Gaming Reverie

I’ve been sitting at an odd-smelling coffee shop, idly, for something like an hour now. It feels good: I’ve been getting some quality space-out time and I just received a free toddy because I was told the last was too “watered down” (though, to me, it tasted perfect). The current barista is a good chap in that he’s my kind of guy. The music is medium-loud, the sub is not too abrasive, and his taste is impeccable and eclectic. I’ve heard everything from Lou Reed to Ween to Louis Prima. And it’s being “djed” all hyperkinetic-like, with 8-minute epics being cut off at the halfway point, and obnoxious songs being quickly replaced. Three cheers, my friend.

The spacing out is allowing ample time for blog reflection, as well. I’ve been having thoughts such as: it’s silly to think of what constitutes a “good” blog. And this is very, very true in the most annoying way. I recently read a blog design site to get some ideas for, you know, design, but instead there was a Top 5-style list of “dont’s” for your blog. One of the top ones mentioned the importance of leaving out the mundane: Don’t tell us about your lunch, your walk to the bank, or your dental appointment. To me, this is silly. As a friend pointed out to me recently, many of the best writers allow a type of voyeurism. Bukowski, Fante, and Harvey Pekar came up. The three all write about the little details in ordinary life, just like the supposedly “worst” blogs do. Thing is, though, they write about these details beautifully. Voyeurism at its finest. It really makes sense, too, to write about these things. We can point out what is not apparently interesting about them. If someone takes a trip to Rome then, well, that’s obviously interesting. You don’t need to prove that to me. You need to prove that it can be written about in an interesting way. The topic can’t hold its own, bloggers.

If there’s any true blogging advice it should probably be something like this: Be you. Write yourself. Write Well.

But let’s talk about zombies, because they’re truly more important than something as trivial as blogs. A friend recently declared his dire need for some kind of zombie-based MMO (Massively-Multiplayer Online game). Luckily, the universe is well on its way to facilitating that need. Two luscious options have manifested themselves in the gray, unwelcoming mist of gaming:

The Last Guy

Expected to be released in North America sometime this year on PSN, The Last Guy is realistic in a very odd sense: it incorporates the magic of Google Earth. You’ll basically be killing zombies with a top-down view of the world itself. And that’s all I really know. That and it might just be an online multiplayer game.

Resident Evil 5

The next incarnation of the series looks exactly like the last, but that’s a good thing. Plus: there’s a co-op mode. An online one.

Yeah, neither of those games are MMO’s. But they do make me want to kill zombies. And they’re clearing a path towards a more complex game of the sort. Yes, I do believe we’re well on our way to kill the undead before we become unalive.

Oh, Reggie. You’re no longer dangling on the precipice of shame — you fell all the way in, along with other NOA executives, with your hokey artifice and obvious marketing shtick at your last press conference.

Just for the record, that’s Reggie Fils-Aimé, president of Nintendo of America. And no, he’s not as cool as the beloved Mario creator Shigeru Miyamoto (A.K.A. Shiggy). But that’s not going to stop him and his execs from acting like clueless game-illiterate parents.

I should probably mention that at said press conference, Miyamoto and a “band” played a version of the Mario theme music for the upcoming Wii Music game, completely butchering it with a shoddy Caribbean take and missing notes and generally not knowing what to do with their own game.

I should probably mention that Fils-Aimé himself played a Wave Race clone in the upcoming Wii Sports 2, also poorly.

I suppose their message is that, well, they don’t know what they’re doing with these games, so the masses of America can take comfort in not understanding them either.

Former 1up.com writer/blogger/1up Show persona Jenn Frank seems to have a new website project well underway, with the name of InfiniteLives. The site is niche in that it serves a market for reading about books about games. It looks to offer reviews for said books, as well as commentary and thoughtful analysis on games, as well as the issues that continually intertwine, mingle, and occasionally elope with them.

And though I’ve read at least a handful of books about games (and currently breezing through The Ultimate History of Video Games), the site’s “backlog” of books to review include titles I haven’t heard of yet, with titles like “What Video Games Have to Teach Us About Learning and Literacy.”

And… there’s nothing else like it. I’m kind of curious about this, in a quietly excited kind of way. Not squealing-under-my-breath excitement, but, you know, more of the kind that elicits a pleasant sigh.

Introducing: A NEW Animal Crossing Game!
…Or not.

It’s entitled Animal Crossing: City Folk, and it’s remarkable in that it has the exact same graphics from the Gamecube romp six years ago. Fascinatingly blurry textures will be intact!

Actually, this is all fine and good, as I will eat up this game whole, sitting in the grass with K.K. Slider listening to fresh melodies.

Hey, you.

How are you liking the blog so far? I think it’s kind of shit, myself.

I suppose it isn’t really a “blog” in the proper sense. Case in point: I aspire to never dole out necessary information. I also aspire to never dole out the minutia of my life. Instead, I’m looking to give you little trinkets, tidbits, and whatnots that may have all or nothing to do with gaming, life, and philosophy.

Currently, though, I’m writing to you in the corner of an old library, basement level. Dust and books everywhere. I’m enjoying the sterile-yet-warm feeling of this room. So many old books. So much new paint. The room has nowhere to go with its style. It’s like trying to pigeonhole a strange Beatles album or one of those late Kubrick films into some mold that feels comfortable. But that will never happen. No, it never will.

Maybe it’s this room that is the direction I want to take my blog. Sterile yet old, frightfully weird yet cozy. So I’m asking you: prepare to be uncomfortable. Read on, champ. Truly beautiful things can and will happen, but only when we’re frightened.

Well, the Wiimote really doesn’t get any more silly than this. In order to stay on top of the competition, a new Wiimote accessory allows you to aim the thing with better accuracy. It also possibly necessitates the purchase of yet another expensive Wii thingy-ma-bobber, as well as further economic gain for Nintendo.

Remember the original Mega Man? Back in prepubescence, I played the very first in the fourth-storey computer nook of my 4-storey house. I was in there, cramped in pj’s with an NES late at night. I remember my family had friends over, and they were about to watch Beetlejuice for the first time. I had no idea, at the time, that it might be brilliant.

But I remember that it slightly pained me, to walk downstairs instead of beating the Gutman stage that had plagued me so. If I could have cried, I would have. But I was somewhat conditioned not to cry.

Anyway, Mega Man 9 is coming out. With the same graphics as the first. This, my friends, is something that has never happened. This is, like, the equivalent of the first time a director decided to go back to black & white.

Presenting: a return to 8-bit form.

The industry, the game industry (as it were), may have hope. Maybe it’s about something besides graphics and rendering.

I truly find this astonishing. A play-through of 1-8 has never been more necessary. Perhaps I’ll even post my thoughts on the series on this very page.

Keep your eyes peeled in thin layers.

The last few hectic weeks, I’ve taken a warm liking to Grand Theft Auto 4. Its been the soft, tasty biscotti for the coffee that is my PS3. Make that an americano, actually. Four shots.

I’m admittedly a hooker-killing virgin; it’s my first game in the series. But while I’m completely amazed by the game, I’m still not convinced that this iteration has achieved anything different as far as gameplay. Instead, there are some wonderful additions to the main design, all in the name of technology. You use texting to control the frequency of most of your social life. You use dating sites on the internet, while checking your mail and deleting spam. The only thing missing? In-game blog posts, with comments from leading roles in the game.

This is all very real and all very cool, but it also allows for a heavy waiting period for something many players would call the Actual Game. If I hadn’t heard rave reviews from practically everyone, I may have been convinced this game was purposely distracting itself from the story of the game. But of course, it’ll all come in due time. I’m 10 hours in, and the missions are finally starting to mean something more than small, unnecessary deviations from major characters and themes. Protagonist Nico Bellic, an eastern European immigrant new to New York Liberty City, isn’t developing much personality thus far sadly, aside from making obvious mistakes as far as who to deal with, and who to kill. But he’s still likable. And slightly more complex than GTA’s previous ugly, testosterone-controlled gun-toters. Maybe eventually I’ll learn something about his war-heavy background. Maybe that’s my prize at the 20 hour mark.

Sure, it’s a “sandbox” game: one where you are free to roam around Liberty City, pushing pedestrians, killing hookers, getting drunk, and crashing helicopters (yes, even into buildings — gasp!). But by playing the first few hours there’s a sense that the missions won’t ever amount to anything.

It’s as if Nico took a trip to Liberty City planning on doing nothing but commit petty crimes, for people he barely knows or cares about. And that’s all that keeps happening. I feel like I’m stuck in the asscrack of his shitty self-fulfilling prophecy.

Beautiful game, though.

Video games. Glare of my life, fire of my thumbs. My savior, my soul.

Put a controller in your hand. Con-troll-er. Say it: two steps down the palate to end, awkwardly, at ‘Er.’ Lips pursed, you resemble a mouth-breathing goon. It’s OK, friend. Feel the ergonomic delight. Cradle it. Too intense? Briefly put it down. Take a breath, and seek out a beverage. The refrigerator is just in the other room.

I can wait.

Now, look at yourself for a moment. You are playing a game, aren’t you? Maybe you are not. Perhaps you’re playing a Wittgensteinian sort of game; a language game. Maybe there’s a game in your love-life; a game of wits; a game entirely, utterly in your head. A game of chance. A game of WoW while you’re reading this, you multi-tasking God, you. Pat yourself on the back. Gently, now.

These games, they all exist, but here I will be only speaking of the video variety. And let me tell you, it’s a great variety to write about. Seriously, vices never felt this good. Not here, in life. Example: I’ve yet to see a person gaily jump 10 feet in the air. Collected coins never made a ding when picked up off the street. I can’t skip unnecessary cut-scenes. No level-ups, and my bosses are too big to conquer.

I will be writing to you daily. My name is Austin Boosinger, and I will gladly take your hand if you choose to join me. Play this game with me.

Look at this cavalcade of pixels.