As time goes on, I find myself being repeatedly surprised at how much I enjoy shorter games that showcase a complete vision. It's happening so much that I really need to start expecting it as the norm, instead of the exception. Gone are the days when a huge open-world epic appeals to me more than a tightly polished experience that hits every nail on the head.
These days there seems to be a regular turnover of silly little games that end up doing the rounds on every YouTube and Twitch channel you can find. Most of the time they're just thoughtless meme games that allow whatever personality to act like a bit of an idiot for the entertainment of others, so I tend to avoid paying attention when these kind of games surface. I never felt compelled to play Goat Simulator, and I doubt I ever will. So why did a short little game about a goose catch my eye?
There are some developers who always pique my interest thanks to their track record and Remedy Entertainment are no exception. While some studios can be known for a franchise or a singular gimmick, Remedy have what I like to call a recognisable signature to their games. As with other developers of their calibre, this underlying style manages to go a whole lot further than a franchise or mascot ever could.
In some ways, the term "open-world" has become a bit of a dirty word these days. It can either stand for freedom and exploration, or a never-ending to-do list of pointless objectives. While the big budget blockbusters love to fill their huge maps with boring collectibles and errands, it's actually a joy to play a game that encourages exploration, but doesn't waste your time.
Every now and then I read some article on some gaming web site that attempts to go in-depth on the notion that video games and movies have something in common. There's an ongoing discussion about whether the two mediums are able to be combined, or if they should ever cross paths at all. At the very least, I think many of us will have played a game that straddles the line between video game, and movie.
There once was a time where you'd be forgiven for thinking that "indie game" was synonymous with "small gimmick". At least, that's how it seemed for a while, when many successful little indie titles made a name for themselves for whatever unique mechanics they employed. Braid had the rewind-time thing, Super Meat Boy had the tight-controls-but-totally-difficult thing, even Minecraft had its procedurally-generated-blocky thing.
I always think it's a little weird to think of internet trends in terms of eras and generations. Then again, we've been interacting and socialising online for a long time now, so it's bound to reflect the ups and downs of real life to some extent. While I wasn't young enough for the super early stages of the internet, I was definitely around for the ICQ/Netscape/MySpace era.
Finding a truly original game is often like finding an original movie. These days they're mostly remakes and reboots of stories and actions that have already been proven to work. Turns out we're a simple kind of animal and seeing the same thing we always expect to see is a good way to sell products. Although, sometimes we need to leave those expectations at the door if we're to experience something truly special.
I've never been one of those people who believes media classics to be untouchable and something pristine and perfect. Perhaps I'm not that sentimental when it comes to the things I remember enjoying as a kid, or maybe I've seen nostalgia used far too often in marketing empty promises. Actually, I put it down to being a fan of Blade Runner.
Oh how I love a good twin-stick shooter. The simplicity of the mechanics, the awe of the aesthetics, and the challenge of the moment-to-moment gameplay. All of these things make up one of the purest and most satisfying gaming experiences you can get, so why do people keep insisting on adding lore into the mix?!
Sometimes I find it quite difficult to sum up my feelings on a big budget game from a large studio. Partly because the good studios have a track record of making decent games with few issues and that doesn't really make for much of a discussion. When my opinion of a game is a simple "it's good", I tend not to make much of a stink about it, even though it probably deserves some praise.
These days, whenever I load up a game like Call Of Duty, I find myself a little taken back by the longevity of such a franchise. After all, series like this and Battlefield have been a point of derision among gamers, as they represent the big money of the gaming industry. For a while it even seemed like there was a genuine revolt against the yearly releases and expensive DLC. The surprising thing is that despite the trajectory of popular opinion, this is a series that has managed to maintain its position as one of the most consistent and reliable triple-A titles on the market.
It's very rare that I get to spend any amount of time with a game that focuses primarily on couch multiplayer. You might already know that I don't spend a lot of time playing multiplayer games in general, let alone local multiplayer. So I'm pretty stoked to be able to talk about Starwhal at all, let alone actually having played it.
After a relatively disappointing experience in Dirt Rally, I figured it might be worth getting back to the mainline series. Sure I might not be as talented as you need to be to succeed in a more 'hardcore' take on rally driving, but at least this one has difficulty levels. However, it turns out that difficulty isn't the only thing that can kill the series.
To this day I'm always amazed at how much I enjoy certain simulator games. Not because I have something against the genre, but the ratio between good and bad simulators has been levelled heavily in favour of the bad for a long time now. In fact, it seems that genuinely decent simulators are rare enough that when one comes along, it should be held aloft for doing things the right way.
Sometimes I wonder if a good game is actually not that good, but I have some irrational interest in one tiny element that makes it worth playing. Other times I wonder if I dislike a game that's actually brilliant, but there's one key part that ruins it completely. All of me knows that both of these things are true, so let's try not to think too hard about it.
I always think it must be difficult to carve out a visual identity for a game development studio, as it kind of puts the cart before the horse in a lot of ways. After all not every game will fit into the same style guide, unless their scope remains limited as well. Is it worth giving up a little bit of depth to retain a strong identity? I'm still not sold either way.
You'd be forgiven for thinking that a classic genre like point-and-click adventure games has nothing new to offer. In fact, for the most part I believe you would be right, as even when we transitioned from 2D to 3D, the format still remained the same. Turns out that it takes a little bit of imagination and circumstantial context to inspire something truly unique and interesting.
As an artist, I love abstraction just about as much as the next guy. In fact, as a designer it's one of the most important tools in the box, as the essence of good design is arguably the ability to abstract concepts to their furthest point. Thankfully, this doesn't only apply to visual art, but I'm sure there are threads of abstraction found throughout video games as well.
One of the coolest aspects of modern gaming, has to be how accessible it is for everyone involved. As gamers we have the choice of so many games coming from so many different sources. Whatever your budget, there's something out there of quality to play, even if you don't want to spend anything at all.
