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Battlefield 3 (Part 1)

The newest Xbox Games with Gold freebie I grabbed was Battlefield 3.  Aside from the most recent Battlefield 1 (which is so numbered as to designate its setting: World War I, rather than its chronology in the game series.  Beats me), I had never played a Battlefield game before.  At the height of my gaming, I was a Call of Duty guy.  Even then, however, I just didn’t have the time to play both.  But I vaguely knew about the rival franchise because whenever someone complained about Call of Duty, which was often, the criticism always preceded the threat that they were going to switch over to Battlefield (which they never did of course).  So Battlefield was kind of like Canada after every election or major partisan issue here in the States.

Anyway, I had some time on my hands since I was procrastinating mowing the lawn, and I thought I would buy the last Fallout 4 expansion: Nukaworld.  But they still wanted $20 for it, so I said screw that.  Instead, I checked the freebies, hence Battlefield 3.  I booted the game and poured some vodka.

[SPOILERS]

The game begins with the standard calibration.  First, adjust the slider brightness until the image is just barely visible.  Oh ho game!  Not you too!  Nay, I adjusted the slider until the image was comfortably visible.  My eyes certainly aren’t getting any younger.

The story begins with immediate violence and no explanation as to why.  I mean, it’s a shooter, so presumably I’d be shooting people, but I generally like to know why.  The abruptness also confused me into thinking I was watching an extended cutscene, but as it turns out it was just setting the stage for my immediate need of using said violence.  I watched as my character jumped off a bridge and onto a moving train, breaks in the back window and beats some guy until he stops moving, then grabs his pistol.  I also notice that my left wrist has a pair of handcuffs dangling off them.  Hmm…mystery.

It’s quickly obvious that this is an intro designed to teach the game mechanics.  By this point, game controls have become pretty standard.  The only irritation with this game was that crouching was controlled with the right thumbstick–something I found unintuitive.  Also, the sensitivity was pretty high, so I had to turn that down a bit.

I shoot a few guys with my pistol and they drop pretty quick, which is surprising considering that they appear to be wearing body armor.  I’m prompted to pick up an AK-47 (ahh, the standard game terrorist weapon), which I then subsequently wield against the next enemy with all the finesse of a teenager trying to take the bra off his first girlfriend.  Apparently, the sensitivity needed more tweaking.

At one point there was a shotgun wedged in a door, I guess to hold it shut.  The game instructed me to pick it up, which I did, excited at the prospect of a more effective weapon.  But this only served to trigger an instance.  I get into a brawl and the guy disarms me, but I shove him out the window and pick up an AK-47 again, which I then immediately swap out for an AK-74.  You’d think that it’d be wiser to equip a unit with the same caliber small arms, but what do I know?  In short, I shoot a bunch of guys, go through a door, get disarmed and thrown onto the floor.  Soeth ends the level.

The game starts a new cutscene, introduced by an ominous “a certain amount of time proceeding these events…” and then a shot of my character handcuffed and being interrogated.  Ah!  We’re Quentin Tarantinoing this.  Okay, I can roll with that.  Unraveling a mystery.

There’s a lot of back and forth about why I did what I did, and me suggesting that I did what I did because I needed to do what I did.  Fascinating.  Then, we flashback to a time preceding that.  Apparently we’re Mementoing events too.

Why am I killing people (aside from this being a shooter)?  Why am I being court-martialed?  And will I ever figure out the ideal sensitivity setting?  Tune in next time…

–Simon

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Escape (Part 2)

I’ve accumulated some more photos, thanks to Bethesda’s ongoing pandering to my sense of humor.  In the wake of Fallout 4, I’ve picked up Skyrim again.  After all, I had grown weary of shooting rabid wildlife and disagreeable people, so I transitioned back to stabbing and chopping rabid wildlife and disagreeable people.  Variety.

Here are some photos of both:

Someone very lonely was anthropomorphizing
An amusing in-game “don’t drink and drive” PSA
Nose to the grindstone–what a way to go
Why did someone die on this desolate rock, clutching a flag?…also, I’m not sure why Aela is wearing that while we explore icebergs…she’s an usual NPC for an in-game wife…who accompanies me everywhere to kill things…I like the woad though…did I mention she’s a werewolf?…who also turned me into a werewolf?…it’s a complicated relationship
This was a simple joy–by chance I shot him through each nostril

–Simon

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Red Faction: Armageddon

With the August Xbox Live Gold freebies came Red Faction: Armageddon.  It sounded ominous, and a welcome break from the crap arcade games that keep popping up.  Everyone likes some mindless shooting, after all.  But unfortunately my time with the game was brief, and while I admit that it’s rather unfair to critique a game off of 5 minutes of gameplay, game reviews are useless in general–like any art critique it’s the pretentious rambling of a pseudo-intellectual “expert”.

I knew nothing of the franchise, but surmised that it was part of a series (deduced by the “:”).  Upon loading, I was greeted with the various graphical introductions of developers/publishers–none of which I had encountered before (not a good sign).  I also didn’t know SyFy published games, and in my experience the TV and movie industry doesn’t know a damn thing about making a good video game, nor do they know how to adapt a video game into a TV show/movie.  Also, I hate when people abbreviate “Science Fiction”, and doubly so when they use a “y” instead of an “i”.  This game already had a lot of strikes against it.

Then I was presented a familiar calibration screen: adjust the brightness until some symbol is just barely visible.  Games do this for one reason alone: at some point something scary is going to pop out of the darkness and scare you, but you won’t be scared if you can see it too soon so we want it just barely visible.  There was a time when I dutifully responded to the developer’s wishes.  No more.  I adjusted the brightness until the symbol in question was comfortably visible, and not just barely visible.

[SPOILERS]

The intro cinematic loaded, and through a combination of my ignorance with the franchise and the game’s bad narrative, I surmised that I was on Mars, there were general disagreements between groups of people, and I was part of one of these groups and therefore needed to shoot people in the other group.

This other group had captured the planet’s terraforming equipment, and was using it for some sort of environmental terrorism.  Approaching the target in an ATV, my team was there to shoot these people, I guess.  But my team did little to inspire confidence.  A brief discussion ensued regarding a “Pyrrhic victory” and “throwing a wrench into their plans”, to which someone on the team intelligently questioned what both of those sayings meant, and…what a wrench was.  I guess the passing standards on the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery test have gotten lowered over time.  We ran out of people of average intelligence and were now throwing mentally challenged soldiers into the fray, or just really uneducated people…just like Vietnam.  Ha!

But it was obvious that this dialog was for humorous intent.  I symbolically humored the developers by uttering a single “Ha!”.  What I presumed was my character (the only one who didn’t sound stupid–because who wants to play an idiot?) professionally answered queries regarding his mechanical aptitude, as it would be needed in fixing the terraformer.

Then a sandstorm enveloped the ATV, and lightening blew the rear hatch off the vehicle–I don’t understand how those physics made any sense–I’m thrown from the vehicle as it met some violent end.  Then the usual fade to black.

I awakened, standing, with some AI giving me instructions.  And thus began a familiar rendition of a popular beginning sequence–integrated controller settings.  To get my bearings, I needed look straight up at the sky.  Challenge accepted.  Then, I had to look at a series of barrels.  Whew.  What better way to test my combat-readiness than to pivot my neck and hips slightly?  Satisfied that I understood basic orientation and locomotion of my own human form, the game then let me actually walk.

Following the one direction I could go, I encountered a crumbling wall.  The AI told me to use my maul and smash it.  That’s right–standard military armament included an assault rifle and a 200 pound hammer, stored up my butt apparently, as it manifested into corporeal existence upon equipping.  Actually I think there was some sort of Star Trek-y matter replicator on my suit that created it.  Maybe it could replicate me a good video game later.

Also, it made me use the D-pad to change weapons.  I couldn’t even cycle them with the Y button, oh no.  This meant that in the heat of combat I would have to reach over with my maneuvering thumb to switch, thus momentarily becoming stationary.  Yes, that choice made sense.

Anyway, I took this giant hammer and smashed the wall.  Huzzah!  I switched back to my rifle, hoping something would appear to shoot, and… the game froze, then crashed to the dashboard.

Thus ended my first and only brief experience with the Red Faction franchise.  I subsequently went outside and picked tomatoes.

–Simon

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Oblivion Micro-Adventure (Part 3)

Click here to read part 2.

Revitalized and slightly inebriated, I exit the inn.  Then I realize it’s nighttime, so I stand in the cobblestone street for 9 straight hours, unwavering.  I realize this seems like an odd choice, seeing as I just left an inn, but I don’t want bedbugs.  Actually I just don’t want to level, and sleeping would force me to gain intelligence, willpower, and whatever other 3rd skill I would choose.  But I don’t want to, because then every single living creature in Cyrodiil would also gain a level, thus perpetuating the endless arms-race.  So nay, I shall maintain the status quo, staunchly refusing to gain knowledge and wisdom out of fear of change…just like a Republican, BAM!

Trance-like state of suspended animation complete, I greet the new day.  The Jemane brothers also stand, having joined me in an exercise of suspension-trauma.  I shake the blood clots from my legs and resume jogging.  My first order of business is to examine the local Skingrad chapel.  I circle, but no trees ever quite line up with its facade.  Bummer.  That would have been an easy resolution.  I consult the painting again.

The green blobs, or Bob Rosses, if you will, might indicate their species.  I decide that they’re oak, and impressively the game does do a good job of emulating real biodiversity.  And I know from playing the game that oak trees primarily inhabit the Great Forest, which means Chorrol.  I will therefore resume my travels, likely having to slaughter countless bandits and endangered timber wolves along the way.

I leave the town, head north around the city to travel east, and slaughter an endangered timber wolf.  Maybe not sit on the road?  Or not attack me on sight?  And don’t wolves usually travel in packs?  Lone wolfs are generally young males in search of a pack.  So Cyrodiil is a giant bachelor’s club for timber wolves.  As I ponder how many wolves I’ve killed, I fear for their next generation.

My fears are assuaged when I happen upon another timber wolf, and have to kill it.

Then I’m accosted by two imps and a troll.  Tired of the pointless slaughter, I turn invisible.  The immediately disoriented fauna give up, then attack the Jemane brothers who, being slower than I, are just now catching up.  Curious, that they know my exact whereabouts, despite me leaving them behind and turning invisible.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and I walk away from the ensuing violence to continue my trek, indifferent to the life and death struggle behind me.

My invisibility spell wears off as I emerge from the forest to the view of Lake Rumare.  A decade ago, the graphics were phenomenal.  They still are, in a retro way.  But like any game discovered long after its prime, the Internet is filled with Millennials who are certainly less appreciative of this game than I.  But I will not let this game go quietly into the night.  It’s going to survive!

Fortunately, my waning repertoire of bad jokes meets its end when Oblivion crashes to the dashboard.  Perhaps this quest is folly after all.

–Simon

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Oblivion Micro-Adventure (Part 2)

In Part 1, I detailed how I, the ever-inquisitive and aging gamer, wandered County Anvil, looking for a non-committal adventure with which to waste a few minutes of time while I sought a distraction from life.

And readers of low expectations were not disappointed!  The gradual mystery of whether or not in-game paintings were impressionistic recreations of in-game vistas was revealed (spoiler: they were).  I then imposed drama upon the NPC whom I concluded was the artist.  But, there are many in-game paintings, and I ended the post on a cliffhanger.  Well fear not, reader of obviously low expectations, for I alluded to a continuation, and I will not disappoint.

Anvil, being at the end of the road, made the choice easy: I would go east.  The artist to which I alluded at the end of the last post, Rythe Lythandas, lives in Cheydinhal, also to the east.  But this isn’t some willy-nilly quest of purpose, no, ’tis a quest of vague direction.  I would therefore amble in Cheydinhal’s general direction, viewing the sights along the way.  And it would be a long way indeed, for Cheydinhal and Anvil are at the opposite ends of Cyrodiil.  But if there’s anything I’ve learned from classical fantasy, it’s that accomplished wizards wander unpredictably in accordance with their own whims, so in the spirit of role-playing, this quest felt right.  Objective defined, I finally stepped off the doorstep of the Inventius’ home.

And I walked, jogged maybe.  I dunno, true walking in Oblivion would exhaust about any gamer’s patience.  It might be unrealistic, but I’ll just say I have magical wizard powers of endurance.

In short order, I had made it back to Gottshaw Inn.  I thought to ignore it, but surely there must be more paintings inside.  And after all, if I’m embarking on this trek to visit a painter, I should be a little more versed in the art, beyond the single work of a painter that isn’t him.  If nothing else, that might come off as a little rude.  So I entered the Inn, much to the indifference of its proprietor, and examined the paintings.  I quickly realized, however, that those of natural landscapes would be near impossible to find.  I needed a painting with an identifiable landmark–an edifice of some sort.  None of the other paintings within bore such distinctions though, so I left.

It is at this time that I should mention the Jemane brothers.  Their quest, which had me pointlessly unraveling their family’s past, ordinarily concludes with reuniting and returning them to their reclaimed family estate.  However, in an act of cruelty, I refrained from the last step–walking them down the hill outside Chorrol and to their home.  Why?  Because, until I do so, they remain trapped in indentured servitude.  Actually, they just follow me indefinitely, but while doing so, I effectively have two unkillable bodyguards.  This means that I don’t necessarily have to fight things that I deem unworthy of my time.  So the Jemanes throw themselves eternally upon hostiles, getting incapacitated repeatedly, until their opponent is eventually vanquished through sheer perseverance.  Is this wrong?  Probably.

No matter.  As we travel east, they kill a wolf.  I pick mushrooms.  They kill some bandits.  I look at the giant Nirnroot growing on the bank of a small pond.  They kill some more bandits.  A bandit chooses to attack me first and I deftly kill him instantly with a lightening bolt, then pick flax seed.  In short-an uneventful and typical cross-country walkabout.

At last, I reach Skingrad.  I pick some grapes and mush them up, making grape juice I would presume, which restores fatigue.  Sugar rush.  Feeling energized, I enter the town proper and make for the first inn, because from experience, inns have a lot of paintings.  I enter the West Weald Inn–where I remember defending myself against a certain Else God-Hater–someone who apparently  hated gods but had no problem worshiping an elf who used profane rituals to ascend to demigoddom.  Some people have many layers I guess.  In hindsight, I don’t think I actually fought her.  I just turned invisible while the town guard wailed on her, because I’m the archmage and I don’t brawl with common street rabble (sneer of condescension).

Anyway, I work my way around the Inn, examining paintings for one which contained a landmark.  Ultimately, I find this:

A church isn’t exactly a rare item in Cyrodiil, but there’s still a finite number.  This, at least, lies within the realm of possibility.

I pop downstairs to greet Sinderion, because I remember I have a batch of nirnroot for him, then needlessly buy and drink a bottle of wine from the barkeep to celebrate my evolving quest.

–Simon