Beautiful Disaster

Destruction caused by war is fascinating, but what if Mother Nature caused it instead?

War. Death. Destruction. Turmoil.

These are all things that videogames are synonymous with, so much so that brown and grey textures, muddy environments and charred ruins are, perhaps brazenly, more common than colour itself. But most of the time this significant imagery -- the “Destroyed Beauty” of Gears Of War; the apocalyptic ruins of Washington D.C. in Fallout 3 -- is the result of war, the remnants of the past now nothing more than ruins. Why is this? Obviously war and combat are important from a gameplay point of view, justifying these settings, but what if there could be other causes behind the destruction? What if the perdition came not from humanity’s struggle or fight against an enemy but from something out of our control? What if Mother Nature was responsible instead?

This is something I have been considering for a while now and something that I’m reminded of every time another game with an environment impacted by disaster comes along or, this year, another tragedy in real life occurs. In fact, this year’s sheer quantity of natural disasters has been so significant that I have felt compelled to delay this post out of respect for those who have suffered from them or, worse, lost their lives. The floods and cyclone in Queensland; the Earthquake in Christchurch, New Zealand; Tsunami (and subsequent nuclear disaster) in Japan; floods in Brazil; the Californian fires or, indeed, the recent tornadoes in America, including the recent one which wiped portions of the city of Joplin off the map -- all of these and more have been exceptionally serious, extremely unfortunate events that, when combined, make this year absolutely horrific and inherently depressing. I put off this post because I felt uncomfortable publishing it -- much like the creators behind those games that were either delayed or cancelled, I imagine -- when so many things were happening and where so many people were being affected. But I can’t put it off forever and, forgetting the tragic brutality we’ve seen so far this year, for a moment at least, I think that natural disasters in videogames could be something important and definitely an area worth exploring. Allow me to explain.

Videogame spaces, in this generation in particular, have come alive, with thematic settings, incredible atmosphere and multiple stories to tell. Discovery has been particularly strong, finding an abandoned shack in Fallout or a messy room in BioShock an intriguing affair, both because it gets us, as players, asking questions -- why is this room like this? What happened here? Where did the owners of this shack go? -- and because it adds weight and meaning to the environment we are exploring, the locations we get to inhabit. More than any other generation the combination of visuals, sound and atmosphere allow for videogames to take us anywhere, to places we can’t go. Mass Effect enables us to travel the galaxy and mingle with other species; L.A. Noire and Mafia II take us back to a time period long ago and incredibly different to our own today. Red Dead Redemption, finally, showed us what it was like to exist in a Western setting, enlightening us, indirectly, to how things were back then and how far humanity has come. But all of these settings, all of these locations that games allow us to visit -- both ‘real’ and fictional -- are static, mostly unchanging environments, only alive when our consoles are on and only existing to serve a story, mechanics or a particular intended experience. Rapture is, bless its soul, already in ruins when we get to see it, the levels built to convey the narrative and service the combat dynamics rather than to demonstrate how things can change, how characters and civilians alike can leave their mark or have an impact on the city or proceedings. If something changes it is because it was supposed to, a scripted moment to benefit or influence a particular facet of the overall experience. A good example of this is Mafia II’s transition from Winter to Spring: snow and blustery conditions give Empire Bay one kind of atmosphere (which, I might add, is quite charming) while the brighter, more positive aura of a warmer season gives the city another. What if this changed? What if Mother Nature’s ferocious but beautiful power -- if weather -- changed an environment or setting in a meaningful way? What if a tragedy in a virtual world could impact gameplay, the story, or the demeanor of a game’s characters in really interesting ways, changing our experience in the process and reinforcing our connection to that world and everything in it?

Just imagine if rain flooded Liberty City, and just what that could mean.

We’ve already seen how a thunderstorm in Red Dead Redemption or showers in Liberty City can change their respective games, even if it’s momentarily. It changes the atmosphere, makes driving (for example) harder because things are slippery, and breaks up the pace and alters the dynamics of our session. But what if Liberty City was flooded, its rivers overflowing and spilling onto the roads? What if the weather was so ubiquitous and ongoing that the streets were covered with water, buildings inundated and the result was a different city -- even if it did eventually recede -- than the one we’re already accustomed to? It would force us to reassess our approach to what we were doing or how we’d do it, and test our knowledge of the space we have inhabited for so long, making us find alternative routes or different means of travel. Furthermore, narratively, it could affect the people who we come to know, showing us sides of their personality we couldn’t see previously and how they would deal with such adversity. What if these quest-givers -- because, let’s face it, that’s all they really are -- couldn’t offer us things to do or tasks to perform because they simply had more important things to attend to? What if, god forbid, these characters -- some of whom we might actually have a connection to or relationship with -- died because they weren’t prepared for an excess of water to come and flood their houses, their home? What if, to go in a slightly different direction, Liberty City was hit by an earthquake, unexpectedly, because like the weather it was dynamic, unpredictable and unforeseen?

Such scenarios can pose many questions and, if done effectively, really impact upon a game world and the things inside it in meaningful ways. Part of the reason Heavy Rain resonated so much with me is because it used rain as a significant, serious part of its narrative -- something that hadn’t been done before. From a technical standpoint serious events and tragedies in games might be unrealistic to do, but surely there is incentive in trying if it can add weight to a world, make our connection to it as players more meaningful, and ultimately ensure that games as a whole can be as deep, emotional and affecting as products in other mediums? Mother Nature’s fury in real life is nothing more than a negative, unfortunate and unpredictable series of events, where loss is prevalent everywhere and the need to rebuild is essential. But in a virtual sense her wrath could be absolutely beautiful, especially if it engrosses us into our games more thoroughly than ever before. The result might not be pretty but it sure beats having yet another war be the justification for why all of our games are always... well, in ruins.

Mafia II

Oh Mafia II, what can I say about you? I love you so much and yet you left me feeling puzzled, confused and conflicted. You enticed me with your beautiful city, strong focus on narrative and realism, and your prospect of taking me on a virtual trip to the 1940s, a time I will never get to experience in reality. You did those things but then didn’t allow me to explore Empire Bay; to inhabit that wonderful time period or, indeed, Mafia story; and your attention to realism -- admirable as it is -- was a letdown once I realised it was barely enforced and that I could treat the “rules” like I would in any other open world game. You were supposed to be different, supposed to be unique, and certainly supposed to deliver something that couldn’t be found in other games. Instead, you are more like them than you realise. You deal with things just like they do, portray them in the same light, and the results of my actions are the same they have always been. You relied on genre conventions and tropes, on familiarity rather than something new, and became just another example of how right games like Grand Theft Auto actually got it. But you’re not GTA. You’re not concerned with mayhem or freedom or the relationship between player and world, of protagonist and ally. You are much more interested in conveying a story in a cool setting. So why didn’t you?

It’s no secret that I was pretty keen on Mafia II. At the time I was excited about it because it truly seemed like something different, something I hadn’t experienced before. In some ways, it was. The time period and therefore setting -- particularly aesthetically -- was new (to me) and definitely a change from more modern surroundings and post apocalyptic adventures. But go beyond its looks and sounds, its sights and period-appropriate melodies, and what you get is just another game city, one impressive in size, scope and activity, but also one that has been done before. Liberty City, despite being released in early 2008, is still the most active, appealing metropolis that videogames have ever seen. Even L.A. Noire’s meticulous recreation of 1940s L.A. has nothing on the city that never sleeps, the city where there is always something to see and do. Mafia II’s Empire Bay tried to replicate some of the amazing diversity and sense of wonder that Liberty City inspires with almost every visit, and in some respects even achieved this, with a compelling atmosphere; similar sense of a “living and breathing” city; and places to go and explore, but then it takes it all away again in order to continue on with the story it is trying to tell. At first it is awe-inspiring, the beauty of skyscrapers in the distance and the little (scripted) moments that can take place due to the strong focus on story and the structure that reinforces it of particular note, but before too long you start to notice how deceiving it is, how it’s more of an illusion than a real city, and how little reason there is for it to actually exist. You only go places because you have to, because the story demands it. This might make these locations fascinating in their own right, because your attachment to the characters or the details you find within are relevant to you (think Heavy Rain), but consequently it leaves the rest of the city behind and makes it feel mostly irrelevant. There’s no motivation to go and explore; no incentive to see what Empire Bay has to offer. Sure, you could go for a drive or stroll and admire the architecture and personality, but your interest wouldn’t last long because there’s very little to see, very little to do, and the game keeps demanding you to go home, to go to your next mission or destination, all of the time anyway. You might be able to break free from the story’s linear structure and do your own thing, but that doesn’t mean the game wants you to. And why should it, anyway? It’s not as if time will pass or the weather will change. That goes against the game’s scripted focus, and we can’t have that.

And what about that realism that was so intriguing for me personally? Surely that added weight and meaning to that environment; to that time period? Nope, instead it is just there, not really crucial to the overall experience. Sure, like Empire Bay itself, engaging it can be interesting and offers something to break up the game’s forward-looking pace, but ignoring it won’t affect your time with the game in any significant way, and you certainly won’t be punished for your diversionary actions either. Following the speed limit (something made particularly convenient given a simple button press activates a limiter, making driving almost automatic), obeying red lights or parking your car in the garage might seem like something you should be doing given the setting and atmosphere of Empire Bay, but you don’t have to and, honestly, it’s easier if you don’t -- you’d just be wasting time. Police are mostly oblivious to your presence in the world, ignoring you unless you do something right in their face or because a mission caused them to take notice of you. They will chase you for speeding but only if you zoom right past them; do it a few metres down the road or going the opposite way and they won’t care. Red lights? By all means go through them, just slow down first so you’re not seen as a menace -- in other words drive slowly enough that civilians won’t panic but fast enough that the speed limit means nothing -- and the cops will turn a blind eye, no doubt enjoying their blissful ignorance and the quicker pace with which they can despawn, again, since they’re obviously only around when you are anyway. Brandishing a weapon in public is more dangerous for you and rousing for the Police of Empire Bay than driving erratically is. But, should you get in trouble either way, your indiscretions and misdemeanors can be quickly overlooked through bribery or a simple visit to a phone booth. Or you could, you know, kill them and outrun their pursuit like you would in other games, but this isn’t supposed to be like other games, remember? *sigh*

Don’t get me wrong, I loved Mafia II and I am definitely glad I got to play it, but it’s disappointing not because it is a bad game -- quite the opposite, in fact -- but because it didn’t execute on what I thought its qualities would be, and because it doesn’t appear to know what it wants to be, either. Not since Mirror’s Edge has a game left me feeling so conflicted, confused about how I feel, and dismayed by its failure to meet its potential. It lacks identity; delivers arena-style shootouts and over-exaggerated action, just like other games of its ilk; and doesn’t even recognise, perhaps ironically, that it is a game about the Mafia. It could be so much more than it is, then, but thankfully what it did end up being is still pretty good. I’ll have more on that, soon.

Behind The Wheel Series: Overview

It’s no secret by now that I am a racing game fanatic and play practically any racing game I can get my hands on. Whether it’s a simulation like F1 2010 or an arcade racer like Burnout, I play these games because I enjoy them and because they satisfy my appetite for speed. Even a bout of Mario Kart is worth the drive, in my opinion. It’s also no secret, however, that I believe that the genre as a whole doesn’t get the critical attention that it deserves, seemingly acting as a fun diversion for the majority of players while the big-name shooters and RPGs of the world get all the attention. This bothers me, as I’ve expressed before, and part of my motivations for Raptured Reality these days is to try and change that perception and give the genre the investigation, analysis and dedication that it deserves. Enter my newest series, Behind The Wheel, in which I’ll discuss racing games thoroughly, and where (almost) anything goes.

I’ve played around with the idea of writing in depth about racing games before, approaching it from a variety of angles but not really finding one that meets the desires I have when it comes to covering the genre critically. My Friday Night Forza series lasted only two posts because I felt like it focused on one game far too much, and wasn’t really discussing the actual game in any analytical sense. What I did cover in those two articles, however, was important because they highlighted how racing games can go beyond the simple act of going fast and become so much more, teaching players, indirectly, experiences that they might not have been aware of previously. My F1 2010 Living The Life series, on the other hand, demonstrates the genre’s potential to -- again -- go beyond the act of going fast and tell stories, even if those stories are created out of a particular approach to playing. I’m proud of a lot of what I have written in the three years I have been blogging here -- stuff like my Heavy Rain and Fahrenheit coverage comes to mind -- but I can say with confidence that the Living The Life series is the best thing I’ve ever done, not necessarily due to its content but because of how it enlightened me to so many things that I was oblivious to. From the aforementioned storytelling to the emotions playing it in that way has inspired in me, the approach has been invigorating and I hope to use that experience to enhance not only other games in the future, but possibly other aspects of my life as well.

But it’s not criticism, is it? Playing F1 2010 with an intentional “I’m the driver, here’s how my races fared” approach isn’t taking the actual game, analyzing it, and discovering why it’s so good, what flaws it has and where it should go in the future. Talking about driver mentalities or hard to describe phenomena in relation to a simulation like Forza Motorsport 3 isn’t breaking that game down, investigating what it does and doesn’t do within the franchise it exists in, or the competition it aims to overthrow. Hell, even answering the question as to what my favourite racing game ever may be isn’t doing anything substantial other than offering my opinion and explaining why. This annoys me because it goes against my intentions for covering the genre here on the blog: it’s not discussing them in depth and offering a perspective that others cannot, because they don’t have the same experience with the genre as I do. It’s fine to experiment the way I have in the past if it’s alongside these genuine criticisms and analysis of individual racing games, but if doing one is to the exclusion of the other then I am doing it wrong (so to speak) and this is something I’d like to change.

So that’s what this new series is about. Instead of experimentations that could go anywhere or discussion on subjects that mean little to anyone other than me, I’ll actually be focusing on games like Gran Turismo 5, Wipeout HD, Blur (etc.) to understand them and explain, to you guys, why they are what they are and why I find them so enjoyable (or not). I’ll still continue to experiment as I find ways to articulate the many thoughts I have about the genre, but it will be tangential to the criticism and analysis and, hopefully, enhance the discussion rather than control it. I will also continue my F1 2010 story because, as I said before, I find it fascinating and want to relay that to you, but I will also analyse the game so it is clear as to why I love it so much, and why it has enabled me to tell my story to begin with.

First, however, I’m going to turn my attention towards Gran Turismo 5 -- a controversial and inconsistent racing game -- and the recently released Test Drive Unlimited 2, as a nice (and intentional) contrast of styles within the racing genre. Join me again tomorrow for the first of these posts, looking at where GT5 stands as a product (as opposed to a simulation, or to its competition).

The New Tomb Raider

Recently I made the comment on Twitter that “the best posts are the unexpected ones”. When I made the remark, I was thinking about this post, not because I was doing it but because I wasn’t expecting to be writing about the new Tomb Raider*. You might remember that a while ago I expressed a desire to respond to the various articles and posts that resonated with me. This didn’t eventuate -- in some respects it did if you include my responses to the R18+ debacle -- and instead I went on to write about other things. Well with this post I’m rectifying that and I begin with a response to Game Informer’s recent reveal of the new Tomb Raider as part of their cover story for their January issue.

Tomb Raider is intended to be a reboot: of the multi-media franchise we’re already familiar with; of the approach to the game as well as how it is played and designed; and of Lara Croft herself. It’s this latter decision that will receive the most attention, Lara’s sex appeal a product (literally and figuratively) of prominence in the past and the first thing associated with her and the Tomb Raider franchise. Her new look in this new game, combined with the new motivations that define it, will be the subject of much scrutiny as more is revealed in the coming months but for me, more interesting will be her new characteristics.

Girl’s Got Character

Lara is young, potentially naïve, and eager to get out from underneath her parents’ shadow. Fresh out of university she’s ready to prove herself in the world and embarks on a voyage to a remote island in the search for lost relics. As per every story that is set up like this, tragedy ensues and Lara, along with her fellow archeologists, find themselves stranded. What follows makes up the game but, more importantly, the events and mishaps along the way -- plus how Lara deals with them -- will define the new title, the experience it provides and our perception of Lara as a whole. She has the potential opportunity to go from industry icon and sex symbol to a person we care about, a person who is real, and a person who is our friend. Much like Elena Fisher or Chloe Frazer from the Uncharted series or Alyx Vance from Half Life, Lara could become someone we love rather than enjoy, only this time in playable form which could directly affect the impact of each moment and outcome. That’s not to say Lara wasn’t an endearing character in the past, just that her status in the industry transcended any attachment individual players felt or had for her. Survival appears to be a key focus of this new title and as such, Lara’s mortality will be more obvious than other games. Mis-time a jump or don’t react quickly enough to falling debris -- even by only milliseconds -- and Lara could die or be extremely injured, changing the dynamics and pace of the events that unfold. What this will mean in conjunction with the well established gaming convention -- reloading after death and resuming your progress -- remains to be seen. Obviously, it can’t be like Heavy Rain where death is -- or can be -- final, as Lara is the primary character and without her, Tomb Raider wouldn’t be Tomb Raider, but even so I hope the emphasis on survival equates to a realistic and meaningful impact on the experience purely because if it does, it’ll be much easier to resonate with Lara’s plight and indeed, her story. Time will tell.

A New Adventure Awaits

More interesting, for me, is how the new game will actually play. The Tomb Raider name brings with it certain expectations such as acrobatic maneuvers and exploring deep labyrinths in the hunt for treasure. Naughty Dog’s Uncharted series -- partially inspired by miss Croft’s adventures -- has gone on to lofty heights, raising the bar while Tomb Raider struggled with tradition and a lack of direction. According to Game Informer’s cover story, the new Tomb Raider is going down a different path with its gameplay, adding some of the set-pieces that made Uncharted so popular, as well as emulating -- perhaps ironically given Uncharted’s repurposing of mechanics and style from Tomb Raider -- the variety in play styles (platforming, combat, etc.) and carefully considered pacing. Interactions with NPCs seem to be more important, actions seem to be defined by circumstances and overall everything appears to be intended to improve what a game featuring Lara Croft can be like -- as opposed to one which uses her name to make a quick buck. Basically, it seems like developer Crystal Dynamics cares this time around, which should bode well for the moments in game where we are trying to flee a pursuer or we are timing our button presses under pressure (think Uncharted 2’s train climbing opening sequence), making the overall adventure exactly that, an adventure, and not just a tour to locations that, while visually spectacular, are anything but.

All in all the Game Informer preview got me excited for a Tomb Raider game -- a series I’ve only ever had a passing interest in previously -- and intrigued as to how Crystal’s new approach to everything, from Lara herself to the adventures she lives through, will redefine our expectations of what it means to play a Tomb Raider game. Will it match or outclass Nathan Drake’s escapades? Probably not, but then, Lara always was quite the individual.

*As for why it took so long to actually get this posted, the word “Notch” should give you all the clues you need.

Games Of The Year 2010 #2

Yesterday I offered you the first handful of games that stood out to me throughout 2010 and talked about the elements of them that I'd like to see pursued in the future. Today I give you the rest.

Limbo

Of all the games to feature on my list, this is probably the hardest one to describe and to articulate my thoughts with. Like Flower from 2009, Limbo left a strong and important mark on my gaming career, but for reasons of which I’m not entirely sure.

It’s a beautiful game, the silhouette, shadowy art direction being a pleasure to see in screenshots and an absolute wonder in motion. Its use of silence was particularly endearing, both because so few games use silence effectively and because it enhanced the imagery on screen to create an experience that is unique. It’s brutal; communicates a sense of longing and bravery; and what you discover is at once terrifying and ominous, yet it’s these factors that make progress through the game so compelling and rewarding. It’s also short, sweet, and surprisingly emotional: the very example of the potential downloadable games have as well as what amazing things can be achieved within the indie space. Despite some claims that the farther it goes along, the sillier it gets, nothing in Limbo feels out of place and all of it feels like it was included for a reason. The obligatory discussion about whether it’s an example of art or not is, in my mind, irrelevant -- what Limbo is, is an experience like no other, and a game that deserves to be played regardless of whether you end up liking it or not. It takes an aesthetic, simplicity in its presentation yet complexity in its design, and contends with themes that don’t exist anywhere else, combines them, and creates a game that is just a sheer delight to experience. And, perhaps, it is that last word that explains why it features on this list: it’s not just another game and when you are done, it will stay in your mind rather than be forgotten. If that’s not the sign of something worth attempting again in the future, nothing is.

Minecraft

Indie darling, breakout hit and my personal addiction, Minecraft surprised everybody when it became a phenomenon, including the game’s creator Notch who was suddenly a millionaire. But, when you look at what Minecraft provides and the kind of game it delivers, it’s not as surprising as it initially seems.

A true sandbox title, Minecraft’s best asset is you, the player. The reason for that is simple: Minecraft is what you make of it. Much has been said about the game’s creative side, reminding people of Lego due to its blocky worlds and the enjoyment people have had making insane creations such as replicas of various real life constructs, interpretations of fantasy locations and the demonstrations of ingenuity, particularly using Red Stone. Others again have focused on the kind of experience Minecraft delivers, discussing its survival horror elements thanks to the need to find shelter at night to defend (read: hide) from the game’s enemies; its breed of fantasy born out of ‘waking up’ in a strange new land, uncertain of what you may find; and even on the platforming elements that come from climbing the game’s many mountains and caverns. That last one is a bit of a stretch but such is the imagination that Minecraft inspires in people and the dreaming they can’t help but do when it comes to the game’s world, crucial due to the way in which it is procedurally generated and unique to each individual who plays. So far, I’ve focused on my own feelings that I’ve had during the game, and the subtle but effective ways in which it can tell a story, despite not having a predetermined narrative (yet). There’s plenty more I want to talk about in the near future so I won’t go into detail here, but needless to say, Minecraft is on this list because it caters to a variety of play-styles and player desires, puts us in a world that is at once fascinating and entirely our own, and contains an insane amount of complexity hidden behind its simple art direction and accessible mechanics. It’s popular for a reason, amazing for so much more, and is the perfect example of how to captivate an audience and keep them interested through regular additions and, more importantly, through their own, personally defined goals. This is emergent gameplay at its purest and definitely a game other developers, indie or otherwise, should look to as they chase the ever elusive emergent gameplay prize. Amusingly, the game isn’t even finished yet and as we play, we’re all helping to develop it into something that should be even more special. Based on what we have already, the future is incredibly exciting for not just the game, but the impact it will have on the medium as well.

F1 2010

It is pretty obvious by now that I’m absolutely in love with this game, my praise shortly after release coming thick and fast, and the role-playing series that followed demonstrating a desire to not only experiment with my writing and approach to games, but to inhabit the world of Formula 1 and see what comes of it. Whether that series has been successful or not is up to you but as far as the game itself is concerned, it is the best F1 game to come out in a long time and does everything a licensed game should.

F1 2010 is more than just the tracks, the drivers and the cars; it’s about the lifestyle, the spectacle and the celebration of speed, technology and engineering (sound familiar?) as well. It’s about the ability to go as fast as possible around a track, as smoothly as possible and with a skill and finesse that isn’t just tricky to master, but something that can’t be replicated anywhere else. It’s about the highs and lows that come with each race, the drama and the emotion that result from it, and the desire to work harder than before to overcome and ultimately master any issues that may arise, be it from performance, mechanical components of the car, or the constant need to improve one’s driving style. It’s about entertaining the fans whilst satisfying the team, and meeting your own personal expectations, whatever they may be. In other words, it’s about the sport of Formula 1 and as such, it delivers the life and passion of motorsport as well as the brand and culture, culminating in a game that transcends its genre (and thus, competititon), elevates a sport that’s sometimes hidden behind the celebrities and controversy, and puts people on the track instead of behind the (virtual) wheel. The fact it was Codemasters’ first attempt, while impressive, is irrelevant; that it goes above and beyond what it means to utilize a license effectively highlights not only what can be done, but why it should be in the first place.

Which begs the question: when’s F1 2011 coming out…? ;)

Heavy Rain

Something has to be said for a game’s quality if it has the power to whisk someone obsessed with another title -- which we’ll get to in a minute -- away and obtain their full attention through sheer amazement over what was just experienced. Heavy Rain did this for me, and even now, months after release and after a series of posts discussing the game, I’m still not sure I can explain why.

Ever since it was announced and I heard what Quantic Dream were attempting with Heavy Rain, combined with my enthusiasm for their previous game Fahrenheit, I was hooked and couldn’t wait to see what the final product would bring. Despite devouring any morsel of information I could find, the end result still surprised me and, like Alan Wake, I think it is purely because of the story and its characters. Unlike Alan Wake, however, Heavy Rain’s narrative was about as real as you can get in games today, focusing on themes that have never been explored (in a serious way, at least) previously, and centering the entire game around a father’s love for his children, and the lengths he would go to ensure their safety and wellbeing. Its mechanics may be a mixed bag of success and frustration; some of its characters may have not met their potential or were exploited in an unnecessary, silly way; and the eventual outcome and reveal of the Origami Killer may be disappointing -- both because it may have not been who you were expecting or wanted it to be, and because no matter how your personal story pans out, the person is the same -- but Heavy Rain delivered on its promise of a realistic narrative which ensures its position here. Its characters -- like it or not -- get under your skin, and that’s something few other games can achieve. To say Heavy Rain had to happen would be an understatement; to be thankful that it did would be to appreciate what it did manage to achieve, as well as highlight to the industry that this sort of thing -- regardless of how successful or not it happens to be -- needs to be explored further if we’re to truly obtain legitimacy as a creative, artistic medium, if not the dominant one.

BioShock 2

Surprise, surprise, a BioShock game is on the list. Come on though, as if it wouldn’t be -- you are reading a blog whose name was inspired by the franchise.

Personal bias aside, however, BioShock 2 would have made the list anyway because, quite frankly, it was just so damn good. It isn’t easy releasing a sequel to a game that has gone on to become one of the medium’s best, and one that is constantly referred to when discussing important subjects. Not since Grand Theft Auto III have we had a game (and now franchise) that has inspired such reverence and discussion (Portal aside), and as such any follow up would be scrutinized. And BioShock 2 was, copping criticism by people who were strangely (in my opinion at least) sick of Rapture; who didn’t enjoy the gameplay a second time around; and who wanted it to be, perhaps unrealistically, better than the first game. The thing is it was better than the first game, maybe not in terms of the awe and beauty that the original displayed but certainly in terms of refinement of the game’s mechanics and definitely in the way in which it framed the hallowed, empty halls of Rapture in a new light. And it is this last point that is the most important: the new perspective BioShock 2 brought to Rapture didn’t just show us another side of the city, it changed it from being Andrew Ryan’s baby to being everyone’s, through its emphasis on highlighting the people rather than the power. The areas we visited in the first game were created for Rapture’s dignitaries and people of importance, as well as designed to showcase the unique personality and extreme attitudes that Andrew Ryan so incessantly portrayed, further exacerbated by the opposition struggle led by Fontaine. BioShock 2’s version of Rapture, on the other hand, doesn’t just showcase the areas in which the ‘common-folk’ live, it showcases why they’re just as important, if not more so, than the big-shot personalities found in the likes of the Medical Pavilion and Fort Frolic. By doing so, it provides insight into the inner workings of the city as a whole and illuminates the emotion, morals and resolve that its inhabitants have -- whether Ryan or Fontaine recognised it or not. It may have introduced a new power, of sorts, with Sophia Lamb, and the importance of family -- particularly as far as the Little Sisters are concerned -- certainly played an integral role, but it was this new perspective with which to view Rapture that elevated BioShock 2 beyond sequel status and into the history books as a game worthy of attention, perhaps more so than its predecessor.

Throw in the astonishing and incredible downloadable add-on Minerva’s Den, which further defined the city through yet another perspective and demonstrated so easily just how many stories are still yet to be told within those walls deep in the depths of the ocean, and you have a game that doesn’t just improve on what’s come before, but reinvents it and boasts to the world that anything you can do, can be done better. It is this mantra, whether you believe it fits the game or not, that needs to be acknowledged in the wider industry and, with any luck, is one that will become a motivation in the years to come. Best of all, for someone like me? Rapture may be dead as far its production and celebration of the self is concerned, but it has never been more alive when it comes to its potential and what can be discovered amongst its walls. All we have to do is visit it and explore it, the rest will happen naturally.

***

So there you have it, my choices for 2010’s best games. Like all of you no doubt, I didn’t get to play everything that I wanted to during the year -- and I’m frustrated with myself for not being able to play games that were particularly high on my anticipation list -- but what I did experience was amazing and certainly suggests to me that gaming hasn’t just evolved, but that it is well on its way to a bigger, brighter and important future. Personally, the ability to inhabit brave new worlds whilst experiencing fascinating stories -- if not creating them ourselves -- was a really strong thing to take away from 2010, as was the celebration of the old, new and the processes in which they are made. Game spaces, stories and new perspectives were all important to me and, I have no doubt, will continue to be as we turn our attention to 2011. Based on the games I'm already chomping on the bit to play, it looks like this year will certainly give the last a run for its money -- no mean feat when you recall just how packed it was, and just what it brought to the table. Don't you just love videogames?

Fahrenheit (Part Four)

Known as Indigo Prophecy in the States, this ambitious title was Quantic Dream's magnum opus until the release of Heavy Rain. Mere days before their newest title was about to be released, Michelle Baldwin and I embarked on the mission of playing the game through together. What was revealed over time was an in-depth analysis of Fahrenheit's timeless artistic style, characterisation and design principles. The following article contains heavy spoilers.

You can find Parts One, Two and Three: here, here and here.

Michelle

I have now also finished the game, so here are my thoughts on what I now realise to be quite a controversial ending. Overall I really enjoyed it, but it was undermined slightly by Fahrenheit's deviation from its earlier simplicity; it is the simple ideas that worked best in this game, and the ending is a little at odds with the rest of the game because of it. I felt as though the narrative could have followed the pattern of earlier chapters and left far, far more to the discretion of the player. It meant that the finale was far too eager to answer too many questions. We didn't really need to know about the full cast of characters controlling the Oracle, the conspiracy they had created or even how these people were able to control Lucas and others, it was all implied. The complete lack of speculation in the end game lost most of the mystique built up in the game's first half.

That said lots of games leave lots of details to the imagination, so I agree that it was incredibly brave of Quantic Dream to take the direction they did, it just would have been pulled off with a lot more conviction if they had maintained the very careful, measured pacing of the rest of the game.

I continued to find the nostalgic scenes of Marcus and Lucas incredibly grating. I understood the depth of their bond, and I had picked up on the fact that there was something remarkable about Lucas from a very young age, but I honestly would have preferred more time spent on the game's final playable scenes to allow more time for the bold ideas introduced so late on to develop, as the playable elements during these childhood stages were clunky and frustrating when compared to the relative fluidity of the rest of the game.

The conclusion itself was a little too transparent, which meant that only the really out of the blue ideas were left unanswered mainly because they were so left-field. I wasn't at all convinced by the relationship between Lucas and Carla for example, it felt at odds with both of their character paths, and smacked of having a clearly defined "end point" to the game that the narrative was snaking towards. I did like the sense of mistrust that grew throughout the game though, it was almost as if I couldn't completely trust some of the narration going on, what details being said were correct and which weren't, particularly the fact that the game alluded to the fact that Lucas was dead; but there were other facts contradicting that entirely, so there was still enough mystery to feel satisfied, just perhaps not as much as I would have liked.

Fahrenheit seemed to change the importance of some characters on a whim. Tyler was removed from the game all too quickly, while nice to see a conclusion to his story it left me wondering just how important Carla and Tyler's partnership really was. Tiffany was sidelined extremely quickly after a tremendous sacrifice which was never really acknowledged, and in many ways Carla was too, moved from a very powerful lead to Lucas' sidekick in effect. In fact, lots of characters got knocked down a few pegs in the later stages often to the story's detriment -- the Oracle, having been built up to be the main antagonist, was defeated all too easily; and the multiple bad guys that replaced him were never quite as convincing -- the AI, the Mayan, the circle of elders -- just didn't have the momentum or sense of foreboding of that one shadowy figure that amply represented it all and made it far easier to take on board.

To reiterate I did really enjoy the ending and the game as a whole, these thoughts are simply what I would have improved, but as you mentioned the great changes in characterisation were often too big of a leap to take on board. I just had a hard time believing the majority of actions of the characters which up until now I thought had been explained and handled relatively well. Fahrenheit is clearly a massively ambitious game -- that was clear from the start -- and it attempts to end on a similar high but crucially it loses some of the depth of its storytelling through repeated climax; there is simply little to no time to recover or digest what's going on and the complete cycle of lull, build-up and cliffhanger was all but forgotten. Perhaps that's what instigated the name change, an acknowledgement of the high octane sense of drama rather than the themes behind them? While the American name was far more subtle, both suit the game's general message.

Overall, after all the events, and that beautiful, yet chilling ending, I was a little troubled by the amount of power that Lucas had at the end of the game. The world may be safe, but should the world really be content with one man and one family maintaining that much quiet influence? I'm not so sure.

Steven

Nice, some really interesting thoughts on the final act that are extra intriguing for me personally given the differences between how we played: you as a first-timer and me making a return visit.

Honestly, you covered my own thoughts about it well, aside from what I obviously conveyed myself earlier. The ending was quite beautiful, but in a "destroyed" sense rather than visual spectacle or, indeed, pleasure. Sure, it was nice to see various aspects of the story resolved and things become a little more peaceful -- that alone makes it beautiful -- but the quiet, perhaps sombre tone I think was intended to get us to reflect on the entirety of the game, rather than any specific part. That's a welcome thing after the issues I described about the final act, particularly how abrupt it was, but with or without those concerns the entire story, the characters who drive it and even the interactive decisions we get to partake in are all worth reflecting on. What we come to know and understand at the beginning of the game is distinctively different to what we learn about the game upon conclusion, and the destruction (of our interpretations, understanding and the mystery delivered throughout) that takes place is beautiful for many, different but crucial reasons that each player will no doubt dwell on differently. Looking at it from a pure videogame medium point of view, I feel that it is significant in the sense that it needed to happen, to not only show a different direction games can follow, but to demonstrate that things don't always have to be a certain way -- a trap that I feel some developers, perhaps without even realising it, find themselves falling into time and time again.

Now that Heavy Rain is out, we don't only get to see what Quantic Dream learned and how they iterated on and changed various things to improve their intended experiences, we also get to see the impact that the Fahrenheit experimentation, if you will, has had on them and indeed, the medium as a whole. Luckily, Heavy Rain was more of a success -- both commercially and in terms of nailing what they wanted to achieve -- so I can only hope that such attention bodes well for the future of the medium. Speaking of Heavy Rain, I'm definitely interested in hearing what you think of that game when you finally play it. My thoughts on it are well documented, but it will be interesting to see what you think having played Fahrenheit so closely to its (spiritual) sequel.

Honestly though, I still can't get over my disappointment with what that third act in Fahrenheit represents, not necessarily for the story but for its characters. All four characters were introduced as compelling people who all had their own unique traits, motivations and interests, which lead to a story that dealt with more realistic issues and themes. Once the more supernatural story elements started to seep in, it felt like those individual qualities either became irrelevant or completely redundant. For someone who appreciated such a stark difference to the generic stereotypes seen in other games, this difference is too imposing on my overall impression of the game. Perhaps playing it again has ruined that initial opinion somewhat, bringing down the flair on what was otherwise an utterly unique and rather amazing experience, but when I think about how Tyler was a pragmatic, happy-go-lucky kind of guy who seriously loved his girlfriend, enjoyed competitive play in a friendly game of Basketball and had a passion for music, I can't help but feel disjointed with the abrupt changes the finale makes. Or what about Carla, a confident and authoritative kind of girl who obsessed over detail and was struggling to come to terms with her fear of confined spaces, a relaxing sparring session alleviating some of the stresses she constantly found herself dealing with? These characters were just... human, and that feeling of emotion and perhaps soul was lost once the fate of the world, the supernatural forces and obligatory reveal of antagonists needed to occur to provide the game's conclusion. Hell, even the severity of a crime such as murder was more relaxing and thus, enjoyable to investigate -- both literally as Carla and Tyler, and figuratively as we continued to learn about Lucas' plight -- than anything expected of us in the end game. It just tarnished what was otherwise something really special, I thought, and I'm left feeling cold after ecstasy over such a special experience.

But, despite my reservations with it, I can overlook any qualms I have with the game and remember it as an experience that I'm thoroughly pleased to have participated in; a story that I was absolutely enthralled by; for featuring characters who resonated with me for multiple, unexpected reasons; and ultimately a game that had to happen, regardless of the success or failure of individual components or indeed, within the medium itself. It wasn't perfect and it was definitely punctuated with countless flaws, but, like the majority of its story, it was human in an industry that knew more about aliens and monsters. That's worth my love, admiration and respect, even if such strong feelings weren't delivered in return.

Fahrenheit (Part Three)

Known as Indigo Prophecy in the States, this ambitious title was Quantic Dream's magnum opus until the release of Heavy Rain. Mere days before their newest title was about to be released, Michelle Baldwin and I embarked on the mission of playing the game through together. What was revealed over time was an in-depth analysis of Fahrenheit's timeless artistic style, characterisation and design principles. The following article contains heavy spoilers.

You can reads parts one and two: here and here.

Michelle

Given the amount of games I have played with truly awful QTEs, Fahrenheit just about gets away with them, but for two very specific reasons; the warning you get about each and every QTE ahead of time is incredibly helpful -- so you have some buffer time to think and aren't just reacting to the flashes on screen. I haven't "failed" as often as I do in other games and I think this is why. The fact that the QTEs also follow the speed of the action is refreshing too, they speed up and slow down noticeably as the pace of the action on screen winds up or down. I do agree though that their duration is sometimes frustrating, some of the events go on far beyond what they should do -- the destruction of Lucas' apartment is a prime example of this, I didn't need to see the entire inventory of his flat tumble towards him in minute QTE detail, a few key pieces of furniture would have been enough. Mainly the QTEs often border on distracting; sometimes something really compelling is happening on the screen but it's so hard to tell because of the button mashing.

The gestures you've mentioned for actions are well designed, but it is difficult within the timed chat options to distinguish what you're actually choosing from one word; sometimes the topic I choose bears no relation to what I actually wanted to know, and out of four or five options why limit the player to hearing only two or three? I sense that Quantic Dream is deliberately trying to keep me in the dark at just about every stage of the game, while I do understand their reasons for doing so it feels at odds with the tone of the game. In videogame terms I'm an explorer: I like to look in all the cupboards, all the rooms, talk to everyone and exhaust all options; but there's little room for maneuver in Fahrenheit, you're basically limited to trying to keep the characters sane and it frequently feels like I don't have enough options or time to do this as I'd like to.

Without wishing to lay into the design of the game too much, I think the saving mechanism has room for improvement, it's sometimes very difficult to know when the game has saved. I appreciate that auto saving prevents the narrative of the game from being too broken up, so all that needed to be done was to make the red flashing save icon more visible and visible for longer.

I'm not disliking the change of tone to the game so far, there are moments that it could have been handled more delicately (mainly through less QTEs so I could properly see the cutscenes with the more gothic themes coming through.) This is a game that clearly wears it's influences on it's sleeves. It's been a while since I read The Tempest but that was a play with the struggle between art and fantasy at its heart, most of the early scenes are glances towards theatrical metaphor, so every character in this game is crucial adding to the mystical warp and weft of the game structure, with each decision impacting on the rest. Shakespeare's plays -- his tragedies in particular -- were frequently about discovery, particularly of the darker unexplained forces that pushed characters together. The story that's unfolding in this portion of the game may seem at odds with that dramatic, quite straight, almost beautiful introduction, but I think it explains it even more; I'm certainly not surprised that the content Fahrenheit's revealing now has confused and alienated some players, as it bends the lines between supernatural and factual in a contemporary setting. This is an uncomfortable mix even for gamers used to the far-fetched content of space operas and fantasy epics.

The interview with Tyler and Carla's boss after Lucas' escape started to show the in-game confusion about what is being seen. They both saw something happening that neither character could explain, this combined with the doubt surrounding Lucas' narration of his experience means we are unsure of either his sanity upon seeing Agatha after her death, or the full depth of what he's experiencing. Fahrenheit feels like an old, familiar story; something lifted from the pages of the old bard, challenging us to explain it away as the net circles in on Lucas.

Now seems like a good time to discuss the game's name -- as you know it was called Fahrenheit in the PAL region, but Indigo Prophecy everywhere else. Which name do you think suits the nature of the game better?

Steven

Indigo Prophecy, definitely. Why? Because it makes sense within the context of the third act, when more of the unique aspects of the game's story start to reveal themselves. Indigo gets explained through another character; prophecy through explanations of what is happening, and what has already taken place. Fahrenheit on the other hand seems harder to associate with the game. Sure, it's a reference to the worsening cold front that is happening simultaneously with the events of the plot, and it's continual decline as things progress, but when compared to the other name it comes across as a distant link that isn't as important. On a pure, unrelated to the game level, I prefer the name Fahrenheit, but that might be because I have a bias towards Mother Nature, so make of that what you will.

I have now finished the game, for a second time (remembering that I did so once when it originally released, too) and came away from my experience with some really interesting thoughts.

When everything was new and I was playing it for the first time, I appreciated it for its mature approach to both its characters and story: their personalities were filled with depth, intrigue and mystery whilst their situations were mostly grounded in reality. As the third act took place, the well-known and perhaps infamous abrupt change of pace was definitely noticeable, with some stranger things taking place, but even so I was able to take it on its own merits and accept everything that was happening. On my second playthrough however, this was different. Instead of accepting it on its own terms and ignoring some of the strange twists the narrative took, I found myself reacting to it like most people who have played it seemingly do: not only was the change in pace severely abrupt, it was immersion-breaking and arguably entirely unnecessary. Events in the story chopped and changed too quickly; what the characters did and how they reacted to what was occurring seemed at odds with their personalities developed in the previous chapters; and the information we're expected to take in is overwhelming and delivered far too quickly. This combined with the intensity of the situations and the faster pace of both the story and our interactions through it culminate in a very hastily done -- in terms of design, presentation to the player (the overwhelming information) and also what we can and can't do as gameplay -- third act that leaves you feeling confused, exhausted and uncertain as to what has just taken place.

These feelings are exacerbated by frustration with the mechanics that exist in this act, the abrupt and hasty interactions feeling like a convoluted mess whereas before it was a bit more moderate and composed. Sure, you are still performing the same sort of actions that you were before, but the added speed and intensity of these moments puts pressure on the player to focus on what they're doing while they are trying to comprehend, understand and show an interest in what is occurring in the narrative. Throw in scenes like the one with Carla in the Asylum and it just makes for a very frustrating, barely enjoyable experience. And my god, the mechanics where you must rapidly alternate between the Left and Right Triggers is just infuriating -- instead of working like they have in previous scenes, the threshold for success or failure varies depending on which interactive moment you're playing at the time. Some let you succeed when you get near the opposite end of the bar -- or in other words, the right hand side after starting from the left -- whilst others expect you to go all the way and maintain it for a prolonged period of time. Failure to do so doesn't result in just a failure of that particular quick-time event interaction, it also results in the loss of a life or complete and utter failure to progress any further in the game, resulting in a game over screen and a need to try again. Under the already overwhelming, intense pressure of the game's final moments, this is just insulting and I wouldn't be surprised if many players out there turned the game off in disgust. It's poor game design -- arguably something that covers the entire game, not just the final act -- and hinders your experience rather than compliments it. It's just such a disappointment after the first half of the game and while I was able to overlook the third act's flaws on my initial playthrough, the more critically inclined and analytical side of me can't ignore them on my subsequent one. They disrupt the flow of the game, alter the player's perception of both its story and characters and, as evidenced by many people's disdain with the final act, ultimately changes the perspective of those playing the game.

It is really unfortunate because, as I've described in our previous exchanges, I really like Fahrenheit. I admire what Quantic Dream attempted to do with, I appreciate their more mature approach with a story grounded in reality which featured characters with a lot of depth, and I really believe that we need unique, intriguing and compelling experiences like it in the videogame medium. Linear, open-world, narrative based or gameplay based, videogames have the potential to do a lot of things, and Fahrenheit demonstrates just one side of that spectrum. Precisely, then, why I'm so disappointed that its potential wasn't quite met.

But, despite all this, I still have some things I'd like to say about the game's narrative, and of course the characters as well. I'll save those for when you've finished the game though, as I'm sure you have a response to what I've covered above as well as your own thoughts on what happened to Lucas, Carla, Tyler and Marcus. I just hope I haven't tarnished your own experience with my disappointment described above, because really, flaws or not, Fahrenheit is a truly unique game that I firmly believe everyone should try at least once. Thoughts?

Fahrenheit (Part Two)

Known as Indigo Prophecy in the States, this ambitious title was Quantic Dream's magnum opus until the release of Heavy Rain. Mere days before their newest title was about to be released, Michelle Baldwin and I embarked on the mission of playing the game through together. What was revealed over time was an in-depth analysis of Fahrenheit's timeless artistic style, characterisation and design principles. The following article contains heavy spoilers.

You can find part one: here.

Michelle

I say mistakes because I've noticed that while this is a game that is deeply aware of the player's personal decisions there are also clearly choices that do lead to a "game over" screen, either by complete accident or when I simply dabbled with the rules of the game, trying to figure out how clever its boundaries were. Could I pull the child from the frozen lake and then run? The answer is no, I was found and caught; there was no room for half-decision or wily intellect. Some of the finer moments of the game are distinctly black and white despite moments that suggest otherwise.

So far I like all the little insights into the character lives -- what makes them tick, the locations in the game seem very linear with the emphasis being on the character driven moments; their decisions and their motives, this along with the rapid fire decision making that you've mentioned allows multiple people to experience Fahrenheit in a number of different ways. So you've picked up on moments and detail that I wouldn't have looked twice at, and the differences are stark and interesting. Fahrenheit does look much better than I thought it would be I must admit -- part of this is because of the upscaling due to playing it on the 360, but regardless it's still a beautiful game; and mostly because the atmosphere produces both dramatic and artistic moments. The colour palettes are distinctive, that almost sepia filter styling the game. It's no high definition action adventure title, but it does have a beautiful charm to both the setting and characterisation choices. I don't need to see the individuals pores in Lucas' skin, his expressions and carefully cultivated emotions show more than the detail could.

I've mentioned how much I like the character of Carla, I can't convey enough how much as a female gamer I have to watch women in games simplified to caricature, lying in wait for their hero to wait to rescue them, and if they are blighted by some character problem which makes them unable to function without a leading man. Strong leading or supporting women are rare, and as such the majority of female characters are extremely difficult to relate to. I particularly liked her character driven moments, her playful fight with Tyler to help her unwind and her strong sense of camaraderie even while she's in the ring with him, those playful pats and smiles shared between them were lovely.

So the moments I spent trying to navigate her through the police archives were very frustrating for me as a player, but an inspired choice for character development -- her phobia was a perfect way to bookmark how ordinary she is, full of fear and indecision just like everyone else. I think I'd have disagreements with Quantic Dream about if that was the best way to approach it, having to juggle controlling her fear through breathing in a time consuming QTE which provoked my first major frustration in the game.

I fear I am not growing as attached to Tyler as I should be. Out of everyone in the cast he's an extremely pragmatic sort of guy -- but to me it also feels he's the main comic interest to the story. That may just be down to chance, his appearances coincide with the funnier moments of the game: such as the book owner putting on a fake Chinese accent, a late rush to work, and two very tongue in cheek instances of breaking the fourth wall. You mentioned Tiffany, but Sam -- Tyler's partner -- made more of an impression on me, she was a very real face on the risks involved in the fly away stories that games often create. Sam reminded me that we're only ever a few steps away from tragedy (or worry about someone) and games don't always manage to convey that sense of loss when the worst happens at all effectively. It was a bittersweet moment that deserved a pause for thought.

Some of the weirder influences of the game are starting to creep through now -- I'm no longer entirely sure what the darker influences controlling Lucas are, who he's being controlled by, and just who all these shadowy creatures drawn to him actually are; his conscience? Something fallible? I can only speculate. But what is clear is that the nostalgia scene of his past makes it unclear just how long he's been marked by this shadow. I imagine that scene was included to help place further doubt on Lucas' recollection of events. That said I didn't completely enjoy the retrospective part with Marcus and Lucas as children, I felt it was a distinct change of pace from the rest of the game, but Fahrenheit has the right balance of adventure, intrigue and annoyances. It's well paced, throwing in another curveball as soon as the drama is starting to tail off.

The introduction of Agatha was a particularly interesting moment, exploring the darker themes of the game that the opening scene explored, through that kooky house, slanted camera angles and rooms full of birds. And I must say I think this is a game exploring the ideas of innocence and experience, how even the most intellectual and open-minded people (such as the four main leads) understand very little about the true boundaries of the world they find themselves in. Revisiting the murder scene with the gaps in Lucas' memory return was a moment of intrigue - a fabulous plot device - just a shame that it had to be endlessly punctuated by QTEs, although I get on with Fahrenheit's usage of QTEs quite well they distract from the cinematic moments a great deal and are used a little too often. I imagine Agatha has a particularly interesting backstory that I hope is developed more, as I no longer fully understand what is going on spiritually with the game anymore; I am still on tenterhooks.

Steven

Well, without trying to spoil anything that will come up in the future, you and I are both probably in the area of the game where things start to change up and head towards that confusion you appear to be already going through. When most people speak about Fahrenheit they praise it, but also always mention the third act's abrupt change of pace, and how it impacts on the overall experience. Back when I originally played the game, it didn't bother me too much because the overall experience was so unlike anything else I had previously played, but I could always understand their concerns. But this is something that will no doubt be discussed later, so I'll save any further thoughts for then.

There's no denying that Fahrenheit explores some really interesting themes and subjects, and I think some of the scenes you have mentioned are prime examples of this. We have insight into Lucas' past, which elaborates not only on him and his relationship with his brother Marcus, but also the weird and vague mental issues Lucas appears to have. As far as Carla is concerned, we see that she's a normal person who sometimes needs to do something to unwind every once and a while, to clear her mind and distract her from what she has been focusing so hard on -- namely the murder. We also learn of her Claustrophobia, and the inclusion of such a normal fear in a videogame is a remarkable point when compared to other games in the industry. Claustrophobia is a natural fear that countless people go through, and they each deal with it in different ways.

Unfortunately for us, as the players, we have to deal with it by pressing the left and right triggers in tandem to simulate (awkwardly) the act of breathing. Do it too fast and we fail; don't do it enough and Carla gets scared and has to run out of the archive. Balancing the moment whilst also trying to find the Kirsten file is, frankly, quite tedious, and it's too easy to focus on one action while forgetting to do the other. However, the scene is admirable in its attempt to not only feature a commonly-found fear in a videogame, but for also having the guts to try and make it related to gameplay. That's the thing that stands out to me the most about Fahrenheit overall: what it attempts to do may or may not be successful, but exploring more realistic themes within a narrative is a step in the right direction for the maturity and continued growth of the videogame medium, and the very fact that Quantic Dream tried these things says a lot for their ambition as a developer, their passion for the medium and their desire for it to progress. I share these qualities, which is why I was so excited to see what Heavy Rain may deliver, but that's a topic for another day.

The last thing I wanted to mention today is my disdain towards the Quick-Time Events. Out of all of the games out there, I would suggest that Fahrenheit utilises QTEs in the most interesting and exemplary sense, but when I think about that further I realise that it depends on the context. When performing the more mundane tasks in the game -- such as getting a drink, checking email on a computer or playing the guitar -- the corresponding buttons make sense and aren't a chore. The gentle pushes of the right control stick required to perform a task are controls that flow well within the context of the game and thus, feel natural to do on the controller. But whenever the two coloured circles -- both of which have four directional movements that light up whenever we need to press each control stick in that direction -- appear, that's when things become awkward and arbitrary. It shouldn't be difficult to punch a punching bag or shoot hoops in a one-on-one game of Basketball, but it is because of the quick reaction times needed to push both control sticks in the directions displayed on screen. We only have seconds to react, and it's very easy -- because both circles look exactly the same -- to get confused and press the wrong one. This problem is exacerbated in the more intense action sequences, where our ability to hit these commands as required defines our success in them. It is very easy to fail and get game over because you didn't react to these convoluted sequences quick enough, or because you made mistakes under the heat of the moment.

Which brings me to another flaw that I think Fahrenheit has: it's far too easy to fail and have to redo scenes again. For example, the scene in Lucas' apartment where you need to clean up after the murder and before too long a cop comes to investigate some screams reported by the neighbours; here you have a whole bunch of menial tasks you can do, either to clean up or to relax Lucas who is distressed over his recent actions. The order in which you go about these tasks, or even whether you do them at all, is mostly irrelevant; but if you're not observant and completely aware of the evidence you need to deal with, then it's too easy to get busted (game over) by the incoming cop, meaning you'll have to start again. This is also possible in the opening murder scene -- whereby if you're not quick enough to get out of there, or don't do certain things like pay your restaurant bill, you will fail -- and a few other scenes. For a game that emphasises the human factor in terms of both character development and the actions that are available, the ease with which failing is possible seems at odds with the overall intended experience.

But really, despite the frustrations that these flaws derive, it's very easy to forgive and forget as the game's positives completely outweigh its negatives. What about you? Are there any particular flaws (aside from the QTEs you've already mentioned) that you are finding particularly cumbersome?