts to your console's native region, locking you out of any Home servers that don't match it. That means that if you're a UK gamer who imported from the US, you'll be spending all of your time with Americans inside Home. If you imported from Japan ... well, you can guess where that's headed.
What we find bizarre is that it's such a strict lock-out, and that you're not given any degree of choice in the matter. It seems so weird that anyone can access any region's PSN Store, but not the online social networking hub. We can only assume that similar restrictions as on the store will be made for purchasing within Home. That is to say, if you're a UK credit card owner you won't be able to spend anything in the US Home without some jiggery pokery.
Obviously, this all makes sense to Sony. Home is meant to be a big income generator for them; mostly through advertising. They want the most appropriate eyes to see these adverts in order to maximise the "click through" rate. There's no point advertising Mountain Dew to a UK citizen, for example. But console-specific region locking is not the answer. At the very least, set up an IP location check or, god forbid, give people a choice.
Kylie Prymus is the first columnist for PS Fanboy. A Ph.D candidate in philosophy, Kylie specializes in the sociology of technology. Through this new weekly column, Kylie will explore the impact of PlayStation on thought and culture.
I'm talking about this dog. Not just any dog. The Big Dog. It may not have teeth (though I'm sure those servo-motors could put a hurtin' on) but when I was shown this video earlier in the week I felt sure it had taken a few nips at my soul. Cut the dog down to two legs and increase its size tenfold and you've got a nearly perfect real life version of the Geckos from MGS4.
While I've mentioned MGS4 to a greater or lesser degree in previouscolumns, thus far I've avoided tackling anything in the game head on. This is largely because, as readers of my last post are aware, my PS3 is several states away and I haven't been able to watch play the game through to its conclusion. Don't worry, I'll pick up Snake's saga in a couple weeks (he's at the front of the line just ahead of Niko and Zack), but I should be able to make a few observations about the game given what I have played (up to the middle of Act 3). If you haven't yet done so I suggest you hit the first link above and check out the video of Big Boss Dog.
Yes, it's finally over. Sony dominated yet another E3 by focusing on a number of high-quality games coming out on PS3 and PSP this holiday season. Join us as we take a look at the best of E3 -- we hope you'll agree. Start here.