Darksiders is a wave of nostalgia. It is playing A Link to the Past (1991) on a Super Nintendo console borrowed from a friend away for summer vacation. It is the limited edition comic book with holofoil cover that never existed; in the game are the characters that do battle on these imaginary pages. Darksiders is what happens when a comic book artist has something to say about a video game’s design. The art direction of Darksiders provides a solid foundation for this original setting, where a generous layer of grunge and oversized pauldrons was applied to a formula so revered by video game culture it has become all but untouchable. This aesthetic becomes one of the strongest points of Darksiders, as it is so convincing that the flagrant plagiarism happening underneath can be overlooked. This is not mere homage; the team at Vigil Games has created a video game. The intent of the game’s design is clear from the beginning, and like the adventure it contains, does not deviate from this prescribed pathway. Darksiders has scope and it has goals, but it does not over-reach. The mechanics are inviting and do not ask for anything but the player’s attention. Darksiders demands to be played.

Darksiders has been criticized mainly for its lack of originality; it seems pointing out an obvious trait of video games in general is cause enough for dismissal. The negative commentary claims everything Darksiders has to offer has been done previously – and better – elsewhere. The most popular example being the one-button finishing moves and gratuitous vivisections of the God of War series. However, when playing Darksiders there should really be only one series of video games that comes to mind: The Legend of Zelda. And this should come as no surprise, as it was always the intent of Darksiders Creative Director and comic book artist Joe Madureira^[1]. Typical for the reception of such an endeavor, Darksiders was the victim of offhanded associations from people who didn’t play the game, or worse – they weren’t paying attention while they played it^[2].

The individuals that purport to dictate taste through these indolent opinions are propagating a disease within video game culture, one that results in some offensive double-speak regarding the advancement and future of the industry. They want innovation, but they don’t want anything too different. They complain about formulas and sequels, yet express deep reverence for a character or game design as old as video games. No one can do platforming like Mario, or solve puzzles like Link in The Legend of Zelda. These memories are untouchable, and the games that inspired them incorruptible^[3]. By adopting this philosophy, the people who play these games with veneration overflowing in their hearts are limiting themselves to the regurgitations of the same formula, made by the same people, to the hollow ringing of cash registers. And in spite of it all, there is never a shortage of criticism when the big studios keep producing these duplicates. This feedback loop is the unfortunate ecosystem of the video game industry.

For the first half of Darksiders, the plagiarism is so obvious that it becomes a running gag as to see which tool will be received in each dungeon. One dungeon had hard to reach switches, which were obvious call signs for a boomerang. Only in Darksiders it’s called a “Crossblade.” The hook shot? It’s been suitably grittied up as the “Abyssal Chain.” Despite this overt imitation, these items were still fashioned to reflect the world of Darksiders. It also calls into question the Zelda series itself: aren’t the recent installments of the series essentially a facsimile of every Zelda game ever made? What Darksiders has going for it is that it isn’t a Zelda game. The genre bullshit can be cast aside because there is no genre – Darksiders is copying a game that has been in a genre of its own since its creation. Darksiders works because it is similarly consistent in its approach. It applies a formula that is obvious from the start and sticks with it for the entirety of the game. As a result there are no surprises, and the disappointments are only from attempting to assign attributes to the game it was never meant to have.

Read the rest of this entry »

Prototype is excess. It is what happens when game designers grow up with American comic books post-comics code and the type of Japanese animation that is more interested in overblown displays of power than telling a story. It is a game with rules that are designed to be broken at every turn. The player is rewarded for brazen and barbaric tactics. In Prototype, there are too many abilities and limitless power, yet no loyalty to an ideal. Like X-Men’s Dark Phoenix, Alex Mercer is granted godlike status with no one to stand in his way. The game revels in bloodshed and in selfish pursuits that amount to little more than breadcrumbs on the trail of some government conspiracy. Prototype is advertised as a “superhero” video game. But Alex Mercer is no hero. He isn’t even an anti-hero. He is a plague on humanity. And at the end of it all, after everything he has wreaked upon the city of New York, this descriptor proves to be the most accurate.

After a few hours of play, Prototype will come across as a patchwork of unfinished concepts. On the one hand, it offers up such a varied selection of powers and skills that it will suit any playing style, and in theory adds levels of complexity to completing the tasks that are presented to the player. Yet on the other, Prototype provides two completely overpowered vehicles that will get any job done a lot faster, without the strategic use of Alex’s talents. This is a game that needs rules put in place. While I wanted to figure out other ways to approach Prototype’s challenges, the winning strategy was to cause enough havoc to summon a strike team, and then steal their vehicles. Aside from some fairly engaging boss battles where vehicles were not options, the challenge in Prototype is the player’s own restraint.

Read the rest of this entry »

On the surface, X-Men Origins: Wolverine seems like a single player verison of Raven Software’s own X-Men Legends/Marvel Ultimate Alliance, that focuses more on the immediate thrill of the action instead of stat boosting and party management. Most importantly, they have learned from past transgressions X2: Wolverine’s Revenge and X-Men: The Official Game ^[1], which were pathetic responses to fans who have been waiting for a proper X-Men action game since the 16-bit era.

In Raven’s previous action RPGs, Wolverine was just another character that had a few powerful melee attacks and a regenerating health bar. As a member of a party, the personality and feel of the character were lost among the others in the game through the party’s inherent interchangeability. Not to say that his witty remarks and added durability weren’t welcome in any party; rather, it was the overall game’s design that limited the character depth to present the mechanical essentials of each character so they would do exactly what you would expect of them.

With Origins, I get the feeling that Raven wanted to show Wolverine fans they haven’t forgotten about their favorite character. They have attempted to create an unflinching portrayal of Wolverine that is all at once bestial, ruthless and completely without fear. They wanted to give him moves that were previously only seen on two page spreads in the comics. That’s probably why they included the sequence where you leap into the air and stab a helicopter.

With each slice and thrust, with each severed body part and spray of blood, Raven is trying to tell us something: Wolverine is a vicious animal. He is a meat grinder, an unstoppable force that will level the opposition into bloody chunks. You will see heads being lopped off. You will see enemies skewered on adamantium claws.

But is it satisfying? It is not.

Ninja Gaiden II is one of the most violent and bloody video games created by man^[2]. Even though you are using a sword, there is an affinity shared with the action on-screen. It subscribes to an ancient warrior philosophy: that the sword must be the extension of the body. The sound of a single steel blade blocking an attack, the visual feedback as sword meets flesh, the absurdity of blood spraying in every direction, the resultant thud of detached body parts – these are the expected outcomes of such activity. And they are exacted with such precision and ruthlessness that you can’t help but be drawn into the game.

And yet Wolverine, whose “swords” are in fact part of his body, yields nothing remotely similar. He could be punching the characters on screen for all I can tell. Considering how integral these weapons are to each attack, to the character’s very being, one would expect the level of emotional investment for each kill would increase exponentially beyond the use of a 30-inch piece of tempered steel. But this is not the case.

There are no mobs; instead, enemies are carefully placed around the level for you to use the environment (i.e. spikes sticking out of the ground), make Wolverine spin around in circles, or provides a launch pad for you to use the Lunge attack. One of my favorite additions to the genre, the Lunge attack is much more visually rewarding than jumping, an act that seems unnecessary in comparison. However, the Lunge simply reiterates the problem with this game: there is always distance between the Player and his objectives. There is time to think and decide about how to attack. There are combinations of claw attacks that can be used, and there are special powers that can be levelled up. Kind of like Raven’s other games.

But there was never a time where I was confronted with a horde of enemies, or felt I was in danger at any time. There was no risk or opportunity for this character who is famous for dealing with overwhelming odds, to excel. There is blocking, but there are no counter-attacks. The decapitations seem random and there is no equivalent to Ryu’s Obliteration Technique. Combat is procedural in Origins: go over here, attack, enemy takes some damage. Repeat. There is no fanfare. There is no real visual payoff.

Even in the demo, I can see how this approach to combat will fail in the long term. I know that it will be drawn out just to develop the missing chapters that the movie only refecences in passing. But despite these feelings (which are correct), I still want more. I want to be Wolverine because he is perfectly suited to such an endeavor. I want to repeat the connection I felt at Ninja Gaiden II’s most primal moments, where blade meets flesh and bone to produce buckets of blood. Origins seems to skirt the edges of what it means to have Wolverine’s claws to mete out his fierce vengeance, but the game never fully commits to this ideal.

The introductory film at the beginning of the game shows a Wolverine in a tattered X-Men uniform: attacking everything in sight, claws dripping with blood, spittle dribbling from his bottom lip. He was an animal that took pleasure in the act of killing. This is the Wolverine I grew up reading about. However, X-Men Origins: Wolverine doesn’t hold up its end of the bargain. It disheartens the player that has envisioned the displays of savagery that were reserved for the pages of comic books.

So I find myself incredibly angry at this game. And not the same as I was with Wanted: Weapons of Fate^[3] – that was the result of a development team that completely mishandled a fairly new property. This is Wolverine, people. A character that has evolved over a period of years through comic books, cartoons, video games and movies. We know him and we know what to expect from him. So why did Raven feel the need to hold back?

Despite the association with the terribly received film, X-Men Origins: Wolverine could have been an excellent action game standing on its own alongside landmarks like Ninja Gaiden II. But because Raven’s restraint is clearly exhibited in the game’s core mechanics, there is no way it can ever fully emerge as a study of Wolverine’s darkest characteristic: his killer instinct.

I intended for my recent article about the state of the comic book movie to be comprehensive. I assembled the micro-reviews by memory, and last year’s Constantine (a somewhat loose adaptation of DC’s Hellblazer series) somehow slipped by. Though I guess that says a lot about the quality of the movie. I’ve added it to the article for completeness.

In getting that review of X-Men: The Last Stand off of my chest, I started thinking about the role comic books have played in Hollywood cinema over the past few years. While it isn’t a new occurrence for Hollywood to borrow liberally from other forms of media as the basis for the latest screenplay (the lack of original screenplays lately being another topic entirely), it seems that after the box office and critical successes of Sam Raimi’s Spider Man in 1999 and Bryan Singer’s X-Men the following year, interest seems to be peaking. How could the American film industry continue to pass up this previously neglected well of unused properties? In conversations with fellow comic book fans at the time, I even went so far as to say that the comic book movie was experiencing a true renaissance – the producers and directors were finally realizing that they couldn’t simply rely on the hardcore fanatics to fill theatre seats. This statement was egregiously misguided, however, as the comic movies to be released in the years that followed would show.

Read the rest of this entry »