juushika

don't take it personally, babe, it just ain't your story
Christine Love, 2011
At a prestigious high school in the year 2027, all students have computers at their desks and all teachers are given full access to their online communication, public and private. While peeking in, new teacher John finds himself swept up in the lives, romances, and dramas that play out among seven students in his English class. don't take it personally, babe, it just ain't your story is a free visual novel by Christine Love, written for NaNoRenO (the visual novel equivalent of NaNoWriMo). As such, it has many of the flaws and limitations that you'd expect: gameplay consists almost entirely of dialog choices, user input has only a moderate effect on the story, and there are sprinklings of typos, clichés, and heavy-handed plot elements. But despite its simplicity and lack of finesse, there's something unexpectedly wonderful about don't take it personally, babe, it just ain't your story. Additively fun yet surprisingly thoughtful, it reads not unlike a high-quality fanfic or BL manga and it's often the best that it can be given its limitations, and neither one of those is a backhanded compliment. With shipping and slashing, outlandish humor, and wish-fulfillment galore, the game has enormous appeal if it—and gay teens and romantic escapades and high school drama (and internet culture, too)—are in any way your thing. But Christine Love has an good eye for character design and dialog, and behind the fun and games there's always depth: on issues of sexuality, identity, communication, and love, don't take it personally, babe, it just ain't your story is surprisingly perceptive. There's plenty of little things here to stick with you—insightful bits of dialog, meaningful interactions, and truly enduring characters. If wish-fulfillment is the cake, then this complexity is eating it too, and it makes for a satisfying dish.

Not everything comes up roses, however. Players already familiar with gay slice of life dramas may find don't take it personally, babe, it just ain't your story enjoyable but not revelatory. As a game, it has the potential to use interactivity to set it apart from those similar stories, but (in large part because it's a visual novel) it doesn't capitalize on this opportunity. The game's lighter aspects occasionally run away with themselves, which is harmless until things grow too ridiculous to allow for suspension of disbelief. In particular, John is never convincing as a teacher; as a result there are no natural boundaries in his student/teacher relationships, and it means nothing when those would-be boundaries are broken, and the story suffers for it. The limitations of the game's format and production value do leave a mark: while its subtleties excel, its explicit themes and subjects are handled poorly. This is somewhat redeemed by how relevant and thoughtful those issues are, but that doesn't really matter—the bad (and sudden) twist ending is a disappointment in itself, and it also makes sure that what the game tries hardest to do, it does worst. And so don't take it personally, babe, it just ain't your story has issues—sometimes plenty of them, sometimes in direct contradiction to its strengths—but they're never enough to ruin the game, and they certainly shouldn't deter interested players from checking it out. For a few hours of free entertainment, don't take it personally, babe, it just ain't your story is fantastic—and even without those caveats, it's a little treasure of a game. I enjoyed and recommend it.

I liveblogged don't take it personally, babe, it just ain't your story here on my Tumblr, but take warning: it'll do just about everything to spoil the game for you.

Mirror's Edge
EA Digital Illusions CE, 2008
To be blunt: Mirror's Edge is the worst game that I have ever tried to play. To be more specific: Mirror's Edge is a brilliant concept with horrible execution, and more than bad it is simply disappointing.

In a conformist dystopia, where all communication is government-monitored, couriers called runners evade government security to pass messages via the city rooftops. When her sister is drawn into an assassination plot, a runner named Faith leaves the safety of the shadows to discover the heart of the conspiracy. The game is set in striking white landscapes with bold accent colors, and the soundtrack is incredible. The player runs walls, climbs buildings, and jumps stairs from Faith's first person point of view. Momentum and timing are key to building a free-flowing run across the rooftops.

Or at least, that's how it should work. But Mirror's Edge is flawed—consistently, frustratingly, inexcusably flawed. It's a good game gone bad, in just about every way that it could.

Forget couriering packages or peaceful runs across the rooftops. Faith forgoes couriering to save her sister, and with the plot comes interiors to traverse, police to evade, and a distinct lack of wind-in-the-hair free-running. Interiors generally have one correct route, and that route isn't always logical—finding it is a matter of trial and constant error. The combat is, for lack of a better word, horrible: it depend on clunky controls and annoying quick time events, and feels like an afterthought—which is ironic, considering there's at least one required fight in almost every level. Between the single route and the constant hail of bullets, Mirror's Edge becomes a panicked run followed by a hurried death, and then you get to try it again and over again. The plot destroys all the freedom that the game promises—and it's not even worth it. Told in poorly animated cut scenes at the end of each chapter, neither the writing nor the animation is enough to make the story compelling.

With a different plot Mirror's Edge might be a great game, but it's still full of inexcusable bugs. Forget well-timed, graceful jumps from catwalk to rooftop. The game's controls are simple and context-sensitive, but they're also horribly flawed. Almost everything is mapped to the shoulders (with no option to manually remap), a cumbersome choice. The context sensitivity isn't particularly sensitive, and intended wall runs often turn in to accidental jumps and plenty of falls. The game's tolerance is extremely low, and it can take a dozen runs with the exact same moves before Faith finally decides to put out a hand to grab that ledge. To top it off, infrequent checkpoints punish each death with plenty of material to replay. It's as if the game developers never played their own game. The finicky controls and constant dying is frustrating. A successful run isn't the product of smart jumps and careful timing, but rather pure luck and a dozen retries—and that's not how this game should go.

I keep coming back to Mirror's Edge because I want to love it. It is a beautiful game with a brilliant concept, both unique and ingenious. With a different plot and better controls, it could have been amazing. But as it is, Mirror's Edge is nigh unplayable. It's not hard, in the manner of challenging the player to better performance, but frustrating, in that it's too easy to die because the controls fail or a punch doesn't connect or one ledge is arbitrarily better than the other. I'm glad that we rented it rather than buying, and I don't know if I'll finish it. I find Mirror's Edge more frustrating than it is enjoyable. That's a pity, because a successful rooftop run is a liberating, beautiful experience—but the opportunity for one is all too rare.

Someone turned off the air conditioner last night and I tell you, the silence of the house this morning was almost uncanny. The guinea pigs shuffling and talking to themselves near echoed through the house. You learn to tune out the sound of the AC, but never quite dismiss it—and it was lovely to live without it for a bit.

Penny Arcade Adventures: On the Rain-Slick Precipice of Darkness: Episode One
Adventure RPG
Created by Penny Arcade and Hothead Games, 2008
Available for Xbox, Windows, Mac and Linux
Game website
Penny Arcade
New Arcadia appears to be a peaceful, ordinary place—except that the darkest evil lurks beneath its quiet streets. When a gigantic robot destroys your house, you team up with Gabe and Tycho of the Starting Developments Detective Agency to discover what the robot is—a journey which, in this first episode, takes you from alley to boardwalk, pits you against mimes and clowns, and ends with your first boss battle. Rain-Slick Precipice of Darkness is an episodic game; Episode One is less than ten hours long and takes the player up to level 15, but levels, character, and abilities will carry over into the sequels. With script and humor pulled straight from the Penny Arcade comic, a promising but inconsistent battle system, and a mix of bulky 3D and amazing 2D comic cut scenes, the game is quite good, fun to play, but not perfect. It will appeal most to fans of the comic and I do recommend it—but I hope that the following episodes are even better.

( Long review. )

I just finished replaying the first Kingdom Hearts game, and am currently deciding between continuing with (ported) Chain of Memories or a replay of Kingdom Hearts II. Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the pleasant glow that comes with completing a really good video game. And true to my over-analytical form, I come with some thoughts on the game, and how it was to replay it.

Kingdom Hearts was the second console game and RPG that I ever played (the first was Final Fantasy X, which I've also loved and replayed). I played it for the first time some years ago (just after it came out, I believe), never played Chain of Memories (as I don't own a GBA), and played KHII as soon as it was released. I loved both games, but I noticed a gap in information—years had passed since playing the first game, and since I'd never played the sequel, I was missing a lot of information coming into the first game. Granted, KHII is playable under those circumstances, but they aren't ideal. So it made sense to come back to the first game—and, well, it's a great game in its own right, and warrants replay.

For those that don't know, Kingdom Hearts is about a young boy named Sora. He begins on Destiny Island, and has two close friends, Riku, an older male who has always been his competition, and Kairi, a female that often becomes the source of contention for his friendly battles with Riku. The three of them dream about leaving Destiny Island for the greater worlds beyond, but their dreams become reality when their island disappears into the darkness, scattering them on the worlds beyond. Sora awakens in a world-between-worlds called Traverse Town and soon teams up with Goofy and Donald, who have been sent by their King Mickey to track to find the Key: a magical weapon that holds the power to fight the darkness, and to save and seal the worlds threatened by the darkness. Sora is the Keyblade Master, and together the three go off to discover and seal new worlds, and to try to find Riku and Kairi. It's an RPG with real-time "slash and hack" action battles, and a combined effort of Square (who contribute a plot worthy of Final Fantasy and many FF cameos) and Disney (who contribute many character designs and the worlds that Sora and his friends visit).

( Some thoughts on Kingdom Hearts, a replay. )

There were definitely some annoyances, but I was incredibly pleased with this replay of Kindgom Hearts. The story, plot, and characters speak for themselves: they are all at once idealistic and realistic, with sights set on concepts such as the Heart of Hearts, Light, and Darkness while struggling through the personal issues of identity, belief, choice, and fidelity. The combination of Square and Disney is remarkable and unexpected—it's a bit foolish and exaggerated, but the plot and the characters still bring it back to the realm of delicate and nuanced. The gameplay is fun, and a friendly mesh of RPG and action, which means that it works well for players that rarely stray beyond RPGs and/or are somewhat lacking in manual dexterity (myself included).

It was a fun game to play the first time, and even more enjoyable this second time. I'm glad I came back to it, and let me tell you, the bittersweet glow at the end of the game is truly enjoyable—and it glows all the brighter knowing that I have the sequels sitting there just waiting for me.