Category: xbox360


Amalur Vs

It was the power of adorkableness that convinced me to buy Kingdoms of Amalur. Seriously. I tried the demo and was resoundingly apathetic towards it, but when Day9 streamed it with Felicia Day at his house, and with the ridiculous hilarity that resulted by their combined dorkiness, I was dazzled by the geekiness and shelled out a full sixty bones for the PC version.

Which then proceeded to sit on my HDD because, again, I’m fairly apathetic towards the game.

So there Amalur sat, gathering digital dust, as I hemmed and hawed about in some other equally tepid-to-bad console games (Armored Core V: tepid, Deadliest Warrior: bad, Tales of Graces f: lukewarm), and as I piddled and poked about on my usual PC fare (Minecraft, Minecraft, Minecraft, going /afk in Rift).

And then something curious happened. At PAX East I witnessed an upcoming MMO (Tera) that looked like it had some actually interesting combat mechanics. And I was craving an MMO with some good combat, as Rift’s combat is strictly traditional fare. So I prepared myself mentally to go poke about in Tera.

And then something even more curious happened: I realized that I already had a game with a better combat system and MMO trappings, downloaded to my HDD and waiting for me to double-click its icon.

And that is how my affair with Kingdom of Amalur started.

That’s not to say it’s somehow an amazingly good game. Amalur’s story still hovers between “meh” and “slight chuckle;” the world is still somewhat hollow despite the large number of NPCs; there’s no horse or other mounts, which in a gameworld of Amalur’s size somehow seems criminal; and the voice acting… sounds like the voice director told everyone to be as needlessly hammy as possible (Cam Clarke is in it; that should say everything right there).

But that combat. Oh, that combat.

Whenever I visit the GameFAQS boards for a new game, many of the new threads will be “I”ve played X, will I like this game?” Which always makes me want to tell people to rent it and see for themselves, despite how the former Gamestop manager in me already knows that people won’t rent it for themselves and will just ask other people. That’s the whole basis of “word of mouth” after all. So with that in mind, here are the comparisons I actually managed to come up with in the event you ever go “I played X, will I like Amalur?”.*

Amalur vs Skyrim – Skyrim is a slower, more methodical action RPG, more focused on giving the player a country and a story hook (if they want one), and then turning them loose to do whatever the heck they want without feeling the need to be constrained to the story at all. There’s more things to do in Skyrim as opposed to Amalur, and more ways to go about doing it. Amalur, meanwhile, is fairly linear in it’s expected playstyle: outside of completing quests and exploring zones, there is nothing else to do, no player houses to personalize with decorations (though there are player houses), no friends to make or spouses to marry, nothing. There is you, the quest, and the combat. Amalur has less quests and random caves than Skyrim, but to compensate each of those quests and side areas feel more unique than Skyrim’s. Even if Amalur reuses art assets, none of its areas feel exactly cookie-cutterish.

Amalur vs Dark Souls – Amalur, and I realize that this might sound silly, has the more comprehensible story, if by that I mean only that the story is explicitly spelled out in Amalur while in Dark Souls the story is fed to the player in bits and pieces, and even then some of those pieces don’t seem to make sense, and the story overall is heavily on the cynical side. Dark Souls, of course, has the more unique environmental settings, and a far more difficult and punishing combat that feels more rewarding once mastered. Amalur is far more expansive in size of the world and content, but the extra areas start to feel like padding after a while.

Amalur vs Diablo – The longevity of Diablo and its clones comes from the ability to take your character into progressively harder difficulties for progressively better gear to make your guy progressively more super-powered so you can repeat the entire process until you get bored and tap out. Amalur throws loot at you wildly, lets you craft your own gear, lets you chose the hardest difficulty upfront, and once the game ends, that’s pretty much it for that character unless you have some sidequests you need to finish or buy some DLC. Amalur is finite with more more side content to compensate; Diablo is designed to be repeatable and encourages you to replay to experience randomly selected quests.

Amalur vs Fable – This is, by far, the closest comparisons one could make between two like-minded games (at least on this list). They have similar combat, similar world layouts, similar quest schemes… the major differences occur with story presentation (I can hate all I want on Fable’s stories, but I have to admit that the stories are generally entertaining up until the point I get disappointed/annoyed with them) and the character’s interaction with the world. There’s no morality system in Amalur, and again no spouses. No property mini-game to buy and/or manage. Amalur has the greater setting diversity as it takes place throughout a continent as opposed to Fable’s kingdom (with a few exceptions in Fable). Amalur has the tighter combat with more depth, but Fable 2 and 3 give you a dog and has the NPCs in the world react more to your presence and your choices. It’s a difference of degrees.

Amalur vs The Witcher – I’ve played all of ten hours of Witcher 1 and one hour of Witcher 2 and I have to say that I have absolutely no opinion either way because 1) W1 was made using the Neverwinter Nights 2 engine, so the combat is suboptimal due to system mechanics, and 2) I don’t actually recall much about the Witcher games except that Geralt gets laid a lot and there’s some decapitations and a lot of bad stuff happens to various people. So I guess, um, the Witcher series is a lot more adult-oriented in terms of tone, setting, and gameplay while Amalur, despite the blood, is a more light-hearted, arcade-style affair.

Amalur vs MMORPGs – Obviously Amalur is strictly single-player and MMOs are multi-player, so that’s an apples to oranges comparison I won’t make. So to compare it to things that are applicable: the MMOs I’ve played were boring and repetitive when it comes to their gameplay elements. We all know about the “press 1 to attack, wait for cooldown” style that WoW, Rift, Champions, et al have been using for years. Combat in MMOs are generally static affairs with individual skill boiling down to how well a player can do the same repetitive actions against the same monster in the same fight day in and day out, week after week, while waiting for a particular piece of equipment to drop that will make their same-old rotation generate a slightly larger number once those buttons are pressed (with the occasional move slightly to avoid environmental hazard throw in for variety). It’s a Diablo-clone taken up to 11 and filled with arbitrary gimmicks to stretch out how long it takes a person to accomplish anything. Amalur may not have fishing, or zones that require minutes to cross, or mounts, or raids, but it is more dynamic in its gameplay, and that can carry me for a long time, because dynamic means “challenge” and challenge means I’m not in any danger of falling asleep in the middle of a raid again. Perhaps the upcoming Amalur MMO will be a different story, once a social component is thrown in.

So I’m almost 40 hours into Kingdom of Amalur and I’m digging it. It reminds me of those few times in WoW when I took my character through every zone, completing each and every single quest they came across, for no other reason than I get some sort of amusement out of completing every single possible quest a zone has to offer. The fast travel system is a large boon to this type of gameplay as, in the absence of a mount, I can just pop back to a town, turn in a quest, pop back to the nearest place I was, and continue to blaze a trail across the entire country. The only real time I’ve backtracked for a length of time longer than a quest-turn in was when I hit max Detect Hidden and I went around hitting all the lorestones I had missed (each set completed gives a small stat boost in some way). Amalur makes me feel like I’m always progressing, and I do so enjoy the quest for progression.

*Subject to my own opinion and observations, blah blah blah, not an endorsement of this or that, I love puppies.

Catherine

Lucid dreaming is a bizarre phenomenon that I’ve experienced a few times. Like one time the Power Rangers were attempting to murder me, a situation that I found so ludicrous even asleep that I realized I was dreaming, realized therefore that I could control my own dream, and then proceeded to fight off every single one of the Rangers with my sudden awesome karate skills.

Vincent Brooks doesn’t have to worry about the Power Rangers busting down his apartment door. He’s got more realistic problems: the uncertainty of a new job, no cash, a stable girlfriend that wants to talk commitment… the general things that cause anxiety in a long-time stereotypical bachelor.

The giant towers that he’s forced to climb that can kill him if he falls, well, okay, that’s unusual. View full article »

Hunted: The Demon’s Forge

For a while, after I had beaten the game, I didn’t know what to think about Hunted: The Demon’s Forge.

I had fun with it. I was amused by it. I had frustrations with it. I finished it, or at least I finished the adventure for the single player. And then, by some stroke of ill luck, I deleted my clear game file, thus rendering fourteen hours of progress extinct in a puff of digital smoke. And even then, as I stared at the pristine spot where my upgraded Caddoc had once been, I didn’t feel anger. Instead, I just started to laugh softly.

Accidentally wiping my save file and having to start over for all the unlockables seemed like an unexpected yet elegant end to this game.

In my last post I mentioned that the game was a fantasy version of Gears of War, but I don’t think that’s accurate. Gears of War is a third-person shooter; at least one character in Hunted is very much melee, and having him hang back, taking cover behind a chest-high wall while he waits for his opponents to pop out so he can shoot them with his crossbow feels wrong. Except for two puzzle segments where I played E’lara, I went through the entire single-player adventure as Caddoc, and it was there, as Caddoc and I rushed towards enemies and beat them all to death with his giant glowing axe, that I realized that the melee experience is nothing less than Dungeons & Dragons: The Tower of Doom. You can’t get much more old school, hack-and-slash than that.

Hunted: The Demon’s Forge feels like a great re-imagining of what an old school arcade game should be like today: short, steady bursts of progression with swift combat and a level designed to funnel you towards the end, and the appropriate set-piece boss fight that closes out the chapter. Each character has three “lives” before you’re kicked back to the last checkpoint. Comparing weapons is a simple matter of checking which has the larger number. The story doesn’t seem to try and rise above its “Here’s why you’re killing stuff” premise. Rinse and repeat until the credits roll. There’s even an entire mode (the Cruicible and its level editor) that whole-heartedly embraces its arcade roots. The only things the game seems to be missing is a giant glowing arrow that flashes and beeps brightly, urging you towards your next destination when you hang around a completed combat area for to long, and a poorly-translated “CONGRURATIONS A WINNER IS YOU” screen featuring the protagonists posing after the credits rolled.


A WINNER IS YOU – THANKS FOR PLAYING

 

The arcade nostalgia that Hunted engendered within me does mean that I took an issue with, of all things, the side quests. Do I explore or do I keep going? If I explore I’ll get new weapons, but as the enchantments are temporary then they may not be worth it, and to spend half an hour solving a puzzle for a weapon that will have twenty-five or so charges before becoming weaker than a regular dropped weapon was starting to lose it’s appeal. By the end of Chapter 4, I found myself actually growing a little tired of the exploration side-game. And it seems inXile understood the side-quest fatigue because by Chapter 5 the sidequests and riddles are mostly gone, the chapters are shorter, and the game feels like it’s picking up speed and barreling towards the ending as soon as possible before the fatigue makes you quit entirely. I appreciate a game that starts to realize its wearing out its welcome and just gets on with it.

I also appreciate the AI. While no substitute for an actual person, the computer’s control of E’lara was servicable. Only on occasion did I become annoyed with the AI, usually when E’lara’s pathfinding took her out of the combat (and once, when a door glitched and she actually was trapped in the room behind me, leaving me to complete an entire section solo- thankfully not a puzzle section requiring her flaming arrows), and the rare moment where I, as E’lara, was dropped repeatedly to my death by an AI Caddoc that would move off a switch holding my bridge up over a spiked pit. These would be wholly unremarkable AI comments if AI E’lara, perhaps in the developer’s acknowledgement that a human partner would be a massive jerk at least once, scripted E’lara to almost kill me with a trap while coyly joking about doing so, and endeared the AI to me just a bit more than the normal robot pal. After that, I made sure to keep an eye on her.

Hunted feels rough and not quite refined in almost every aspect of the game, but honestly if I hadn’t deleted my clear file I would be re-playing it again, as E’lara, on the hardest unlocked difficulty (appropriately named “Old School”). It’s a good, solid fun romp that doesn’t take itself seriously, which makes it a great game when you just want to play something for a few hours at a time. Perhaps that’s why I don’t feel to bad that I wiped my save file: you always have to start from scratch in arcade games after you’ve won.

 

The most indicative thing about Ubisoft’s Prince of Persia: The Forgotten Sands is that it takes me tremendous effort to remember what the name of it is. Or that I even played it. It just makes you wonder what the heck Ubisoft is doing to this franchise. They destroyed the personality of the original Sands of Time trilogy to make the Prince edgy and darker. They destroyed the reboot by failing to market it as the game casual players could use as their entry point to the setting. The movie is based off the Sands of Time but this game, supposedly a tie-in to that movie, has an entirely different plot and powers that have nothing to do with the movie. Even the titular Sands have very little to do with a game supposedly about them.

The Forgotten Sands stars a new Prince, one not as emo as his Two Thrones counterpart or as cynical as the 2008 reboot. This Prince is off to visit his brother, the Prince Malik, to learn about leadership and what not. But as it turns out Malik’s kingdom is under attack. In a stunning display of “leadership,” Malik decides to unleash the Army of Solomon on the attacking force. The solution works in that the attackers stop attacking, mostly because they’ve all been transformed into rampaging sand monsters, along with anyone else they can get their grainy mitts on, save for Prince Malik and the Prince themselves, who have magical macguffins that keep them from turning into monsters.

And so begins the reoccurring theme of the Forgotten Sands: the Prince tries to find his brother, some unmitigated disaster occurs when they meet, and then they’re separated. Repeat. Like most Prince of Persia games, the Prince navigates beautifully designed environments that always make you wonder what the civil engineer and architects of Persia were smoking to come up with doors that unlock after some amazing acrobat has flipped a half dozen switches in a gigantic orrery the size of a high school. Even the Prince laments his inability to simply knock some sand statue out of his way and open a door when there’s  a hopelessly convoluted path he can take where one slip could mean a broken back or worse. Early on the Prince meets Razia, a Djinn, and gains both a time-rewinding power and a few various elemental abilities. Only one is mandatory (the ice ability), and the others can be gained and upgraded via a branching skill trade with experience earned from killing sand monsters.

There is nothing in this game that could ever justify paying full price. There is no difficulty higher than normal. The only extras besides the main game is a “fight x waves of enemies” arena, and a timed version of the same arena that isn’t available unless you register for Ubisoft’s separate account on their website (yes, the same account required to play any of their PC games). There is no level select, and so the only way to go back to miss any of the hidden sarcophagi needed for the achievement is to start the game over in its entirety as there’s also no backtracking in-game (there’s a reason that particular achievement is named “Got Walkthrough?”). There hasn’t even been any DLC to extend the meager story.

This Prince of Persia should probably stay forgotten.

This going to be a bit of a change from the previous reviews. I’m not going to talk about the gameplay or break down the mechanics or go over the history, because, let’s face it, such things are redundant most of the time for people that read reviews and by this point it will probably feel like unnecessary padding. If you want to know the most basic summary of Final Fantasy XIII, I shall point you to Wikipedia entry, where they go over the usual things I go over, in far more depth and with pretty, pretty pictures.

This is just my take on things.

I’m going to say something pretty out there for some people, about Square-Enix’s latest console RPG Final Fantasy XIII (released earlier this year for the Xbox 360 and the PS3): I really, really love this game. Every aspect of it, from the story, to the voice acting, to the combat, to the graphics, is a real delight to me. Is it tedious? Possibly. Is it derivative? Maybe. Is it ruined? I don’t think so. Is it a Final Fantasy title? Most undoubtedly.

If there’s one thing you might have heard about FFXIII, it is probably this: the game doesn’t really get good until the twenty hour mark. This was said by a lot of people because of the way Square-Enix spends the first half of the game restricting everything you can possibly think of. You can’t go where you want when you want. You can’t use the party you want to use. You can’t backtrack. You can’t explore. You progress from cutscene to cutscene via a series of diverse environments that are all linear corridors while playing Musical Chairs with your characters. It’s not until the twentieth hour or so that the world opens up and you discover a means to wander around and do your own thing, with whomever you choose, finding and finishing those ever elusive sidequests for the rewards.

People hate that fact. They want to grind, and side-quest, and find hidden bosses and optional encounters and feel like they have some control over the progress of the plot and their characters’ customization. All that other stuff like “storyline” and “atmosphere” can come later, after they’ve beaten down the fifteen thousandth imp. And that is a perfectly valid complaint to have. I’m not going to be all fangirl over this and say “Oh my gosh you’re so wrong and this is why you’re wrong!” People like what they like, and I think Square-Enix knows their audience enough to recognize they can’t please everyone.

However, as for me, fresh off the heels of finally completing Final Fantasy XII, this constrained focus on gameplay to develop the plot and the characters came as refreshingly relaxed. I never got the sensation that I was missing out on loot by leaving an area without wasting time searching every single nook and cranny. I never felt that I was under- or over-leveled for the encounters or the bosses. The game itself was balanced, with a learning curve hard enough to make you have to think about what you were doing in a fight, but not so difficult that you felt you had to load an earlier save and kill monsters for four more hours to gain levels and try again. I didn’t have to worry about stats or skill points or talent trees or any of those number-crunching accounting exercises. I didn’t have to consult GameFAQS.com to remind myself not to open several chests or else I’ll miss out on an ultimate weapon later on. I didn’t have to kill a monster fifteen hundred times or respawn a chest ten hundred times to get an item with a 1% drop rate. I was able to relax, not worry about the metagame, and just let myself enjoy the tale and the music and the gorgeous environment of a game that many people poured their hearts and loves into, and marvel at what they had wrought.

I spent those first twenty hours not just playing the game, but being entertained.

And isn’t that a novel concept for a game in this console generation to have these days?

And it’s not as though any of those things that powergamers and metagamers and statgamers and grindgamers aren’t there. Like many people say, around the twentieth hour, you gain access to the entire world of Pulse and can run off to do sidequests to your heart’s content. And while you have to beat the game to unlock your characters’ final final tier of upgrades, the post-ending save puts you right back at the point where you can explore the world, leaving you free to do what you want when you want, and tackle the final dungeon and boss with all your newly acquired upgrades and bragging rights intact. It’s not mandatory, it’s completely optional, and it’s there for all the people that wanted it.

Yes, there are gripes, even for me and my love of FFXIII. Vanille’s voice actress can be a little grating, but then have you heard how I sound? If I can tolerate my voice at all hours of the day, Vanille’s voice is angelic. The speed and fluidity of the combat does reveal its tedium potential when you’re slogging through weaker enemies that don’t require strategy, thus meaning you can button mash your way to victory (though those fights are in contrast rather brief). The last dungeon throws out all of the environment design of earlier for an eye-fatiguing unending cavern of sameness. And the overall ending of the game, when examined a bit more closely, does seem to fall apart and be a bit pyrrhic.

Final Fantasy XIII is a beautiful game but, given the polarizing effect it apparently had on so many people, it’s obviously not right for everyone. Rent it. Play it without having the notion that you have to somehow “game” the game. You can powerplay later, FFXIII promises, but for now, just sit back, relax, and let the characters, not you the player, be the ones that struggle to prevail.

Borderlands

Has there ever been a game with dialogue quite as tongue-in-cheek as Borderlands? Possibly, yes. But I didn’t play it. I played Borderlands, a first-person shooter/RPG developed in 2009 by Gearbox Software for the PS3, Xbox 360, and the PC.

You may remember commercials or advertisements for this game last year, or heard about how the big thing with the game was that it had “millions and millions of guns!” This is kind of true: Borderlands is, control-style aside, a Diablo-clone. The basic premise of the story is that you are one of four mercenary-treasure hunters (they have names, but really you’re just picking your class) on the near-barren world of Pandora, guided by a mysterious woman in your search for the Vault- a hidden repository of alien technology that could give a huge power boost to whoever claimed it, and make your character filthy stinking rich. Your method to finding the Vault involves, well, shooting everything in your way. And when that doesn’t work, you shoot it some more. And if that don’t work, you shoot it some more. View full article »

Crackdown 2

There’s an episode of the Simpsons where Homer recounts the time he joined a barbershop quartet. During that episode, the group’s thinking up their name, and someone suggests the Be Sharps, a name which is funny the first time you hear it but becomes progressively less humorous during subsequent repetitions.

Crackdown 2 is a lot like that: massive fun in the beginning, tapering down to a gradual sensation of mediocrity and tedium. Here is a game that embraces chaos: magnetic remote charges that tether objects together like some explosive version of Spider-man’s webbing, machine gun turrets you can rip out and mow down entire hordes of men, UV shotguns that eradicate freaks in a concussive blast of light…

And the same repetitive tasks to be carried out through the entire duration of the game: find a stronghold, power a beacon, blow up the beacon. Ad nauseum. Even with the new toys, the underlying structure of the sandbox reveals itself to be the same shallow repetitious gameplay as found in Crackdown 1. Do one thing multiple times and congratulations! You’ve won the game! View full article »