Super Metroid – The Tenets of a Metroid Game

August 9th, 2010

The Tenets of a Metroid Game

Although Metroid can be categorized as a platforming shooter within a space-themed context, the franchise isn’t so much about the shooting or the jumping at all. Rather, Metroid is all about that misplaced bit of space rock. You know, the one with a little bit of extra fungus. The one that, after met with a morph ball bomb, will string you down a tiny alley to a small chamber containing the next power-up. Progression in Metroid hinges on the abilities granted by various power-ups which are connected to a string of environmental puzzles. It’s in the player’s ability to realize these puzzles through acute observation and then use their ability set to act upon their observations that Metroid reveals its true colors as a game of deep observation and multi-faceted problem solving. Metroid has always relished in being more than what it presents itself as, and series fans appreciate the franchise for valuing the deep implicit over the loud and overt. There’s a maturity in the series which has gone untarnished even as the franchise has evolved from two to three dimensions.

Metroid is also an innovator, but rarely proclaims its achievements on the back of the box. The Metroid games have not just defined but also realized a style of video game narrative that intertwines story with landscape. Oftentimes in a Metroid game, you’ll find yourself entering a world where events have long passed, and as the player you piece together story through the visual, audio and interactive pieces of the landscape (in the Metroid Prime sub-series text is also included). Through it’s environment Metroid builds a civilization and tasks the player as a defacto cultural architect. In this regard, many of the environmental puzzles, particularly those which require the use of machinery or are constituted with cultural relics, act as demonstrations of civil processes. Rarely do video games build lore this rich, or yet, so seamlessly into the fabric of the gameplay. Metroid is a narrative of few words, but with depth that many strive for.

Tense atmosphere and the sense of isolation felt by the player are also tenets of the Metroid franchise. In Super Metroid, the title screen with the baby metroid in the jar establishes an almost complete absence of life. Again, the setting, but, more correctly, the sound is used as a device to control mood. Where many other games opt for busy noise, Metroid instead opts for controlled instances of silence followed up crescendos which build and create tensions. Moments where little happens, but much is felt.

Since the atmosphere, narrative and overall framework for exploration are harmoniously built into the environment and therefore the gameplay, Metroid is a franchise that stands as a testament to good game design. As Metroid‘s design is very medium-centric, relying on the factors that define video games (interactivity, adaptive environments), the franchise excels at conveying atmosphere, narrative and challenge to the player.

More obvious to mainstream video games folk is the fact that Metroid, through protagonist Samus Aran, champions femininity without sexualization or even glorification of the empowerment of women. Metroid, particularly Super Metroid – the title in question – has been a standout title for speed running, the art of completing a game in the shortest time possible. Overall then, Metroid is an eminent video game series, a series which fosters exploration, harmonious narrative and gameplay, atmosphere, works against the grain of video game gender stereotypes, yet facilitates dedicated game communities through speed running. And for all this, in the sense of the games themselves, Metroid is modest about its achievements which makes it all the more a champion.

Rationale and Authorship (Heavy Rain)

July 27th, 2010

Now that we understand the different roles the player commandeers in a video game, we can begin to understand the rationale behind our choices made in Heavy Rain.

Because of the subject matter, I will obviously be divulging major plot spoilers, so I urge you not to read on if you haven’t already completed Heavy Rain. If you have, however, then please feel free to include your own rationale in the comments section below. Perhaps we will compile the most interesting responses in a separate article if there’s enough interest.

Trial #1
Driving into Head-on Traffic

Being the initial trial, the parameters of the Origami Killer’s twisted game aren’t yet so clear. Like many, I presume, I accepted this trial partly under the assumption that the game wouldn’t hurt me – that so long as I followed the rules, Ethan would remain unscathed. This assumption and the supposition that “hey, it’s a game and I should just play along” overrid the consideration set outlined in the previous article. My assumptions turned out not to be true — whether by my inputs or by design, I don’t know — as I completed the challenge, but flipped the car and could not reach my reward.

Trial #2
The Electricity Plant

Considering the pain Ethan went through in the prior trial, I felt a little uneasy about the electricity plant. You could just tell that things were going to get worse. There are two stages to this trial but only one decision, since you cannot bail out of crawling through the glass-filled chamber. The question is whether you’re willing to walk through the electric minefield. The generators instill a sharp sense of fright and my knee-jerk reaction would have been to steer clear. However, above all else, I wanted to relieve Ethan of this burden and I knew that irrespective of me, he would have seriously contemplated this decision. I don’t know very much about power stations and while venturing ahead would obviously put Ethan at high risk, this unfamiliarity with the danger allowed me the waver the ethical dilemma of any unfortunate consequences. As such, I made my way through, but misread the signs and nearly killed myself, prompting Ethan to automatically forfeit.

Trial #3
Cutting off the End of Your Finger

The third trial will always stick in my mind as its the most savage of Heavy Rain‘s emotional string-pulling, and the first time a game made me feel immense frustration and self-hate. You’re situated in a vacant room and asked to cut off the end of your finger in front of the camera with any of the utensils available in the room. The stress is compounded by the fact that you will fail to cut your finger from the bone on your first attempt and have to fight the agony in a second attempt.

This decision prompted a primal sense of rationality, so I was quick to make and execute on my decision. I decided to go ahead with it. There was, of course, some conflict. As a viewer and a director, I knew that I would be putting Ethan in a world of agony that he would never wish to experience and I would certainly condemn myself for watching, let alone participating in. The chips were stacked against me though; I’d failed the last two trials which meant that Shaun would drown to death if I didn’t produce results. There was nothing in my way this time. I could get a tangible result, all I needed was to go through with the torture. Furthermore, having gone through this much pain already, I imagine that cutting off a part of a finger would be within Ethan’s threshold of pain. I acted quickly and chose the first tool I could find: a pair of scissors. I didn’t even look for anything else; who knows, the game might go back on its rules, but I needed to ensure a win here.

Trial #4
Killing the Drug Dealer

Would you kill someone to save someone else? The rational answer is “no.” It doesn’t make sense to forfeit someone else’s life for the potential of saving another’s. Heavy Rain played on these assumptions though. The target is a drug dealer who, when spurred, tried to end your life. In which case, killing a violent drug dealer can almost be regarded as an act of community service; if caught, Ethan could vouch for self-defense. Another fold to throw your deliberation occurs right before you make the decision, when the drug dealer quivers that he too is a father and pleads against his potential retribution.

I chose in favor of my understanding of Ethan, who I believed wouldn’t go so far as to kill someone else. I made this decision before I even went to the house as I believed quite strongly in my interpretation of the avatar. I am pleased with the decision I made.

Trial #5
Drinking the Vial

The final trial is a fitting apotheosis to the game: would you sacrifice your own life for someone else’s? I had a feeling that it would all come down to this, but the means at which it does (drinking a vial of poison allowing enough time for you to free your son) removes any potential distraction; it all comes down to principles.

I chose not to drink the vial. I figured that given my completion of only one trial, it was likely that Shaun would die and that it would be better to let Ethan survive and live with Madison (who can counsel him) as opposed to letting Shaun survive but live with the anguish of watching his father die. In this way, it was better for Ethan as he had an emotional attachment which could aid him if his son did in fact die in the rain. This decision was universal amongst the roles. It is an ethically sound decision that I wanted to see happen and believed that Ethan would too.

End Game

My endgame hinged on my final decision before I left the hospital as Madison: the orchid in the hallway. This opened the way to the house of the Origami Killer, which I successfully escaped from. I also guessed the proper password for the address of Shaun’s whereabouts which lead to the final confrontation. I couldn’t solve the crime as Jayden, so it came down to a battle between Ethan and the Origami killer which I won. In the end, Madison, Ethan and Shaun move into a new apartment together and Jayden retires.

Conclusion

There you have it, the reasoning behind and outcomes of my Heavy Rain adventure. Despite failing terribly at points throughout the game, I succeeded in the end. What about you? What was your rationale and how did you manage your different roles in deciding on your actions? Please let us know through the comments.

Mario Kart: Super Circuit – A Review

July 25th, 2010

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Developed by Intelligent Systems rather than fixed regulars EAD, Mario Kart: Super Circuit plays the Mario Kart formula pretty safe between the lines of the first 2D and 3D iterations of the series (Super Mario Kart and Mario Kart 64, respectively). Rather than attempt to break new ground by introducing new play mechanics, Super Circuit sets its focus on being a well-executed hybrid of previous games.

For players of Super Mario Kart and Mario Kart 64, the mixed blood elements, namely the combination of the hop and power-sliding, are readily apparent. In Super Mario Kart, a push of the right trigger causes the player to hop, making it possible to leapfrog over minor obstacles, while, at other times, the hop can be exploited to displace your kart at an angle advantageous for sharp cornering. In Mario Kart 64, players could slip into a power slide allowing for long drifts around corners, closing with a speed boost if the player could sufficiently wiggle the control stick back and forth. Super Circuit kinda does both, leaning a little more towards the Super NES iteration. Hopping is still useful for bookending long turns and avoiding minor obstacles, however, if the player holds their slide down long enough a boost will automatically be granted—no wiggling required. Part of the problem with this design is that rarely is there a turn wide enough for players to earn a boost. Or putting it another way, the duration of time required to stay in a power slide is largely incongruent with the nippy curves and bends Super Circuit‘s tracks provide. Furthermore, the tipping point at which you’ll gain a boost (or not) is too difficult to judge, leaving you dependent on the safer bet of bunny-hopping each corner in a spasm of undercutting leaps and slides.

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In regards these twist and turns, Super Circuit is a constant barrage of immediate, oncoming corners which leave you ill-prepared and exasperated. The flashing direction markers become a point of reliance, yet, through the brief visual disconnects created against the player’s place on the track, these signposts work to frequently hinder the player as much as aid them. Coming into a corner I found myself fraught with anxiety, thrown off by the directional aid and unsure of how to first judge the bend; at which angle to enter, and then whether or not to hold a slide, bunny hop or break-stop my kart. The split-second immediacy of the corners hampers flow and throws any form of tactical strategy out the window.

Intelligent Systems’ pragmatic, hardware-concious approach shines through well on the GBA. The use of bright colours help boost the back-light-lacking GBA screen and cups are streamlined to fit in around a portable-friendly 5-6 minute time frame. A quick run mode where you can play any track is also included for short bursts of play. The fact that the 2D character sprites are now modelled on 3D models (as opposed to the flat, textureless SNES sprites) visually make the competition easier to interpret

Intelligent Systems also display an astuteness in the track designs which draw and build upon prior games. Previous games featured shortcuts, yes, but Super Circuit almost goes overboard with hidden routes. (Such a generous number of shortcuts is quite rare in most racing games). Rainbow Road is an excellent example, ramps outline almost the entire track, peppered for all sorts of creative short cuts when teamed with a mushroom or boost pad. As this video below shows, it’s very easy to shave time off your position with a little bit of risk and initiative.

Those awesome loop-around ramps from Mario Circuit 3 return in various permutations, as do obstructions which can be avoided by hopping over, like water puddles. Overall, there’s a fine degree of creative nuance permeating each track, from shortcuts (both major and minor), to weather effects which change per lap, and course-specific obstructions.

On reaching the end of this article, I’m feeling a little uncommitted to my criticisms of the boosting system. I stand by what I say, of course, but I can’t also help but get that lingering feeling that I still haven’t grasped the way the Super Circuit is intended to be played. Having gold-medalled all of the cups (bar the SNES ones), at this point, I feel that if I’ve gotten this far without having properly understood the power sliding mechanics, then there must be something awry with the intuitiveness of this mechanic. I’m really unsure to be honest, if you have any experience with this title, then please do give a holler.