Cyberpunk 2077, let's talk...

And now I've no one to love.

3 months have gone by and finally CDPR have released the long awaited E3 2019 gameplay demo for Cyberpunk 2077. Now, I feel that at this point I no longer need to press upon you how excited I personally am about this game. Cyberpunk seems to be a polyamorous marriage between all my favourite aspects of video games into one supergame that isn't even been sold by some shady extortionate company like... almost every other AAA company nowadays. The fact that this game, being made by this company, ever made it to production is astonishing when you think about the amount of smaller, and just as promising projects, that get snuffed out in their infancy by money men.

Early this year I wrote a pretty extensive blog detailing the many accounts I had heard of the 50 minute E3 gameplay demo and everything that CDPR revealed through it. This was the same amount of research I had do for the initial Cyberpunk E3 demo (Although I didn't have my blog going at that time) and that had still managed to blow me away, so I was over the moon for this demo. I loved the way how CDPR let their game do the talking and provided mere context for that original 50 minutes, allowing the viewers to paint their own stories in the frame; when I saw that CDPR promised another demo I expected the same treatment, obviously I was mistaken.

Things grew more uncertain when CDPR started doing their tours around the world to gaming shows and then revealed that the public demo would not be shown off the same that they showed it E3, but a 15 minute supercut. I must admit I was disappointed but didn't let it dampen my excitement, cutting the trailer down to its salient wow-moments seemed to make sense and would keep things focused. I kept this optimism up all the way until yesterday when they released the thing, and I was less than impressed. I was so unenthused that I couldn't even stomach the Q&A afterwards, I stuck about for 30 minutes before going to off to play some Battlefront.

To be fair it was mostly my own fault for ruining this trailer. CDPR opted to showcase this demo through a highly narrated and cut-up walkthrough that simply jumped from scene to scene (Out of order, I may add.) whilst talking about systems that I already knew about. I'm no 'incredibly-connected-industry-pundit' either, I'm just a ass on the Internet who writes blogs and I still knew about everything in this trailer months before they put it up. I dispelled the illusion for myself by doing my research and I suppose I have no one to blame for that but myself. That being said, I still don't think the reveal was that impressive.

I have since rewatched the footage, whilst doing my best to ignore the narrator, and I have been able to appreciate it a bit more. (By transplanting my experiences with similar games and pondering how this one can expand and divert my expectations.) Although I still have some nagging concerns about this game and what the end product will actually be, the kind of nagging which at this point will only be answered when the game finally comes out. But I'm sick of being a Debbie downer, let me get into breaking down the beats of the trailer (again) and seeing the things that I really liked and maybe some predictions into where I believe the story will go.

The 'Deep dive' (good joke) demo started at the end of the gameplay slice, with V being piled into an ice bath and sent into the 'net'. Visually, this reminds me of the ramshackle organ farm from the first demo, so I'm already dubious about how trustworthy the Voodoo boys (the featured gang of the trailer) actually are. At this point the players are guided through the basics of Netrunning by the Voodoo boys' leader; Brigitte, as she shows off a plot device that I believe with have paramount importance to the overarching plot; (Or at least what I believe will be the meta-struggle of this game) The Black Wall.

For those unfamiliar, the Black Wall is a new plot thread added to Cyberpunk lore by Mike Pondsmith's newest release of his tabletop RPG; Cyberpunk Red. (No relation to CDPR, the naming was pure coincidence.) Red is designed to bridge the time gap between Cyberpunk 2020 and the upcoming game by explaining how the world ended up in the state it will become. This means explaining how new gun manufactures popped up, where certain new gangs fit in and, why Netrunning in Cyberpunk 2077 is so more hands on then it is in the tabletop. (With 'Netrunning' being the act of physically interacting with the Internet, usually with the intention to perform a hack.)

In the tabletop, Netrunning can be performed practically anywhere due to the interconnectivity of the Internet, essentially allowing a skilled hacker to conduct an entire mission without ever leaving the safety of their home office. Of course, this wouldn't exactly work in stealth based action game where encounters are meant to be balanced, designing every mission to be completable without any physical interaction would be far too great a workload. So CDPR and Mike Pondsmith made the decision to tweak how Netrunning works and they invented the Black Wall to achieve this. As I understand it, the Black Wall was instituted after some catastrophic incident wherein the hack of the century was pulled off, all major Internet firewalls were breached and information lost all market value for a time. In order to combat this, the entire structure of the Internet was reworked and remade, with all the old infrastructure being hid behind an impenetrable super-firewall known as the Black Wall. Now, all 'nets' exist on decentralized networks that require an individual to physically interact with the area in order to 'jack in'.

In the mission shown, they allude to the importance of this Black Wall to the Voodoo boys nearer to the end. The narrator explains that Netwatch (The body designed to, what else, vanguard the Net) are locked in a struggle with the Voodoo boys over the 'free AI's' behind the firewall. Although we have little context to put that into perspective, we were told that this struggle between liberation and containment has the potential to cause the 'end of the world', pretty heavy stuff to talk about in a demo featurette. Although we'll likely have to wait until the full game to figure out if that statement is poetic or literal.

The demo then goes on to introduce us to the district of  Pacifica, a very different locale to the  district of Watson from the original demo. Here we really get to see the diversity in the environments that we can expect from Cyberpunk 2077, in that whilst Watson was very built up with city-scrapers and pristine highways, Pacifica is rundown and torn up; an idyllic dream that slipped into a nightmare. Just looking at the skyline shows off unfinished skyscrapers being strafe bombed by police VTOLs and streets lined with debris and homeless tents. As I explained in my last blog, this was due to the entire district being pitched as a tourist hotspot before some mysterious event caused all corporate investors to pull funding and leave the place unfinished and the migrant workers jobless.

In the middle of all this, resides the district's aforementioned Voodoo gang. These people are introduced as being much more integrated with the local community than the Skinners from Watson, therefore you're less likely to be unceremoniously shot by the first one you bump into. Also, as the community of Pacifica are mostly comprised of Haitians that have fled from their natural-disaster torn country, you can expect to hear snippets of Haitian Creole floating about the local dialect. Another step towards the unwavering authenticity of the world by the uncompromising folks over at CDPR. 

V, the protagonist, is tasked with infiltrating an old rundown mall in order to discover why a new gang (Known as the Animals) have set up shop on Voodoo turf. From here we get to see the combat and stealth gameplay of the demo, and there was nothing really new to show from this point. We see some physical combat as well as heavy weapons work from the strong-woman V, as well as a little peak at the hacking minigame and nano-wire (Not 'mono-wire' like was originally reported) slicing from the sneaky-man V. This all concluded with a bossfight that looked less intense than the last one we saw, and a hodgepodge of lore tossed at us at the end.

The only thing new that I took away from this trailer was legitimate concern over the character customization system. As a fellow with a less-than-standard facial structure, it is hard for me to make someone who looks like me in character customisers, which is partially responsible for the way that I never make characters who resemble me (With exceptions to my characters in Fallout 4 and Mass Effect Andromeda.) I always do enjoy it when I can spend hours in systems like this making everything just right, but from what I've seen I'm doubtful that Cyberpunk is going to provide the systems to allow for that. It makes sense, I suppose, the entire game will be in first person so why bother on making a unique face? But seeing as this will be the face I see whenever I look in the mirror; or, even worse, whenever I open up the inventory screen, it would be nice if I could be happy with what I get to look at. Perhaps it's selfish to say, but I don't want to look at some square-jawed handsome action hero whenever I see the face of my back-water struggling mercenary; I want to see the face of someone who looks real and whom I can relate too. (Ideally my own face.)

However, in a way this conversation does actually go back to the overarching themes of Cyberpunk as a whole. This is a society wherein we have outgrown the boundaries of natural evolution and completely surrendered to the current of transhumanism. One factor of this means that it is entirely possible that 'ordianry' looking people don't exist anymore as everyone can just genetically enhance themselves to look however they want to. Natural beauty no longer exists in a world ruled and shaped by the synthetic. But by that same merit, if beauty is no longer a status symbol, then why pursue it? Wouldn't that lead to more people who shun the 'laser surgery' and 'plastic implant' lifestyle of the elite? At this point we're talking about theoretical societal trends which can get hugely subjective, so I can't really say for certain.

Just like how I can't say for certain whether or not Cyberpunk's character creation looks entirely robust. One could, and likely will, argue that this game is 'still being developed' and how the developers even tweeted about expanding upon character creation after 2018 feedback, but I actually find neither fact comforting. Both mean that diverse creation systems were never the focus of the main team, therefore, if no one on board is passionate about it, we are unlikely to get a system even nearly as deep as those created by people who are all about providing great character creation tools. I'm not upset because we likely won't see anything as grand as the Sims CAS or Fallout's 'racemenu', but because I think it'll end up being something more akin to the option select screen you find in MMO's. (I.e. pick a face out of these 4, pick a nose out of these 4, there you go, face done!) It's a small point of contention, but seeing as how everything else about Cyberpunk seems masterful, even a little bit of mediocrity sticks out like a sore thumb.

But enough complaining, let's delve into rampant speculation. Let me start be saying, I think that CDPR have subtly let onto the main conflict of the game through this trailer. I think that the struggle of the Voodoo boys will be a central driving force of the main plot to coincide with the personal story we already know about. I know that seems rather far-fetched, afterall, the Voodoo boys are just another gang, there's one in each district, but I don't believe that is entirely the case. The Voodoo boys have already been presented as different from traditional gangs in that they are pretty much a pillar of their respective community, they are the law on streets that the state police refuse to tread on. Rather than acting like leeches to the community, the Voodoo boys support and provide structure to the local Haitians and give them a network in which they feel safe. Already, this morally grey representation seems ripe for some 'pick-a-side' choices down the line when it comes to the rule of the Corpo's.

Plus, this seems to fit in with CDPR's track record with storytelling. In The Witcher, Geralt was always set off on his own personal adventure during which a huge meta narrative was going on around him. In The Witcher 2 there was the strained relationship between the Nilfgaard Empire and everyone else. The Witcher 3 expanded this into all out hostilities between the king of Redania and Nilfgaard. Wouldn't it make sense for Cyberpunk to be set in similar straits? We already know that V is mainly driven by a desire to learn more about the Johnny-Silverhand-hallucination-causing chip embedded in their head which (spoiler alert) is apparently the key to immortality. (My guess is digital immortality, Soma style.)

Also, I'm going to take a guess now that Jackie (The best friend from the original demo who was killed off in 2019 trailer) is not only inconsequential to the overarching storyline but an overall optional character. I think that CDPR just wanted to show off their 'widely different' introductory sequences that is linked to the selection of the character's background. Why else would they kill the guy off in a trailer? It makes no sense. I originally suggested that this may be to show of the 'action/consequnce' mechanic, symbolized by the way that V stares at his blood soaked hands in the bathroom, but this never sat right by me. Consequence-based RPG choices have been a stable of gaming for over a decade now, it's not worth spoiling a, potentially major, character death just to show it off. I think Jackie's fate is a foregone conclusion and V is destined to tackle the forces of Night City alone. (Apart from the snarky comments from his resident Keanu Reeves)

Well that's everything. I've covered the trailer and thrown my thoughts about everything that might happen, and that is likely going to be the extent of my Cyberpunk 2077 coverage until the game is out. (10 days before my birthday!) Until then I will handle the agonizing wait the way that I have learnt to do after many years of hype-train jumping; by forgetting that the game exists. (Much better than wishing my life away.) I hold high hopes for the future of CDPR, despite what my tone this blog might suggest, and also impose heavy expectations. It seems that no AAA studio is free from being scumbags in this day and age, and CDPR are lone standouts in that regard. It seems cruel to place such huge responsibility on their shoulders, for the respectability of all high-budget games, but that is simply the situation that they have been placed in by their contemporaries. I hope Cyberpunk 2077 will be as good as it looks, and I know that CD Projekt Red will do right by fans either way.

Winning back trust

It's a long road, when you're own your own.

You've heard of Star Wars Battlefront 2. We all have. The legends. The Curses. Foolishness about it's progression being fueled by a sense of pride and accomplishment. A bright, shiny Star Wars game, leading fans to their doom. Some the fandom's staunchest critics were allured to it's initial promise. This game was meant to be a sign of... hope. The launch was meant be a symbol of the road to a better Star Wars franchise, not just for fans... but for anyone who loved video games. A chance for gamers' relationship with DICE to begin anew. Except, that perfect Star Wars game never arrived. Lootboxes froze it's potential with controversy, like a flashbulb going off. The grand launch, one big ending to an era of consumer/developer relations. It's still out there, on shop shelves, preserved, waiting to be bought and for that case to be cracked open. But maintaining it, that's not the hard part. It's bringing fans back. (Yikes, that bit went on.)

You may remember me expressing how I recently purchased and played the infamous 'Star Wars: Battlefront 2', through my scathing review of the single player campaign. Well, I must admit that since then I haven't stopped playing. It has become my go-to online game for the foreseeable future. Whereas Fallout 76 has somehow managed to slip up on it's desire to bring new content and rendered itself almost unplayable for the time being, I'm stuck with DICE's (And EA's) most recent Star Wars venture. And for the most part, I am not too disappointed with this turn of events.

I was once a huge Star Wars fan, so I have that initial hook into the universe to keep me interested, but the game itself seems solid enough anyway. It is still leagues away from the 'Battlefield 3 in space' concept that a lot of people envisioned when they first heard of this series' development, but it is better than the free-for-all of a game that was the first EA Battlefront. The maps are all beautiful and fun to fight on, (with the exception of Star Killer Base) the game modes provide a welcome dose of variety to your gameplay options, (even including a subtle survival horror mode with Ewok Hunt) and, crucially, the progression is entirely fixed from what it was at launch; No need to buy powerups or Heroes. (You still have to earn a ludicrous amount of credits for skins, however.)

All that being said, I am still far away from forgiving the game for the state that it left the games industry in. On one hand it's despicable greed was so retchingly abhorrent that it ushered in talks that may not have happened, were EA were more subtle in slipping their hands into our wallets. On the otherhand, we are a few legal proceedings away from the US government setting a precedent for altering content in video games, a precedent that is sure to have wide reaching consequences, like I have commented amount in length. But all of this mess did put Battlefront 2 in a peculiar place wherein it's solid gameplay was completely overlooked due to it's practises. DICE have since gone above and beyond to retro fit the game in a desperate bid to win back consumers. (Although the only thing that won me back was that steep discount.) There is an interesting lesson to be learned here about maintaining public relations amidst the heaviest backlash, and recently one EA DICE employee partook in an interview to share what that was like, so I gave it a look

Dennis Brännvall, Design director for Star Wars Battlefront 2, spoke with gamesindustry.biz about much of the aftermath of the great lootbox fiasco of 2017. "Not a week goes by without us thinking, 'Imagine if we hadn't launched with loot boxes the way we did.'" Dennis shares how much of the game's potential was stifled by association and how, ever since, the team have been fighting tooth and nail to win back the respect of the community. They see their struggle as similar to the one that Rainbow Six: Siege went through in the early stages of it's life; initial struggles overshadowed by a meteoric rise to prominence. For my part I do find this equivalence somewhat wanting; Siege is the game for asymmetric tactical shooter fans whilst Battlefront lacks a distinct voice of it's own, but I see where the man is coming from.

He didn't shy away from the consequences of their initial blunder either. Dennis expresses how the team "Hit rock bottom in regards to player sentiment." and says that "the team had to look at itself in the mirror a little bit, pick ourselves up from a really rough Christmas for everyone and then just get back to work." This message does sort of ring familiar to what Respawn (another EA subsidiary) echoed after their own monetisation controversy, but the Battlefront team differ in that they actually backed up these words with action. After the backlash from the beta regarding pay-to-win mechanics, DICE pulled all lootboxes from the game 24 hours before launch (Entirely out of the goodness of their hearts and in no way because Bob Iger called looking a butt to stick his foot up.)

He had promising words for the future too. (Promising depending on where you approach this issue, at least.) Dennis said that the team had no intention on moving onto Battlefront 3 anytime soon. (And that's not just because EA refuses to give them funding for a third game after the mess they made of 2.) He claims that their company has been "on the 'Sequel treadmill' for quite some time now", and how they have the desire to switch direction and start building 'communities' instead of 'customers.' The way he paints things, the traditional model of making games is no longer conductive to a healthy game and they would rather spend their time building on the foundation they established. He highlighted Battlefront 1 as an example of this. During that game's development, they knew the end date of the team's support before they started, and so they felt no incentive to work on fundamental systems that didn't work; they could just fix it in the next game. Nowadays we see updates every month as DICE slowly push this game into a state comparable to 14 year old original. (You'll get there one day guys!)

Pushing past all the crud, I do appreciate what Dennis had to share here regarding the game. He spent time reinforcing the importance of satisfying the community in this day-and-age, over just fleecing them for money; and he's right. Nowadays, gamers are spoilt for choice in just about every genre that they can imagine. If you want a high quality first person shooter you have, COD, Battlefield, Battlefront and Apex Legends. If you want a battle royale you have, Fallout, COD, Fortnite and Apex Legends. If you want a highly competitive tactical multiplayer experience you have, Siege and Overwatch. (I guess.) AAA developers no longer have the power of exclusivity to strong arm players into putting up with their nonsense and must build up their player base in other ways. Just look at the huge drop off that Black Ops 4 had after it's initial release, players want to feel like their game has more staying power, even in market traditionally dominated by one-year life cycle games.

I suppose that, in a way, this signals the death of traditional games, everything from this point forward must have some sort of 'live service' element. I am often rather critical of the 'live-service' model, but seeing as how it's now the future (ugh) I suppose I should try to glean some benefits. (Maybe I'll write a blog to that effect down the line.) The release of, the abominably-named, Rise of the Skywalker, should usher a substantial number of fans back to the game. At that point we will be able to see if DICE really have learnt their lesson, or if they slip back into their money-grubbing ways by paywalling all the cool things behind stupid credit grinds. (Mark my words.) I may have lost most all interest in the struggle of 'light vs dark', but 'consumers vs corperations' ought to be an struggle worth paying attention to this December. 

In defence of: Cutscenes.

Put that controller down for a second.

Wanna know what grinds my gears? All of this lambasting culture around the art of video game cutscenes does. It really drives me nuts. I'm not talking about a few people who dislike a certain type of lazy cutscene or one that imbues a confused tone, I'm talking about a wide part of the gaming community (Emboldened mostly by reviewers and journalists) who feel is it their duty to try and exorcise cutscenes from gaming altogether. It absolutely astounds me that such an innocuous and, occasionally, positively transformative practise is treated so brutally by people who seem to consider it a 'lazy storytelling tool.'

To play devil's advocate, I do understand where this sentiment spreads from. Afterall, Video games are meant to be games, right? You play through the interactive portion, complete your objective, score your points (like the wider media likes to say) and then promptly switch of the console the moment that the credits roll. That's how games used to be, back in the days of the Atari, and that is the way that they should always be, right? Perhaps I'm being a tad facetious there, but you can see the root of my ire. People want to treat video games like it is it's own form of media and therefore cannot borrow some of it's elements from similar forms of media otherwise it's "Cutting corners" or "being unimaginative."

Allow me to shatter this idea that people have about gaming; it's not a brand new artform that materialized the second someone invented Pong, it is an evolution of several art forms that collate into something distinct. It borrows from the visual storytelling that one can find in paintings, drawings and Film, with the audible storytelling from film, radio and music and, occasionally, the written storytelling from books. There are a few unique aspects to gaming, such as the concept of interactivity and the way that immerses the player into the world, but this is just the backbone of an organism made of several parts.

None of this is to say that there is no such thing as lazy cutscenes in video games that take from the experience, of course they exist. Just as we moan when we see a wall of text at the beginning of a movie telling us what we should know, (or clap, if its in Star Wars)  there can be some erroneous uses of cutscenes that do more to harm one's immersion rather than aid it. The key is balance and quality of content. Balance, in assuring that the most important element of a game (the gameplay) holds up and that you don't start seeing cutscenes as a 'reward' for pushing through the game (if you're playing the game just to see the next cutscene, then your priorities are clearly out-of-whack.) ; and Quality, in ensuring that the artistry behind the scene borrows from the medium that mastered visual storytelling (Movies) as much as possible and doesn't just become an exposition dump.

"But why are you so passionate about this particular topic?" You may wonder. Well, it stems from the same source that fueled my passion in the 'lore' blog; I live for context. Every part of an immersive journey is shaped and made by it's ties to context; without it, everything becomes meaningless. Playing a game for the sake of gathering points or reaching the end screen is fine enough; heck, if the game is good enough I will even play for the sake of playing, but I cannot feel like part of that world until you begin to make it real in my head or allow me to do so myself. Just look at 'The Bells' from Game of Thrones Season 8; (Spoilers; as if that matters.) that entire series dropped the ball in it's storytelling to such a degree that nothing felt like it mattered anymore. As a consequence, a visually spectacular scene (the burning of King's Landing) lacked all emotion resonance and just became a 30 minute stunt show. I remember checking the time on my phone during the scene, wondering how big this bleeding city is. Establishing the correct context is paramount to making a story.

Cutscenes are another tool towards establishing that context. They allow for the focus of the game to be taken away from the action for a second and give you moment for your characters to shine through and your stage to be set. Some games, such as Assassin's Creed, try to do away with traditional cutscenes whether out of artistic choice or to save on resources. As a result, Assassin's Creed has to rely on exposition delivered while walking around the environment listening to someone else. Reviewers hate this too, claiming how these games are all just walking down the street listening to someone else talk (An incredibly reductive comment in it's own right, but still a somewhat valid criticism.)

The truth of the matter is that game companies could relegate all of their conversations to occurring in-game, but in many instances this would sacrifice the pace of the game. (The biggest point of contention for these critics.) When you are in the middle of action gameplay, that action is the central point of your attention and everything else is secondary. When someone is talking and explaining important things to you, it is easy to ignore some context if that isn't the only thing that the player is focusing on; this is the reason why some of the later COD game's stories get lost in themselves.

"But doesn't pausing the action for a cutscene also cut into the pacing?" Absolutely. If you misplace them, just like anything else in the creative process. If you are in the middle of a shootout and you cut away to a peaceful scene elsewhere, that would rob the story of it's pace and urgency and throw you off your game, just like it would if that happened in any movie. Most game writers and developers are cognizant enough not to do that and instead insert scenes during lulls in the action. Critics could then argue that such a measure would elongate lulls and stagnate the action, to which I would have to refute that such a stance fails to account for the medium at play.

You see, there is another aspect that separates video games from movies, their length. Games can be 20-30 hours longer than a movie, maybe even 80-100 if we're talking about an RPG. In all of that time, it would insane to maintain a pace that even resembles the structure of pacing in a movie. In film, once you hit a rhythm you need to ride that as long as possible, maybe even until the end; In games, that rhythm should ride you onto the next big narrative event before things cool back down. It would be tiring and desensitizing to try and maintain that pace for the full experience and would harm the overall story. Just look at COD and Battlefield, they always fall into this trap in their single player campaigns and everyone one comes away remembering them as adrenaline-filled and shallow. You need that variation in the pacing in order to keep things fresh.

Ultimately, cutscenes are not a detriment to video game storytelling but an incredibly vital component. It may be trendy to throw that, and other lore establishing devices, under the bus whilst pining for the simplicity of 'the good old days', but one needs to remember that the art of Video games has evolved substantially since the Atari days. When we recall what it was about bar-raising video games, like Ocarina of Time and Metal Gear Solid, that pushed the medium forward, we can see it was the maturity and deftness with which they handled and delivered a compelling narrative. As new experiences shape the way that games are made I doubt we will be seeing less of cutscenes, but more elaborate and groundbreaking ones as we push the art of visual storytelling forward. (and subtly replace movies.) Oh, and for the record: Say what you will about Metal Gear but Snake Eater's cutscenes are all sublime.

FOMO

You gonna miss out...

Whilst watching game reviews at 2:00 AM in the morning, as I am often wont to do, YouTube's 'impeccable' recommendation algorithm figured me out enough to feed me an advertisement of a game. Tickled, I decided this would be the first one, in a long while, that I didn't immediately skip. Plus, it was a new 'Ghost Recon: Breakpoint' trailer, so I'm always down to see what's happening in Tom Clancy's military-obsessive world. The Ghost War trailer looked interesting enough, although they seemed to tease some Battle Royale elements in there which was typically eye-rolling, but that isn't the focus of this blog. You see, tucked in there right at the end of the trailer was a little notification I hadn't noticed before, "Play 3 days early with the Ultimate Edition". Oh Ubisoft, not you too...

It instantly got me thinking about all of the ways in which the AAA market have sold consumers on their transparent 'play-first initatives'. And no, I'm talking about Early access games or those that release in pitiful pre-alpha states, that's the topic of a different blog. I am referring to those times in which game developers and publishers have sought to capitalize on the innate consumer desire to be the forebearer, by teasing such players into a deal. It seems like part of the marketing machine nowadays and it's an interesting phenomenon that I want to take a look at.

The first time I fully noticed this was years ago when I had saved up the money to get my first seventh generation console. All the way up to the store I was torn between what console I should buy, going back and forth over the benefits of each (which simply meant looking at what games each had to offer.) Once I got there, however, I saw an absolute must have for any gamer; 'Grand Theft Auto: Episodes from Liberty City' affixed with a sign that read 'Only on Xbox'. "Well my decision is made for me" Naive me, thought "Xbox will have to be the choice". Of course, the truth of the matter is that the game was merely a timed exclusive and would be branching out in time, but I didn't know that, I was just a foolish consumer who fell for the Microsoft-pushed marketing ploy.

Console timed exclusivity have been pushing this sort of 'buy my console' agenda forever. Although, I will come to their defence and say, it's a better practise than outright exclusivity which sullies potential opportunities for the consumer. (Although I imagine the respective developers get a lot more money for it.) This was an effective strategy in the fact that, most consumers who are desperate to play a game will balk at the idea of waiting a year to play how they want, a new console just seems easier for all parties to swallow. Heck, I even considered buying 'the Outer Worlds' on the abominable Epic store before reason swooped in to remind me that it was also releasing on the Microsoft store. (Thank god)

Another fun way that developers coerce players into dishing out early is through the ever exclusive 'founder pack'. You usually find these with kickstarter projects or passion lead MMOs. They are the opportunity in which you have the chance to solidify your belief in the project through the only medium that counts, cold hard cash. As a result of your money, players are rewarded with an exclusive selection of DLC to forever signify that they were on the first ones to be here. This could be a nice emblem, shiny exclusive gear or, most notably, a glittering effect forever embossed around your name for all to see whenever they play with you.

There are some other ways that AAA companies have stepped into the 'founder Pack' meta. Blizzard Entertainment's; Overwatch, boasted an 'Origin Edition' for those who counted among the game's early adopters. This doesn't just provide value to the consumer in the realm of digital content either, as there were boxes printed with the proud 'Origin Edition' title on them, which hold significant value amongst the fields of collectors. Or rather it would, if Overwatch wasn't easily one of the biggest games of it's generation. Pretty much everyone picked it up in that first year, and right now it's probably more of an anomaly to not have the Origin Edition copy of the game. Too bad for rare collectors, I guess.

A method that hits particularly close to home for me is the concept of the Beta. For those that don't know, 'Beta' is a term used to describe a certain milestone that has met in the development of software. In video game development, there is no set-in-stone requirements that a product must meet to be considered 'Beta'; but most would usually see it as the time that the game is starting to take a form resembling the final product, a period that should be immune from wild shifts in the development direction. Public Betas, on the other hand, is the idea of stress-testing the online servers of your product by inviting the audience to jump ontop of them. It should all be very clinical and analytical, afterall, the sole purpose is for ensuring the released product is up to par, right? In recent years however, Beta has taken on on entire new, marketing driven, meaning.

I have mentioned it before, but I was one of those saps that was drawn into the promise of Destiny. A brand new IP crafted by the visionaries behind Halo that promised to be the next bold leap in video game franchises. Every thing about the game seemed epic; from the advertising (Become legend) to the future plans (10-year plan) and even the incredible budget that surpassed any game before. (Although now it is clear that an inflated budget just means that a lot money is getting wasted.) Everyone was so eager to get their hands on the game that we all jumped at the chance to join in on the Beta. Bungie spared no effort in marketing this Beta, either. They didn't propose the Beta as a 'testing phase' but rather a chance to play the game early and be taken in by the world. There was only one caveat; you had to pre-order the game to play the Beta.

The response was incredible, communities were built overnight as people flooded to streams featuring those lucky enough to play the exciting new product. Several YouTube video's also made their quota by selling Beta codes to their audience. It must have been a dizzying time to be at Bungie. When the Beta finally shut down, after an extension, several thousand players, and new friends, all came together to bid each other goodbye as though it were the end of an era (Although the game would release in less than a month.) Since then, Beta's have almost exclusively served as vertical slices of the game offered up in order to hook consumers and drive home a fraction of the pre-orders that Bungie secured with their Beta. Good job Bungie, you started a slightly dishonest marketing revolution.

I was much too familiar with the machinations of greedy companies when I first saw the advent of the  'Play early' model, so I didn't fall for it. It didn't help things that the first time I witnessed it, the deal was attached to 'Mass Effect: Andromeda', a game that was announced far earlier than anyone had expected and positively reeked of EA. This was, of course, back with the EA Early access system, which required players to sign up to their paid-subscription in return for discounts and early access to new releases. They had some success when they pulled it with 'Dragon Age: Inquisition', although that time they merely offered a demo of a few early hours in the game. 'Mass Effect: Andromeda' pushed that limit to ten hours and several years later, Anthem would straight up allow players to play the full game some days before everyone else.

The particularly gross element to this scheme is that the early access is usually tied to the purchase of some vastly inflated 'ultimate editon'. In this way game developers seek to punish those that don't dish out an extra £40 by delaying the world wide release. And make no mistake, that is exactly what this practise represents: a manufactured delay. If the game company thinks that the game is complete enough to charge for early access, it's probably also clear for wide release. (Unless it would never be good enough to justify either, a la Anthem.)

I know I'm not alone in groaning every time I see another dishonest practise like this enter the spectrum of gaming. Even though, in full honesty, none of these practises are too bad, at least not compared to some of the things that could be happening. My problem stems from the fact these companies are so desperate to secure that first week funding (which is all important to the performance charts) that they subtly strain the respect between consumer and developer. Don't get me wrong, the strain is subtle, but make no mistake, it is there. When companies balk at the fact that their later games were not as big as the others despite them utilizing the same tactics, it is often because they push just a little too hard with this methods and annoy the consumers. 'Early play' incentives are mostly harmless; a small nick, rather a full-blown slash, to consumer trust. But they should never discount the inevitability of 'death by a thousand cuts'.

My Manuscript on Modular Manipulation otherwise known as: Modifications.

Oh, Just do it yourself then!

Gaming on the PC can be a troubling ordeal. One must keep on top of system requirements, driver updates, game patches and sometimes even the operating system itself. Oftentimes the hoops one has to jump through in order to get the base game itself to function makes the entire experience not worth your time. (Very few games are worth 8 straight hours of trolling through forums until you find an obscure fix on a necro-thread posted by the one games developers; Divinity 2.) But, as any PC elitist will parrot, the reward is the ability to enjoy the full breadth of what a game can offer, and what the community can offer.

Given the malady of humanity to crave the ever-elusive virtue of perpetuity, it should be of no surprise that many people never want to stop playing the games they love. Sometimes sequels can wane in quality or the direction can veer sharply from what you wanted, thus you are drawn back to your old faithful, content in the familiar. But what happens once you've done everything you can do with the product? What happens when there are no depths left to explore in your favourite game? Do you finally move on, or undergo a series of experimental medical procedures to alter your memory so that you may re-approach the game anew? Neither, you delve into the wonderful world of mods.

'Mods' is the term we coin to refer to modifications (get it?) to the base of the game. Different from User Generated Content, Mods can range from something as mundane as a retexturing to something as elaborate as a whole new DLC sized quest mod. (Not to knock any of those high-class retextures I see out there.) They are pieces of content developed and uploaded up members of the community with no ties to the studio who created the game and thus none of the limitations. Mods can stretch the limit of your imagination and fundamentally change the way that a game is played from the ground up. They can be that transformative if the right talent and passion is behind it.

In recent years the idea of 'modding' has started to catch on in the mainstream. Just look online and you'll find dozens of articles detailing 'the best mod to achieve this effect' or update articles following the crafting of some of the most ambitious mods ever like the, apparently soon to release, 'Skyblivion'. In fact, it is a little disingenuous to label mods as a PC phenomenon nowadays; during the marketing for Fallout 4, Todd Howard boasted at the Microsoft conference about how this game would be the first ever home console game to allow for modding. (Which wasn't entirely true, that year's Farming Simulator beat it out by a few months.) True, when Fallout 4 actually landed we saw that the implementation lacked the breadth of what was possible on PC, (Plus mods had to go through Bethesda so we didn't get anything truly outlandish) but this was a significant step to bringing this element of gaming to the masses.

But what is it that is alluring about the world of modding? Well if you ask people like Todd Howard, he claims that it all about the act of taking ownership of your game, filling it with content of your choosing and playing the way that you want to play. For some it can be the promise of a never ending story with constant adventures from now until the end of the Internet. Others may just like the idea of seeing something familiar shone in a whole new light that shifts the viewers perception. There is something deeply personal about the act of modding that makes it appeal to so many different people in so many different ways.

Of course, with how huge the world of modding is and litany of hosting platforms for those mods, there is no earthly way that I can provide an exhaustive list of mods, or even games that feature mods. I spend so much of my free time browsing through gaming forums from every type all over the Internet, and yet I still get surprised by a new one now and then. Therefore, I have instead chosen to focus on certain types of mods that each cater to a certain need from the community. This should help me rationalize this blog and provide something that is fairly coherent. (Although coherence is never certain when you're on this blog.)

Firstly, I will focus on the mods that attempt to fix certain aspects about the core game. These are the modifications that do not try to alter the creator's vision, but rather bolster it my delivering the much beloved 'unofficial patch'. Every now and then, time constraints or lack of resources can lead to corners being cut in the development process. Sometimes all this amounts to is a feature or area being trimmed down or cut, whilst othertimes this can be as serious as leaving huge bugs out in the open for players to deal with. Consumers may have to wait until a patch is released to address this issues, if that patch comes at all (Remember, developers must always be moving onto their next project.), or they could simply roll up their sleeves and get to it themselves.

Sometimes these patches are so imperative that they become absolute must-haves in the community. 'Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines' Unofficial Patch is renowned as the only way one can feasibly run that game on modern consoles (With a modern resolution.) Saints Row 2 similarly suffers from poor PC optimization that can make the game unplayable; celebrated mod, Gentleman of the Row, fixes many of these core concerns whilst adding a bevy of new vehicles and customization options. Things don't even need to be that drastic either. When 'NeiR:Automata' released, it was sorely lacking in settings, one discerning modder fixed this with a helpful patch that provided everything one would require from a settings menu, removing the need to prowl through a volatile 'Ini' file.

Then there are the customization mods. When a developer offers the player customization options, the intent is obvious; they want to engage the player's creative side and have them create an avatar for themselves that they feel personally attached to. This can be difficult, however, if the tools available to you are not broad enough to create your ideal character. Normally, the only solution would be to scale back one's ambition, but with modding you can reach for the exact opposite. Any game with a character customizer is just patiently waiting for the community to supplement it with modding options.

Games like X-Com 2 launched out of the box with mod support to help accommodate for these kinds of mods. Members of your squad could be fashioned with a modular customization system, ideal for additional content, and even attributed a voice pack, which players could create. As such it wasn't too hard to create an entire force of your favourite pop culture/ Video game characters to help fight back against ADVENT. Even the GTA games have been met with hundreds of clothing mods, dating all the way back to San Andreas. Creating your perfect character is very important to some people.

Software in tech is a fickle mistress, just when you feel you've reached her full potential, she reconstructs the goal posts next year. As such, graphics that look top-of-the-line today will undoubtedly be outclassed tomorrow in our endless march towards 1:1 animation. Some of your favourite games from back in the day likely still look as perfect as the day you met in your head, but dig it out and you may start to notice the crease of wrinkles and the sag of skin. (This personification bit is going a tad awry.) modders have you covered, however, with all the tools you need to spruce your game back up and have it looking good as new.

There are many examples of beautification projects in the modding community, such as the aforementioned retextures that one might find in the Fallout and Elder Scrolls world. This is when modders extract texture files and either do-them-up or just straight replace them with their own maps. Then there are lighting mods, volumetric mixers and texture blenders that all work together to blur the seams of the world to be imperceptible. ENB's bring all of these together to overhaul the visual atmosphere of your entire game world. And no, I don't know what 'ENB' stands for. (Best guess from me is 'Enhanced Natural Beauty')

Then there are the mods that bring something wholly unique and new to the game. Folk like me love the escapism of our favourite games so much that we never want the adventure to end, and with content mods it never has to. Modders have been adding new quests, lands and game modes to games ever since the days of Half Life and these are the types of mods that I personally live for. I find nothing more exciting then traversing back to familiar lands and finding things different, it's a new unknowable adventure every time.

There are countless dozens of examples of situations where modders have changed the fabric of a game with their content. I already mentioned Half Life and the slew of mods which comes from that  (One of which became a game of some reknown called: Counter Strike.) DOOM has it's several comprehensive level mods that put the Marine in whole new maps against hoards of monsters. Then there are total conversion mods like Oblivion's 'Nehrim', which uses the base game as a platform to tell a wholly original story in a modder crafted world. There are truly no limits to this kind of creativity.

Modding is one of those elements that I think best encapsulates passion that the gaming community inspires, a passion that few other communities do. How many pieces of art drive people to, not just take up the craft themselves, but actively modify that piece of art to make it their own? You find the odd dedicated fanbase who'll seek to re-edit movies (Like the famous Phantom Edit for the Star Wars Prequels), but nothing that rivals the sheer size and creativity of the modding community. I have dabbled in small, personal mods and I thus I can attest to the amount of love it takes to infuse some part of yourself into someone else's project. It's what transforms games from products into communities, and I look forward to see how it will evolve once it starts taking further root into the general gaming populace. Perhaps we'll start to see that next generation.

Hitman: Situs Inversus

We've already won. This is just maintenance.

Finally we reach the grand finale of 'Hitman: No Subtitle'. Before I get into it I must reiterate once again that this blog will contain pretty hardcore spoilers surrounding the ending of 'Hitman: No Subtitle'. If you have any unfulfilled desire to experience that story for yourself, then just go pick up the thing and come back after your done. Although in all honesty, the selling point of these games more revolve around the gameplay than the narrative; but that doesn't things don't start getting climactic for this level.

IOI tasked themselves with providing a satisfying ending to "Hitman: No Subtitle" and they decided to do this through the dual effort of creating a level so slick it could double as a super villain's lair and wrapping up the loose plot threads so that the next game could move forward unabashed. Set in the snowy mountain tops above Hokkaido, Japan; Situs Inversus places players in the futuristic GAMA private hospital, an advanced medical facility and spa that caters exclusively to the rich and the elite. Players are tasked with overcoming the army of private guards, the extreme high levels of security and the lack of personal equipment in order to murder a familiar target: Soon-to-be-former ICA board member: Erich Soders.

Ever since 'Hitman: No Subtitle's tutorial levels, which take place between levels in the original 'Hitman: Codename 47', the player is set at odds with this particular member of the board. He oversees your psych eval, casts constant doubt over Diana's plans to 'raise' you and even personally organizes a final examination that is supposed to be so abnormally hard that there is no way you could ever succeed. (Given how easy it was, I seriously wander about the standards of the other ICA agents.) IOI went above and beyond in placing you on a collision course with Soders, so it was with little surprise that players learnt of his involvement in a plot to sell out the ICA.

After players dragged themselves through the Colorado level, they were rewarded with a cutscene in which 47 discovers a litany of conspiratorial documents alluding to the existence of a secretive cabal of the rich; (No, not the Illuminati) 'Providence'. As it turns out, Providence has been the secret piece of connective tissue that ran through all the game's targets, they all were either members of, or had ties to, their ranks. This 'Shadow Broker' was using the ICA as a tool with which to take out members of Providence without getting their hands dirty. Obviously this comes at odds with ICA's poorly defined ethics so they must bring an end to this relationship post haste. Things get a bit more interesting, and personal, when they also discover evidence that their own Director Soders is also on Providence's payroll. (Hence his desire to bring that militia base down as soon as possible.) Now the ICA are on a good old fashioned revenge trip as they hunt down Soders.

The ICA managed to dig into Soders affairs and found he has been fast-tracked to a medical procedure at GAMA, probably at the behest of Providence, for a heart transplant. Conveniently, (Or inconveniently for him) Soders suffers from Situs Inversus meaning that he must be given an incredibly rare right-sided heart, and he is willing to sell out the ICA to get it. 47 must eliminate him whilst also setting sights on, nearby Providence official, Yuki Yamazaki; to whom Soders has promised a full list of active ICA agents. (Not entirely sure how the ICA found this out. Did Soders keep a diary or something?) To this end, the ICA have managed to sneak 47 into the facility under the usual cheeky moniker, Tobias Reiper, however they couldn't figure out how to pack his equipment, leaving you under OSP protocol. That's two targets, no gear and a high security facility run by an AI; 47 really has his work cut out for him.

Visually, IOI managed to do a wonderful job in setting the 'finale mood' with this level. It takes place at night (The single most conclusionary time of day) atop a picturesque snowy mountain-scape ('On Her Majesty's Secret Service' vibes galore) and pits you against a former employer. (The resignation we could all only dream of.) If World of Tomorrow was the level that felt the most like 'James Bond', than Situs Inversus is the level that looks the most like JB. You merely need to see the glass windows looking out over the beautiful Hokkaido landscape, or the clinical white walls of the surgery building, to get the feeling that 47 has wondered onto the 'You only live twice' set. (Hang on. They both take place in Japan. Hmm. There might actually be something there...)

47 is, however, a lot more discrete then that classic British icon, at least canonically; so players will spend less time punching folks in brightly coloured jumpsuits and more time stalking their targets. IOI made this a lot easier than Colorado did by reverting back to the tried and tested Hitman formula of having one target mingling with the patients whilst the other lounges about in high security. This is a particularly appreciated olive branch as Hokkaido was the first map to introduce an entirely new obstacle to infiltration: Electronic locks. (Okay, so technically Marrakesh had one too but it was so out of the way that I'm sure most people never even knew it was there.) The trusty lockpick was all but useless in this mission, forcing players to really put their mind into figuring out methods for breaching the deeper levels of GAMA.

Luckily, IOI introduced a new gimmick in this level that offsets this new complication. Because GAMA is all about automation, (To the point where they let an AI run the place.) the staff have an alternative to making their way from one room to another. Every outfit is fitted with a chip that allows them to enter rooms that they are authorised to enter. (Handy for the world's most enthusiastic cosplayer.) I always loved this little mechanic and the way it stilted your progression through the level until you found the right disguise to push on further. The gameplay challenge that IOI introduced here felt really unique whilst still complementing the skillset that Hitman players had built up to this point.

The Easter eggs of the level are fun too. IOI threw in many fun lore hooks and injokes into this level that called back to earlier levels or games, as though they knew this would be the last level they made for a while and wanted to make it good. There was Jason Portman who wanted plastic surgery in order to resemble famed supermodel Helmut Kruger (Who flies into a rage if he sees you, assuming you stole his idea.) and Amos Dexter, a cowboy-hat totting patient who's name seems to hearken back to Hitman: Absolution's cowboy: Blake Dexter. Then there is the cameo from series regular Carlton Smith, who managed to get himself captured whilst investigating an organ smuggling ring.

Hokkaido also managed to bring opportunities and narrative threads together in that way I love so much. In fact, Soders' Situs Inversus actually opens up the ability for 47 to eliminate the man without killing him, a first for the franchise. Simply destroy that super rare right sided donor heart that he is waiting for and you can walk out and leave in the knowledge that he won't receive a replacement in time. Diana even commends you for your '"elegant solution." My favourite assassination, however, has to be the one in which you kill the man by giving him a heart attack. Just sneak up to his surgery bed in your suit and you can give him the shock of his life once he recognizes you. Seeing as how this was the grand finale, it was imperative that IOI managed to nail the storytelling of this level, and I personally think they pulled it off with style.

Looking back after the end of 'Hitman: No Subtitle', I think it was truly amazing what IOI managed to pull of with an episodic game. Due to the reliance on replayability, fans were able to keep themselves entertained whilst IOI could take their time to deliver these fantastic levels one by one. It was heartening to see a developer utilise the, often misused, episodic model to benefit their overall game rather than as an excuse to fleece customers. I may sound like a little bit of an IOI shill right now, and that's because I kinda am. (Although out of love and respect rather than contractual obligation.) In every interaction I have had with this company's products, IOI have managed to impress me with either their skill or their conduct, similar to CD Projeckt Red; therefore I am willing to cut them a lot of slack for the odd dud level here and there.

Hitman season 1 was an incredibly fun journey to play through, (and, incidentally, to write about.) and it provided an experience that few modern games do. Whilst modern developers seem fit to load their games up with microtransactions, daily challenges and recurrency incentives; IOI simply sought to treat their fans with a steady stream of content and unlockables. (Gosh, who remembers 'unlockables'? IOI did.) I played an excessive amount of Hitman back in 2016, and I have put even more time into Hitman 2, and it was all because the core game was solid and the developers actually treated us consumers as human beings instead of bottomless piggybanks. I fully intend to pick up this series with Hitman 2, after a short break. Until then, I'll urge you, once again, to give this game a try if you haven't already. It managed to win me over (Evidently) and it may just win you too.

Sony vs Marvel

Battle of the licensing agreements

There have been some interesting developments in this recent week regarding the relationship between Sony and Spiderman. On the video game side (the excuse I have for writing this article) we have the recent acquisition of Insomniac games by Sony. Real shocker, that one. Insomniac games have been playing exclusively in Sony's backyard for so many years that I literally haven't played one of their games since Crash Bandicoot, because I can't. The signing of this deal just seems like formality at this point, like being adopted by people who are already your guardians, your response is just "Oh, surprised that hasn't already happened yet." I guess this means for people who lack the disposable income to buy a new console, (A la moi) we never will get to see an Insomniac game. (Great. I love exclusivity. Don't you?) Guess this means we're getting a Spiderman 2. (Which will again be PlayStation exclusive.) But hey, I'm happy for them or whatever...

But that was the real big Spiderman news of the week I think. Nothing else happened that is noteworthy in the slightest, or at least, nothing in the world of gaming. Look, I mentioned games, okay, I made my link; so I have free reign to delve into the recent MCU news and no one can complain. (That's the rule.) So there was a little bit of a development between Disney and Spiderman when Sony haphazardly cut Tom Holland's wall-crawler from the rest of the cinematic universe in spectacular fashion, that's something noteworthy, right?

I may not be the biggest movie buff around (Or even a movie buff at all for that matter.) but I do branch out and watch a few things here and there. One series I try to keep on top of is the Marvel Cinematic Universe for no more reason than the fact that I used to be a huge fan of comics back when I was a kid. (Oh god, did I say "Back when I was a kid" unironically? Existential dread time.) I have been surprised how most of the movies have managed to be rather good (The less said about Thor: The Dark World, the better) and the Spiderman Movies have been no exception. I've enjoyed every Spiderman film to some degree, but these recent ones genuinely have me interested to see where the character can be taken next; They managed to portray Peter Parker in a wholly unique light that no other adaptation had touched on before. I wanted to see where that would go.

Then along comes the money men to have a little dust-up in the boardroom and tear down everything that people were excited for. Artistic integrity be damned, this thing is going down because of some asinine dispute about 'cuts'. Go online and you'll find a bevy of articles and YouTube videos trying to figure just what the heck happened and picking a side between Marvel's greedy demands and Sony's pigheaded refusals. It is no great insight on my part to affirm that everyone is an idiot in this scenario and unfit to be running the most profitable endeavour in Hollywood. Now here we are, with our MCU family torn apart, supposedly irrevocably, and there is nothing we can do except wait for cooler heads to try and prevail. (Fingers crossed.)

"But how can Sony have the right to take a Marvel character away from Marvel?" you may ask, well it all goes back to the 90's. (Like all stupid things in this world do.) Marvel had just finished dragging themselves out of bankruptcy in 1998 and managed to liquidate some it's movie license by throwing them around to interested studios. This is how the Fantastic 4 and the X-men ended up with FOX, how Spiderman and his kin ended up with Sony and how Prince Namor ended up with... Paramount? Really? Since then Sony have capitalized on Spiderman's popularity to bring us 2 origin stories, 2 Gwen Stacy's, 3 green goblin's, 3 Aunt May's and 7 Spiderman starring movies.

After the flop of 'The Amazing Spiderman 2', during which Sony had hoped to set up their own Spiderman cinematic universe, Amy Pascal (Chairperson at Sony Entertainment) brokered a deal with Disney to share their products. Disney was on top of the world with Superhero movies at this point and everyone wanted to jump into bed with them, but Sony knew that Marvel would be willing to share the mattress if Spiderman was in discussion. And so a 'transaction' was made, in the words of Bob Iger during his earnings call for that year; Disney would be granted use of the character with rights to merchandising, and in return Sony would be permitted to make their own movies with that same character and keep a majority of the box office. If Spiderman were to appear as supporting cast in an Avengers movie, then the money would go to Disney, but if Spiderman is in top billing, then Sony pockets most of it whilst Marvel simply lends their creative talent, marketing, and name recognition. A good deal if you ask me.

During this time, Disney and Sony made 'super-villain' amounts of money together. Tom Holland's take on Spiderman seemed to resonate with almost everyone in 'Civil War', and 'Spiderman: Homecoming' proved to be grounded enough for viewers to relate with the hero; signalling him out in a lineup that can seem impenetrable. The joy didn't just spread to fan reception either, like I said, these movies made a mark in the box office. Homecoming earned just short of a billion, and Far From Home sailed past the billion-mark and quickly became Sony's most profitable movie of all time. (And the first Sony movie to cross into the billion-realm since 2012's Skyfall. Sony haven't been doing so good in the film department lately.)

Everything seemed good for a time. Too good. Hence it was inevitable that someone had to rock up and ruin it all on purpose. (Okay, maybe not on purpose, but greed always begets misery.) Marvel showed up at Sony's door months after 'Far From Home's success with an unwelcome revision to the original plan. Instead of Disney being granted a take of first-dollar gross (A percentage payday that isn't effected by the movies' lifetime performance), they wanted a 50/50 co-financing split with Sony. Marvel and Sony would pay for the movies together and take home equal splits. (Although some reports claim that this figure was actually 30/70. Bare in mind we're working with several of-hand account so nothing is plain fact.) Sony were happy with the way things were (Making a ludicrous amount of money with cursory effort on their part) and so turned that deal down. Discussions were had, threats were made and, ultimately, Sony took their toys and went home.

This is when the Internet proceeded to explode. Days away from Disney's D23 convention, Spiderman is gone from the vastly successful MCU. Fans were enraged with all this nonsense and just wanted Spiderman back with his superhero family. Sony were the first one's to respond, detailing their sadness at being able to come to terms with Marvel and their willingness to negotiate. Everyone saw through the powerplay of pulling Spiderman and they certainly saw through the sympathy plea on Twitter. Public discourse turned even further against them and Sony found themselves in a PR nightmare.

I should say, however, that I do understand and appreciate where Sony are coming from in their decision. They are, at the end of the day, a business; one that is hyper focused in making as much money as humanly possible now, rather than securing their future down the line. When Marvel seeks to take away their potential profits in return for helping to ensure that their company remains financially viable, the stupid part of me can understand the desire to lash out and jump into the abyss. Afterall, Spiderman may have been their biggest hit ever but Sony Pictures still has a plethora of viable franchises at their beck and call like... 'No Time to Die' the new Bond movie coming out hot-on-the-heels of the disappointing 'Spectre'. Or... 'Jumanji 2: The next level'... Yeah, Sony aren't really in a strong position with their movie slate right now.

There are no good sides in this debate. I've mentioned in passing how Disney are being incredibly greedy with this move; in fact, it almost looks like the first step towards a takeover (Especially how the deal would have left Disney open to demand a cut from Sony's other stand alone films.) Yet Sony are insane if they think that Spiderman can still be just as popular outside of the MCU. DC have proven time and time again how people don't want standalone super hero movies anymore, and Solo proved that the power of fan backlash is strong enough to sink a multi-million dollar movie. Unfortunately, it's Tom Holland and Spiderman that are caught in the resulting crossfire.

Things have mostly died down after D23 and it is starting to look dire for Spiderman fans. Kevin Feige finally came out with a statement that seemed to confirm that everything had been said-and-done and the deal was dead in the water. Amateur body language-analysts, on the otherhand, claim that Tom Holland's response seems to indicate that not all hope may be lost. (Based on his previous reputation as being bad at keeping secrets.) I find it hard to say definitively how things will end up but I think it's ridiculous how, once again, licensing rights are getting in the way of telling great stories. This is just another one of the many reasons why I prefer to stick to the world of games. A world where licensing never gets in the way of- What do you mean there are rumors that Disney want to renew their Star Wars exclusivity with EA for another 10 years!? SON OF A-

Servicing a live service

Ten year plan!

I have been critical of live services in the past, extremely critical, in fact; "Burn all live services to the ground" kind of critical. And although I have no intention on shifting my stance in that department, I would be lying if I didn't admit that the idea of a 'Live Service' does tickle me some. Heck, in the 'Mods' blog post I detailed how much I enjoy an experience that I can come back to time and time again, what is a 'Live service' if not exactly that? Of course, there a few extra factors that are put into these types of games that make the deal raw, but today I want to be a little more positive, I want to focus on the effort that goes into maintaining these games.

When a game is announced as a live service; a few things become readily apparent to the user base off the bat. The game will feature some form of monetisation in order to support development well past the initial influx of game purchases and the story of the game will, inevitably, be an incomplete one. The former can be overcome with the mindset of 'well I'll pony up a bit now and then depending on how much I think the developers have earnt it with my time' whilst the latter still bugs me and has me thinking about the whole 'Sequel-itis' epidemic which is threatening to sink Hollywood. (And just might.)

Behind the scenes, a 'live service' model means that the initial game will be worked on by a full staff just like any other game. However, once the launch period is over and done, the main team has to move onto their next project, leaving behind a much depleted B-team to keep the lights on and handle updates. This is never a move that is made readily apparent either, developers try to make the audience think that they devote their full force behind that game for the rest of it's life cycle. (despite admitting to active development on new products... nevermind, gamers are idiots, I'm sure we'll never notice) Therefore, that B team is given the monumental task maintaining the game, whilst managing the community and working on brand new content, no small task.

The pure act of maintaining the game is one that can become someone's full job. Modern games have so many moving pieces and aberrant bits of code that have been touched by so many hands, that it is almost inevitable that the final product ships with bugs. Due to the push from publishers to maintain the same development-to-release window that they've held for the past ten years (2-3 years), often there is little time to completely clean the files before launch day. Once players are actually on the game, that task becomes monumentally more difficult. Imagine trying to fix the slats of a bed whilst an entire playground of kids jumps up and down on the mattress, and you'll be envisioning their struggle. Not to mention that, when new content is added, often a whole slew of bugs follow, making the job feel like trying to build a dam against the ocean.

Fallout 76 is a prime example of what happens when the ocean often wins. There are golden periods, two to three weeks after new content launches, that this game is actually playable; mostly, however, we have a product that breaks down more an Alfa Romeo. (Car Jokes!) Recently, Bethesda lite (as I call the team behind FO76) released their very first new vault raid to the public. The stage was set for a whole revolutionary change to the Fallout world, they even made sure to soft launch it on PC first for an opportunity to iron out the kinks; but then the raid dropped and everyone's game broke. I'm talking instant, perpetual crash screens; back to the days of the game's first release. Bethesda lite tried to institute 'instancing' technology into the game in order to make raids more manageable, but instead they managed to make the servers more skittish then your average Abra. (Pokemon Jokes!) Maintenance is not a job to be taken lightly.

Managing the community is another, often overlooked, variable in all of this. The type of community that you foster with a live service is fundamentally different from the type you see with a normal game. In normal releases, players will talk about the things they like about the game and the things they wished were improved, all you have to do at that point, from a managers perspective, is encourage the positivity and report the bugs back to the team. In a live service environment, your average community manager better be ready to be hit with complaints 24/7. These masses have been sold on the premise that their opinion can help shape the future of the game and they don't take that responsibility lying down. Whenever there is something contentious about the game you'll find thousands of comments telling the developers to do a slew of different things in order to fix it. At that point a community manager has to get the pulse of the public whilst trying to stop people from murdering each other over the Internet.

Another important element that comes into play is the establishment of the projects' perpetuity. The second that a game's community manager goes dark, the narrative runs crazy amidst the community about how the product is on Death's door. Just look at Hello Games' Reddit after the release of No Mans Sky. Sean Murray told everyone to go quiet so that they could focus on the game and in the mean time the community tore itself apart with speculation. There were posts accusing them of lying, posts claiming that Sony had cut all ties with them and even posts claiming that Sean had taken all the money and left the country. Without the voice of a developer to reassure them, rumors ran rampant and sunk the company's credibility. If they hadn't released some solid updates in the next few years (Nothing near what was originally promised but things that were enjoyable enough.) NMS might never have recovered.

Finally there is the most important aspect of a live service. The biggest promise that all of these types of games make is the assurance that the game will be languished with new content forever. This tickles the fancy of those who want to live in that video game world they love so much, or those who just like to buy one game and see how it's changed several years down the line.To this end, most live services tote around a 'road map' of promised content in order to keep fans salivating and put the developers on a time limit. During the lifetime of the game, developers will be expected to give fans everything from content as small as events to things as monumental as world changers, and they better be able to deliver.

Breaking the promise of a roadmap seems never to cross the minds of fans, despite how easy it is to do. Roadmaps cannot foresee development concerns or hold ups, so no one should be surprised when changes are made. Yet when it happens, not only are fans surprised but often deeply offended. When Anthem first launched in an incredibly compromised state, diehards stuck with it due to the tantalizing roadmap that seemed to promise that the game would resemble a finished product in a year or two. This roadmap was, however, clearly penned in a time before the release, because anyone could see that Bioware lite had a monumental amount of work ahead of them to make the base game likeable. Steadily, Anthem began to roll past roadmap due dates, much to the dismay of fans, before Bioware lite just subtly blitzed most of the roadmap in an incident we have come to know as: The blip. (MCU Jokes!) When you have a live service that is so buggy and incomplete that you have trouble stitching the pieces together after launch, all you are left with is an incomplete game, and fans will most certainly notice.

Embarking on the 'live serivce' adventure, is an incredibly risky proposition for any developer to undergo. When it goes well, you may have secured a profitable endeavour for the next couple of years, just look at the recent two Assassin's Creed games. When it goes poorly, you risk sullying the reputation and consumer respect of even the most venerable studios, a la Bethesda and Bioware. I can't say whether or not the model is healthy for the industry as a whole, I lack the imperative data to make such a statement, but I can cast a critical eye and see that the practise does not look sustainable. Each product requires teams to spread themselves more and more thin, to the point where you either grow too fast to maintain quality, or too slow to keep everything running. That being said, these types of games still make 'stupid money' (I'm really getting millage out of that 'TMNT' line.) so we won't see them ramping down anytime soon.