In the time I have been writing about video games, I have gone back to play many games from the past. A great portion of those game were old RPGs like the first few Fallout games, Baldur’s Gate, and Planescape: Torment. As a result, I have become familiar with the tropes, designs, mechanics of CRPGs. This is what inspired me to play a game on my Steam list that has been out for a while, but I had never played: Shadowrun Returns. For the record, I am not referring to the shooter called “Shadowrun”, released in 2007. Rather, I am talking about the Kickstarted CRPG developed Harebrained Schemes. Having just completed the Dead Man’s Switch module that came with the game, and the Dragonfall module released later as DLC, my mind is still fresh with thoughts on it.

Given the modular, user-generated content focus of the game, it is great that one of Shadowrun Return’s greatest draws is its setting. I would feel incredibly comfortable saying that the Shadowrun RPG setting is one of the most interesting ones out there. Though this is ignoring some of the finer minutia of the lore, the basic gist of Shadowrun’s world is that our world ran as it normally did, until an event known as the Awakening happened. Afterwards, magic came to the world, along with many of the typical fantasy races such as elves, trolls, and so on. Furthermore, world governments have weakened in power, leaving private corporations to fill the vacuum. Mercenaries called Shadowrunners (which will typically include player characters) get hired by various people in different positions of authority to complete jobs and acquire their next paycheck. Without a doubt, the mix of science fiction and fantasy, combined with the highly political relationships among corporations, lead to a lot of potential for many diverse and interesting modules/campaigns.

And with such potential, it is crucial for Shadowrun Returns to have a robust character creator. Fortunately, the game has exactly that. Whenever the player starts a new module, they must create a new character for that module. If players wish, they can directly spend their initial karma, which is the equivalent of experience points in Shadowrun, on the various skills available to them. Alternatively, they can select one of six pre-made classes to help guide them. The first is the Street Samurai, which focuses on weapon skills. Next is the Mage, who is an expert in spellcasting. After that is the Decker, who can infiltrate the Matrix, a more advanced version of the internet, in order to acquire files and hack various devices in the world. The Shaman can summon totems. A Rigger can control combat drones. And lastly, a Physical Adept can use their chi energy to augment their physical abilities.

As players complete missions in a module, they gain more karma. That karma can be used to enhance attributes, improve old skills, or unlock new skills. It is crucial to develop a character’s stats, because that determines the caps for their skill. For example, Ranged Combat relies on the Quickness stat. If my character has a 4 in Quickness, they can only have a maximum of 4 in Ranged Combat. The fact that both stats and skills are raised with the same resource encourages players to specialize. In general, there are not many “wrong” builds in Shadowrun Returns. Should the player specialize in only a handful of skills, they will generally find themselves able to handle most situations. Even outside of combat, a specialist would usually be able to find a dialog prompt that requires those talents.

On the other hand, what better use is there for your character and their abilities than to fight. Shadowrun Returns utilizes a system extremely similar to the one found in X-Com: Enemy Unknown. In fact, they are so alike that players of the latter will feel quite at home here. Turns have one phase each for the player, the enemy, and any neutral parties. On the player’s turn, their character and any allies accompanying them each get 2 Action Points. AP can be spent completing action like firing a weapon, changing position, casting a spell, or going on Overwatch to intercept an enemy on their phase. Each enemy will also get 2 AP on their phase. Phases will alternate until either all player characters or all enemies have been defeated. At the end of combat, the player party’s most recent wounds will be healed. Both modules contain many interesting and varied enemy formations. Combined with a very solid system, this allows for highly tactic combat. Finding strong positions, taking cover, and keeping pressure on the enemy are key to keeping the player and their entourage in good enough condition to fight on.

However, there is one element that RPGs thrive on above all others, their stories. Fortunately, both the Dead Man’s Switch and Dragonfall modules are extremely strong in this category. To avoid spoilers, I will not speak directly about the plots to either of these games. However, I will say that the writing is top notch. Since the game uses an isometric 2D style, and does not have voice acting, the script has to be strong enough to make up for that. Rather than animate the characters, the dialog box is also filled in with descriptions like “She’s hiding it well, but you can tell she’s clearly out of her element.” It is very literary in the way scenes play out, letting players use their imaginations to great effect. Both stories also have a very steady build-up and pacing. Lasting only about 12 hours each, both narratives take a decent amount of time to clear without overstaying their welcome.

Dead Man’s Switch ends on a bit of a low note with regards to its final dungeon, but it is otherwise very solid, if a bit on the easy side. On the other hand, Dragonfall does a very good job of stepping up the difficulty without being overly frustrating thanks to its smart level layouts and enemy design. It is also much more open than Dead Man’s Switch’s comparatively linear story. While both stories will eventually funnel players to the same end, Dragonfall feels much more organic and responsive to player action than Dead Man’s Switch. There are obvious, yet subtle ways in which the world reacts to what the player does in the game. In any case, both modules have solid stories with intelligent and thoughtful design.

Shadowrun Returns is a truly impressive game in my opinion. I enjoy it so much that I would feel extremely comfortable calling it one of my favorite RPGs of all time, even more than Planescape: Torment. And Dragonfall is an excellent expansion to the game. Given the modular nature of the product, I am excited to see what kinds of creations players have made/will make. The setting and the mechanics are so solid that I rarely found myself in a position where I did not want to keep playing the game. Should you be someone interested in RPGs, I could not recommend Shadowrun Returns enough. You owe it to yourself to check it out if you have not already done so.

As an amateur, avid game critic, I follow gaming news and releases religiously. As I read press statements, game descriptions, and reports on games soon to be released, there is a sentiment that I repeatedly see among them: One that I cannot agree with. There is a notion from publishers, developers, and their fans that the length of a game should be a compelling selling point. A game that has “50 hours of content” should be more compelling than a similar game with “20 hours of content”. I see why this is an easy mistake to make. Nonetheless, this assumption is incorrect. Length in games cannot, and will not, ever be an indicator of a game’s overall value. This week, I aim to explain exactly why that is.

The biggest reason for this is that the amount of content says nothing about the overall quality of that content. I have mentioned this point a few times in earlier pieces, particular a fewpertaining to Assassin’s Creed 3, but it is one that bears both repeating and elaborating on. A game can claim that it contains “40/50 hours of content”, as Watch_Dogs and Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag both famously did. However, that point does not say how good or how bad that content is. For example, Assassin’s Creed 3 is now infamous for how bad it was, especially in comparison to earlier entries in the franchise. Yet it sold itself partially on the claim that it had many untold hours of gameplay.

Hindsight has revealed it to be a pox on the franchise. The tale of Connor Kenway had terrible writing with laughably camp antagonists. Missions were overly linear to the point where even the exact path players took to their assassination was determined by the game. Collectibles and side content did not serve any purpose nor provide an adequate enough challenge/reward to be gathered for their own sake. Lastly, the ending is a standout for bad endings in games, even when the game was released in the same year as Mass Effect 3. Though the game has many, many hours of content, a lot of it is not particularly good. The only real standouts are the parts with Connor’s father, Haytham. Were all, or even most, of the game’s offerings up to snuff, many hours of it could be a fantastic selling point. However, in the context of the game, all that content ends up being a negative. Other games like Watch_Dogs can be said to suffer the same fate in different ways.

That being said, there are other dangers to relying on the length of a game as a measure for value. When it is, the temptation arises for developers to artificially add more content into the game. As a direct result of these additions, the game’s pacing can be negatively affected. I posit that happened in the creation of Dragon Age: Origins. I already laid out the premise of The Fade in last week’s post and discussed how it hurt the overall game, along with The Deep Roads. While I cannot be sure of it, I am willing to claim that at least The Fade was added in after the fact in order to reach some artificial length for an average playthrough. It is the kind of section that has almost no bearing on anything else in the game, not even in the Circle of Magi module that it is a part of. Modders have proven this to be true thanks to “Skip the Fade”. There are other such examples of content that feels artificial even in other games, like the Navajo scene in Beyond: Two Souls or latex nuns in Hitman: Absolution. Most of them contribute adversely to the narrative pacing.

My final reason for why length of a game does not make for a good measure of quality is that using it in such a way could end up lowering the overall quality of a game’s content. My logic for this is as follows: A developer who believes that quantity is important will attempt to provide as much content for their consumers as they possibly can. Creating all this content requires the developer to spread their resources thin so that more content can be created. When content is created with such limited resources, it will be lesser in terms of quality. Therefore, creating as much content as possible will result in at least some of that content being not as good as it otherwise could have been. While treating length as the end-all-be-all does not necessarily imply that a game will be poor, I would be willing to make the claim that, using this logic, it is safe to conclude that it raises the odds of a lesser quality.

As a final note to this piece, I want to say that I do not mean to say that length should not be a factor in purchasing decisions. What I actually mean is that it should not be treated as the most, or even one of the most, important considerations. When a developer says that there is game “has X hours of play”, you should sit down and think for a second. You should wonder if the game’s design was affected just so that the publisher could use that length as a talking point when discussing the final product. Marketers do count on us being easy to manipulate. That is just the nature of their job. It is the responsibility of us, the audience and the consumers, to be aware and to think about why and how our games were designed the way they are.

It has been some time since I finished my adventures in the world of Dragon Age: Origins and its various DLC packs. To that end, I have been comparing my experiences with that game to others that I have played. What I was pondering through this introspection is the question of narrative pacing in the world of video games. As with most properties of storytelling, the general rules governing narrative pacing undergo changes when applied to this new realm of media. Since a lot of my problems in Dragon Age: Origins came from its pacing, and Awakening felt better because it improved said pacing, it would be pertinent to contemplate the topic in this week’s post.

One of the things that stands out most to me with regards to video game pacing is how players are willing to wait a little longer for the plot to advance, in comparison to consumers of other media. In a book, if the plot was about solving a murder mystery, and then the author spent an entire chapter discussing the philosophical nature of crime scene investigation and criminology, people would wonder why that decision was made. While that information may certainly be tangentially related to the plot and interesting in and of itself, it would not be relevant to the mystery and the main plot of the book. Film also has this kind of problem. If a movie character in a spy movie was talking to another character, then some random bad guys step into the scene for the protagonist to beat up for five or ten minutes, followed by the protagonist resuming their conversation where they left off, the audience would be completely confused. They would think to themselves what the point of that detour was, why it took so long, and why it was not cut from the final product.

However, this is demonstrably not the case in video games. As players, we accept when a conversation in a video game is interrupted by an attack by random gang-bangers. In fact, that tends to be fairly normal as far as games are concerned. The reason is pretty obvious. People purchase video games so that they may play video games. It is okay for the story to briefly take the backseat, because more often than not it is not the reason players are sitting on their couch with a controller in hand. We can comfortably go dungeon crawling for about an hour or so without any advancement of the main plot until the end. The model of story->gameplay->story->gameplay has been a mainstay in gaming for as long as games began to focus on their narratives. Most other mediums would consider it weird for the plot to go so long without advancing in a meaningful way, but that is so common that it still remains a very ingrained model for game designers.

Less, but still fairly, common is when the story of a game takes a detour in order to prolong the length of a game and allow for more gameplay. These kinds of additions can be hit or miss, depending on their context. For example, Fort Frolic is one of the most loved segments of the original Bioshock game. In terms of the central conflict of Atlas vs. Andrew Ryan, nothing major is accomplished in Fort Frolic and the plot comes to an overall standstill. Having said that, both the environment Fort Frolic and the madness of its master, Sander Cohen, are so interesting that most players either would not notice or would not care. Though it adds nothing to the narrative, the game is richer for the existence of this content.

By contrast, The Fade in Dragon Age: Origins is one of the most reviled example of this going wrong, for good reason. While attempting to rescue the mages in the Circle Tower, the player party is ambushed by a Sloth Abomination and forced into a deep sleep. In the world of Dragon Age, a person’s soul is in a spiritual realm called The Fade, home to both divine and demonic entities alike, when sleeping. This sets up a three hour segment where the protagonist needs to break out of The Fade, rescuing his/her other party members in the process. Like Fort Frolic, it does not serve any real purpose beyond adding length to the game. Unlike Fort Frolic, it is not interesting enough in its own right and drags too long to hold the attention of the player. Along with the Deep Roads, The Fade has a major negative impact on the pacing of the game. It is so reviled that there are mods whose sole purpose is to remove that one section from the game. Regardless of the rest of the game, the mere existence of this content does make Dragon Age: Origins lesser.

There is also the fact that gaming is a unique medium in that the skill of the player can also have a direct impact on the pacing. A skilled, or veteran player will have an easier time completing individual sections of a given game, resulting in an overall faster pace than a newcomer/novice player. Books and films have easier times in pacing themselves because they do not require such skill, thanks to their passive natures. The game has a tougher time because the mechanics need to be paced as much as the plot or any individual gameplay section needs to be. Even then, there always exists the possibility than a player will never finish a game because they just cannot complete a difficult mission. It is a unique challenge that I truly do not know how to overcome.

In the end, it is hard to determine if there is a specific pacing that can appeal to the most people. Like many things in life, it comes down to the individual to decide if a game’s pacing is fit for them or not. Movies and books tend to have very specific formulas for the way they are paced, but that is something others have discussed before. Because each game is so radically different from the next, they call for different structures and styles. Each such structure requires its own unique pacing to best take advantage of that. I do not profess to have concrete answers as to how games should be paced or how developers should consider the type of game they are making when considering pacing. However, I do think it is an interesting question to ask after playing a game like Dragon Age: Origins.

Bioware and I have a very strained relationship. I want to love their games. However, their games have a tendency to do everything they can to irritate me. Though I enjoy their writing more often than not (which is NOT license to tell me how much you love/hate Mass Effect 3), there is almost always an odd quirk or two that comes up so often that it becomes a real issue. This is why it has taken me so long to actually sit down and take the time to play Dragon Age: Origins. Last year’s Steam Summer Sale proved the ideal time to purchase the Ultimate Edition of the game, but I had never actually played it up until now. Having finished my playthrough of Origins, I have quite a bit to say about it.

Let us start with the thing that irritated me the most: the combat. I could not stand the combat in Dragon Age: Origins. Battles take place in real time. When the player party comes close enough to an enemy unit, battle starts instantly. Characters draw their weapons and attack enemies, either with skills that consume mana/stamina or weapon strikes. Tactics can be adjusted by either manipulating the step-by-step procedure each character follows, in a style similar to the gambits from Final Fantasy XII, or by pausing the game to tell them what to do manually. At the end of the fight, health, mana, and stamina is restored.

This seems simple enough on paper. However, even though I was playing on Easy, the system presented a number of issues to me. For example, there were a number of times where I found my allies near death. I paused the game to order them to drink a health potion. More frequently than I would have liked, these actions were interrupted by enemy attacks. That is not where I draw issue. What angered me is that when they get back up, they pretend as if the order to drink a health potion never happened and resume their combat routine. In the period it would take me to pause and reissue the order, the ally would typically get knocked down again. This would continue until they died.

On top of that, the combat even outside of circumstances like the one described above felt much like a chore. With few exceptions, encounters fell into one of two categories. One type of fight was so trivial that just allowing my characters to whack an enemy’s shins until they die was more than enough to take care of them. The other type was tough enough that the player would need to pause almost after every single action so that new orders could be issued and time was not wasted. In either of these cases, it feels more often than not that the game’s battle system should have been Turn-Based, rather than Real Time with Pause.

Turn-Based Combat would give players a greater ability to make tactical decisions than the Real Time with Pause system used in Dragon Age: Origins. This would also free them from the burden of constantly needing to stop and pause the game, switching between characters and fiddling with their orders in just the right way. It brings a much needed layer of precision into the gameplay, allowing players to more accurately plan and perform combat actions without forcing them to repeatedly halt the action. Real Time with Pause did not really work in Baldur’s Gate and it does not work with Dragon Age either. I found that fighting became much more tedious in both games because of that system. Not to say that Real Time with Pause cannot work at all. Rather, I do not think it was a strong fit for Dragon Age.

Though I do dislike the combat, that was not my biggest complaint. The thing that bothered me most was the exploration of the various areas in the game. It is typical RPG fare. Players and their party explore dungeons/forests/towns, completing objectives. Along the way, they can find side quests, treasures, monsters, etc. Traps will also be scattered throughout dungeons for Rogue characters to find and disarm. Classic fantasy RPGs are the main source of inspiration, and it clearly shows.

Unfortunately, this is as much a negative as it is a positive. What I mean by that is that most of the dungeons in the game are far too long. Exploring an area just enough to get through the main story can easily take two or three hours, and that is just one area. Dragon Age: Origins is also infamous for areas that can take much longer than that, like the Fade or the Deep Roads. Unlike most other games I have played, I rarely feel like I have made any significant progress in a single session of Dragon Age. The game feels artificially long because of this. As a gamer, I feel that if a single dungeon takes more than one hour to clear its main quest objective, it is far too long. Anything of greater length than that, for a single dungeon, is disrespectful to my time.

The level design was also made worse in the most of the padding came in the form of unavoidable combat. Were it not for all the many, many fights that I would have to go through to get anything accomplished in Dragon Age: Origins, I might have had a more favorable impression of the battle system. Unfortunately, the game throws waves and waves of enemies at the player. Most exits to individual zones are blocked by foes. Even as a Rogue, it was impossible to sneak around them. However, that has nothing to do with my, or my character’s, ability to sneak. Rather, it is thanks to the way the game registers combat. Being “in combat” or “out of combat” is determined purely by how close the player character is to an enemy. When I walked silently across enemy lines without their knowing, I was still “in combat” because they were close to me. Sadly, players cannot change zones while in combat. Even though they did not see me and I was not attacking anything, I was “in combat” and could not proceed without killing everyone in the room. This can be made even worse when the game fails to see that all enemies have been defeated, and takes too long to transition out of combat.

And all of this begs the question. If I disliked so many aspects of this game, why on Earth did I stick to it long enough to finish? To answer that hypothetical question: I did so because the story and lore of Dragon Age: Origins is really interesting. So much so that I compelled myself to push through the torturous parts of the game to get to the next section of story and dialog. Though a lot of the plot is predictable in its own Bioware-way, there are enough twists and surprises to keep the experience feeling fresh. As one can expect from the development studio, the ensemble cast of characters in the game are very well written and come off as believable people. Player interactions with these characters are interesting and change enough small details that the game feels unique to each individual player. Also, unlike The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Dragon Age: Origins makes the player feel like they are having an impact on the world and its people. The world reacts to events that happen in the game. NPCs even comment on and acknowledge past events and deed.

One of the most interesting ways this is accomplished is through the games various origin stories. Based on the player’s starting gender, race, and character class, different origin story options are available to them. Rather than just be a wall of text, these origin stories serve as the start of the game, leading up to the point where the player character becomes the Grey Warden. I played as a Human Noble, and my origin story was reflected constantly throughout the game. I felt like the game tailored itself to my story and my character, which I have great respect for. The ending is also very different depending on the alliances forged and sides taken during the player’s journey, taking the more positive aspects of old-school RPG design.

Ultimately though, I will probably never play through the other origin stories. Simply because that would imply that I have any interest in going through Dragon Age: Origins a second time. I enjoyed the story exactly enough to finish it one time. I could not possibly bear playing the game again. I see why it is a popular game among RPG enthusiasts. For better or worse, it is a love letter to the old school isometric RPGs brought into 3D space. In many ways, I like and have respect for it. However, the time commitment necessary to finish the game, and the annoyances generated by its combat systems, are simply too great for me to really say that I enjoyed the game. I hear Dragon Age 2 changed things around a bit. Maybe sometime in the future, I will attempt to play that game as well. First, I will need to finish the DLC modules for Origins because I hear Awakening is pretty good. Then, I will need to wash the taste out of my mouth with something more palatable.   

Since nothing of note has come out this week, I decided to look over my backlog for something to do in my spare time. Turning on my PlayStation 3, I remembered that I still had Vagrant Story installed and ready to play. Having never finished my original playthrough of the game, I figured I would give it a second chance to win me over. Although it took a New Game Plus save stolen from GameFAQs, I have finally finished. Combining the experiences of both playthroughs leaves me with a very mixed opinion on what many people consider to be a classic game from the era of the original PlayStation.

Let us begin by discussing the plot of Vagrant Story. The game takes place in Ivalice, which is coincidentally the setting for Final Fantasy XII and Final Fantasy Tactics (although the events of Vagrant Story happen way after those games). Our protagonist is Ashley Riot, an agent working for the Knights of the Peace and candidate for the silliest hair in video game history. Agent Riot is accused of murdering a duke. In order to find out if he really did it, players go through the week of Ashley’s life leading up to the murder. During this mysterious week, he was hunting down the leader of a mysterious cult named Mullenkamp. This search leads him to follow their leader and candidate for the silliest outfit in video game history, Sydney Losstarot, to the abandoned, cursed city of Lea Monde, where dark magic runs free. At the same time, knights of the church, lead by a man named Romeo Guilderstern, are also pursuing Sydney and Lea Monde for their own ends.

This set up does its job of bringing the primary cast of Ashley, Sydney, and Guilderstern together in Lea Monde, and with a supporting cast that is just large enough to support them without getting distracting. Unlike most video game stories at the time, Vagrant Story’s plot was highly political in nature. Rather than discussing personal problems, most the dialog concerns the opposing ideologies of the three characters and the factions they represent. The one exception is Ashley, who mostly serves as a viewpoint character. Fitting this role, his job is mainly to ask questions and consider the answers he gets to those questions. With a rich and interesting lore backing it up, the story is one of the greater tales of the PS1 era.

The gameplay is a bit more hit-or-miss. Revolutionary for its time, Vagrant Story introduced concepts that were relatively new back in the early 2000s. As an action-RPG, players moved about the world freely, with jumping, climbing, and most basic movement mechanics in place. Instead of going to an abstract “fight zone” to do battle, players would fight enemies in the same field they would explore in. When players encounter an enemy, they can press a button to draw their weapon. Once the weapon is out, pressing that same button again pauses the action to reveal a wire-frame sphere surrounding Ashley, indicating his weapon’s range. If an enemy is in range, they are vulnerable to attack. The most unique feature is that player’s could target specific body parts, such as the arms or legs. Damaging any limb enough will break it and impact the enemy’s capabilities. Since the enemies could also do this to Ashley, a lot of depth was added to the game.

Further, the game also had an interesting timing mechanic. When Ashley lands a blow, he can use a chain technique by pressing that technique’s preset button with the correct, and precise timing. These moves can also be further chained into with a different technique, meaning that a combo could go on indefinitely. This is balanced by a stat called Risk. Whenever Ashley performs an attack, his Risk rises. A higher Risk results in a higher critical chance per attack, but lower odds of landing a hit. Therefore, a long combo chain will frequently result in constantly missing attacks. Since Risk lowers gradually over time, players have to decide whether or not they want to go for high hit chains or to take things more slowly. It is a fairly interesting system that no game before or since really attempted, to my knowledge. It merged real-time and turn-based mechanics and forced players to think about their tactics and strategies more than most other games did.

Next, let us discuss another unique element of Vagrant Story. This game is unique in that beating boss battles is one of the only ways to boost Ashley’s stats. The game has no system for experience points and leveling up. Instead, when a boss is defeated, a slot reel pops up on screen. When the player stops the reel, the stat boost it lands on is applied to Ashley for the rest of the game. Aside from that, there are also elixir items that apply these permanent stat boosts in a similar way. These are the only two methods the player has to advance Ashley skills. Though I appreciate the experimental nature of the system, it honestly did not work for me. I often found myself underdeveloped thanks to a series of unlucky spins at the wheel on my first playthrough, among other things.

Lastly, the game featured a semi-Metroidvannia style of exploration in the game world. Some doors were locked with magic sigils or keys. In order to progress, players needed to look for these items in order to break the seals on the doors. More often than not, players would find these items behind either a block puzzle or a boss fight, possibly both. At first, the game’s level design is pretty straightforward. Towards the end, it often becomes hard to keep one’s bearings while traveling through the world. I found that I often got lost, not knowing if the direction I was going was the one the game intended me to go. The game does provide maps, but they tell players where they are, and not where they need to go. As an example, in the game’s final dungeon, I had reached the door to the final boss chamber only to find that it was locked. I had looked for almost twenty minutes until I looked up what went wrong online. As it turns out, my mistake was missing a hard-to-find, well concealed lever in one of the earlier rooms. This switch just happened to open the final door. Needless to say, I was a little upset.

The puzzles also had a similar problem for me. Most of the puzzles in the game are block-based. Being an lifelong gamer, you would expect me to be pretty good at block puzzles. I expected me to be pretty good at block puzzles. However, most of the late game puzzles are either too devious or too tedious for their own good. Again, I found myself leaning much more towards checking the FAQs to solve the puzzles. Alternatively, I would just use the jump boost spells to bypass them altogether. In a game that was breaking the mold in so many ways, these sections seemed almost like a waste.

Lastly, the game had a crafting system. As a Knight, Ashley has training in the maintenance and creation of all kinds of different equipment. With this knowledge, he can use the various magic gems and weapon/armor parts players acquire and put them together at workshops. Each workshop specializes in different material type. A shop that can work leather items might not be able to do the same with steel. Weapons and armor can also be taken apart to salvage their materials. Mastering the nuances of this system is critical to the success of a playthrough of Vagrant Story. Personally, I do not understand it enough to go into any further detail, which is partially why I did not get terribly far into the game on my first playthrough. Most of my knowledge of this system comes from second hand sources.

Vagrant Story is interesting because it was one of the most experimental games I have ever played. Most of the mechanical concepts, gameplay, and even the nature of its plot were wholly unique at the time, and remain so today. Still, that experimentation has its drawbacks. The game expects a lot of the player, and if they do not learn the mechanics quickly, they will find themselves struggling throughout the game. It is designed to cater to the more hardcore gaming crowd: The kind of gamer that stereotypically loves Dark Souls. Until I realized this, I honestly did not like the game all that much. Sure, it was a breath of fresh air, but it was a breath that frequently resulted in a Game Over. Were it not for the save I took from GameFAQs, I probably still would not have finished. Considering how great the story is, that is a bit sad. Still, for all the gripes I had, I understand why critics adored it. For the $6 asking price on PSN, I would still say it is worth it to check out, if only as an examination of game design.

Kingdom Hearts 2 is to be re-released on the PlayStation 3, along with several other games in the franchise in Kingdom Hearts 2.5 Re: Mix. As a direct result of this, I have begun discussing the game with some friends of mine in anticipation. This can sometimes lead to conflict. You see, I am a huge fan of the Kingdom Hearts franchise. Despite that, I have very mixed opinions of Kingdom Hearts 2. Although I generally enjoyed the game, I also feel that it was where the series started to accumulate many of the problems commonly associated with the series. For this reason, I consider it to be one of the weaker games in the franchise. This is seen as strange to many fans of the series, perhaps rightfully so. However, I do have my reasons for thinking this.

My first such reason is the apparently lack of gravity in the world. To be clear, this is not referring to emotion gravity. Rather, I am referring to the physical force which pulls people downward. Kingdom Hearts 2 came out at a very interesting time in Square-Enix’s history. This was the period when the company stared leaning towards the more “cinematic” approach to game design. Sometime during the production of Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, SE began to try to make their games more movie-like. Though I can only speculate, this is what I suspect is behind the “Reaction Commands” present in the second entry of Kingdom Hearts. For the unaware, this was the system of contextual, God of War-style QTE prompts, all mapped to the triangle button. Often, these “Reactions” would result in bombastic and over-the-top action sequences in major boss battles.

This had two effects on the game’s fundamental feeling. First, it reduced the level of interactivity inherent to the game. Instead of using the game’s combat system to do battle, the game would occasionally make players take a break at certain points in a given boss fight in order keep pressing the triangle button so that a cutscene can play, transitioning to the next phase of the boss fight.

The second, and more important effect, is that it took away the weight the combat in the original Kingdom Hearts game had. This is one of those intangibles that crop up in game design. In the first game in the franchise, there was a very real sense of weight when fighting. Though players could stay in the air for fairly long, there was a sense that a force was always pulling them back to the ground. It felt like Sora and company were doing the fantastic things that they do despite being weighted down by the forces of nature.

Contrast that with Kingdom Hearts 2, and that sense is nearly gone. The QTEs, especially later in the game, have Sora and his friends no longer bound by the laws of reality. We see them cutting down skyscrapers in a single slash, punching boulders into enemies, and staying in the air for so long that they can practically fly. Rather than being bound by the forces of nature, they seem more like demi-gods, capable of feats far beyond anything that seems remotely plausible even in the context of a Disney/Final Fantasy crossover. Again, this is difficult to explain in words. It is far easier to just ask you to watch theseclips of combat scenarios in each game, and compare how they feel. You can just sense how float-y and bombastic Kingdom Hearts 2 feels to its predecessor, removing the weight of its combat and world.

The other reason Kingdom Hearts 2 earns a fair degree of my ire is the writing. I know for a fact I am going to get a lot of grief for this: However, the second main game in the franchise is where, in my humble opinion, that the series began to develop many of the issues people typically associate with it. To fully understand this, I would like to once again return to the original Kingdom Hearts. Kingdom Hearts 1’s story was, as befitting its Disney-inspired roots, a relatively simple tale of the struggle of light versus darkness. Villains in the story has relatively simple motivations, if they even have any motivations at all. The heroes are very clearly in the right when it comes to most situations. And at the end of the day, the bad guy is defeated and the world is saved thanks to the power of friendship. Cliche as it is, the story works for the most part. It is consistent in tone, fits well with the subject material and, most importantly, makes logical sense to players of the game.

Kingdom Hearts 2 does not always meet all of these conditions. The biggest hit that it took in the narrative department was in the introduction of far too many elements to the overall plot of the series. This game introduced the concept Nobodies, creatures composed of the body and soul of people who lost their hearts to darkness. To that end, the writers created a group called Organization XIII, which is a group of thirteen (or less) people who have lost their hearts and became Nobodies. Then, it introduced that these people, without hearts, cannot feel human emotion. At the same time, their behavior seems to indicate that they feel emotions, but the game says it is a crude facsimile of actual emotions. Further, we learn that the antagonist of the previous game was an impostor who took someone else’s name and that his nobody is the leader of the organization. We also learn that there are special nobodies formed from special circumstances, that have special powers because of those circumstances.

None of this is particularly hard to explain one piece at a time. The difficult stems from having to store the gestalt of all this information in memory. So much stuff needs explaining that I usually defer friends who ask to the Kingdom Hearts Wiki. Later games would build on this database to the point where it is hard to talk about any one element of the franchise’s overarching story without first going into at least ten different other concepts. Eschewing the Disney-inspired simplicity of the original title, this was the point where Kingdom Hearts began to favor the style of writing more associated with the Final Fantasy side of this crossover. The game simply bogged itself down too much in the details, losing part of what I found charming in the original game.

And in the bogging down lies a bit of irony. While the overarching story had a lot going on in Kingdom Hearts 2, the plots for the individual worlds were much lazier in their writing. Though there are one or two exceptions to this rule, by and large the story-line of a given world is ripped wholesale from the Disney film the world in based on. Only instead of just the hero of the film, it is the hero and three people (Sora, Donald, and Goofy). This results in narratives that really make the protagonists of them look dumb.

One of the most egregious examples of this comes from the Atlantica level, representing The Little Mermaid. In the first game, the story is much more about Sora, Donald, and Goofy trying to blend into the world under the sea. The three have to stay incognito so that they can find and seal the keyhole, saving Atlantica from impending doom. Characters from the Little Mermaid are true to their personalities in the film. However, the story is squarely written around Sora and company. In the end, they discover Ursula is planning to use King Triton’s trident to take over Atlantica and stop her in order to gain the trust of the world’s inhabitants, neatly resolving all the issues brought up in that scenario.

Fast forward to Kingdom Hearts 2, and Atlantica is again a world in the game. Rather than build off the relationships and aftermath of what happened in the first game, the writers decided to just retell the tale of The Little Mermaid, as seen in the Disney classic. (And yes, I am going to ignore the whole “musical level” element to this. It is annoying, but not important to my overall point.) Despite establishing that Ursula is an evil villain in the first game, Ariel still blindly accepts her offer for help, as she did in the movie, without even thinking for a moment about the consequences. This might make sense if they had pretended that Sora never visited Atlantica in the original Kingdom Hearts. However, when the player first arrives, the initial cutscene acknowledges the friendship Ariel forged with Sora in Kingdom Hearts 1. Nobody even calls her out on her blatant stupidity. Beyond sheer laziness on the part of the scenario designers, there is not much of an excuse for this in a game that took five years to develop in the PS2-era.

Ultimately, all this together leads me to appreciate the original game more than Kingdom Hearts 2. Before I wrap up, I want to point out that none of this makes Kingdom Hearts 2 a bad game. It is a very solid action-RPG that I would wholehearted recommend. It is good even by the standards set by other games in the series. It is simply that I feel it began this trend in the franchise that I do not like. That is why I wrote this article and why, despite my liking the game, I cannot help but be bothered by it.

This week, I purchased one of the most unique games that I have played so far this year: Murdered: Soul Suspect. Set in the town of Salem, Massachusetts, Murdered has players assume the role of Ronan O’Connor. Ronan is a detective working for the Salem Police Department. At the start of the game, he is killed attempting to apprehend the “Bell Killer”, a mysterious serial killer who marks his victims with the symbol of a bell. Unfortunately, our hero is unable to move on to the next world without settling all of his unfinished business in this one. Therefore, the quest is on to solve the mystery of the Bell Killer. Because the game just came out and the mystery is a big part of the game, this article will be spoiler free.

It is pretty simple to understand the basic premises of the story. The game poses a mystery and asks the player to join the main character in solving it. Honestly, the case of the Bell Killer is pretty easy to solve. I figured out most of it by the end of my first hour into the game. Honestly, I expect most players with even a passing familiarity either with mystery tropes or the history of Salem to figure out what is going on. Having said that, I acknowledge that it could have been really easy to throw this in the other direction. It would be trivial to hide the whole case behind some last minute reveal or piece of evidence that no person could be reasonably expect to see coming, like a typical CSI episode. Out of those two choices, I would rather the approach taken in this game. It is a hard balance between these two extremes to maintain. While the writers did not fully succeed, I must applaud the effort.

Despite having many of the trappings of a classic noir story like a gruff detective with a bizarre case falling on their lap, the game is nothing like that. Ronan seems a little gruff, but he does not go overboard in these traits. This extends to most of the cast as well. Every character feels believable. None of them are incredible near-superhero people with amazing abilities. While Ronan’s partner is a medium, she behaves in a way one might expect a fifteen year old girl who can see/talk to ghosts to act. Overall, I actually related fairly well to the cast. This was partially the reason why I stuck with it well after figuring most of the case out myself. By the time I solved the case, I felt a strong enough connection to the cast that I wanted to see how they resolved everything.

In terms of gameplay, it is tempting to believe that Murdered: Soul Suspectis just another “story game” along the lines of some of David Cage’s work. This is again not the case. In actuality, Murdered feels more at home with games along the lines of LA Noire or Monkey Island. By that, I mean that it is very much a point-and-click adventure. When it is embracing this style, the game is very good. In a given investigation area, the game will pose to a question to the player like (as an example) “What was the killer doing here?”. With this question in mind, players have to look around the area for clues that could help them answer this question. The game helpfully says how many clues are in a given area and points out when the player has left an investigation zone, so it is unlikely for players to get lost. Further, all the clues and story information gathered are conveniently stored in a menu to view at any time. Once the player feels like enough clues have been collected, they can use them to answer the question and discover their next lead in the investigation.

Unfortunately, the game, like most point-and-click adventures, tend to suffer from problems inherit to the genre. That is, instead of using what seems to be perfectly logical, the player is forced to think about what the designer considers to be logical. To demonstrate this point, after following a lead, Ronan heads to a church. One of the clues in this area prompts him to ask “What clue that I picked up lead me to the church?”. Rather than selecting the clue that lead to the deduction, the player must instead choose Ronan’s revelation than he needed to go to the church (because story information and deductions are treated like any other clue). Luckily, this did not come up too often for me in the later segments of the game. However, this presents an unnecessary learning curve for players that might not otherwise exist. Still, this is clearly where the game is at its strongest and most comfortable.

The other half of the main gameplay loop is noticeably weaker. The spiritual world that Ronan inhabits is a sort of limbo that is overlaid on top of the real world. In this realm, other ghosts who have their own baggage dwell. Some of these spirits have given in to their intense negative emotions and become demons. These demons have lost any form of humanity, believing that they can regain it by absorbing other human souls. Ronan cannot fight these demons head-on. What he has to do is hide, either in a human’s body or in the ecoplasmic remains of another spirit. When the opening presents itself, the player can sneak behind the demon and exorcise it. Through triggering TVs and radios poltergeist-style, it is also possible to create these opening by distracting the demons.

These sections of the game are not particularly offensive. However, I found that I died to them a lot, often for stupid reasons. They proved to be easily the worst and most frustrating element of the entire game. Worse, they do not seem to have a real purpose in the game beyond serving as an arbitrary obstacle. Considering the game can already be beaten in an afternoon, it feels weird to call it out for needless padding. However, that is how I would describe the ghosts. In fact, the game might be stronger by removing quite a few of their sections out.

Overall, Murdered: Soul Suspect is one of the most unique games I played this year. I am really glad that I bought it. While I do have gripes about the game, I cannot deny that it has the kind of charm that comes from a really good B-movie. I am not entirely sure that it is worth the $50 asking price, I would easily recommend this to anyone with even a vague interest in the point-and-click genre. It works in a ways that many other games do not. Moreover, it is a nice breath of fresh air. I am saddened because despite how much I like the game, I do not expect it to do well. I expect it to inherit the same space Alpha Protocol does for me, where only a small cult following will buy the game. Considering that the people who made it, while far from perfect, were definitely on to something, that is truly a shame.

As many of you are no doubt aware, Watch_Dogs has finally been released by Ubisoft. I purchased my copy on release day, spending most of my free time since its release playing the game. Having finished it, my thoughts and opinions are still fresh in my mind. After investing so much of my energy into the game, one thing keeps entering my mind: Protagonist Aiden Pearce is an asshole. I am not the first person to say that. Several well-known gaming critics have also made that charge. However, I wish to articulate to you, the audience, exactly why I think that Aiden Pearce is a complete, unrepentant asshole. Because this article is coming out so quickly after the release of the game, all spoilers will be marked for the benefit of the reader.

One of the biggest reasons I think Mr. Pearce is an asshole comes from the way he handles the randomly generated “Potential Crime” missions in Watch_Dogs. To the unaware, a major conceit in Watch_Dogs is that the whole city of Chicago is connected through a system called ctOS, which Aiden can hack into using his phone. With this technology, the player, as Aiden Pearce, can monitor the system and use its algorithms to track potential crimes that might occur in the area. When one such tip is received and the player arrives at that location, the phone’s Profiler can be used to identify either the likely criminal or victim.

This is where the asshole part comes in. In order for a potential crime event to count as a success, the player mist wait for the criminal to commit the crime. Then, they must either knock him out or kill him. Should the criminal see Aiden coming, he will be scared off, and the event will count as a failure. Let me repeat that for emphasis: Preventing the crime from happening at all results in a complete failure. Apparently, it is not enough for Aiden Pearce to stop criminals in their tracks. No, he will not be satisfied until his lust for violence is satiated. Even if the victim dies, the mission still counts as a success. Clearly, Mr. Pearce must not care too much about the people, so long as the criminal gets a whack in the face.

Another thing that causes me to think Aiden is an asshole comes from the game’s hacking mechanic. As the player crosses the paths of passers-by in the world, they can use their phone to hack in and steal bank account data. Using that information, our protagonist can then hack into ATMs to steal all the money from those accounts and add it to his own cash total. There is no criteria with regards to who the game allows the player to steal from (and make no mistake, it is stealing). A random woman is suffering from terminal cancer? Who cares? Let us take all $1200 from her account. No punishment or consequence will be delivered to the player no matter what kind of person is stolen from. Further, Aiden will never take anything less than the full value of these accounts. Not a single penny is left untaken. In order to continue living the way he does, our protagonist is happy to plunder the life savings of all civilians unlucky enough to be anywhere near him on the streets. This kind of behavior is present in only one kind of individual: an asshole.

The brazen amount of damage Aiden Pearce inflicts on the world is also immense evidence of his being an asshole. During the course of the game, there will be numerous occasions where our “hero” will be chased down by another group, usually the police. In order to shake his pursuers, Mr. Pearce will often hack the city infrastructure, taking down the opposition. Blockers and road spikes can be triggered, bridges can be raised, traffic lights can be manipulated to cause pileups, and steam pipes can be exploded. Pay close attention to those last two options. Aiden can hack a 4-way intersection to make all lights on it turn green at the same time. Though the ensuing accident can incapacitate his foes, our protagonist is endangering the lives of all the people at that intersection with his action. And once again, there are no consequences for it. Blowing up steam pipes can also endanger lives and damage property in much the same way.

Continuing this line of thought, these types of chases frequently spill off road. As a result, it is entirely possible, even likely, to run over civilians in the middle of a chase. City infrastructure like power lines, fences, signs, etc. can also be rammed over. One anecdote of this I can recall comes from an optional mission. At the start of the mission, Mr. Pearce states that he detects that a group of mobsters is about to perform a drive-by shooting. In response, he traces their path and decides to take them out before they arrive at their destination. I had failed to completely head them off, and there were stragglers left. As a result, they needed to be chased down. During this chase, I must have run into and destroyed several thousands of dollars worth of property, along with several people. Sarcastically, I remember saying to myself “It’s okay because I am a ‘HERO’.” At the same time, I noted that it might have actually been more worthwhile to let the drive-by happen, because the net damage from the drive-by would have been less than the damage I inflicted trying to stop it. Combining all the damages from these actions, Aiden Pearce is exhibiting signs of reckless abandonment in his pursuit of “justice”.

With regards the story, I will attempt to speak in broad strokes to avoid spoiling any one specific event. What I can say is that Aiden rarely acts with kindness, even towards those he considers an ally. Some of it can be explained by the (admittedly justified) paranoia that comes from being a vigilante. However, most of the time he comes off as unnecessarily cold and calculating: The markings of a textbook sociopath. He is unpleasant and almost disdainful of most of the characters in the game, even when an non-asshole approach is would clearly be more efficient in achieving his objectives. Also, whenever our protagonist has an enemy at his mercy during a story cutscene, he has a frankly disturbing tendency to gloat. One scene in particular is absolutely chilling. In this scene (SPOILERS), Mr. Pearce is walking circles around a mob boss that he just shot in the leg. To get the boss to talk, he opens up his phone and starts to ask about the man’s family and how he balances his double life as a mob boss and family man. This is to subtly imply that if the man does not talk, his family could be put in danger. Considering that the guy cannot run and is at Mr. Pearce’s mercy, this seems completely unnecessary and almost evil (/SPOILERS). Quite frankly, only an asshole could engage in this kind of behavior.

All the evidence is in. Given Aiden Pearce’s lust for violence when fighting crime, theft from innocent people, reckless abandonment, knack for property damage, and unlikable demeanor, the conclusion is inescapable. The protagonist of Watch_Dogs must be a complete, unrepentant asshole. This is all despite the game’s attempt to portray him as a sympathetic, yet flawed character. If anything, this shows how silly it can be to write such a serious, grim story over such an open playground for users to do as they please. It always results in this kind of dissonance that simply cannot be explain away. I think the game might have been better had they opted for a more lighter fare in terms of storytelling. As it stands, the character we see is a jerkass, borderline sociopath.

SuperGiant Games has, up until now, only been known for two things: Bastion, and the soundtrack to Bastion. However, that one game on their track record is easily one of the best and most beloved indie games since the initial surge of indies. When the studio announced that they were creating a brand new game, I was completely on board. Fast forward to the present day, and that title has finally been released. Having just completed my first playthrough of this new piece, Transistor, it is still fresh in my mind. As a result, I have much to say about the game. Note: Since the game has only recently come out, this article will be spoiler free for the benefit of those who have yet to play it.

But before that, a brief primer on Transistor. The player of the game assumes the role of Red, a famous singer in the city of Cloudbank. She is attacked during one of her performances, and escapes with her voice stolen and her bodyguard/boyfriend trapped in the mysterious, titular Transistor. Armed with this new weapon, Red goes after the her would-be assassins while being accosted by a mysterious force called “the Process.” Without spoiling anything, the story is a bit hit-and-miss. Personally, I enjoyed the events of the plot. However, some of the people I have talked to found that it simply did not engage them at all, even if they could not point to a specific reason for why that was. With that said, the ending was very beautiful and wrapped up the game quite nicely, so I walked away content.

Despite this, one of things that somewhat disappointed me is that while the game seems to have Computer Science/Programming theme, it does not seem to do much of anything with it. The games finishes the names of all its moves with “()”, like a function in a computer program. As experience is gained, players raise their “User Level” for the Transistor, granting access to new functions and upgrades. The main antagonistic force is referred to as “the Process.” Despite what one might believe, this does not seem to have much overall bearing on the main story. It merely seems like an aesthetic choice. The decision is not an invalid one, but I felt a bit slighted by it as someone studying Computer Science.

Another problem I have with the game is that it leaves too much left unexplained. Details with regards to how the Process, the city of Cloudbank, and the society at large work are left unexplained. This raises an uncomfortable wall between the player and the protagonist. Red and her boyfriend clearly know how this world works, and some of it can be gleamed by their “conversations.” Other details can by gleamed the side content found along the way. The world appears to work in a consistent and cohesive way that makes sense, the problem is I just do not know enough to be sure of that.

(SPOILERS) Speaking of Red’s boyfriend, the game seems to go out of its way to obfuscate his personal information for no reason. All we really know about him is that he and Red are in a relationship and he took a mortal blow meant for her, leaving him trapped in the Transistor. Aside from that, everything about him is left unknown. Even his unlockable file in the Transistor does not say much beyond that it is corrupted somehow. Further, all pictures of him leave his face obscured. If there was some grand reveal regarding who he was at the end, that would make sense. However, there no such reveal exists. (/SPOILERS) Like the world, it feels like details were left unexplained. I hesistate to call it an inconsistency or a plot hole, because it seems to be more like a series of omissions. Unfortunately, their gestalt make the overall story difficult to understand. There is a lot going on, and it needs explaining.

The gameplay is the most interesting aspect of the game. SuperGiant’s previous work, Bastion, experimented with light RPG elements. Transistor doubles down on them, making it feel a lot more like an action RPG. Players have access to up to four functions, which serve as their move list throughout the game, to use in battle. These functions can be modified by equipped other functions to them as upgrades, granting them new properties. Other functions can be equipped as passive functions, which grant the player extra bonuses depending on which ones are equipped. However, each function, no matter how they are equipped, will take up a certain amount of memory in the Transistor. The total sum of their costs cannot exceed the maximum memory of the weapon. Although, extra memory and upgrade slots can be acquired through gaining experience in battle and upgrading Red’s “User Level”.

As for combat itself. Red has to use the Transistor’s functions to defeat the Process’s forces in real time. Once a Process is defeated, it releases a cell. If the cell is not picked up in the allotted time, the process will respawn and Red will need to kill it again. Aside from her functions, Red also has access to a special technique called Turn(). When in Turn(), time stands still. The player has a bar which can be consumed by queuing up movements and functions. After planning out their moves, they can immediately execute them by exiting Turn(). Afterward, a brief recharge period will be necessary where all functions aside from Jaunt() (or any functions upgraded with Jaunt()) will be disabled and Turn() cannot be used. This inspires the user to think more tactically and consider the options available to them.

One of the major conceits of the story is that the Transistor gains new functions from either coming into contact with people or “integrating” their souls into itself. As a result, every function comes with it a file on the person it came from. Players can unlock these files by using the functions associated with these files in various different capacities. This gives the player a sense of the world and its inhabitants. Further, it is a really interesting way to use lore to encourage players to experiment with different functions and function combinations.

The health system also helps encourage this experimentation. When Red’s health reaches zero, it does not necessarily mean she will die. One of two things will happen. If Turn() is fully charged and ready for use, it will automatically be activated before the final blow defeats Red. This gives her a second chance to retaliate and turn around a bad situation. Otherwise, a function equipped to the Transistor will overheat, saving the player from defeat at the cost of needing to find two access points (which are used to customize the function layout and save the game) before the overheated function can be used again. Should all equipped functions overheat, it is Game Over. In this way, players are forced to figure out new loadouts and tactics that do not involve the overheated function(s). Combined with the lore unlocking I mentioned earlier, the game clearly wants the user to continually think about how they can best combine their assets to make powerful combinations.

While the combat and the experimentation definitely held my interest through the entire game, some of the UI elements left a lot to be desired. In particular, the menu where Red can change her equipped functions controls fairly poorly, at least on the PC. What should be a simple click-and-drag interface is marred by a case of having to go through too many menus to complete an otherwise simple task. For example, if I want to change a function’s upgrade from one function to another, I have to first go into the menu to remove the originally equipped upgrade. Then, I have to go back to get the upgrade function I want and equip it. The reason for this is that the “remove function” button in the insert menu will remove the function and its upgrade, rather than let the player specify which one they want.

Another UI issue in this menu is that when the player goes to inspect a function’s file and back out into the main function menu, the cursor returns to the last function equipped and not the one the player just inspected. This frequently resulted in my removing functions I did not intend to, spending excess time rebinding them to my setup. The menu serves its purpose, but can lead to some unnecessary frustration.

Lastly, it would be criminal to talk about this game without mentioning the soundtrack. As one might expect from the developers of Bastion, the soundtrack is absolutely top notch. The music by Darren Korb and its vocal accompaniment by Ashley Barret is beautiful. There is even a button to make Red hum to the background music. Fans of the Bastion soundtrack should be sure to listen to the music of Transistor, because it is comparable in quality.

Overall, Transistor is an excellent game in its own right, even if it does not reach the level of its predecessor. Though I expect the game to be a bit more divisive than Bastion was, there is no denying that I enjoyed my time with it and plan to play through it again in Recursion Mode, aka New Game+. Anyone who loved Bastion will also enjoy their time with this game. Even if you did not like Bastion, it is still worth checking out because Transistor is a beautiful, powerful game that on its own.

I am a person who likes RPGs of many sorts. As a result, I see many different implementations of the same ideas by multiple companies. One such concept many RPGs utilize is a faction system, where multiple groups of opposing ideals go against one another, usually having fairly drastic effects on either the main plot or the world at large. I tell you this because I am about to make a bold, controversial assertion: Final Fantasy X-2 uses the concept of opposing factions significantly more effectively than The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. I know that will come across as absurd to many of you, because Skyrim is very well loved and Final Fantasy X-2is… not. However, I do have my reasons for thinking this.

My first reason for saying this is that the factions in Final Fantasy X-2are a lot more relatable. In Skyrim, the game does a very good job at explaining the negative sides of each faction. However, the positive aspects of each faction are a lot more hidden from view. At the beginning of the game, a captain of a group of soldiers belonging to the Imperial Legion attempts to execute the player for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This tells the player that the bureaucracy of the Legion can often lead to corruption and overlooking simple mistakes, without much of a need for exposition.

The Stormcloak introduction does not fair much better. When arriving at Windhelm, the Stormcloak capital city, players find that Stormcloak soldiers are mocking and oppressing the Dark Elf and Argonian populations of the city. Through this interaction, the game informs the player that the Stormcloak faction discriminates against other, non-Nord races. When it comes to the good sides of these factions, we do not have similar scenes. All of it is gleamed through exposition told to the player by characters who are in those factions. The player is not shown these strengths, they are told. This makes in that much more difficult to envision these strengths. So, when it comes to time to select a faction, players choose between the lesser of two evils rather than which one harbors beliefs more in line with either their philosophy (or that of their character’s).

This is not the case with Final Fantasy X-2. In that game, both of its major factions are presented in more positive spotlights. When players first make contact with each faction, characters from that faction come up to talk about their group and what they believe in. There are friends, both new and from Final Fantasy X, who are on each side. This gives players, especially ones who played Final Fantasy X, legitimate reason to invest their time with each faction and getting to know them. Reaching the Youth League headquarters in rewarded with a discussion on channeling youthful energy towards progress and building a better future. On the other hand, the New Yevon members talk about how apprehensive they are towards the accelerated pace of change, and their wish to take things more slowly. In this way, players are left to ponder which faction they support based on what beliefs each group holds rather than which one is the lesser evil. Although both factions have scenes where they are shown in more “villainous” lights, those are few and far in-between when compared to Skyrim’s factions.

Which brings me to my second point: The faction-based choices players make in Final Fantasy X-2 have significantly greater impact than similar choices made in Skyrim. When participating in Skyrim’s Civil War questline, players are forced to choose between one of the two major factions and side with them in the war. However, regardless of the decision, most players will end up performing the exact same tasks for each faction. Forts will need to be taken over, cities will need to be captured, crowns will need to be obtained, and enemy faction leaders will need to be eliminated no matter which side is selected. Further, there are no real changes on the world when players finish the questline for either side. A few guards might comment on it when running around in the city, but the world at large does not seem care about the outcome. Players might see more/less Imperial/Stormcloak troops in certain areas, but they will look and act the same as any city guard would. Nothing happens and nothing changes in Skyrim’s static world.

But in Final Fantasy X-2, players actually see the consequences and effects of choosing to throw their support behind one of the two factions. After getting about 1/5 through the game, the game forces the party to decide which group is worth their time. This choice is actually a very crucial one. Side-quests open and close depending on which group the player sides with. For example, the Youth League has a quest where players can assist them in fighting off fiends if they decide to align with that group. Characters in the story will comment on the choice the party makes. Certain aspects of the game’s main story will even change to reflect this one decision. In the finale of Chapter 2, the group is required to infiltrate the New Yevon headquarters. If they sided with New Yevon, then they just stroll passed the guards. Otherwise, they will need to fight their way through. It feels like that one choice has a big impact. Compared to how Skyrim mostly ignores the choice of faction, this is a huge step up.

While many people would scoff at the idea of Final Fantasy X-2 being superior to Skyrim, even if only in a single aspect. However, a close look at the details behind these games reveals that my assertion at the beginning of this article holds merit. Though many people are right to enjoy the intricacies of Skyrim, the game has its flaws and this is one of them. Not to say that Final Fantasy X-2 is a perfect game either. No one in their right mind would say that. This is just one thing that the game gets right. Factions are a great way to quickly establish conflicts, plot, and gameplay elements. Done well, they can add to a world and player interactions with it. Done poorly, they cannot accomplish much of anything. Those of you interested in game design would do well to keep that in mind.