Imperium

I’ve stopped in the middle of watching Gametrailers’ latest ‘Bonus Round’ episode featuring an interview with Jade Raymond, the Producer of Assassin’s Creed.

My interest in Assassin’s Creed is minor at the moment, since a PC version has yet to even show up on the horizon. What made me want to post is something that Jade said about the early stages in a game’s development. She described how, immediately following establishment of a mandate (a central objective), the team at Ubisoft began creating ‘fake game footage’. This footage is meant to be a depiction of what, in the developer’s wildest dreams, the game should be. As such, she said, the footage is of massive landscapes, a plethora of gameplay features and truly groundbreaking graphics.

This reminded me of some conversations I’ve been having recently about Crysis. I’ve been sent links to comparison shots, where an in-game screenshot of Crysis is set alongside a freeze-frame from one of its earliest promotion videos. There’s a startling difference between the two. The promos promised a graphical quality a generation or more ahead of what we see in the released game.

http://img140.imageshack.us/img140/6115/comparisonshotxt0.jpg

Surely these promos are perfect examples of the fake game footage that Jade spoke of. Perhaps then, we shouldn’t hold it against Crytek that they teased us so. Perhaps they just wanted to show us what they were working on. How nice of them.

- Chris

Under advisement, I’m trying out a search engine called Technorati. It’s asked me if I want to claim by blog, which is what I’m doing with this link:

Technorati Profile

Pay no attention.

- Chris

And now, the final part of my review of The Orange Box, Team Fortress 2:

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Team Fortress 2

More so than in any other genre of computer gaming, team multiplayer is only as good as the players make it. Take a look at case number one: Counter-Strike. I’ve been in CS matches that made me feel like a god. Even a steady 2:1 kill to death ratio is enough for a decent session; anything upwards of 3:1 can be euphoric. But, if you happen to be on bad form, or if you’re playing on a server infested with certified members of the l33t club, you can end up spending half of your evening in a state of clinical depression.

If you die early on in a round of CS, you’ve got to wait for all the other players to finish up. In reality, the wait is only ever minutes long; but when you’re spending those minutes thinking of the myriad ways that they could have been used up had you not perished – getting lovely precision headshots on terrorists with your M4 assault rifle for instance – it seems like hours have passed.

Case number two, Battlefield 2, doesn’t have this enforced period of anguish; rounds are much longer and you’re allowed to respawn. However, you’re sorely mistaken if you think that a mere respawn system is sufficient for eternal bliss. Oh no, “we have ways of making your game time suck” boasts an Electronic Arts representative, cowering over you, while a Digital Illusions designer prepares an interrogation droid in the background.

In any one round of BF2, you’ll be shot and instantly killed and have no idea who did the deed, be intensely frustrated by how easy it is for the enemy to down your attack helicopter, repeatedly have your plane blown to bits before you even manage to take off, or have some complete and total arse burger sneak out from behind a rock and plant a couple of sticks of C4 on the rear end of your tank. The list of things that can happen in BF2 that will make you miserable is really quite long.

Now, I’m not saying that Team Fortress 2 will never let you down, and that every moment you spend playing it will be equivalent to drinking from a goblet full of ambrosia; but the fact remains that, in the month or so that I’ve been playing it, I’ve very rarely felt like quitting because I was pissed off. Perhaps the overriding reason why this is the case is because TF2 doesn’t take itself at all seriously. In fact, it really is rather silly.

There are nine classes: Scout, Soldier, Pyro, Demoman, Heavy, Engineer, Medic, Sniper and Spy. They’re all caricatures of roles you might find in other games. The Spy is a perfect example: he has a .357 magnum, a flick-knife for backstabbing, an ‘electro sapper’ for disabling turrets, dispensers and teleporters, and a disguise kit that allows him to look like any class he wants on either team. He can also cloak for short periods.

That all sounds just about normal, but the way that it’s been implemented is delightfully absurd. If a friendly spy passes by, disguised as a member of the opposite team, he’ll appear to be wearing a piece of cardboard over his face sporting an image of the class he’s impersonating. What’s hilarious is that, to the enemy, he looks exactly like one of their own.

The classes are more than just a bunch of weapons thrown together though; they’re characters in themselves. Don’t get me wrong, this is still a fast paced multiplayer game; there’s no time for a heavy to abruptly halt his march half way up a hill and deliver a rousing, soul bearing Shakespearean monologue. What you get in the course of a game are hints of personalities – a few of which have been expanded upon in the ‘Meet the …’ series of trailers that Valve released prior to the game’s release.

No monologue from the Heavy; rather, he’ll exclaim “I love this doctor!” if a Medic starts to heal him, shout “Engineer is credit to team!” if he uses a portal (built by the Engineer) and let loose a manic, bestial roar if he gets a killing spree with his gatling gun. Every class has these wonderful outbursts, not to mention their own set of animated taunts – one for each weapon they carry. These are small things really, but taken together, they’re a valuable contribution to the game’s tangibly up-beat atmosphere.

TF2 has been engineered to foster relationships between players. Rivalries are made official by the Dominated/Revenge system. If you manage to accumulate several kills against a particular opponent, a triumphant horn arpeggio will sound, and he will be labelled as ‘Dominated’ on the score board. But there’s a chance for a comeback; if he manages to kill you in return, his mark of shame is removed and triumph is his. These rivalries are further reinforced by the death-cam, which zooms to your murderer the moment you fall.

The more important relationships though, are those between team members. Fortunately, team play is where the game shines most brightly. Each and every class has a vital role that it can play. The Medic and the Engineer, being support classes, have clearly defined tasks to carry out from the get-go. But in the course of an evening there are going to be plenty of opportunities for the other classes to show their team spirit too.

The Soldier, or the Demoman, depending on the situation in question, are often the only classes capable of breaking an entrenched fortification of fully upgraded turrets. The Soldier can saturate the area with rockets from afar; the Demoman can, if he has the skill, land a bundle of grenades next to the Engineer who’s keeping the turrets repaired. The Spy can be excellent at this as well, disguising himself as an Engineer so that he can get close and perform some sabotage, before or after plunging his knife into the backs of any Engineers present.

The Demoman can secure capture points by covering them in sticky bombs (which he can detonate remotely), a tactic that can also be used to deny the enemy access through entrances and passages. The Pyro can do this (if he manages to obtain the element of surprise) with his flamethrower, bathing a room in fire and driving the enemy out. He can also expose disguised spies by immolating everyone he sees – as long as friendly fire isn’t on, of course.

Almost every action will impart some benefit, however big or small, to the success of the team. Some of these actions are purely selfless; some will also benefit the player. Being a good Medic is all about finding someone suitable (i.e. big, nasty and capable of taking some damage) on your team and pairing up with him, keeping him healed and unleashing your uber-charge on him (making him invulnerable for a short time) at just the right moment. The Medic/buddy partnership is important to the team because it can turn the buddy – previously an ordinary footsoldier – into a juggernaut, forcing the enemy to disperse in fear of his unending stamina.

As a reward for his loyalty, the Medic shares the points from his buddy’s kills. But other team members will look to the Medic for healing as well. If he turns to heal them, he’ll effectively be doubling their staying power; but he runs the risk of sacrificing points, since he doesn’t get any from healing for its own sake. Will he devote himself to his buddy, forsaking all others? Or will he be prepared to leave his buddy and dabble in triage when necessary? It’s a matter for the Medic to decide what kind of a team player he’s going to be.

TF2 is very much an objective oriented game. Except for the sudden death period that follows on from a stalemate, there’s no deathmatch. Instead, there’s a descendent of the classic capture the flag – in which flags are replaced with intelligence briefcases (alleviating that nagging thought in the back of my mind that flags really aren’t of massive strategic importance) – and a control point mode that comes in two or more (I’ve been racking my brain to think of how many, and I failed) variants.

Along with this there are six maps. 2Fort – a remake (so I’m told) of a map of the same name from the original Team Fortress – is the only CTF map. The remaining five maps are structured around control points. On some, control points can be taken by one team and then later retaken by the other, back and forth; on others, the team designated as the attackers must secure a number of territories (preventing the defenders from recapturing them) before unlocking the final one.

The supreme quality of the maps means that it’s barely a criticism to point out how few there are. Compare TF2 with Quake 4 in this respect: Q4 had something close to twenty maps, of which only about three or four passed muster. Which would you rather have? A shed-load of badly conceived arenas, and a select few quality ones that you actually play? Or six well refined beauties that you can really sink your teeth into? And don’t let me forget that many of TF2’s maps can be rotated, so that one set of control points is closed off (essentially a map in itself), and another is opened up. Then we’re really talking about ten maps or more, not six.

There is one major problem with the game that I can think of: the Scout. The basic concept of the Scout is that he’s fast as hell, stings like a bee with his double-barrelled shotgun, can double-jump and capture points faster than any other class. The way things have turned out, he’s still fast as hell, but his sting is more like a bashing from a battering ram, and he can capture points faster than you can say “Oh, bugger! He’s capturing the point bloody quickly!”.

The speed of their captures varies from map to map, but it can be stupefying. One time, I was playing on ‘Well’ (a ‘back and forth’ control point map). I had just respawned and I was exiting the resupply room (the central port of call for health and ammo replenishment) when two Scouts leapt up the steps to the final control point. Their capture speed bonuses stack, so, after they had both reached the point, they won the game in no more than two seconds. I was a Pyro, and even at close range there wasn’t enough time for me to defend against them.

This could be more of an issue with Well than with the class itself, but its an issue nonetheless, and the fact remains that the double-barrelled shotgun does far too much damage. Imbalances can always be repaired with patches though, as can minor glitches on maps such as ‘Dustbowl’ that allow fire to be exchanged before the match has even started.

I posted a while back with my impressions of my first time playing TF2. It was in beta then, and I was stunned by how consistently enjoyable it was. My opinion of it has hardly changed since. If you’re in the mood for a multiplayer experience that stinks of realism and breaks you (rather than eases you) in, check out CS, BF2 or even Call of Duty 4, which has been released in the time that I’ve been writing this review. If you’re just ‘up for a laugh’, then you’re much better off buying The Orange Box and diving into a TF2 match straight away.

✓ Jolly silly
✓ Real teamwork
✓ Well conceived classes
✓ Great maps and game modes
✗ Imbalanced Scout class

90%

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- Chris

The TF2 review is on the way, never fear. I’m just having a little writer’s block again. I’ve also been honoured with the title of ‘Writer’ on www.gamereplays.org, so from now on, my wondrous wit and wisdom will be spread even further around the globe than was previously possible!

I’ve been assigned to write news related to Call of Duty 4, much to my delight. I don’t have the game yet, simply because I was trying to conserve funds, but now that I’m officially a COD 4 writer I should imagine it is imperative for me to acquire a copy.

I flatter myself to think that what few devoted fans I have will humble me with their presence on the COD 4 portal - and associated forums - on Gamereplays.org, where I am known as ’suedama’. See you there!

- Chris

Fresh from my brain, here is the second part of my review of The Orange Box, Portal:

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Portal

You’ll recall that I was imagining how The Orange Box would be stacked, and that Half-Life 2: Episode 2 was on top. I’ve now realised that imagining boxes is the sort of activity that a lunatic engages in, and so I’m going to stop it immediately.

If Episode 2 is a continuation of a grand, sweeping tale (and it is), Portal is a highly original and unique puzzle game. You’re placed in the shoes of a test subject in a laboratory owned by ‘Aperture Science’, a research organization dealing in experimental physics. You awake, from an indeterminately long sleep, into what looks to be a very expensive solitary confinement cell. You have your basic amenities: a bed (which looks more like an escape pod), a toilet and a radio on top of a bedside table. For a while you’re left alone in your cell, with naught but a cheerful tune coming from the radio to keep you company.

Shortly, your solitude is disrupted by the strangely melodic voice of GLaDOS, the resident AI, who instructs you through sequential test chambers. She’s kind enough to have established a perfectly smooth learning curve with her tests. You’re first introduced to the fundamentals of portal technology: there must be two portals, one is red, one is blue, if you enter one, you instantly materialise through the other. No doubt, these are concepts that an ape could master, and quite quickly. The difficult part – the part that certain apes might struggle with – is figuring out how those fundamentals can be used to traverse otherwise impassable obstacles, direct balls of energy to switch on a moving platform, or harness the power of momentum to leap great distances.

There are nineteen tests in all, followed by an endgame chapter that takes place outside of the lab. The lab is beautifully clean and clinical, reminiscent of the stripped-bare aesthetic of the virtual reality in Tron. The walls are made up of tiles with different textures, each texture signifying whether a particular tile can or cannot be used as a surface for a portal. Crucial objects and devices are scattered like rocks in a Zen garden, surrounded by a sea of monotonous colour.

In stark contrast, the moment you emerge from the end of the nineteenth test, you’re immersed in the cluttered, industrial guts of the enrichment centre. It’s about as far from a Zen garden as you can get: there are ladders and stairways that fall apart when you try to climb them, pneumatic compressors that threaten to crush your bones, and massive fans of the kind that make you imagine some poor, foolish soul who falls backwards into them and has his flesh instantaneously puréed. The environments clash, but the portal mechanics remain the same. The challenge is to adjust to the noisy atmosphere, apply your training to more complicated situations, and learn once again which surfaces will support your portals, and which won’t.

Portal is an intellectual game (it made me feel the same mental tingling that I feel whenever I play Chess), but that doesn’t mean it’s not fun. Like the classic lightsaber, the portal gun is a fantastic toy. It’s fascinating to experiment with portals. You can create an infinite loop, where you place the portals at points facing each other. If you open one on the ceiling and the other on the floor directly below, you can fall forever. Or you can put one adjacent to the other in a corner, so that you can see three or four images of yourself, as in a hall of mirrors.

Solving the later, more complicated puzzles is hugely satisfying. The eighteenth test had me quite firmly stumped for a while. I found myself dividing it into several, smaller tests. First, I knew that I had to get rid of the many turrets in the chamber. Second, I’d need to power up the platform. And third, somehow get the cube on the far side back over to the entrance, so that I could drop it on the pressure button in the previous room, and make my way to the exit.

All of the puzzles require you to establish your objectives, analyse the environment, and devise solutions. But don’t let me make them sound like simplistic affairs; it would be a mistake to think that you’ll breeze through every one in a matter of seconds.

Furthermore, don’t let me make Portal sound like it’s deadly serious and only accessible to the ultra hardcore, conundrum solving, Myst playing populace. It’s enthused with fine wit and hilarity, most of which comes from GlaDOS’ ongoing commentary. For instance, she’s quite casual about notifying you of the many dangers involved in the tests, such as the aforementioned flying balls of volatile energy (as seen in Half-Life 2 and its episodes), pools of highly corrosive acid and turrets.

The turrets can speak, by the way – I suspect because the Aperture engineers that crafted them theorised that programming them to plead with intruders in a cute, pitiful voice might catch a few of them off-guard, and persuade them to stroll up to the turrets in a doomed attempt to give them a cuddle. I can imagine the scene now: “Put me down!” the turret begged.
“Oh, so sorry!” replied the intruder, carefully setting the turret down, “are you alright?”
“There you are!” exclaimed the turret, registering movement in its sensor range and opening fire, consigning the intruder to her bullet-ridden fate.

Something that Portal lacks – and this works in its favour – is an emphasis on twitch gameplay. I submit that, from the perspective of a newcomer to computer games, traditional first person shooters are the hardest of all games to play. To play a FPS you’re required to be able to navigate in a 3D space – which means becoming accustomed to using the WASD and mouse combo – and also learn to fire accurately at enemies.

Portal does away with the second prerequisite altogether, which makes it far more accessible than the other two games in The Orange Box. It also lacks an emphasis on violence, present in the other two games, which certainly widens its appeal. So, if you want to ease your girlfriend or your mum into computer gaming, don’t, for the love of all that is good and decent, present them with The Sims; give them Portal.

Finally, much has been made of how short Portal is. You’ll get no argument to the contrary from me. It is too short, in the sense that when I reached the end, I wanted more. Its being short is definitely not a reason to penalise it though. First, the price of the game doesn’t demand anything much longer. Second, its brevity is simply a byproduct of its intense quality. The story is a simple one, but it’s condensed into a rich concentrate. Every puzzle and every room is supremely designed; every object and every line of dialogue is perfect in its time and place. It doesn’t have the emotional depth of Episode 2, but it is a masterpiece in its category.

Besides, it has massive potential for expansion by Valve and by modders. Since the building blocks of puzzles in Portal are so simple, it should be correspondingly simple to design new levels. The hard part of the design process will not be arranging objects and textures to make levels that have the right look and feel; rather, it will be doing the necessary thinking for creating a problem with a clever solution. At least, I hope that’s the case. I’m certainly no expert in the field, so I don’t really have any idea what the hell I’m saying. We will have to wait and see what modderkind is inspired to create. Perhaps, some cake?

✓ Sublimely clever
✓ Original
✓ Joyous
✓ Accessible to non-gaming types
✗ It smells? No, not really.

90%

Check back in a few days for Team Fortress 2.

- Chris