You stand before the cave entrance. The gaping maw of the mildew stained rock reminds you of jaws and you wonder if you are venturing into the belly of the beast. You had heard that great power and wealth await any who are brave enough to step foot in this cursed dungeon. Your companions stand beside you, ready to face the pitfalls and battles ahead. There is nothing left to do but to steel your nerves and begin your descent.
Friends, I’m going to tell you an incredible story; the story of how I met my best friend. Now, am I telling you this story because you’re being punished for something? No. You’re not being forced to read this. Is this story going to take awhile? Well, it won’t take 9 seasons, but it will take a few hundred words.
I’ve played Call of Duty games since the original in 2003 and they have slowly evolved into something completely different. What used to be a shooter with an emphasis on skill has turned into a funhouse of bullets, airstrikes, and wall riding maniacs. It has transformed from a shooter of historical realism to a shooter of arcade-like science fiction. This year, Activision has said that they are “going back to [their] roots” with the series. What does this mean for the direction of the series and will this be the direction it desperately needs?
It was the summer of 2016 and the air was scorching hot. All I wanted to do was sit in my room and enjoy a game of Overwatch but my friends dragged me outside to play some Pokemon Go instead. This was Nintendo’s first foray into mobile gaming and no one really knew what to expect from it, but the idea of playing Pokemon with friends was just too good to pass up. I laced up my shoes, caught a few Pokemon, and went about my day as normal. The game was fairly simple: all you had to do was “catch ‘em all,” and, at the time, it seemed like it would be just another mobile game. Little did I know this little game would become one of my greatest addictions.
I can read a book and pull themes from subtext and narrative. I can observe a Monet and take in the beauty of its color. I can watch Rogue One (for the 4th time) and appreciate the effort put forth by its actors. You know what I can’t do? I can’t get past the wind tunnel level of Battletoads. If you know what I am talking about, you have my deepest sympathies. This game and many others have made me appreciate what video games require as an artform. Video games are the only pieces of art that demand you “beat them” in order to fully appreciate them.
For over two decades, handheld gaming has gone through its ebbs and its flows and today we’re still searching for that perfect device. Nintendo has always been on the forefront of the handheld world and has released a number of amazing devices over the years. However, Nintendo has always operated in two separate hardware markets: the handheld and the home console. Their home consoles have never sold as well as their handhelds, and they failed in their first attempt to meld the two together with the Wii U. The Nintendo Switch is their second attempt, and with it, they may have created something truly magical. But first, how did we get here?
It was July and the birds were chirping. No, not the avian kind. The human kind. They were saying something indistinguishable. It wasn’t in another language or anything, but it was something I’d never heard before: Rocket League. What the hell is Rocket League? “Another racing game,” I thought; wrong. It wasn’t a racing game at all. Far from it, actually. It was a soccer game…with cars. “Now we’re talking.” It was summertime and I had all the time in the World…but it would only take minutes. I was hooked.
Storytelling dates back to ancient man. Stories of hunters, of gatherers, of man rising up against all odds to save his people. We have all seen, heard, and read stories just like these all our lives. They have molded us, shaped us, and changed our lives for better and for worse. Stories are integral parts of what makes us human, an outlet for self expression, and video games have changed the way we interact with them. Before video games, only in our wildest dreams could we physically and emotionally connect with a story and its world. But video games aren’t just stories and they’re not just video games. One can’t exist without the other. A great story is only as good as the mechanics that make it tick.
It’s 1 AM and I’m rushing to bed.
There are not enough hours in the day.
The rooster crows, it’s time to wake, it’s 6 AM with no time to waste. I turn on the tube, check the weather and news, “The spirits are (somewhat) mildly perturbed.” By seven I’m farming, harvest and sow, these sprinklers are great, not one little crow. An hour goes by, albeit too quick, it was time to tend to my cows and my chicks. Pet, feed, rinse and repeat, just a little bit of help, well, that would be sweet. It’s a quarter to ten with not a moment to spare, an hour with kegs, to town with errands I bear.
Difficulty in video games has always been appealing to me. I find myself drawn to the challenge of beating a game on its hardest difficulty or unlocking its incredibly secret, game-breaking super weapon. So when a friend of mine told me I HAD to play Dark Souls, I knew I couldn’t deny him. I was the guy who bested both Ninja Gaiden and God of War on their hardest difficulties. I had a reputation to uphold. After all, how bad could it be?
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