Red Dead Ruminations: Life In The West

Red Dead Redemption is a fantastic game. It was last year when it was first released, it continues to be now and, in a decade or so when people look back at important videogames (again, since we all love doing it so much), Red Dead Redemption will stand out as a significant and crucial release. The reasons for this are many and have been detailed plenty of times elsewhere, particularly last year when it was the focus of everyone’s conversation, but it is still worth pointing out anyway because games like this don’t come along very often, and deserve all the attention that they can get. That is why, over a year since it released, I’m still going ahead with my own series of posts about the game -- simply put, it inspires a lot of thoughts and discussion, and I’m certainly not excluded from that fact.

So, what do I think about the game? Well, as I’ve said twice now, it was my introduction to the Western genre, so it was especially interesting playing the game with that in mind, discovering and learning about the core qualities of that particular genre. Perhaps even more fascinating, however, was how I came to realise that Red Dead Redemption is an even better take on the old Wild West because it doesn’t specifically focus on the genre’s tropes or quirks, and instead treats them as mere details in a much larger, broader experience. Beyond that, my fascination with game spaces saw another intriguing game to consider, given how incredible RDR’s environment is -- both in scope, and in detail. Of course, being a Rockstar game the atmosphere and sense of place in Red Dead Redemption isn’t surprising, but it’s still very interesting to think about because, I feel, the game stepped it up another level again -- even over Grand Theft Auto IV, in some respects. Finally, I was interested in the game because it seemed like Rockstar were intending to continue their more mature approach to their storytelling, first seen in Liberty City and GTA IV. While some characters are questionable, for the most part it really came across as if Rockstar were trying to pioneer, yet again, with Red Dead’s narrative, and the end result of that is remarkable, depending on the context. I will address the game’s characters, general plot and my connections to both in future posts but, for now, let’s talk about my introduction to the genre, and the game’s interesting use of its environment.

Why hello, Mr. Marston

Entering into a game (or any entertainment product, really) that adheres to a specific experience with no idea of what to expect is, somewhat, surreal. Red Dead Redemption’s general adoption of Rockstar’s open world template, however, ensured that there were enough features in the game that were familiar to me whilst I learned about all of the elements that were foreign: I knew about their emphasis on atmosphere and a sense of place in an expansive environment; I knew how the game ‘felt’ due to its similarities to Grand Theft Auto; and I was also quite familiar with the game’s structure of cut-scenes, objectives, and then rewards. This allowed my attention to be firmly focused on everything that was new (to me), meaning that I was able to get engrossed a lot quicker than I initially expected to. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was how the Western status of the game took a back seat to the rest of the experience -- it is a videogame based in a Western setting, not necessarily a Western itself.

This was surprising to me because, before release, I was totally expecting the videogame version of a Western. That was how (I thought) the game was advertised throughout its hype campaign and the various previews and interviews, and that was what I wanted because, as I keep on repeating, I was new to the genre and wanted to use the game to see whether I liked it or not. And it did answer that question, too -- I did get to see what a Western entailed, and I did get to understand what my own personal stance on such a specific experience would ultimately be, but I acquired that insight indirectly as I engaged the whole adventure and not just certain aspects of it. On the surface, the tropes and incidental details that you’d expect from a Western -- duels, train robberies, cowboys saying “giddy-up”, etc. -- are present and accounted for but these traditional elements of the genre simply aren’t thrown in your face in Red Dead Redemption. Instead, they exist in the background: just like sheriffs and ranches do, like cacti and wolves, and, indeed, like the desolate landscape itself. They aren’t included in the game to ensure its authenticity to the genre or to inform its players that, yes, Red Dead Redemption is a Western; they’re merely details in a world full of them, and they give this world weight through their beautiful, delicate, coherency. Recognising that fact -- that RDR is a game with a Western setting, rather than one that is a Western -- took some time and didn’t occur until well after I had finished the game. But once I did acknowledge this subtle distinction, I realised that it enriches the experience in the same way that the little things do for other titles.

Attention to detail is one of Red Dead Redemption’s most significant qualities, but I think it would be fair to say that most people wouldn’t think about what it does or doesn’t do with the genre as one of the areas in which the game carefully creates its overall experience. I would argue, however, that this is why the game is so remarkable to begin with: it took a genre from another medium, adopted the essence of it for a new one, and masterfully turned it into something that wasn’t just unique, it was only possible as a videogame.

On The Lone Prairie

Not too long ago I wrote a post expressing my disdain with the notion that, eventually, Liberty City from Grand Theft Auto IV would be forgotten in favour of more impressive environments, perhaps even from another GTA. As technology and graphical fidelity continue to progress -- among other things -- I can see a future in which Liberty City is no longer considered a technical achievement or a sense of wonder, indirectly allowing for it to become a memory much in the same way that, say, the entirety of San Andreas has -- a particularly fond memory, undoubtedly, but a memory nonetheless.

Well, unsurprisingly, I feel the same way about Red Dead Redemption’s magnificent depiction of the Wild West. Like Liberty City, I believe that the game’s environment is one of the best examples we have yet of a world that feels like it truly exists; only this time the game’s particular setting ensures that we’re revisiting a bygone era, rather than a modern metropolis. The sense of place, life and, of course, atmosphere in Red Dead Redemption is unparalleled, and somewhat conveniently exists as the demonstration of what the opposite of Liberty City could and should be. Instead of the urban jungle we have an expansive piece of land which teams with wildlife, sporadic hints of civilization, and which features a surprising amount of variety. I will address that last one in a future post but the point is that there is simply nothing like Red Dead Redemption’s landscape, and the fact that it is so incredibly detailed and full of unexpected surprises is not only a testament to Rockstar’s prowess with creating these virtual worlds in which we get to inhabit, but to their ability to showcase some of this generation’s most significant technical achievements, too. Few other developers can pull off such a large environment that is full with things to see and do, and fewer still can also provide a place in which key, personal moments can occur for each and every player.

But it’s not about how impressive or special it can be; rather, it’s about how in the not too distant future I get the impression that, yet again, Red Dead Redemption’s landscape is going to be forgotten in favour of something else that is bigger, better, and certainly more beautiful. Right now that sounds absurd but we’re talking about a videogame, too -- the medium progresses at an insane rate and, as we’ve seen time and time again, it only takes a couple of years before a game is completely outclassed by something newer. Just look at the differences between The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim for an example of what I am talking about: both games are amazing at the time of their release, but the inevitable iteration and technical advancements of the medium ensure that, eventually, they’re seen as less impressive and even, at times, ugly. As we reach and surpass the uncanny valley and photo-realism that problem becomes less significant but, right now, it’s still an issue and because of this I fear that, like Liberty City, Red Dead’s world will become nothing more than a memory for the majority of people because there simply won’t be any reason to visit it anymore. There will be better and, while I can’t wait to see what that might actually be myself, I also dread it because I personally believe that these environments that we already have now -- today, in the current generation -- should be cherished and even celebrated -- if not for their impressive coherency, than certainly because of all the resources, hard work and effort that went into making them.

Ultimately this disdain I feel for the (potential) future of these game spaces is a personal thing that I have developed alongside my passion for virtual spaces as a whole, and while important it doesn’t necessarily reflect how I feel about the future. I’m eagerly awaiting what might appear on the horizon, and already have some idea of what that future entails with games like BioShock Infinite taking us to places that, once again, we cannot go in reality. The future is very bright when it comes to virtual worlds, but I’m not going to jump up and celebrate their arrival if, as a consequence, what we already have now is left behind and forgotten. That’s not the kind of approach I want to take with a medium I hold so dear, and that’s why I’m a little more reluctant to proceed than the majority of gamers out there.

***

That’s some of my initial observations about Red Dead Redemption. A review, if you will, of some of the things that stood out to me upon the game’s completion. Naturally, being a Rockstar game means there is plenty more to talk about, and what I’ve covered above is only scratching the surface. In my next post I will discuss the opening moments of the game, and how they effectively set up the overall experience whether we realise it or not -- where better to start covering such a large game than the beginning?

Red Dead Ruminations: Overview

I wasn’t supposed to play Red Dead Redemption.

That’s the feeling I have after finishing it a few months ago, and after many instances where I almost gave up on playing the game because of circumstances (mostly beyond my control) that tried to ruin my experience with it. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the game -- quite the opposite, actually -- but, for whatever reason, various things tried to get in the way of what should have otherwise been an awesome time. Anyway, I’m past that somewhat bizarre mish-mash of extremely positive moments and strange, negative situations, so now it is time to actually talk about my time with Rockstar’s Western epic.

In my preview of the game I mentioned the fact that before Red Dead Redemption, I hadn’t experienced anything in or related to the Western genre, and that I was using the game as my first foray into this unfamiliar territory. Sure, I had heard plenty over the years about the genre and had a fair idea of what made a Western a Western, but it was still interesting to head into the game with no preconceptions about what to expect or how I should be feeling. Not only that, I wasn’t sure whether I would actually like the genre, so I looked forward to using the game to satisfy my personal curiosity.

Now that I have played it, I have a fair bit to say and this series will cover everything that came to mind during my time with the game. While originally I was playing it when everyone else was, I stopped after just a short time due to an unfortunate spoiler that essentially rendered the game, particularly its story, meaningless and irrelevant (one of the aforementioned instances that nearly ruined my enjoyment of the overall experience). The spoiler was so strong that it turned me off the game and it has only been recently, months after release that I was finally able to return to it.

It has been incredibly interesting experiencing my very first Western. There have been some great moments and some unfortunate ones, some things that have captured my attention and others that I found utterly boring. All in all I recognise Red Dead Redemption for the great game that it is and firmly believe that it deserves all the praise and respect it continues to receive, but it isn’t perfect (what game is?) either, and I’ll discuss both my positive and negative responses to the game over the next few posts. I hope you’ll enjoy what I have to say about something that was so new to me.

Metroid Marathon: The Beauty Of Bosses (MP1)

[Part of a series of posts in which I discuss my favourite videogame franchise: Metroid. Today, some of Metroid Prime's bosses and how they are designed to teach players through intensity and strategy.]

The boss battles contained in each Metroid game are one of the franchise’s staples, their challenging but not impossible design sitting as some of the highlights of each installment. Metroid Prime’s bosses are no different and follow the tradition of offering some intensity to the isolated adventures of Samus Aran, not to mention ensuring that the skills learned prior to each battle and the abilities obtained throughout the game are utilized in an effective manner.

Combining organic creatures already native to Tallon IV and those created or influenced by the strong presence of the Space Pirates and their operations, the boss battles in Metroid Prime contrast nicely with the otherwise lonely journey of the game to create its diversity whilst simultaneously also appearing to enhance the game’s narrative, themes and overall outcome. Ranging from mutated (not to mention enlarged) creatures such as the Parasite Queen found on the space frigate Orpheon, to the giant, lumbering beast that is the Omega Space Pirate, each battle and each foe offers something new and distinct from what has been seen previously whilst also continuing the trend of more difficult and menacing foes as the player (and thus, Samus) progresses. What this means overall is three different things: first, the chance to test and master the skills that have been formed over the course of the game; second, moments to look forward to after long sessions of exploration and loneliness; and lastly, a change of pace (and intensity) after slow, gradual progress and enemies that pose little to no problems. It’s about challenge and strategy but not at the expense of progress or the other key elements that make up a Metroid experience, namely the exploration and discovery.

Interesting, too, is the way in which these battles take place -- and, perhaps more importantly, why. Right from the very beginning of the game, as players gently ease themselves into the 3D, foreign feel of a Metroid title viewed from Samus’ own eyes rather than from a side-on perspective, a boss battle exists, designed to teach a skill that will become key later on in the game: that of strafing from left to right (or vice versa) to avoid enemy fire. The battle is simple in that there’s hardly any strategy to defeating the Parasite Queen, with quick, rapid blasts or powered up singular shots from Samus’ beam cannon making quick work of the easy opponent. In fact, the only challenge the battle poses is from a spinning force field that protects the queen, but it has enough holes in it that it’s not a problem -- if there’s no gap, you don’t shoot, simple.

Samus staring Flaahgra down in the first major boss battle of Metroid Prime.

Contrast that with Flaahgra -- the mutated plant boss found in the Chozo Ruins and the source of the poisoned water that posed a small problem in traversing the remnants of a lost civilization -- who does offer a challenge and requires some strategy in order to attack. Not only is strafing important in avoiding Flaahgra’s acid attacks, confidence with locking onto the solar panels that is providing sustenance to the enlarged plant is key to efficient success as, later on in the battle, Flaahgra can knock them back down with one of its many stems. The goal of the fight is to knock the solar panels away so the sun’s rays are no longer providing energy to the plant boss, causing it to collapse with exhaustion and its tentacles to retract, allowing Samus to quickly morph into a ball so she can slip through the tunnels that were previously blocked and let off a morph ball bomb in the mechanical slot -- a technique learned prior to the battle not long after the ability was acquired -- in order to deal damage. Rinse and repeat the process -- a staple of Nintendo’s library of games and certainly not exclusive to the Metroid series -- and before long Flaahgra is down, alleviating the problems of a contaminated area by allowing the water supply of the Chozo Ruins to become clean and pure once more.

Future bosses provide even more complexity and challenge, the Omega Pirate and Metroid Prime itself standing out as the game’s most difficult boss fights, but regardless of whether it’s at the start of the game or at its end, the bosses in Metroid Prime serve a purpose in teaching, using (abilities) and changing (the game's pacing), even if only for a short period of time. They’re fun distractions more than anything else, but the lessons learned in fighting these monsters go on to serve the rest of the game, and in doing so only enhances the experience rather than hinders it. It’s a shame other games can’t get this process right more often, not to mention as elegantly as Metroid Prime does.

Metroid Marathon: The Little Things (MP1)

[Part of a series of posts in which I discuss my favourite videogame franchise: Metroid. Today, a look at the incidental details in Metroid Prime that are so easy to overlook, but enrich the experience when noticed.] 

If three big moments characterized Metroid Prime’s transition from 2D to 3D for me personally, then it is the little things that form the game’s unique personality, give it its atmosphere and constantly surprises almost wherever you turn. It’s the little things that, when combined as a whole, give Metroid Prime a level of detail that few other games can achieve, and when separated provide a subtle, if even unnoticed, addition to the game’s immersion.

Attention to detail isn’t new in videogames, however, the effort some developers put into their games to create an experience that is unlike any other often being the key contributing factor as to whether the overall product -- the end result of a carefully considered vision or idea -- is successful or not. Games like the Uncharted series, Grand Theft Auto IV and BioShock all take care to include the little details, minor additions that will cooperate and assist major ones in forming a particular point of view, understanding or atmosphere, each enhancing the overall experience rather than detracting from it.

A Sap Sac hanging on the side of a wall.

But Metroid Prime’s attention to detail is, I would argue, a lot more subtle than the aforementioned games -- and it’s worth pointing out that they’re all current generation games, too -- using existing features of the game’s world to enhance the immersion. Rain droplets fall onto Samus Aran’s visor if she looks up towards the sky, whilst other drops splash and bead on her infamous beam cannon. Flamethrowers in the Magmoor Caverns area of Tallon IV -- initially something to be avoided -- can be frozen once the Ice Beam has been acquired, progress beyond them now achievable with relative and quick ease. The electricity of Samus’ Wave Beam pulsates whilst the Ice Beam leaves a tiny, cold fog as she moves her beam cannon around. Juice from a Sap Sac drips once it has exploded, whilst acid from a mindless creature’s attack splashes on Samus’ visor upon impact. Fish gently swim amongst the water, quickly scurrying as Samus draws near; a reflection of Samus Aran’s eyes and face can be seen as a burst of light emanates from a nearby explosion; steam clogs up her visor and limits visibility for a brief period of time. When submerged underwater -- particularly before the acquisition of the Gravity Suit -- movements become slow and subdued, with a pleasing sense of weight and a floaty feel making for a nice contrast to the usually quick, agile movements enjoyed on land; the morph ball’s bomb jump ability also shares a similar feeling of weight and casual buoyancy, bobbing up slowly rather than bouncing immediately as on land. Continuing the underwater theme, it actually feels like you truly are submerged when traversing its many depths, the cold, blue and translucent water stretching out beautifully while the aforementioned movement and the game’s clever use of sound enhances the feeling and ensures its effectiveness. Few other games can achieve this submerged feeling -- BioShock 2 is one of the only other examples that comes to mind -- keeping the immersion high and the game’s unique attention to detail amazing.

Fish scurrying about as Samus approaches.

Enemies also receive this level of attention, with a variety of ways to kill them coming to mind. The environment plays a part, a carefully placed shot on a nearby Sap Sac instantly killing something upon its explosion, whilst an idle defense turret can explode on impact from a missile or be disabled by a few shots of the Wave Beam, collapsing it in confusion. The Space Pirates aren’t immune either, their weaves and dodges of one beam quickly turned around as you freeze them, their bodies crumbling to pieces upon another concussive shot. Even boss battles contain subtle ways in which to attack, allowing for strategies that might not be immediately obvious.

The little things may not be unique to Metroid Prime nor might they be instantly apparent, but they all combine to enhance the game overall and assist with immersion, leaving a tiny but acknowledging smile on the face of those who notice them, and indirectly improving the experience of those who don’t.

A Racing Realism Example

Earlier this month I posted about the ways in which racing game developers chase and strive for realism, by visiting real life tracks and demonstrating their attention to detail in things like development diaries. Well, conveniently, Turn 10 have released two videos for the upcoming Forza Motorsport 4 that are exactly what I was talking about in that post, and below I have embedded them so you can understand my article a little better.

Both of these videos focus on specific tracks, one real (Hockenheim) and the other fictional (The Bernese Alps), and as such don't necessarily cover everything that I was talking about in my post, but they're still a great example so I encourage you to check them out if you think you will find it interesting. Even if you're not into racing games like I am, watching the two videos might still be of interest to you if you find the way studios approach their development of games fascinating in any way -- it's very easy to forget, sometimes, about the amount of effort and passion and creativity that goes into these big, blockbuster videogames, so it is nice to be reminded of such when things like these development diaries come along.

Anyway, here they are.

The Bernese Alps:




Hockenheim:

Metroid Marathon: Metroid Prime's Magic Moments

[Part of a series of posts in which I discuss my favourite videogame franchise: Metroid. Today, a look at three moments in Metroid Prime that I believe are pivotal for why it went on to become my most cherished game. ]

One of my favourite things about Metroid Prime is how three particular moments define my personal experience with the game, and demonstrate why I believe the game went on to become so revered. These moments are small in comparison to the majority of the game, but they stand out because of their clever use of subtlety and implied storytelling; their demonstration of just how successful the transition from 2D to 3D actually was; and because of the way in which they compel you to keep on playing through the allure of exploration and discovery. They represent my fondest memories from the game and below I detail why.

Space Frigate Orpheon

As you may have gathered from my previous post, I found the opening segment of Metroid Prime to be quite amazing -- not necessarily for what it does or what it shows (though that is impressive), but because of how quickly it put you into its unique take on the Metroid universe, and how suddenly it allowed you to assume the role of Samus Aran. Practically immediately you enter that first-person perspective and see the world how she sees it, and this small but significant fact is why I think the game begins so well: it doesn’t waste time with exposition or trying to set up the differences between a 3D Metroid and the prior 2D ones but, rather, it puts you in Samus’ shoes so she (and therefore you) can resume her adventure. After all, this is Samus Aran: she doesn’t have the time to waste on easing players into her life or explaining why things continue to go awry; she’s on a mission to do her job as a bounty hunter and it’s up to us to engage with that fact, not the other way around. The whole reason she’s even on Orpheon to begin with is to investigate a distress call, not walk us through some tutorials and demonstrate how the rest of the game will play.

But that’s the beauty of this entire level, too: it does teach us how to play in what is, essentially, intuitively designed tutorials, but we wouldn’t ever know it because as soon as we gain control, we have inhabited the role of Samus Aran. Right from the get go we can move our (emphasis required -- Metroid Prime is a shared experience between Samus and the player) visor around to survey our surroundings, our reward for doing so being the large and beautiful Tallon IV that looms in the distance; a nice close-up of Samus’ gunship if we turn around; and asteroids gently hovering past just begging to be used as target practice. A quick couple of shots from the beam cannon reveals the level of detail we can soon expect to be the norm as they break apart, how efficiently our shots can dispatch whatever we line up in our sights, and how pleasing and simple it is to use our primary weapon. Switch over to the scan visor and we notice the distinct red and orange of objects that can be scanned, the boldness of the former suggesting important points of interest whilst the latter gives us information that might be relevant to our interests and/or objective. Like shooting, scanning is also basic and accessible, and it isn’t long before the force field gates standing in our way -- the first, proper hint at a tutorial -- are dealt with, allowing passage to the only door that provides entrance into the frigate.

Space frigate Orpheon with Tallon IV looming in the background.

All of these things are incredibly small compared to the rest of the game and, indeed, even the opening level -- we haven’t even gotten inside Orpheon, after all -- but they’re significant because of what they do to begin the experience. Straight away we learn about our main methods of engaging with the game, through clever but minor obstacles and subtle cues that entice rather than enforce, and almost instantly we are eased into the adventures ahead and our role as Samus Aran. But while these aspects of the opening segment are for the player’s benefit, we also see Samus approaching these unknown surroundings in the only way that she can: agility and acrobatics as she jumps from her ship and lands on the Orpheon; instant investigation as she scans her environment and starts to discover what is going on; and confidence as she moves past those simple gates, shoots a few asteroids and enters the frigate. She may be alone for most of her journey but within seconds of arriving she has already displayed why she is so effective at her job, and why she has as much respect as she does: put simply, she gets the job done, but does so in a way where she’s the most informed and where she can have the best approach -- nothing more, nothing less.

Tallon IV Overworld

Changing pace from the impressive beginning of the game, landing on Tallon IV for the first time stands out for its beauty, as well as the way in which it sets the tone of the adventure. Metroid Prime is organic, its environments coming across as alien but entirely natural at the same time, and our first visit to the Overworld is, perhaps, the best example of this. Flora dominates the landscape, the Red Starburst and Glowing Spidervine capturing particular attention thanks to their bright and (in the case of the Spidervine) luminescent appearance. There’s also a quaint waterfall and small pond in the vicinity, the latter of which is lined with another type of plant unique to the planet: the Tallon Fern. Combine such gorgeous foliage with the rain that saturates the landscape and beads down the sides of Samus’ beam cannon, and you have an arresting environment that is absolutely foreign and yet, at the same time, totally comforting to us (both as players and as Samus), too, given how natural it all looks. It looks like a wet jungle, feels like a rainforest and lends the game an atmosphere that is not only completely different to what was found on the Orpheon, but is much more relaxing and utterly awe-inspiring. In some ways, it’s even a poignant moment: a chance to catch a breath, take in the view, and contemplate before continuing the adventure -- how many other games offer such opportunities (and so early, too) to their players?

Tallon Ferns in front of a very prominent waterfall.

The wonderful thing about this particular moment, however, is how captivating it is upon reflection. It might be engrossing each and every time you experience it, but even more beautiful is how it stands out in the memory and defines your connection to the game. Its organic nature and relaxed atmosphere correlates with some of Metroid Prime’s core qualities: the ability to inhabit and explore new environments, and to do so at our own pace, not a predetermined one. Its immersion at its finest, then, and something that only increases as you progress and discover the intriguing fauna of the Tallon IV Overworld region, and what they add (and mean) to the planet.

Phendrana Drifts

No post about Metroid Prime’s most significant moments would be complete without a mention of the Phendrana Drifts and, in particular, the first time you get to see them. Many players highlight this moment as one of those true ‘gaming moments’ that seldom appear but always resonate, and I’m not one to disagree: it is one incredible moment -- most certainly my favourite -- and it stands out because of how perfect it really is. Everything about entering the Phendrana Drifts region for the first time is amazing, because of how cohesive it all is. The beautiful snow glistens under the sunlight whilst those gentle piano keys of the level’s wonderful theme tune begin to play. The camera slowly pans out away from Samus to reveal a relatively large room, full of new things to see. Obviously, a snowy area is a complete change from all of the levels that had been experienced thus far -- especially the fiery depths of Magmoor Caverns -- but, more than that, what is visible in these initial moments goes a long way in setting up the region as a whole. Standing tall in front of us are some rocky pillars, a small river winding through them. Atop a cliff reside some destroyed buildings, clearly of Chozo origin considering we have already visited the Chozo Ruins and learned that they once inhabited Tallon IV. Scattering about in the sky, hastily, are some bird-like creatures, whilst over on some ledges we can see some small life-forms crawling about -- new species that we haven’t seen before, and which continue to define and add personality to the planet as a whole. An icy lake also exists here, small fish scurrying around proving to be yet another example of the level of detail that can be found in the game.

Screens don't do it justice; this place is stunning.

By now we’re fairly experienced with playing Metroid Prime and certainly familiar with how to advance, what our objectives are, and how to approach whatever lies before us. This means that the Phendrana ‘moment’ doesn’t last long as we are quick to resume our adventure, but even so that doesn’t take away from its incredible impact -- it is this moment that defines the entire game, for me, and exemplifies why Metroid Prime as a whole is so remarkable and unique: it’s atmospheric thanks to the strong cohesion visually and aurally; it instills a sense of loneliness and even mild melancholy because of the minimal life, ruined structures and subdued tone; and despite the moment stopping us in our tracks, momentarily, it becomes nothing more than a memory as we quickly continue on our journey. Metroid Prime as a game is renowned for its atmosphere, isolation and discipline, and despite being quite a breathtaking, mesmerizing scene, we soon ignore the beauty to focus on the task at hand. Like a holiday snap on vacation it recalls a moment in time that was delightful, but as soon as you look away the impact is gone and things return to normal.

Proof, then, that small things can be just as important as their larger counterparts, if not more so, and that the execution of a moment requires incredible attention to detail. Speaking of which, detail is the subject of my next post, with specific emphasis on the little things that make this game such a delight to play.

Metroid Marathon: Remembering Metroid Prime

[Part of a series of posts in which I discuss my favourite videogame franchise: Metroid. Today, recounting my initial experience with Metroid Prime, a title that went on to become my most cherished game.]

Do you remember the first time you played Metroid Prime? I do.

Seeing Samus' Sci-Fi epic begin was an amazing moment, her 3D adventure leaving me in absolute awe as I first stepped into her shoes, but not before a marvelous display of her agility as she leapt from her gunship and onto the opening area: the abandoned space frigate Orpheon. Here to investigate a distress signal, assuming control of her was remarkably relaxing. The planet Tallon IV loomed in the distance, its rich blues and bright yellows standing out from an otherwise derelict, almost ruined frigate. Floating above were small chunks of space debris -- asteroids slowly making their way past, a carefully timed shot from Samus' beam cannon breaking them apart, revealing a neat example of the detail that would later be found throughout the game.

Entering the space frigate was eerie, the initially narrow hallways instilling a sense of claustrophobia (exacerbated by the uncertainty of what was to come next -- particularly for someone completely new to the Metroid franchise) that hadn't been felt in any other game prior. Discovering the first signs of disaster was chilling: a carcass of a test specimen lied uncomfortably across the floor, small parasites chewing at its lifeless hide. Scanning the environment revealed that Orpheon's escape pods had all been discharged, their destination somewhere on the planet below, whilst space pirate bodies were strewn across the room, their cause of death varying from the severing of a spinal cord to traumatic blows to the head. Farther into the frigate's desolate ruins was yet another room with a story to tell, this time containing another example of the specimen found before, safely in a state of hibernation, while helpless space pirates attempted to attack. Their last-ditch efforts seeming almost sad as we swiftly put them out of their misery.

Omnipresent humming sounds and sudden explosions as Orpheon's panels started to collapse ensured an atmosphere that was haunting, our isolation as we continued forward causing brief, poignant moments of hesitation yet interminable curiosity as we discovered yet another piece of information about what may have taken place here. The ship's computer systems provide some facts, an experiment with a substance called Phazon and some of Tallon IV's native life appearing to have played a part in the ship's devastation, while pirate logs reveal a hasty retreat, a reaction to the fall of the planet Zebes, and a fear about the possibility that "The Hunter" (clearly Samus Aran) may be following.

Metroid Prime's first boss may be easy, but that doesn't mean she isn't creepy.

Deeper into the frigate, yet more space pirate bodies and debris lay strewn across the barren floors, our wits tested once again as the ship's defense system, some mounted ceiling turrets, attack on sight. After a short elevator ride a cheeky space pirate drops from the ceiling, his attempt to unnerve us with his sudden appearance failing as a few shots lay the final blows to his fragile body. Then we find her, the Parasite Queen, crawling out of a duct and into the ship's reactor. Protected by shields she begins her attack, though the spaces in her defenses provide an easy way for us to fight back, her timely death causing her to fall into the reactor's core, initiating the ship's self-destruct sequence.

The following escape is intense, the frigate's structure collapsing as we run through its ventilation shafts and tunnels. More defense turrets attempt to impede our progress, but a quick scan of their control panels deactivates them and allows us to continue on our way. Farther along we find Meta-Ridley, a cybernetically enhanced and reborn Ridley after his defeat on Zebes, his fleeing an incentive to follow. Tracking his flight pattern, Samus escapes Orpheon and lands on Tallon IV, its heavy rain providing a distinctive change of atmosphere as we look around and see the lush but alien plant life. Attention to detail is rife here, as exploration and scanning starts to peel back the layers of the planet's ecosystem, its flora and fauna's appearance proving to be surprisingly compelling. Raindrops fall gently onto Samus' visor, an impressive technical feat back then, whilst mist hovers above a small pond. Everywhere you look there are neat little details that immediately make Tallon IV a captivating place, and they definitely make for a wondrous change of pace after the creepy, confined spaces of the now destroyed Orpheon. Instantly, a sense of adventure is instilled inside of me as I search my surroundings and learn, along with Samus, just what this foreign planet has in store for me. Preparing for the unknown, I take a moment to take in the beauty before firing off a shot at the nearest door and continuing on with my... no, our adventure.

All of the above happens in the first hour or so of Metroid Prime and, when compared to the rest of the game, it seems almost insignificant. But despite this, I thought it was worth reflecting on these initial moments, recalling the time I (and perhaps you) first experienced what Metroid was like in three dimensions, and when the game's atmosphere, mechanics and wonderfully alien art direction were revealed for the first time. Like Mario and Link's before it, Samus' transition to 3D was a special one, and it is an experience that will stick inside my memory forever. But it's not the only fond memory I have of this game; there are plenty more moments that deserve some attention, too, and I'll discuss those in my next post.