Why I’m Not All That Excited for the Announcement of Grand Theft Auto V

On the morning of October 25, Rockstar gobsmacked the gaming community with announcement of Grant Theft Auto V, and teasingjavascript:void(0) news of a trailer next week. Twitter and the gaming press are absolutely alight with speculation about the setting of the next title and myriad words of enthusiasm over a new, numbered GTA. The enormous buzz caused by Rockstar’s announcement is far from unexpected—GTA is one of gaming’s biggest and most loved franchises, and a new, non-spinoff title has the potential to be absolutely amazing.

So why don’t I feel that excited about it?

I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised; the Grand Theft Auto titles have never truly been my gaming sweet spot. Granted, I’ve had my fair share of mayhem-causing sessions in GTA III and Vice City back in the day, and I can definitely appreciate the expert craftsmanship the Rockstar applies to all of its titles. That said, the GTA series just doesn’t click with me the way it does with over 22 million gamers worldwide, and I’ll do my best to try to explain why.

Grand Theft Auto titles have been too big for my tastes. By this, I don’t mean that the play areas are too big (a big, well-designed open world is a welcome one, and one of my favorite parts of The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker was sailing around and exploring the humongous map), but that there’s simply too much game. The breadth of experiences and sheer amount of time I need to commit in order to experience more than a small portion of what this game to offer is staggering, and something that I can’t quite get around. Certainly too much of a good thing can only be a good thing, but GTA for me has always been too much of a… thing.

This is because I never know whether it’s good or not. Any given GTA experience (and I’ve played III, Vice City, San Andreas, and IV) always leaves me feeling like I’ve been spinning my wheels, peddling along until maybe, maybe, I’ll get to the Good Part of the game. A similar complaint can be lodged against JRPGs or the Zelda series, two of my very favorite things in gaming. What makes GTA different, though, and worthy of my ire, is how empty the experience feels in between bouts of plot; I always feel like I’m performing disposable tasks in order to get through the title, none of which are very fun. Again, complaints you can lodge against nearly any JRPG, but while JRPGs are at least understood to be more deliberately-paced, measured affairs, GTA is ostensibly about Action! and Explosive Moments!, which makes the mostly-passive missions feel even more like a dishonest sleight of hand.

Perhaps this is the difference between a guided experience (Zelda) and an open one (GTA, Elder Scrolls, etc.), and where I place them in my gaming lexicon. The Zelda series dictates what sort of gameplay experience I have: what choices my character makes, what dungeons I play through in which order, and what items I need to use in order to progress. This simplification of choice allows me to get caught up in the journey, and to invest myself in the story being told to me. In Elder Scrolls, I’m in charge of telling my own story, and pour moi, I get too stressed out thinking about planning what I am going to do to get caught up in anything.

The guided experience is much more conducive to story-telling as well. I’ve always felt that GTA‘s story-telling has suffered at the expense of its open-endedness. Video game storytelling at its best is comparable to a novel, with character traits coming naturally over the course of the narrative; titles like Chrono Trigger and Uncharted have an excellent, measured plot full of well-realized characters. Storytelling in GTA, by contrast, always feels comparable to a comic strip, with characters broadly and instantly defined from the moment we first meet them, and handled in bite-sized chunks; only over the course of the game do their subtleties peek their heads out, and only if the player is willing to watch for the subtle shades. Because the story is so stop-start, the game feels like it lacks urgency and pacing, making it less compelling and creating a profound disconnect from plot.

For their newest entry, I hope Rockstar looks to the Assassin’s Creed series and Batman: Arkham City, two titles I enjoy immensely despite my general aversion to open world games, for inspiration on how to handle their game environment. Assassin’s Creed uses an open world similar to the GTA games, where missions are doled out from side characters found on the main map, but while GTA missions can often feel tangential to advancing any sort of plot, Assassin’s Creed II and Brotherhood work much harder to give each mission a context within the narrative, even if the objective is as simple as “follow this dude over there.” Arkham City, on the other hand, gives players entirely different areas for its main missions, presenting more and different opportunities than if Batman had to chase down The Joker on the actual Arkham City streets.

I get why people love the Grand Theft Auto games. Rockstar is perhaps the best in the business at crafting living, breathing worlds for players to lose themselves in; a friend of mine says he put literally hundreds of hours into faffing about in GTA IV, simply because he enjoyed the world so much. I just hope that Rockstar can focus the experience for those of us who want more than simply the opportunity to wander around.

Five for Friday: Really, Really Difficult Games

We’re trying a new thing here at I Am A Parade: every Friday, I’m going to try to post a different five-item list. As to “why,” the answer is simple: there is absolutely nothing more brainless and easier to create that a list. Beyond that, lists are pretty fun to make and read, so we’ll see where this gets us.

Anyway, since many different industry outlets are so focused on Dark Souls, I thought I’d make this week’s list using one of the themes from that game—in this case, the obscene and ridiculous difficulty. While Dark Souls has gained it notoriety from its incredible level of challenge, it’s far from the only tough game. Here are five games that I find stupidly, head-bangingly difficult.

 

5. Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare (Xbox 360, PlayStation 3, PC)
“But Andrew,” you are surely protesting, “that game has regenerating health, and a set of AI squadmates that all-but do the mission for you! How could a game like that possibly make a Most Challenging list?” Two more words: enemy closets. You see, for all of Modern Warfare’s achievements (and believe me, there are more than you may remember), it incorporates one of the most egregious difficulty-padding systems in the history of game design. In Modern Warfare, you will often run into sections where enemies will continuously spawn into the level, forever, until you cross an invisible line somewhere in the environment that tells the game to cut it out. In a nutshell, this means that when you reach one of these sections, any semblance of strategy or waiting until it’s safe to progress through the game goes out the window, and instead turns into a footrace to see whether or not you can turn the game’s “Infinitely Generate Terrorists” button off. This gets especially bothersome in a few specific places (the TV station in Charlie Don’t Surf, for instance), and when playing through on Veteran, it turns a fun game into a chore.

 

4. Super Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (SNES, Wii Virtual Console)
JVC’s series of Star Wars games for the Super NES are notorious for their difficulty, including instant-death jumping traps, myriad, murderous enemies that respawn the moment they go off-screen, and bosses with incredibly long life bars. By far the most ridiculous out of the three, though, is the title based on the second movie in the original trilogy, The Empire Strikes Back. Enemies come from every direction, shooting, clawing, and generally mauling the hell out of you from all sides, reaching a fever pitch matched by neither of the other two games. Health power-ups are few and far between as well, making learning enemy placement an absolute necessity. While the game does contain a passcode system, allowing players to retain their progress after an inevitable Game Over, the system only works if you manage to actually finish a level, something I have never managed to do in Super Empire Strikes Back.

 

3. Devil May Cry 3: Dante’s Awakening (PlayStation 2)
Here’s a story about this game’s English localization that you’ve likely already heard, but permit me to tell it anyway. Back when Devil May Cry 3 was being ported over to the US, someone at Capcom decided that American gamers wanted something punishingly, absolutely difficult, and made a decision that would be very crucial to how the game would be perceived in the States: they took the Hard difficulty from the Japanese game and made it the Normal setting in the American version. In addition, the Easy setting was unlocked by dying repeatedly, after which the game would smugly suggest that maybe, just maybe, you would like to bump the difficulty down. Prideful games did not take the game up on its offer; perhaps it was because the setting was called Normal, and they didn’t want anyone (presumably the game) to think they couldn’t handle a measly default difficulty. Cheap hits, insane bosses, and profuse swearing ensued.

 

2. Ikaruga (GameCube, Xbox Live Arcade)
Ikaruga didn’t start the Bullet Hell genre of arcade shooter, a genre known for including more onscreen enemies and firepower than most non-dedicated players can handle, but it’s certainly one of the best-loved take on the shoot ‘em up genre. Part of what makes Ikaruga so beloved is its polarity-based gameplay: in the game, there are two kinds of enemies, black and white, that shoot two colors of bullets, black and white. Your ship can turn either black or white to absorb bullets of the same color, or to further damage enemies of the opposite color. Hardcore fans of the title were able to reach a Zen point, where swapping colors to shoot and absorb happened naturally and fluidly. Unfortunately, only hardcore fans of the title were able to do so: because only half of any given group of projectiles could hurt you, the game throws approximately 3.2 billion of them at you, making it all-but impossible to keep track of the onscreen activity. I actually rented this game once, only to return it that afternoon because I spent two hours dying repeatedly on the first level.

 

1. Disney’s Aladdin (Sega Genesis)
There are other, more difficult games that could have made this list (but just barely!), but the ultimate spot goes to Disney’s Aladdin for the Genesis, for having the dubious honor of being the most-played game that I could never, ever beat. Aladdin is a side-scrolling title that loosely recreates the movie’s plot, adding stages and enemies wherever the game needs conflict (read: all the bloody time). The game’s various traps played havoc with me, and enemy placement was just reasonable enough to not feel cheap. What made this game the most difficult, though, was its complete and total lack of any way to save your progress, meaning that if you got a Game Over, you needed to start all the way back at the beginning. To this day, it literally stresses me out to watch gameplay footage of this on YouTube, because it reminds me of countless lost hours of my childhood, meriting only frustration.

What’s the toughest game you’ve ever played? Sound off in the comments!

Need for Speed: The Run – Demo Impressions

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Racing onto Xbox Live and PSN is a demo for EA’s latest entry in the Need for Speed franchise, The Run. Developed by EA Black Box, The Run will hit store shelves on November 15th, making it the third Need for Speed title released in the past twelve months. Will The Run‘s blend of high-stakes street racing and on-foot action be enough to separate itself from its predecessors and competing racing franchises? I took the demo for a test drive to find out.

Need for Speed: The Run is a more narrative-focused than past titles, placing players in the shoes of Jack Rourke, a driver competing in a cross-country dash from San Francisco to New York, with a purse of $25 million being offered to the winner. The demo takes place along two legs of the race: Desert Hills, California, and Independence Pass, Colorado.

Desert Hills takes players through a Mojave-esque stretch of wasteland, tasking gamers to pass ten cars before the finish line. The desert course is fairly straightforward, with one or two shortcuts hidden throughout the track, and reminded me of a few courses from last year’s Need for Speed: Hot Pursuit. At the end of the race, the game showed me my time and overall standing in the cross-country contest, with a reminder that I need to pass a certain ranking by the time I reach Las Vegas—this could be an interesting way for players to progress though the campaign without necessarily placing first every time.

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Gameplay in the desert was reasonably fun and arcade-y, but felt a touch off. Perhaps this can be attributed to the game’s being built on the Frostbite 2 engine; anyone who has spent time with Battlefield: Bad Company 2 or the Battlefield 3 beta can tell you about those games’ loose-feeling controls, and The Run seems affected by the same issues. Aside from the small control gaffes, the game handles similar to Hot Pursuit, with weighty cars and nitros boost that fills up by driving recklessly; coupled with the desert course, the experience felt a tad familiar to Criterion’s entry in the series.

The next race, Independence Pass, shook things up a bit—quite literally, in fact. The race opens with a scene of Jack stopped in front of a snowy mountain pass, warming his hand and presumably taking a breather. Another racers tears past him, though, and the chase is on. Players need to race down the spindly, icy canyon and overtake the racer before he reaches the bottom, all while trying to avoid careening off the end of the cliffs. Additionally, the local mountain patrol is blasting for avalanches, leaving gamers to negotiate falling snow and rocks.

I dig the concept of one-on-one races like this, and for the most part, the action compares favorably to 2006′s Need for Speed: Carbon‘s canyon runs. It starts to feel cheap near the end, though, when the race becomes less about competing against the driver, and more about memorizing falling rocks. Still, with Independence Pass, it looks like The Run will feature more racing variety than simple point-A to point-B sprints, and these event races could be thrilling in short bursts.

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The canyon race also gave me the chance to try out Need for Speed: The Run‘s new rewind function, a feature that’s starting to become standard-issue in modern racing games. However, rather than acting like a VCR, similar to titles like Forza 4 or Need for Speed‘s own Shift 2, The Run‘s rewind system is more akin to Call of Duty‘s respawn mechanic: players cross checkpoints as they progress through the track, and each rewind sends them back to the nearest checkpoint. I’m a bit torn on this system; on one hand, it’s not nearly as seamless as rewind features in other racing games, often pulling me out of the experience. On the other, the checkpoint system places more of an emphasis on survival, rather than correcting small errors, which could lend itself well to other high-stakes levels like Independence Pass.

Graphically, The Run is solid, if unspectacular. Car models look about as good as one can expect from a triple-A racing franchise in 2011, though they certainly aren’t as jaw-dropping as the vehicles in the Forza 4 demo. Environments look exactly like what you would expect from a game built on Frostbite 2, and while they do look pretty good, I couldn’t help feeling like I was racing through one enormous Bad Company 2 map.

Given the demo, Need for Speed: The Run probably won’t reignite my passion for the series the way that Underground did back in 2003, but the experience still seems solid. Racing fans looking for a more non-traditional experience may want to give it a rental when it drops November 15.

New Blog, New Mission Statement — Welcome to I Am A Parade

Greetings programs! There’s a good chance that, if you are reading this, you’ve migrated over from my previous, more generalized blog, Diversion 2.0. You no doubt have an idea of what you will be getting into, and the sort of trifling twaddle I you can expect over the course of this blog’s existence. If this is not the case, and you’ve found your way here through some other means, welcome! By all means, sit down, take your shoes off, and let’s get to know one another.

Or specifically, me. Or, even more specifically, what this place is, and why you might be interested.

First, introductions. My name is Andrew Testerman, and I’m a 2010 graduate from Carroll College in Helena, Montana. My interests include writing, gaming, and writing about games—this is likely why you are here. Additional, my other passions include music, acting, and Disney films (oh, Lordy, especially that last one). I also enjoy spaghetti, teriyaki salmon, and Granny Smith apples. This blog will not feature any other these other things, outside of an occasional rant on Fujis vs. Pink Ladies.

As I mentioned before, I used to author the blog Diversion 2.0, and while I do not intend to fully abandon what I see as my personal blog, I am taking time away from it to focus on another one. This one, in fact: I Am A Parade. Rather than the hodgepodge of subjects covered by Diversion 2.0, I Am A Parade will focus largely on video games—reviews, previews, impressions, and other sundries I can come up with in order to court your readership.

You may be wondering why I am applying such specificity to this blog. The answer is simple: I want to break into the gaming journalism industry, and I need a more dedicated platform which I can use to build myself up. I need a repository for all of my written content, ranging from pieces I wrote for different publications, to new pieces compiled especially for I Am A Parade. I want the gaming journo industry to be able to sit up and take notice of me, and I Am A Parade will give them the opportunity to do so.

If you are indeed a migrating reader from Diversion 2.0, I invite you to stick around, because the writing style and voice that you know and [verb] will still live on through my future endeavors; it’s just being applied to largely different subject matter. If you’re new, please know that I have great things in store, and that you should stick around. Either way, tell all your friends like a Taking Back Sunday album; this is about to real.

As a footnote, I will be playing around with the template and the formatting as I go; I can’t wait any longer before I start my dedicated content, and the look can follow behind it.

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