The eye of the beholder

 Feel like that need's to be the name of a DnD module at some point...

The subjectivity of beauty is perhaps one of the key ingredients that keeps this world of ours churning along. The ability for ideals of 'appeal' and 'desire' for people, places and positions to draw different hearts and minds, for one person's stick to hold nothing of interest to the next person along, which allows for communities of inherently possessive people to co-exist without tearing one-another apart. That co-existence is the pre-requisite for community, stability and eventually, society. Take away subjectivity and humanity would have whittled away generations before it's sapience over in-fighting for the same chunk of sitting rock over in lower-east Pangea. If the first invention of man was the rope, to bind and keep what was theirs, then one of the first thoughts of men must have been something along the lines of "Yeah, but my rope is nicer than yours; and my stuff is shinier too!"

Of course, subjectivity in beauty has it's part to play when it comes to the creation of art in all it's forms throughout history; which is the very reason why we have evolved and respected off-shoots and subgenre's of art which were born and flourished alongside humanity. Expressionism interpreting the subject emotional state of a being, abstract expressionism keying into the heart of spontaneity and evoking the heart of the observer itself, modern art turning the very act of the viewing into the work of art itself. These are higher wills of the body of what art is, but they were born and grown due to the grace of subjectivity and distinction between what one artist believes captures the beauty of creativity and what another person believes does that. It's not a question of what face is the 'perfect face', or even what techniques best capture that face, or even further- what about the basic approach to actually commit the act of depiction to begin with. 

And like the many forms of art before it, gaming is in no ways any different with the plethora of differing genres, themes and platforms- all pretty much designed as achieving the same goal of providing a fun playing experience for the viewer but getting there in different ways. Some schools of thought prioritize the sheer tactile nature of responsive action and shun a heavier reliance on tools such as 'interactive narrative storytelling', which spells out the difference between the audience of the Batman Arkham games and the Telltale Batman games. Other schools think the thematic philosophy of what actions represent take a precedent over the actions themselves, which is perhaps what conjured the somewhat contentious gameplay of Death Stranding over a more traditional open world title like 'Horizon: Zero Dawn'. Thanks to the merits of subjectivity; nether viewpoint is inherently or abhorrently wrong, they're just distinct.

If we were to tie this subject back to the ideals of 'beauty', then there's also a plethora of distinction on opinion between what is considered 'attractive art' and 'visual style' from one game to another. Although in this regard there does appear to mostly be boundaries within the category of genre to consider. (Unless we take into account the real 'trailblazer games') Create a sandbox survival title and you'll more likely than not be looking to develop a world with realistic visual depictions to match the grounded nature of that genre; create a platformer and you'll likely be drawn to more retro-inspired modern art styles like 'smooth pixel', calling back to the time when those types of games were considered 'at their peak'. Which is why despite it's graphical simplicity, games like Minecraft, in it's blocky conception, carries an innate beauty in the (gradually) consistent composition of it's art style and the visual appeal that can exist within that. (Now if only I could get other people to actually understand that...)

Subjectivity does rear it's head up when it comes to a lot more of these fringe, not conventionally good-looking, games that pursue niche and stylised standards of visual beauty. The inherently limiting blocky visuals of Minecraft has inspired many a turned nose for it's simplistic aesthetic, despite the oodles of depth held within the game's ever expanding belly. Classics like Team Fortress 2 and Overwatch are giving the knee-jerk impression of being 'childish' and 'not serious', more for their resemblance to the animated stylings of high quality kids animation than for the merit of the games themselves. And there seems to be a genuine contingent of people out there who simply boil over at the prospect of experiencing anything with but a hint of Anime style to it; regardless of the source. (More for me, I guess.)

Personally, I try to see beyond the visualisation of any game in hopes of finding value underneath, but even I have to admit I have my limits and shortcomings. I simply adored my first playthrough of the Baldur's Gate series, (The original through to 'throne of Bhaal') and intended to jump right back into my second playthrough upon finishing but... damn, those 1998 isometric sprites are just so ugly. I couldn't bring myself to endure it for another couple hundred hours. I also have an aversion to games that adapt 2D visuals into 3D world spaces without totally redesigning the characters: I think it looks just inherently cheap. Most lower-budget anime-based 3D games suffer from this, featuring flat-faced character models with one-sided appeal. But I do try to work through these personal gripes: I will play through the 'Tales of' franchise at some point...

Meanwhile, does anyone find the pursuit of absolute fidelity just a little bit... boring? Every big budget high quality title, from the recent Final Fantasy games, to Resident Evil, to God of War, to Horizon Zero Dawn; are all flying towards the same ultimate visual apex of a game so realistic it can fool the human eye into thinking it's real. But if you remember the recent reaction to a game which achieved that, Unrecord, that apex isn't always that appealing. Some people find the inability to tell what we're playing from live footage just that tiny bit uncomfortable, and the escapism of delving into a fictional world can feel just that little bit tarnished when that world resembles the one we have outside nearly fully. Now the games I've listed are exceptions, where the art style of the team does sign appropriately enough that even at their most realistic these games depict utterly new and unique worlds- but not every game can boast that distinction- and yet every game does seem to aspire to this 'utter realism' standard. I predict a rude awakening coming for these 'graphics elitist' devs n the near future.

 

Is Arkham's driven narrative it's biggest problem?

Maybe Batman needs a rest every once and a while...

It's been a very long time since the Arkham series of Batman games have been relevant, so I haven't really had the excuse to talk about them; but with the impending release of two new Batman games, one directly related to the series and another inspired by it, I feel it's time to talk about the little bits which made up the greatest Batman games of all time. Although this wasn't all that inspired this particular blog, for you see I came across something which made me critically think about a key feature that all Arkham games share in a new light. It was actually a article covering some details about one of those new games in fact, Gotham Knights, which will change up a great many staples one has come to expect from their Batman games. As the article put it, the game would be 'fixing a common criticism of the Arkham games' by setting it's gameplay over a series of days rather than across one hectic night, and that got me to thinking; is Arkham's pacing one of it's biggest problems?

First let me specify what I'm talking about; in every single one of the popular Arkham games all of the action of the game, from the tutorial through to the post game, takes place on the same night which in which the game started. Of course, the series does shift days with different entries (and even years for some games) but every event in the main story will occur in roughly the same six hour stretch, with some games even noting the progression of the narrative as being concurrent with the progression of night. The developers play this up too, by having the battle damage system on Batman's suit which I positively adore, wherein the further you go into the game the more the Batsuit gets scuffed up. The wear and tear of this one particularly crazy night for Batman is written all over his person and although the legend never becomes tired (how could he, he's Batman) the bruises, scratches, bulletholes, popping poisoned veins and just destroyed gauntlets, all convey that sense beautifully.

But when we actually compare this to the way Batman's antics usually go in his many depictions on TV, film and in the comics, this is actually rather stand-out. Batman isn't usually the one to go duke out with every-single one of his villains in a single night of pugilism. I mean it does happen sometimes, sure, but for every single game to take place on that premise it does stretch the idea a little thin now that I come to think about it. The idea of having to fight one's entire rogue's gallery simultaneously is a pretty momentous one, but when you're literally doing that every other week it certainly does make Batman look a little overpowered, which has never been the idea when it comes to the Caped Crusader. But then if this is the case, why do all the video games thusfar circle around this idea? Well there's a few reasons.

Firstly come the convenience of it all, as Rocksteady themselves voiced when making Arkham City (as I recall) they weren't making a Bruce Wayne game, they wanted to make a Batman game, and Batman famously only usually comes out at night. Thus if the game takes place in the same night then there's no logistical transition that the team needs to figure out. Then there's the fact that with gaming, and the ability for adventure games to be as long as they really need to be, the team have the time and space to fit in these several villain storylines without the story feeling stretched at all. In fact, for gaming audiences we usually defer to the ideal of 'the more the merrier', as it were. Finally, and most resoundingly, when every single event is concurrent and not broken up by the passing of the idea, it creates a pace and rhythm that rides out to the final beat of the game. Pacing is a huge tool when it comes to storytelling and learning how to master it can be the difference between a breakneck adventure and a chilled stroll across action set-peices.

In fact, I keep coming back to the idea of the 'Pace' as likely being the key reason behind this design choice, maybe not even consciously, but it's influence is there. When Batman starts his night, whether that be through rolling up to Arkham Asylum or being thrown into Arkham City, a rubber band is set into the ground. From that point forth, as he unravels the mystery of his environment and get's deeper into the various factions involved or enters the sights of yet another assassin, the elastic band gets stretched, and for every moment Batman is active that tension is wound back. Breaking that up at any moment, even through a quick cutscene which shows of Bruce doing his day-to-day so that the player can get back to the action, immediately let's that rubberband snap back and makes it so that the narrative has to build up that tension and pacing all the way from the beginning again. Turning away from that and doubling down on the chaos of the one night allows for the tension to build into a towering crescendo where Batman's ultimate duels feel as weighty as they should, because they've been appropriately built up.

On the flipside; Gotham Knights approach of turning the events to more of a day-by-day affair does a good job of evoking the episodic nature of Comic books and really make the player feel like they're setting into the everyday life of a hero. As the overall story literally frames itself with Batman's protegees rising up to take his mantle, this neatly fits that mould as we see Barbara Gordon, and the Robins fill that mammal-shaped hole. This also allows the developers to simulate the daily lives of the citizens of Gotham which is something that we have, inexplicably, never got out of a Batman game before. Arkham City took place in an entire chunk of the City turned into a prison, Arkham Origins was on the same night as a blizzard warning, encouraging citizens to stay indoors, and Arkham Knight took place at a time when the city was getting bombarded with threats from a lunatic in a scarecrow costume; I wouldn't want to poke my head out the front door either!

Now to be clear there is no single better way to tell a story between the approach of many different days and a single night, in fact the 'man on fire' style of storytelling generally isn't done too much anymore, as it was done to death a while back. I'd say that John Wick was probably the best recent iteration of "All the events happening within a breath of each other." I think that Gotham Knights approach does fit the game a lot better, given that our villain appears to be The Court of Owls; A mysterious cabal of Gotham elites who specialise on being in the shadows and behind other schemes. Treated right this could even be as climatic as the Arkham games, it's all just a matter of execution.

In conclusion, I don't think that the narrative design of the Arkham series is at all one of it's problems, like that article would suggest, but rather one of it's strengths. But as this upcoming new title isn't even an Arkham game, why it's hardly the end of the world if that game frames it's narrative a little differently. (I welcome the diversity) When it's all said and done I will undoubtedly miss the whole 'progressive suit damage' as the story goes on, as well as the way that the environments you traversed seemed to become more chaotic as everything falls apart, but it's not going to ruin my day or anything. I yet remain excited for Gotham Knights and reverent of the Arkham series that helped spawn it.

Enemy spam in game design

There coming out the wall!

Enemies are a staple of a good many video games out there today, and for very good reason; they represent an active trial for the players to overcome through strife that can feel exciting and dynamic in a way that's hard to replicate with static puzzles and gradual progression. That is, of course, just a general overview of their potential role in gaming; enemies can serve many different roles for their respective games and that's what makes them such a universal aspect. That does not mean, however, that there is no etiquette or widely excepted methodology to the creation and implementation of said enemies; but I'm only interested in one specific set of rules and that's those that go into deciding the sheer quantity of enemies. What counts as just enough and what crosses into the borders of 'Enemy Spam'.

'Enemy Spam' refers to a situation in video games wherein the player meets an enemy force that vastly eclipses their ability to handle it. As such, what actually constitutes 'enemy spam' can vary wildly from game to game; it comes under the banner of balancing for the title in question. In some games, enemy spam could be considered having a group of five enemies thrown at a player in a very one-on-one style game, or having a constant barrage of enemies thrown at them again and again in a very resource heavy style game. What's important to note and make distinction of is that 'Enemy Spam' isn't used to denote a moment at which a player's ability is heavily challenged, even when it's to a degree outside of their supposed limits; but rather a time when the amount of enemies, or the type in question, are so consciously geared to be disadvantageous to the player that it starts becoming frustrating, and loses that hard-but-rewarding edge. (It's a fine line to walk.)

Personally, the first time I really came up against 'Enemy Spam' was in the party-based RPG 'Dragon Age: Origins', which I'm sure you all know so well. That was an entire game built around the core concept of intelligent use of character skills and positing in order to overcome the threats of the game. (Although, all too often that did slip into micromanaging the every move of your teammates. The AI wasn't the best on the market.) This meant that throughout the majority of the game you'd come up against smartly constructed groups of enemies that would test your versatility and strength as you devise counters against the many different enemy types, with the finale of the areas typically testing all of the strategies you had made in your journey. By the climax of the game, however, the team had run out of new enemy types to throw your way and thus just resorted to placing armies of Darkspawn in your path. This was still completely fine and dandy right up until the final hallway of enemies before the final boss; because there we all saw the quintessential example of enemy spam.

There, in front of the player, were a layout of battlements manned by Darkspawn; surely a challenge for any player to get through and requiring of some tactical planning. Bioware, however, saw to it that people wouldn't have a chance to get to planning as the second you get there you'll be hit by a wave of invisible Shrieks to throw you off your game. Good play, Bioware, but now it's time to get back to- oh, there's another wave. And another. And another. Now this isn't any where near the worst example of enemy spam, but in a game that, up until this point, had relied on strong enemy composition rather than overwhelming numbers, it was supremely jarring. And all that was compounded by the final fight itself, which swarms unending waves of enemies at you requiring anyone on higher difficulties to literally bring an entire apothecaries worth of potions just to withstand the impending hoards. (Not really the sign of a well-crafted boss fight.)

Now this is by no means the only example of this sort of issue popping up in the game balancing, and in fact; Bioware themselves are responsible for an inordinate amount of it. There's the corridor of endless Sith at the end of KOTR, the Geth Juggernaut hallway up the Citadel tower in Mass Effect and probably something at the end of Jade Empire that I haven't got to yet. But there are other examples from different game franchises. Some might say that the later Dark Souls games resorted to increased amount of enemy spam to fill their areas (although the Frigid Outskirts from Dark Souls 2 is easily the worst offender in that regard.) The final level of 2016's DOOM is split in three nauseatingly prolonged combat arenas, all enough to make you never want to see another Demon for as long as you live. The newer XCOM games have spammy final levels, as does The Outer Worlds and certainly some of the Kingdom Hearts games.

But where is that line in the sand? At what point is more enemies too much and how does a developer know how to effectively walk that line? You may have noticed a trend out of the games that I mentioned, in that most of the egregious offenders pull their spam by the final levels, and that makes sense when you think about it. The finale of the game is supposed to represent the climax in spectacle, story and gameplay; so it makes sense for the developers to throw everything they can at you. But when they just inundate you with so many enemies that the game devolves into a substandard version of itself, suddenly that's too much and considered 'Enemy Spam'. It's a very tight line to walk and I envy no one who has to do so for a living.

Perhaps the hardest task of game balancing is figuring out the utmost extremes that your game and, most importantly, what your players are comfortable with; because realistically there is no right answer. There's no cure-all, one-fits-all, choice for how to attain perfect equilibrium and  therefore Devs just have to work off what little they can judge from their play testers and a little bit of instinct. Some games can totally get away with chucking the kitchen sink at you without ruining anyone's day; just look at the finale of 'Batman: Arkham Asylum' for instance. Just before the final encounter the player is asked to walk through a room brimming with clapping thugs on either side. Now this is entirely optional fight, and the key may lie in that, but I feel it's just the makeup of the game's legendarily tight combat controls that the action of knocking out everyone in that room still feels satisfying by the final punch. So as I say; different strokes for different folks.

Of course, personally I wouldn't say that Enemy Spam essentially ruins a game, but it does leave a sour taste in the mouth for the player which is rarely relived by the eventual completion of the task in question. For my two cents, I feel it's just a little unfair to be thrust into an overwhelmingly packed situation without being made aware of it prior. Perhaps it's the surprise of "Are we done ye- another wave?!" which really stings the worst, or perhaps I'm being reductionist with even that and there's an even wider net that could be cast here. Either way, I would be interested to hear a perspective for how enemy spam is handled from both a developer and player level, but as this was just an introduction to the topic, those are a couple blogs for another day.

New and improved

So is this a prequel to Omega Man or...

The other day I was walking down the street, (Huh, unintentional Arthur) and I happened upon a movie poster that really made me stop and stare. This wasn't because the strength of the marketing material, rather the opposite actually. This was a movie that was starring Will Smith, was soon to come out, and this poster was the first I'd seen of it. Even now, with the thing out, I'm still yet to see a trailer. (How little did you guys leave your marketing team with?) It seemed particularly noteworthy given that the movie boasted the enviable gimmick of pitting Will Smith against Will Smith for some reason. (Again, haven't seen a trailer so I don't have context.) However, I was curious enough, from the poster, to look up how and why this movie exists.

I discovered that this film, Gemini Man, was making use of de-aging technology in order to have a modern day version of Will Smith battle against a version of him that looks like he just walked off the set of Fresh Prince. (Okay, he doesn't look that young.) This makes sense giving that the 'wow' tech of modern years has been the systems that can be make actors digitally appear younger in a convincing way. Just look at Disney's attempts in 'Civil War', 'Antman & the Wasp' and 'Endgame'; as well as... Disney's work in 'Star Wars: Rogue One'. (I guess The House of Mouse are really the ones pushing this, now I think about it.) All this got me thinking about the idea of going back and sprucing things up, whether it be an actor's face, an old film's picture quality, or an entire franchise. With that in mind, let's talk about remasters. (No, you're a weak segueway!)

Ask any film fan about their feelings towards reboots and re-releases and you'll likely hear the same response across the board. "I don't why studios keep rehashing the same ideas instead of doing something new. It's just a waste of time, money and talent." (Those same people will then proceed to watch those movies.) There is a slightly different sentiment when it comes to how these things are handled in games. We've yet to get a significant full-blown reboot in the video game market (With the exception of, perhaps, 'Bionic Commando' and 'Sonic Boom'), but we have certainly seen a lot of remasters, re-releases and a few remakes, especially as we're nearing the twilight of this console generation. Gamers are, therefore, more forgiving to some approaches whilst more critical in others.

Firstly, there are the re-releases. These are always a celebrated event when it comes to film. It's the chance for modern movie goers to experience an event in cinematic history that they may have missed out on long ago. Fans can see cult classics like 'Back to the Future', 'The Godfather' and 'Apocalypse Now' on a theatre screen like they were meant to be seen. There isn't a movie fan alive who wouldn't get a little giddy as such a prospect. For gaming, on the otherhand, re-releases are something a lot more cynical. Game releases are never a huge event beyond being the point at which the public can finally get their hands on the software. When those games come back around for a re-release, it's usually just an excuse for the studios to update some minor things and slap it back on store shelves for full price. (In that sense, I guess it's a celebratory event for the accountants.)

We see this for games like 'Dishonored: Definitive edition' and the constant Nintendo reduxes of 'Ocarina of Time'. These are situations in which the company has decided that they need to re-establish their game's value and rake in the same sort of money that they originally saw. This is often the case when a new Console generation has launched and it doesn't support backwards compatibility. (Or it does support backward compatibility and they just knowingly opt out of the process so they can make a quick buck.) Defenders will often point to slight graphical improvements as justification, but I chose the above two games for a reason. 'Dishonored: Definitive edition' is a game that is attempting to impprove upon a highly stylized original product, to very little avail. The only noticeable improvement is a frame rate bump, and that is hardly worth £60. For Zelda, on the otherhand, Nintendo don't even touch the frame rate. (It's part of the charm, I guess.) All they do is touch up the controls, fix a decades old design decision every now and then, and slap a heavy price tag on the box. In gaming, we use the term 're-release' to refer to the laziest form of a company capitalizing on your nostalgia.

Remasters are a slight step up from Re-releases, although their quality can vary greatly. Once again, these usually crop up when a game becomes inaccessible, due to an across-the-board hardware upgrade, and the primary concern is ensuring the product is playable once again. However, game companies sometimes decide that they want to take advantage of the new tech available, or they have to in order to make the thing function, and so we get these 'improved' products labelled 'remasters'.

The problem is that sometimes these 'remasters' get the things we love about the original wrong. Final Fantasy X/X-2 HD went the graphical improvement route, only to sacrifice some of the advanced graphical integrity of the original. Sure it looks better when all you do is count pixels, but the artistic merit sometimes suffers. This is because these remasters are usually not handled by the same people who made the original and sometimes not even the same studio. It's like asking members of the public to restore a faded painting, sometimes you get what you want and sometimes you were better off living it alone. One game in which this was certainly the case was the 'Return to Arkham' remasters of 'Arkham Asylum' and 'Akham City'. There are countless examples of the way how almost every character model in the game were uglied in the pursuit of 'graphical improvement'. (With the exception of Harley Quinn, who got so much attention put into her it makes me wonder about the priories of the team responsible.) Just look at the comparison between the different version's of the iconic Hugo Strange interrogation scene from the beginning of  'Arkham City.'

Finally, and most rarely, we have the remake, which is the closest thing to a reboot we have in the gaming industry. This is when a gaming company makes the decision to go back to one of it's beloved classics and rebuild it from the ground up, with new textures, gameplay, story, VA's and just about everything really. To be honest, we see so many changes in these projects that they might as well be called 'reimagineings'. But Hollywood managed to make that term sound excessively wishy-washy so we'll stick with remake. This is probably the easiest to respect out of the examples of re-releases in the gaming market, as it is the process in which Devs put the most effort and thought into and truly do earn that price tag.

Capcom have dabbled in the remake territory before, with the decent 2001 remake of the original Resident Evil and the spectacular 2019 remake of Resident Evil 2. Both these games show examples of games that are deigned to capture the spirit of the original, but still take things in a different direction. Resident Evil 2 (2019) even goes so far so to restructure the fundamental game in order to better fit modern game design conventions. Square Enix also hope to jump onto the bandwagon soon with their Final Fantasy 7 Remake, which ditches the semi-turn based style of the original in favour of a full action game approach. Major story beats have been changed or reshuffled in order to accommodate for a brand new episodic structure which is going to have us RPG fans reliving the story of Cloud until 2025. (At least.) Unlike with movie remakes, these remakes are not attempting to replace the original product, rather celebrate everything that those games got right and present a new way that they could have been handled. (Now for the love of god remake MGS 3, Konami. Please!)

Some may look at these practises and conclude that they are examples of the game industry moving backwards rather than forwards, and in a way they would be right. But art, as a whole, is a medium in which you can revisit the pieces you love time and time again and find something new and special. That makes it as much about looking back as it does about looking forward. And considering how every game is devolving into a 'live-service' abomination of late, it helps to take a look back at the classics of old and remind ourselves why it is that we love games in the first place.

'Joker' (otherwise known as my weak excuse to talk about this movie whilst pretending to talk about games)

I used to think my life was a tragedy. Now I realize, it's a comedy.

I know that I'm not a movie blog by any stretch of the imagination, but yesterday I went to watch Todd Phillips' 'Joker' and I just have to talk about it. Therefore I have devised this clever ruse of looking at Joaquin Phoenix's depiction of the eponymous character in comparison to those that have played him in games (and animation, I guess.) This way I don't break my one rule and I can get all cathartic about what was is possibly the darkest superhero-adjacent film that will ever release. (No spoilers for the movie. Although there will be spoilers for other Batman properties, so be warned.)

Firstly, this in no review but let me start by saying that I absolutely loved the film. In many subtle ways it side stepped my expectations and delivered upon the promise of being gripping and intense without succumbing to wanton acts of violence. Don't get me wrong, the violence is there and it is brutal, but the movie doesn't succumb to it like so many lesser storytellers would have. Arthur is also much more open to the audience then I was expecting. After watching some similar genre movies to prepare for this one (I was really excited) I came in with the assumption that Joaquin Phoenix would play some aloof mysterious figure who's inner workings are a mystery, (Thus safely ensuring that the audience can separate themselves from the character and be reassured that he could never be them.) but 'Joker' really bought us into the man and gave us a story of someone who, although not always sympathetic, always did ring with a sliver of authenticity. Perhaps that is the reason why I came away from the film with one word ingrained in my mind, although I'm yet to know if it describes the movie or Arthur himself, and that would be 'Haunting'. 'Joker' was truly a great movie and one of the only one's that I feel the urge to go and watch again. (Which means a lot coming from me.)

Now that I've got that out the way, let's delve into the meat of this blog. You see, one of the elements of the movie that I appreciated the most was the way in which Joaquin Phoenix leaned on no other interpretations of the Joker to deliver his own. Even though we saw a 'what would happen if we took the Joker and bought him into the real world' with Heath Ledger's portrayal, Todd Phillip's movie manages to take that concept even further and distinguish this Joker from his peers. Yet despite that, we can see recognizable snippets of the character that we know here and there to let us know that this movie isn't just wearing a Batman Skin. (Although I will say that the 'King of Comedy 2' comments that were being made do feel somewhat valid.)

With such a wonderfully complex character as the Joker, he can be bought into being with so many different approaches and still be fundamentally the same person, so it can be hard to establish a baseline for what the quintessential portrayal is. However, if we are being frank, there is one actor who has done more to shape the role than any other in his many years donning the makeup, and that is undoubtedly: Mark Hamill, so we will start with him.

The big complication would then be figuring out which version of Mark Hamill's Joker that we want to focus on, as he has run the gambit with the character too. Luckily, this is a gaming blog so I can cut through all that noise by just focusing on the one Joker video game appearance in the brilliant Arkham franchise.

Rocksteady very much put the Joker on centre stage for the entirety of the Arkham franchise, even for the ones in which the character wasn't even physically present. Therefore we get a good glimpse of who he is and what he wants. This incarnation borrows from the Joker in the Killing Joke and the original animated series (Both of which are also voiced by Hamill) in that he is obsessed with proving to Batman how they are linked. Besties, in his opinion. Although the first game just plays out as a typically convoluted Batman plot, later entries really dive into the duality between them and the similarities. The greatest indication of this comes in Arkham: Origins. (Even though that Joker was technically played by Troy Baker. He was pretty much doing an impersonating of Mark Hamill in every way so I'll link the two as one and the same.) The Joker tells Bruce straight up that they are like brothers because they were both born from the same chaos. "We only exist because of them!" This is a character that is defined through his relationship to the caped crusader and who shares a connection with him that transcends earthly bonds. (Literally, if Arkham Knight is anything to go by.)

Another important Joker, at least by my reasoning, would by the older incarnation that was played by Brent Spiner in the animated version of The Dark Knight Returns. This is a story that takes a look at the world of Gotham in a distant, though ever approaching, future in which most heroes and villains have retired and the streets have sunk back into despondency. Batman has had to give up his cowl after sustaining a severe back injury from Bane, and has spent the past few decades sinking into seclusion with Alfred. In response, The Joker has entered a hibernative state in which he has abandoned all of his scheming and appears to be a reborn, functioning member of society.

This story leans on my personal favourite interpretation of Gotham, that all the heroes and villains are facsimiles of Batman's own psyche and his struggle to seek purpose. (Or at least all the best characters are. Still don't know where The Electrocutioner fits into Bruce's psychological profile.) In this world it makes sense that his former arch nemesis would stop his spree of crimes because he no longer has anyone to work off of. However, once Bruce finds himself being drawn back into his old ways, injury and all, it isn't long before word reaches the Joker and he snaps back into action.

This version of Joker is very distinct from others in it's two-faced attitude. Rather than wearing the crown of chaos, Spiner's Joker seems a lot more cold, calculated and murderous. He goes so far as to convince the world that he is a man reborn before switching back into his persona so fast that you know it was an act all along. (Yes, the scene does show Joker becoming his old self again in a manner that appears like an involuntary reaction, but it's apparent, from the way he acts, that this is the moment that he had been waiting decades for.) This Joker kills with impunity just to drawn Batman in before purposefully killing himself in the knowledge that he will implicate the Dark Knight by doing so. The fact that the Joker made a major choice with a specific consequence in mind means that he is in a very different ballpark from versions of the character that  actively opposes the very concept of rationality, such as Heath Ledger's Joker.

Christoper Nolan's Dark Knight opens with that iconic bank scene that lets us know exactly what sort of Joker we would be getting from the film. We see the Joker conduct a huge chaotic bank robbery that, slightly betraying the angle of chaos that usually follows this character, is a highly thought-out affair in which he steals his money whilst murdering everyone in his team that could possibly relate it all back to him. Heath Ledger's Joker exists in a beautiful dichotomy between random and organized; he exists to perpetuate disorder yet he undergoes elaborate plans to prove a point. What point is that exactly? "All it takes it one bad day." (Yes I realize that line is from The Killing Joke but it just goes to show you how similar these interpretations can be whilst being fundamentally distinct.)

Heath ledger ditches a lot of the more fanciful elements of the Joker and focuses heavily on the irreverence, all the while not forgetting to keep the character feeling homicidal and a little wild. (This version is far removed from the old Cesar Romero one.) This performance was memorable in how it reinforced with audiences the fact that the Joker could be scary, even terrifying. He was built to be a dark reflection on the society that bore him with no line he won't cross, all he wants to do is help everyone around him reach that place too. Batman, on the otherhand, works to prove that people aren't as fragile as he thinks. This debate of philosophy cuts into the core of who Joker is and what he represents and is part of the reason why people consider Heath Ledger's Joker to be the definitive interpretation.

Joaquin Phoenix's Joker almost appears to be the predecessor to that, whilst still being his own beast entirely. It's still the day after the movie hit the theatres, and I've only seen it once, so I'll have to wait until I can rewatch it a few times to really get a handle on the character (Which I fully intend to do) but immediately you can see the bones of the man that would become the terror of Gotham. As much as I want to I can't get into specifics, (the movie just came out) but I will say that this is story of a man trying to deal with everyone failing him, and I think it's a logical, if twisted, path for him to want to teach that to everyone else down the line. Not that we'll ever get a sequel, Joaquin Phoenix reportedly hates franchises. (This movie doesn't exactly need one, either, it stands strong on its own.)

I've always considered Joker to be one of the greatest villains in media and am pleasantly surprised to see that the character was able to sustain such a gripping story on his own. Much of who the character is has been historically intrinsic to his relationship with Batman and I was certainly impressed to find out that the character was tough enough to forgo those shackles (mostly) and still hold up vividly. I would say that I'm excited to see how this will effect other superhero movies, but I honestly think that it'll be a long time before we get anything even nearly this evocative in the Marvel/DC landscape. (If ever again.) Be that as it may, at least we got one fantastic movie and another iconic version of the Joker to fondly look back on after we see him butchered again by Jared Leto. (Oh god, he's going to be in Birds of Prey, isn't he?)

I guess they get tired too...

It's been a hard day's night.

Have you ever had that moment when you just can't stand to get up in the morning? When you wish that you could just hit the off button and come back tomorrow? I'm not just talking about feeling reluctant, I'm talking about feeling drained. Feeling fatigued. Of course you have, everyone has. It's a universal feeling that everyone can relate to, which is why it can be powerful tool in story telling. "What? Having the main character be tired?" Yes, indeed. How many fight scenes have you seen in movies where the hero dusts up with a room chock-full of bad guys and tears through them without breaking a sweat? Did you relate to him? Did you worry for his safety? Now think of that scene in episode 2 of Netflix's 'Daredevil' wherein Matt Murdock takes down that entire hallway of thugs. (A must-watch scene if you haven't!) Think about how tired he gets, how they tired they get, and how it looks like he barely takes that last one down. Did he look like he was getting hurt?

Pain and fatigue are inexorable elements of our everyday lives, (Or at least they are until those Transhumanists get their way.) and so when we see these feelings represented in our fiction it makes it easier to realise that fictional world in our minds. Storytellers must always nail the fundamentals of their worlds before they can establish any of the fantastical elements, no matter how wild and imaginative that world is. When the story fails to make you believe in the world, you don't feel the need to care about it's inhabitants. That is why something as simple as showing your focal character stop to take a breather can build a whole depth onto your story.

Video games have also had their hand in demonstrating fatigue through one of the longest running traits in gaming: Stamina bars. This is the bar that is usually present in the Hub and will drain as you get damaged; once it is depleted, you character falls down dead. or just defeated, depending on your game's rating. (I know I likely don't need to explain the basics of a health bar to you, but remember, I'm a narcissist. So I will anyway.) Health bars were born out of the need to solve one of the most universal questions of game design: What is the player's motivation? When high scores don't matter anymore and the game has no sports-like win/lose conditions, the last carrot that developers have to dangle over our heads is the most potent one of all: Our very lives! And so the most enduring and widespread system in gaming was born.

Over the years, as development technology has become more and more robust, game developers have found all different ways to demonstrate the remaining health of the player. Some games have even gone so far as to remove the health bar altogether. (The monsters!) One of my personal favourite methods is the way in which player's wellness can be linked to that character's animations. In some third person games, as your character becomes more poorly (That's British slang for 'infirm' by-the-by.) they'll start to show it in their stature and gait; meaning that they'll start slumping over and hobbling about. You'll notice this in games like Resident Evil 2, Tomb Raider (2013), Red Dead Redemption, Uncharted: Drakes Fortune, Max Payne 3, Final Fantasy 7, Yakuza, Assassins Creed, oh and every single modern third person action adventure game ever made. It is a little silly how these characters can usually be seen clutching their sides after being riddled with enough lead to make them float, but I guess that the characters need to look like they can shake off their injuries. If they were going around vomiting up blood it might start giving players pause.

Of course, that isn't the only alternative that Video game companies have come up with for representing the health bar. Afterall, how would first-person games pull it off, considering they are the games that started shedding traditional 'health bars' first? Well, Call of Duty started off something of a trend when they created the 'damage effects' that are now widespread in first-person games. This includes 'hit markers' (A small on screen indicator telling you from which direction you got hurt), blurred screen effects, and reddish overlays onto your vision. As your character is dragged ever closer to death your screen become more and more red until you die. This is supposed to represent an immersive way to display health without the use of ugly, HUD adorning, health bars. However, the side effect is that now players can recover from their injuries by merely waiting around and not being hit. You win some immersion and then you lose some.

Some games have very unique ways of showing of the players health that doesn't clutter up a HUD but is still built around the health bar formula. One of the most famous examples I can think of is the spine bar from Visceral's Dead Space. Dead Space was a horror game that was intent on integrating HUD elements into the world of the game, thus ensuring that players would never cut themselves off from the immersion by going into a menu. Inventory screens were handled through holographic projections emanating from the player's environment suit, ammo counts were shown through holographic displays on the guns themselves, and the health bar was prominently visible on the protagonist's back. One thing you instantly notice when you play Dead Space is the glowing blue tube up the players spine, and that is essentially your in-universe health bar which depletes as your take damage. Ingenious! Another game that tried a similar trick of integrating the HUD would be 1998's 'Trespasser'. A first-person Jurassic Park game that figured the best way to keep the audience aware of the main character's health was to feature a heart shaped tattoo on her left breast that would deplete with damage. Classy.

So far I've been following a very narrow subset of fatigue mechanics in how they pertain to gameplay, but there is another aspect to consider which is very important to crafting a memorable experience, how fatigue can relate to the story. I've already mentioned the way in which characters feel more real when they are pervious, but what I'm referring to here is more the way in which the character wears the strain of the adventure they've just been through. There's nothing quite as satisfying as seing your hero come through it all at the end of day covered in the bruises and scratches that represent the chaos that they just endured. A great example of this would be the Arkham games. (Which you might remember me mentioning a bit about not so long ago. Something about playing the demo for Arkham Asylum until it was seared into by subconscious.) We all know Batman. And we've all seen Batman roughed up; with the torn suit and the cuts and scratches. The Arkham took this one step further in that you lived through every bruise that Batman acquired throughout that night. That isn't to say that every counter you missed would result in a nasty welt a couple hours down the line, but rather that there were scripted encounters and sections which would result in 'wear and tear' for poor old Bruce Wayne. Moments like; the first air duct collapsing at the beginning of Arkham Asylum, deflecting Deathstroke's katana barrage at the end of his boss fight in Arkham Origins and surviving lungs full of potent fear toxin in Arkham Knight. All of these incidents left a 'scar' that last on your virtual avatar for the rest of the game; trophies of the battles that you fought.

Similar 'wear and tear' systems can be found in a few of the modern action adventure games of recent years. 2013's Tomb Raider had a system very similar to the Arkham games. As Lara travelled across Yamatai, she would go through scripted scenes in which she would go through some sort of trauma and come out with a fresh scratch. Yager Development's 'Spec Ops: The Line' had a more involved 'wear and tear' mechanic in which the protagonist would grow more and more haggard as the psychological toil of the player's actions began to weigh on him with increasing severity. And Lionhead's 'Fable 3' had a literal 'scarring system' wherein the Hero had the possibility of attaining a scar every time that they got defeated by an enemy. Some of those examples are more transformative to the narrative than others, but they all serve to reflect the mortality of their subjects.

Storytelling is a multifaceted beast that can be tackled in so many hundreds of ways. The grounding of characters is just one step on a long road to crafting a clear and cohesive narrative, but it can be an important one depending on the tale you are trying to tell. I'm willing to bet that at least one the examples I mentioned today went almost completely ignored by some gamers out there; but as Mister Plinkett likes to say "You might not have noticed it, but your brain did." Personally I'm a sucker for all these little details, just as I'm a sucker for the big 'showstopper' features. Maybe I'm a just a huge nerd who can't see the forest for the trees or maybe I'm subconsciously taking note of all these little things in hope that I can write my own story/game one day. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing something that I feel daily mirrored by the coolest characters in fiction: The need to take a break.

Metroidvania in the third dimension

What is a man? 

Metroidvania. A particularly beloved sub-genre of game. This portmanteau between Metroid and Castlevania is utilised to define a sub genre that marries the common elements between both games. Which elements are: A huge open gameworld, commonly with interconnected spaces, wherein the player must collect new items and abilities in order to travel to areas in spaces that they have visited before. The effect, when executed correctly, is that players feel like their character is evolving as their world expands in a fun symbiotic way. What I want to talk about, however, is a sub-genre within that sub-genre, the 3D Metroidvania.

Not everything is benefited with the addition of an extra dimension. Platforming, for example. Although I'm sure it exists in some incarnation, I've never seen a thirdperson platformer that shakes the reputation of being clunky and ill-suited. Even third person games that wear the genre well, like Dying Light or Far Cry, fail to make their climbing mechanics feel significantly enjoyable and/or definitive. So what makes Metroidvania a good fit? Well, a couple of things actually. It's actually easier to create an interconnected world when you have a 3D space to contend with, Developers can shape their land in such a way that you could be adjacent to a path you've visited before and you'd never know it. And backtracking gameplay is always a lot more fun when your perspective is not fixed into the exact same angle it was when you first hopped down that hallway. It's a small touch but it is transformative to the experience.

So why, then, are there so few 3D Metroidvania's? When coming up with this blog I had to really wrack my brain to think of examples, and even then I have examples which practically skirt the definition as much a possible. I think the reason might come back to game design, whilst I said it is 'easier' to interconnect a 3D game world I feel it's important to add that I do not mean that the act itself is 'easy'. The level of clarity-of-vision required to execute the creation of such a laser-focused product is rarely seen in any creative fields. Let alone in game development. It requires the developers to decide on a direction and stick with it through thick and thin as they make the entire game, which can feel quite limiting to some. AAA games are the worst for it, who remembers the 10 year development cycle for 'Duke Nuke: Forever' and 'Final Fantasy XV', both were extensively delayed, in some part, because of the quickly evolving world of gaming. Despite that we do have some big-name studios who manage to string their ideas together in a competent, or usually exceptional, manner.

In order to sanitize this blog and make it manageable, I've decided to define Metroidvania by the dual specifications of an interconnected game space and cleverly built-in backtracking. I avoided the open world moniker for a specific reason. Additionally, I've tried to pick games from the AAA space mostly, again, to keep a sensible list. The result should be fairly comprehensive but I guess we'll see about that, won't we.

First let me start my telling you about my history with Metroidvania. First, inconceivably, I've never played Metroid or Castlevania. Unless you count the demo for Lords of Shadow, which you shouldn't. In my defence, both games predate my existence by a decade. I never even heard of any of these games until I hit secondary school. As I've stated before, my introduction into the world of gaming was Metal Gear Solid, and that series really shaped a lot of my early interest in games. Off the top of my head I remember becoming attached to a whole slew of classics but just never Metroid or Castlevania. There's only so much love in my heart, okay? Gears of War, of course I played that to death. Devil May Cry 2, I'm that game's biggest apologist. Metal Gear Solid, do I even need to mention how much I love that franchise? But maybe I missed a few 'unmissables' along the way.

Whilst I may never have played the games themselves, I have partaken in their legacy; as is the point of this blog. I have mentioned it before but it bears repeating, before the rise of the Internet things were pretty dire for video games news providers. Yes, there magazines for the purists but what about kids like me? We couldn't afford a subscription to a decently expensive gaming magazine. So we would turn to TV, and that was a mistake. I don't just mean turning to the TV, gaming being represented on TV is and will always be, a mistake. (Don't even get me started on that scene in Breaking Bad where Jesse plays RAGE with a light gun. Good lord.) Traditional media have never really got video games. At this point, with gaming recently becoming the most profitable form of entertainment in the world, we can blame this on gross incompetence on their part; but back then, it was just because no one knew what to make of this relatively new medium. So we got gaming shows. Glad they're not around anymore. However, disregarding how grim that time in gaming entrainment was, those of us who put up with it were introduced to a whole bunch of games we would never have heard about before. I found Fallout 3 on a TV show. And I also found a game relevant to this article.

One day, whilst enduring some god-awful gaming show, I happened across a title that I instantly recognised. A game built around a pop-culture icon whom I cherished, and still do. I saw the first gameplay I had ever seen for 'Batman: Arkham Asylum'. I cannot understate how exciting it was for a Batman fan to learn about a high-quality game based around the caped crusader headed our way. 2008-me was over the moon. Few heroes ever resonated with me the same way that Batman did back in the day. The chance to step into his shoes and, whats more, fight some of the most iconic Batman villains of all time, was too tempting to say no to. However, when I picked the game up (After playing the demo approximately one million times) something unexpected appealed to me.

For whatever reason, Batman embarked on his Arkham adventure with only his bare minimum tools. As such, when he gets locked in the Asylum, Batman has to make do with what he has on him and what he can scrounge up from about the island. This gameplay system meant that the player would often hit a brick wall in their investigations, sometimes literally, and have to continue on somewhere else and come back later. This was the first time I experienced Metroidvania-style mechanics, and in a 3D game no less. Arkham was delightfully interconnected and cleverly designed so that halls you would have to backtrack through would be strategically repopulated to let you know that you're going the right way. Additionally, Batman made sure that every helpful tool you picked up doubled as a useful weapon in battle, empowering the player both in exploration and combat as they proceeded. Batman's one night adventure still remains one of my favourite of all time and serves as a brilliant how-to for anyone who wants to see how to do everything right in a Metroidvania game.

How about a game that doesn't fit between the Metroidvania lines quite so cleanly. I've always been a fan of horror. A respectful fan, that is. Respectful in that I enjoy the genre but cannot properly disclose to myself or to you what it is about that type of game that appeals to me so. I have no idea what it is that makes a good horror experience and what makes a gimmicky, lazy one. I seem to operate on a 'I'll know it when I see it' sort of mentality when it comes to horror. With that in mind, the second I saw Dead Space I knew it would be good horror. Perhaps my opinion was elevated by the fact that I saw the game first on the horror-show that was another darn gaming TV channel, but I fell for Visceral's space-zombie thriller all the same.

But what is it about Dead Space that makes it a Metroidvania? It is level based, afterall. Well, after some introspection I've decided that despite the level design, Dead Space excels in making the world feel interconnected and enriching the act of backtracking. Issac Clarke is tasked with traversing the USG Ishimura in order to perform repairs on the ship and get access to more parts of the ship. This inherently means travelling through a coherent world space that feels connected in a sensible, thematic way. The horrific Necromorphs also encourage the player to keep improving themselves with better weapons and armour, however this is less indicative of a Metroidvania mechanic and more just light RPG-stuff. However, from a design perspective I see Dead Space as another prime example of Metroidvania done right.

This next one is textbook in it's execution. Designed from the ground up to appeal to fans of odd school Metroidvania gameplay. Vigil Games' Darksiders knew from the word 'go' what it wanted to be and who they wanted to appeal to. Personally, I never played the original but Darksiders 2 instead. And you can just feel the Symphony of the Night inspiration in the way the game is designed from the ground up. With the hack and slash gameplay, the backtracking, the 'world-travelling' system and all. Likely why it achieved such a cult status amongst it's fans.

I'll admit I've never been a huge 'Darksiders' fan. Although the concept of a 'horsemen of the apocalypse' story does appeal to me at a basic level, I have yet to be able to dive into it as fully as I want. The hack and slash genre is one that have a love-hate relationship with. That being said, for the time I spent with Darksiders I wasn't so much there for the gameplay but more so for the exploration. Vigil games built a beautiful world space with all the classic accoutrements of a finely prepared Metroidvania dish; abilities, shortcuts and backtracking. Also some cool boss fights, they were nice.

However, when it comes to Boss fights no one comes close to this game. From Software's Dark Souls is well loved and well remembered for it's uncompromising difficulty, it's impeccable world design and practically impenetrable lore. That design is my focus today. The original Dark Souls' world is on hallowed ground in the halls of gameworld fame; And, incidentally, one of my favourite game spaces of all time, allowing the player to travel such great distances and still end up right next to where they started. From Software plays with their audience, taking them high and low and still bringing them back to the same place in the end; I would even go so far as to call it intentionally thematic knowing Miyazaki. I can't even call exploring Dark Souls' world 'back tracking' as there is so much to witness and discover in places you've been to a thousand times before.

There are also a couple of key locations are limited from to start with in order to maintain something resembling a coherent narrative. You cannot face some of the endgame bosses until you retrieve the Lordvessel, as you technically need it in order to collect their souls; and you cannot traverse the abyss without the Covenant of Artorias. Apart from this, the only thing limiting the enterprising player is enemy difficulty which is curved to point you right instead of left. (That being said the game's reputation might have some players thinking 'maybe things are supposed to be this hard' and persist down the skeleton route right away until they hit a literal stop wall. Like me.) Although some wouldn't consider Dark Souls the most traditional Metroidvania, I don't see Dark Souls as a traditional example of any genre. If anything it is the prototypical Souls-game. Something unique all onto itself.

When correctly executed, Metroidvania games can be some of the best games about. Bringing together intelligent world design and narrative in a manner that feels natural and inspires exploration. Some games have bought their own spin on certain aspects and revolutionised in others, but at the end of the day they all share the same root DNA. They all have the same lineage somewhere down the bloodline. And to think, all of this was born from two classic games that came out in the same year! Just goes to show you, the greatest ideas are those that last. And Metroidvania will likely last for a long time to come.