Collecting fragments of my memory

I'm currently playing Assassin's creed 2 (don't expect a review for another week) thus where I ripped the title more or less from. But that is not exactly at all where my intentions lie.

No no no. Truth is I grow tired of this oncoming phenomenon that is sweeping across our sandbox/linear games without rhyme nor reason. And while it appears to be only second to that other annoying trend (QTE's*) brought on by Resident Evil 4 (unless it was God of War's fault...) it has without a doubt seeped into most current releases from now to only a few years back.

*Quick time events for the acronym impaired*


Yes I am blatantly attacking the collection agenda that developers swoon over because of one very simple feat. It adds depth and time to their games and thus it (possibly) hurts resellers of used games/helps original publisher (another topic I'll get into at a later date). But the flaw here completely and unnaturally begins to destroy (linear) games to such a degree that I must question what the hell these people were thinking (other then the whole money thing... Whoops!).

Imagine for a minute - as I recently reviewed Wanted: weapons of fate - that you're streaking the halls (not nude, perverts) nearly dodging bullets while returning fire and smoothly crossing over cover to cover avoiding slugs left and right. Now imagine all the adrenline and all the excitement this brings as you watch the last man crumple beneath your l33t skills... And then you drop EVERYTHING YOU ARE DOING TO LOOK FOR SOME LITTLE ***KING PURSE/COINBAG/CASE/BAGOFWEED/ETC.

Meanwhile the game world carries on without you. More baddies come in and you're still looking through the corners and the garbage and beneath those tiny itty bitty shelfs that shouldn't even exist, all the while your body is riddled with the lead from a thousand uzi's and otherwise obliterating all synergy and continuity you had just a moment ago. Boom, flash of light, flash of black darkness, game over sign, GONE.

A little extreme I know but the reality is and this is a big one here folks, why am I and why should I be searching for these little annoying pieces of whatever when I bought the (insert genre) to do (insert specific tasks). I mean would you really sell a baseball game (say MLB The Show) where at every inning swap (top to bottom) both teams scuttle off the field so that you can relive the enjoyment of bringing out the maintenance crew to manually clean the field up inside a virtual world? It might be interesting to see it done (if it isn't already) but would it and does it justify the time lengthening bullocks currently being employed in what seems to be practically every single game currently/coming out?

I'll answer that for you. No it does not.

But I'll play devil's advacate for a moment. Aftter all how can this be as bad as I say and no one else seems to mind?

Simple fact is collecting stuff is fun just ask Nintendo and their gamefreak department. There's more pokemon alive now then there was/is oil in the gulf. For god's sake if collecting wasn't fun it couldn't and would not have survived the PETULANT GAMER of today's era let alone survive the omnipotent video game reviewer of IGN/Gamespot/etc.

So am I so upset that I can't overlook this (would be) minor glitch in the system?

Well for one *looks up at the disrupting gameplay* I'd say my biggest problem is three fold. For one, why in every game are we collecting these things without some form of contextual reward (other then the beloved achievements)that assists the in game world? Does every collection gather need rewards? No, but if you want me to drop (the game version of) reality for some silly nilly object I certainly should be rewarded other then a little blinking instant message saying that I just won the game. Look to Mercenaries 2/Grand Theft auto/Armyoftwo/etc.

Two is actually the procedure of procuring these artifacts. You either end up requiring a guide (more money) or you need the internet nearby neither of which are to abysmal a request but I always thought and still think that a game should be self contained. Batman Arkham asylum is a perfect example. First you'd receive riddles and eventually you'd find a map to approximately where said secrets were. You'd even be compensated for the task. HOW PRACTICAL!

Another scenario is Infamous a game that diverges hidden packages into the two brackets. Which is to say again they're both incredibly useful (adds an extra bolt to your hud/reserve) and give you an actual map to EVERY SINGLE ONE. And on the flipside, to make it both effective and attractive there are over 200+ to find in the world so in game guide be damned it'll still take an ass load of time to find all that goodie goodie treasure.

The other fault here? Why do these hidden packages have to be physical? Why can't they be objective based IE infiltrate base without being spotted/blow up fuel depot/etc.

Oh wait... What was I thinking... Aren't these now achievements?

One minor edit notice: I'm only ripping on linear path game worlds who diverge time and energy into these hidden packages because they are (typically) narrow in decision and progression. Free roamers such as AC 2 (as noted above) infamous or GTA don't really count into the discussion because at the end of the day you can always tackle anything at anytime thus it doesn't interfere. Whether it's worth? Well look at crackdown (one. Not that other one). Many people loved searching for agility orbs for no other reason then for the search. There's nothing wrong with that when it resides in THAT setting.

Second Editing: Was in a hurry this morning. Still doing some trimming to the spelling/grammatical errors.

Segment 4 (concluded)

Globule dots fluttered a playful wink down towards our present location in vein of a blink from the human eye. A possible reminder dancing upon the escaping gases all across the ever expanding milky way. Sight from below, here as we stand, reminded me of the murky waters ten thousand leagues beneath the great ocean. A solidified liquid encircled and spread across the air like smog caught inside the updraft clouds, those of which that cast the earth's atmosphere a dark concentrated hue, one so powerful and deep that not even the remaining electrical surge of lights currently illuminating from a distant desolate and abolished city could bridge.

All we were left with as a dimly lit guide was the sparkling freckled sky face, blinking, crying, and watching over us ever so vigilantly.

"Where's the damn moon at again Walsh?"

"I told you before" snapped my partner "the name's not Walsh; it's Alfred. As for your lackluster orbiting garbage disposal... I told you already. We got rid of it before the incident."

Puzzled I asked "Yes but why would you do such a thing?"

"What the hell is this, twenty questions? You like everyone else should remember it like yesterday! It's orbit around the earth was jarred loose some twenty years ago at the peak of our newly rising star goddess; The Red Devil. Shit" Alfred scuffed against the ground pulling a crumpled paper from amongst the rubble. "Read it for yourself"

I took hold the tarnish report glancing past the headliner.

Collision imminent!

Sources have told our very own Tracy O'Connell that the moon's current trajectory has it enclosing upon our atmosphere with the collision foretold to happen as early as three pm tomorrow afternoon. Head scientist of asteroid research and defense Morgan Shawl had these words for the public.

"We have a plan in place to advert the oncoming incident. A plan we've centered around the new gravitational field of project 99 A. This highly potential and potent technology will allow us to rip the axis of our very own moon back to it's original placement. I assure you, public of Freedom Park, you have nothing to fear"


"I don't understand Alfred, what exactly occurred here?"

"You read the newspaper?"

"Yeah but-"

Alfred abruptly interrupted me. "That's what happened."

Somethings Wrong

I wanted to post this as a foreword and possible intrusion to my new headliner. As anyone who's already read a part, the whole thing, even a mere single word from my tale must have realized by now that there is something a askew with the story here.

Typically we have an idea, a draft, research, time...

Here I didn't employ any of that. I feel almost childish in thinking I could write without the use of any of those procedures.

Which led me to thinking. I can't redo what I've posted here because it's already been done regardless if anyone has read it or not. It's silly and stupid to simply step backwards and try and fix the problem where it rests currently.

A better and slightly more intrusive idea struck me. One that may or not annoy some of my readers.

Why don't I finish the story here but in the vain of a draft mode and then, as soon as time allows, release the more fleshed out and complete tale of Jerry's journey on Amazon.com (or any other publisher that will take it) for say .99 cents.

This will allow me to still update my blog with new content and finish what I began but still satisfy my perfectionist side.

I hope it works out a bit better this way because I'm a bit disappointed thus far with the Oasis story as it is. How it can be with a bit time... Well I hope I can actually fair that journey a bit better.

Will keep informed,

Thanks for understanding/reading,

-Rossini

Segment 4 Cont.

Darkness surrounds us. Behind every wet nook and every doused little man is the breeding grounds of something not normal. Something I describe as the vast empty waters reaching out far and wide touching every coast once, twice, three times a day. Darkness has encased our mindless zombified corpses and now we wait to be flushed out and away.

With much haste a natural purging element surges across the land we tread intending to fulfill it's intended design. We as the unlucky, we as the unfaithful and blind must oblige our murky monster. We must fall. We must be crushed. We must die.


My head ran a million scenarios all simultaneously over and over and over and over again. A perpetual loop of unforgiving cold and calculated nature. Before long I could feel my feet swell, sweat, and otherwise bend beneath me before floating alongside me as my brain cruised further and further down the drain.


Darkness has a name.


A slip here, a discarded shoe there. Three of us ran with intense speed, jostling for first, second, and "Shit I survived" places respectively.

I imagine the world sitting down to watch with us as the scuffling tide behind slowly grew and grew in speed. They cheer and pout with effective passionate praise. I slowed just enough to remember the worlds dead and buried beneath the ash and discarded physicality that blew periodically with the gusting wind above.

"We've never gonna make it Jerry!"

I hear a cry. A whimper. A whine.

"We can't do it!"

A beg. A lie. A con.

"There's no exit!"

A notion. A question. An answer.

"There!" I point to the only remaining light that presently emitted beneath the earths surface.


The darkness cries out in pain. It's melancholy grumble sizzles as our lives very very slowly crawl back to life.


A thought hits me as Walsh takes the ladder first. His puppet dangles behind us as I watch the faint brittle illumination swallow the short man alive beneath a coat of black tar.

The darkness has eaten but is not content. My mind rattles off the numbers equivalent to the degree of starvation before the dark sludge reaches it's long steady hand out for me next.

Four fingers and a thumb tug on my collar, lifting me farther, higher, a distance away from the danger.

"We're not safe yet Jerry"

I hear the man in my ear whistle to a tune. The light that guided us - the one that saved us - is run by it's own variation of electricity.

A fixture set by the hands of man to eliminate the darkness. This one here did just that and long enough so that we may watch it's valiant swan song come to a conclusion.


Once again we are encased in darkness.


My mouth is dry, feet are wet and all I could think to ask was :

"Where's the god damn moon at".

The natural flaw in 3rd person shooters

My newest review (Wanted weapons of fate, check my amazon feed) brought me to an old revelation. Third person shooters (and to a degree 1st) have the unwelcome guest of the player interfering with what's supposed to be a climatic, intense, realistic gunfight. Instead the computed AI and the environment must interject a basic overlay in order to provide fun for the inadequate human.

That sounds harsh but the realistic nature of gun-play on consoles (won't comment for PC) is either divided into: Cover or Slow Mo. These elements have persisted for two very good reasons. So that we the gamers can survive the onslaught of advanced technology. Sure the other more boring reasons (cover being realistic) blatantly cover up the fact that the player has not the ability nor the function to control the action that is most delicate.

Take for example, any cut scene during any action oriented game where the hero does something time sensitive and flawlessly. Now try and allow a human player to do the same and you'll end up in a purgatory of endless loops that ultimately are called: Trial and Error.

Case in point: Splinter cell (pre conviction and post). Pre was solely divided into the group of loyal trial and error perfectionists. Post is an alternate, almost reacting culture that allows the players the ability to do things not humanly possible. An automated killing source offers everyone to be a bad ass as was intended.

That cannot be the future of gaming but the question remains: what is? With the new stride towards motion controls one must ask themselves. Are we forgoing the future (or at least altering/delaying it) for a gimmick or will we eventually find a new more natural benchmark where we can achieve what we and the game intend?

Segment 4

The tunnel system ran slick on all sides due to the perspiring earth sweltering underneath afternoon rays. It's sweat streamed from every pore as the journey across the world continued on it's rapid pace.

"You ever curious as to where we're going Walsh?"

"Not in the slightest. Right about now I'm only worried about getting there" he candidly replied.

"And what if I'm leading you astray? Would you care then?" A wry smile teetered off my lips.

"Is that a confession I hear Jerry?"

"Merely a question my friend. It's merely a question".

The deeper we plummet the thinner the light eventually drew completing it's inevitable snuffing about an hour in. Instinctively I ran my palm along the wet gushing wall guiding myself and Walsh deeper and deeper into the blackened abyss.

"What if there isn't an exit Jerry?" My adventurous companion abruptly blurted aloud. "What if this just keeps going and going?"

"Whatever has an entrance must also be entitled to an exit my friend. And a sinkhole such as this has plenty, believe me. Just keep following me and we'll be alright"

I could hear him and his mute minion continue arguing behind me about the rations. Their voices had slowly been dwarfed and eventually drowned out by the incessant sound of dripping water. It was a unlit paradise of quiet renditions and flowing of oceans.

All was well up until I heard the previously unheard friend of Walsh cry up some panic.

"Problem! Problem!" screamed the shortest, stoutest surehanded caddy available to us.

"Jerry! The Walls!"

Everything was dark. There was only noise. That of man and that of nature. The loudest surely would win the battle of attrition but I was just confused as to what my traveling companions had seen or felt. I myself saw nothing.

"The walls aren't holding. We need to go back now!" Walsh shouted.

I stopped in place holding up the conga line just long enough to begin my rant. "I'm not going backwards for anything goddammit! Not for your silly omens, for your stupid silly fucking rations that I explicitly told you would never last, and most importantly" I rest my voice momentarily to build suspense. "I am not going back just because your little dwarf told you to".

The moment those words escaped my mouth I instantly felt what scared them so. With a hand pressed right up against the nearest wall I could feel an oceanic shock wave that could only prove a possible answer to a guess that a large body of water had plunged it's fingers through the earth and drove itself towards our present location in a propulsion similar to that of a bullet in the process of discharging through the barrel.

My words left me cold and shaken.

"Run!"

Segment 3 (continued)

I clambered past seven knee high walls, four chest high and one shoulder high barrier to ultimately arrive before the grand mother of them all. A colossal mass of disrupted dirt, pavement, flesh, and twisted steel hovered some twenty feet tall staggering the land underneath a frigid shadow that flew beyond the realms natural border.

"What the hell... How exactly was this anomaly caused by such a simple weapon?"

"It's more then just a simple weapon mister Walsh. Now please... stand back"

In my pack I carried several bricks of plastic explosives as an emergency clause although typically reserved for self destruction in the case of capture or departure from the best laid plans. In my twenty something years guarding the post I never had to use the stuff. Then snap of a thumb later I'm instantly resorting to the last possible scenario.

Walsh caught a glance of my toys and instantly peppered me with uncertainty. "You think you can blast a hole through the earth with that shit?" he spoke half feet in condescending half in inquisitive.

"No Walsh that would be silly." A smirk rolled off my lips "I'm planning on something else occurring"

"Like what?"

Without response I plunged the detonator through the clay like substance and initiated the fuse. Grabbing hold of the nearest hump I took the composite firmly in hand and arched my back in line straight with rolling sides before surging every muscle throughout my body to heave the explosive up and over the behemoth skyscraper.

"Fire in the hole!" my voice was engulfed a moment later by the boisterous thunder a thousand firecrackers.

Walsh lifted his head first, gasping in disbelief. For just a moment the dust-storm washed away the oxygen and clarity around the impact sight. Just a second later it was gone, blown away by a furious wind.

In it's steed rest a hole the size of a common day sedan smack dab in midst the world.

"What the hell is that Jerry?" Walsh's out reached finger sprung towards the missing splotch of Terra-firma.

"It's a drain hole Walsh. Coincidentally also exactly where we were headed."

A counter clock wise spiraling gap in known physics. Not a black hole, an actual garbage disposal that ran the earth's crust in length all the way to the core. But that wasn't where I was leading the sheep.

Segment 3

The ribbed walls of earth stood tall, rippled from the underground cosmic surges exchanging paved solidity and soil with one another. Like a scrunched blanket the waves continued intermittently throughout the pattern, some stone barriers towering much higher then others.

I presently stood at the doorsteps to one of the five worst situated hot-zones emplaced in history. The news only thickened when I came to the realization that the other four stood before me. They're waiting, crumbling, and watching as the ensemble tippy toe around the broken mass. Praying that we don't misplace a step before we make their unpleasant acquittance.

But that was a promise none of us could make.

My newly adopted partner trailed sluggishly behind, panting heavily at every five second interval before asking for a breather. His eyes glistened when he finally noticed my steely resolve crossing the border between the inane normalacy and the twisted future.

"How can you be so calm?"

"I've seen this before Tim... in my dream"

"My name's not Tim, it's Walsh."

"My mistake, you just appeared like a Tim"

"What about you Soldier? What did they call you before the incident?"

Jerry. Mike. Steven. Monikers always had the same ring when you forgot your own. It's been so long since I needed one.

"Just call me Jerry"

"So Jerry, you some sort of seer?"

"No Tim. I've just seen this before"

The pleasant banter between the two of us continued swimmingly in comparison to that of the communication exchanged between Walsh and his silent minion. He'd grunt and the quiet man would waddle up to his master. A moment later he'd fetch the water reservoir and pass the glorious liquid without asking for a sip himself.

"Just how far away is this distant beacon of ours Jerry?" Walsh's voice hollowed more and more as the gained distance and earthly tides grew between the two of us.

"It's quite a distance Walsh. Some would even say it's more then that"

"More then what?"

"Never you mind about that right now Walsh; just try and keep up"

The world was on tilt. The pinball slung to a side, placed precariously by men and monsters alike. I was unwilling to explain just how far away the button lay when I knew Walsh wouldn't live long enough to relish in it's discovery.

The Flaw with Father-Mother

"Sure would be nice to go back to a normal place. We've already seen the end of the world Ghat"

Zeno Clash

Deadra, your female counterpart in the game, makes this quote late in the game and I felt the irony hit me. Normal? Really? Of course to Ghat and Deadra (and Golem) normal is where the heart is. To us... Well it's one ****ed up world that's both intoxicating, deadly and most definitely DISTURBING.

Nevertheless I made a comment over the weekend that this game wasn't as good as I thought it may have been. That still stands to a degree.

What differs now is I've dived through the labyrinthine world of Zenozoik and come out the other side a believer.

This is what a true Indie games should be.

Odd, unique, deep and most importantly refreshing. While I'd be lying if I said; if the gameplay were applied to any other game (condemnded 2 springs to mind) within a different galaxy/universe that it couldn't have been developed and produced for the mainstream audience but that is in actuality my long winded point.

We the gamers, the movie goers, the music lovers, the [etc, etc] have been bludgeoned over the head so many times by modern day media that we soon forget we can still actually enjoy entertainment that is not SPOON FED TO US. Whether it be fantasy that is not relevant nor bound to the Tolkien rules or if we must suspend our belief so we comprehend that "the princess is in another castle" is referring to anything but the princess. Point is we must get over our obsessions with the drivel that our monopolizing gods have cast upon us and beseech these tyrannical companies to offer something different from time to time other then the new sequel to the latest IP.

This isn't a sign hailing "the end is nigh" nor is it a cry to cease production on the newest over milked cow. I myself actually enjoy many of these that I attack. It's simply a declaration that we as consumers vote on how the industry moves forward. That we don't leave all the future "fantasy" to the Micheal Bays of the world. Actually that alone I don't believe is truly that much to ask .


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