The end

 For now

Prosthetic Limbs

We can rebuild him!

Limbs are very important to human beings. (Judging by Spore's economy I can personally attest to how much DNA they cost to unlock in the first place.) As such it can be devastating to lose a limb and be forced to readjust to simple life. Luckily, in this enlightened age of ours, there exist handy prosthetic replacements for our lost limbs which can sometimes be as sturdy and versatile as the real thing. 'As good as' isn't enough for video games, however, and for that reason whenever prosthetics make it to the video game world, they often come with so many bells and whistles that one might wonder if it's worth keeping our flabby weak human bodies when we can have some of these incredible creations.

Whether we have a story exploring the limits of humanity in transhumanist philosophies, or simply a game in which an Anime-esque hunk uses his robot arm as a baton; Video games are full of examples of this kind of body modification. I suppose developers can see it as a 'proof of struggle' to lose one's limb, as it can be one of the hardest injuries to overcome. However such developers also realize that few people want to play a game wherein they are subject to a disfigurement, and so out come the robot replacements. That might be a simplification but I'd wager that train of thought legitimately paid some role in the absolute deluge of prosthetic limbs we've seen in games.

One could not start a subject like this without starting with the grandfather of it all; Metal Gear Solid Peacewalker. (Huh, that's two mentions in one week. I might be having another relapse...) Fans might remember a very distinctive prosthetic arm in that game belonging to one- hold on- Vladimir Aleksandrovich Zadornov. (Phew, that's a mouthful.) When first introduced he appears to be a humble college professor travelling with his innocent schoolgirl accomplice who's name is literally 'Paz', which is Spanish for 'peace'. (There's a secret cover story that's trying too hard.) There's only one problem, the man has a bright metal robot hand that doubles as a cigarette lighter. (You get that from grading papers professor?) By the time this incredibly suspicious man, who just happens to hire you to investigate an extra-legal CIA occupation, reveals himself to be a Soviet spy, no one in the audience can manage so much as a pity gasp. Unfortunately this particular prosthetic doesn't prove very useful for Zadornov. Once he gets shot by Big Boss, after attempting an incredibly ill-advised quick draw against 'the world's greatest soldier', he makes a last ditch go for Snake by launching his robot arm with it's built in rocket function (What? Your prosthetic doesn't have one?) only to completely whiff his target and hit the wall. A sad way to go for the world's most conspicuous infiltration operative.

The arm, however, lived on. In the prequel to MGS V, 'Metal Gear Solid: Ground Zeroes', Snake is caught in a helicopter crash that costs him his arm and rugged beauty. (Those scars might have some charm to them but the giant horn-shaped debris sticking out of his forehead will definitely cost him some Tinder matches.) But opportunity arises from tragedy as in 'Metal Gear Solid: the Phantom Pain' his old rival, Shalashaska, (colloquially known as Revolver Ocelot) gives him a replacement arm that is known as 'The Bionic arm'. (Probably because 'The Phantom Limb' made too much sense.) This arm is modelled directly off of Zadornov's, for some reason, all the way down to the red paint job. Player's can even unlock the ability to launch it from their arm down the line, just like the 'professor', except Snake's comes with remote control. (That's how you avoid looking like an idiot, Zardornov, by firing your forearm at your combatants instead of your very functional firearms.)

Okay, so I've never played Devil May Cry 4 (I own it, I'm just a lazy piece of poop) but as far I understand it, there is a point wherein the adorable little cherub Nero has his arm sawn off through means that have never been explicitly discussed. (Bummer.) Rather then settle down and live off his impending disability benefits, Nero lived up to his name-sake and decided to secure a demonic replacement known as Devil Bringer. (Maybe not officially a prosthetic but I'm counting it!) In DMC 5, the platinum haired Nero loses this demonic gift and is forced to replace it with a robotic arm called Devil Breaker. This one has the ability fire unearthly demon beams at enemies, pull them over Scorpion-style in order to prolong a combo, and make it explode. (As you do.) However, Nero is in luck because some charitable soul decided to scatter levels with replacement arms, for some reason. (I guess the NHS are over funded in the DMC universe.)

Of course, there is one classic video game character who's prosthetic is so iconic that most forget he even has it, despite the fact it's really hard to ignore a huge black man with a Vulcan minigun for an arm. As I remember it is never explicitly explained why Barret has his minigun arm, nor why his former friend entrusted him with the raising of his daughter in spite of that aforementioned child-unfriendly implement. Whatever the reason, it means that Barret Wallace if often a stable of any team makeup for FF7 due to his useful ranged attacks and his tankiness. (Primarily for the tankiness.) It sure is encouraging that the Shinra of Midgard allow a man who should be classified as a weapon to walk the streets unhindered. (I bet he doesn't even get stop searched.)

On a more philosophical note 'Deus Ex Human Revolutions' proposed an interesting question; if your body was damaged to such a degree that you required a body worth of robotics in order to live, are you still human? (The ol' 'Ship of Thesus' question. ) Every part of Adam Jensen's body is redesigned by David Sarif into tools for hunting down those that kidnapped legendary scientist Megan Reed. Adam is forced to confront a body he doesn't recognize in a world torn by prejudice against the mechanically enhanced as he unravels the world's deepest cabal. (God, I sound like a movie announcer.) Honestly, this is one of my favourite examples of transhumanism in gaming and I sure hope that Jensen's story gets a third game to round out the story. (For the love of god, Square, I'm begging you!)

Tactical revolution, 'Xcom: Enemy Unknown', encountered some controversy regarding prosthetics when it came to envisioning their expansion/new release: 'Enemy Within'. This arose because the new 'mech units', who were designed to balance against the powerful Alien robotics from the late game, had to be piloted by individuals without arms or legs. (So that the mech suit could act as a replacement.) This meant that those who wanted to turn their soldiers into mech units would have to opt them into a procedure to have their limbs removed and replaced with metallic supplements. At the time there was some hubub by those who thought this was 'glorifying body mutilation', but then there were people who claimed that Xcom 2's badass Alien-head wall was 'unhygenic' so I don't but much stock in the word of outrage warriors.

Hold on. Another Metal Gear mention? I've gone mad with power! As it turns out, there is yet another example of prosthetics in Metal Gear, although this one did go a little overboard. Anime schoolboy stand-in, Raiden, was far-in-large the least cool member of the Metal Gear cast after his debut in Metal Gear Solid 2. Especially in the way that they replaced series icon Snake with a guy who is such a pathetic spy that his girlfriend is on the support line and repeatedly calls him by his real name several times over the airwaves. ("Jack, do you know what day it is?") Hideo Kojima amended this by replacing most of Raiden's body with cybernetics in Metal Gear Solid 4 and having him literally wield a samurai sword into battle. (I'm fairly sure this counts as overcompensation.) In Metal Gear Rising Revengence, Raiden has even more bodyparts replaced and essentially becomes a murder fueled robot of death and destruction. (Without all the philosophical hints that Deus Ex implemented.) Throw in a line where cyborg Raiden utters that infamous line; "The Memes!" and Kojima may have created the ultimate life form.

Bizarrely this is such a common trend across video games that I had to leave out a few of the ideas that I had come up with. (The Sekiro arm is too similar to Devil Breaker anyway.) Personally, I do enjoy the hints of imagination that this particular cliche invokes, not just in gaming, but for story telling in general. That 'body horror' angle mixed with typical badass-ery is just the right blend of surreal cool to make me smile every time; and I look forward to see if future games with this idea, like Cyberpunk 2077, go the whole hog and show all angles, the cool and the weird, all in one package.

When Devs sneak into games

There's a familiar face...

Let's be real with each other for a moment; what is the point of making a video game if you don't get the chance to stick yourself in it? Developers put their hearts, souls, and considerable amounts of working hours into creating these products with the intention of them standing the test of time, don't they deserve to slip themselves in somewhere, maybe in a place so obscure that only they will know? What better place to immortalize yourself than in the digital plainscape wherein your likeness will last for perpetuity? (Or at least until the hardware evolves enough to make your game unplayable.)

In movies we occasionally see the director self-insert in sneaky little ways that makes the audience go 'oh look'! Like in Return of the King when Peter Jackson costumed up like an Orc and got shot in the chest or that time that George Lucas turned his entire family into Star Wars toys. (Okay, maybe not that second one.) Given the opportunity however, such inserts can come across as weird, unearned or pretentious. (Like in Lady in Water wherein M. Night. Shyamalan cast himself as a misunderstood genius martyr.) This is a phenomenon that has crossed over to video games over the decades, with varying results.

Perhaps one of my favourite self-inserts comes from the classic PSP masterpiece: Metal Gear Solid; Peace Walker. (which hails from a franchise spawned from the wonderfully weird mind of Hideo Kojima.) One of the earliest levels of this adventure has Naked Snake, now appointed the title of Big Boss, infiltrating a storehouse in search of missing nukes. (Just like on your normal Saturday.) It is at this point that Peace Walker gives players one of their first glimpse into it's silly side by playing "What's behind that door?" with you. And yes, one door opens up to a room full of wrought iron cogs. ("Metal gears?")As you have likely deduced from this setup, the penultimate door opens up to the kidnapped form of the franchise's visionary director; Hideo Kojima. (Whom Snake apparently knows, seeing as how he instantly recognizes him as "Mr Kojima?") From that point onwards Hideo Kojima joins your personal mercenary army with lackluster skills in everything but tech. Obviously. (One touch that I particularly liked was the way that Kojima's ingame bio notes how his body is made up of "70% games". A reflection of his twitter bio which quotes the statistic as "70% movies".)

The first person cowboy game of the 2000's was Techland's Call of Juarez. Is was gritty, bombastic and even downright cinematic at times, whilst always remembering to pay homage to it's Hollywood western routes. With such a history, it only made sense for the developers to search for a suitably western way to sneak their names into the game, and they achieved exactly that with their wanted posters. That's right, throughout the gameworld the player can come across hidden wanted posters that feature the printed out mugs of various developers wearing cowboy hats and putting on their best desperado face. I suppose this means the next logical step is for the Devs to program themselves in as actual bounties to be hunted by players. (Next game, guys.)

As Metal Gear Solid Peacewalker was the second entry in the 'prequel' series of Metal Gear games, it would be several years before we got a follow-up to let everyone know what happened to everyone's favourite mercenary: Hideo Kojima. When Metal Gear Solid: Ground Zeroes rolled around we got to see exactly that as an extra mission allowed us to cover Kojima in his explosive escape from a recon mission gone wrong. (Not too sure why we sent in the tech guy for that.) However, folk had due concern to be worried for Mr. Kojima's safety considering that Ground Zeroes ends with the violent dissolution of your military force by way of several explosions. Which in hindsight is a little odd considering the base seemed fine after you battled a schoolgirl driving a nuclear mechsuit on top of it. (Metal Gear is a weird series.) Luckily, once Phantom Pain rolled around we got to discover the final fate of Kojima-san. Seems he was one of the 10 survivors of the assault and wound up being caught by the Russian forces in Afghanistan. (Who decided to keep him in the exact same room where the kept, and lost, Kaz. These guys aren't the sharpest tools in the shed, huh?) Therefore it's up to Venom Snake to save Kojima one last time and recruit him once again to the noble job of providing military aid in exchange for funds. (Do you think Kojima is trying to tell us something about what he wants to do after he's done with games?)

During one of the content showcases for Final Fantasy 15, leading up to that game's launch, fans were treated to a custom battle between protagonist Noctis and a unforseen opponent; CEO of Square Enix Yosuke Matsuda. Mr Matsuda showed up out the blue and pretty much creamed the crown prince of Insomnia with his magical sword (Which I'm sure the real Yosuke definitely has.) Fans of this surprise boss (I know you're out there) would have to wait until a whole other game to get a chance to experience the surreal insanity of that fight for themselves. Underrated masterpiece 'NeiR: Automata' was only ever graced with a single DLC; an arena mode called: 3C3C1D119440927. (Really rolls of the tongue.) As you've likely guessed, the secret final boss of this mode is Yosuke Matsuda himself, realized in full 3d bullet-hell glory. Of course, just to put a cherry on top of the whole encounter, half way through the fight, CEO and President of Platinum games, Kenichi Sato, shows up. So if you want two old Japanese business men shouting waves of energy at you (lets be honest, who doesn't?) then NeiR: Automata is the game for you! (PSA: 'NeiR: Automata' is fantastic for a lot of other reasons, I swear! Don't let this one incredibly weird facet put you off!)

You know what game series is even more surreal and weird than Metal Gear? Five nights at Freddies. That is a franchise that built itself around the simple premise of haunted Chuck-e-cheese animatronics and has sense gone on to confuse audiences everywhere with confusing plot twists involving bite victims, animatronics in skin suits and the hungry souls of murdered children. All this comes from the entrepreneuring mind of one; Scott Cawthon, a man who managed to turn his early game development missteps into a wildly successful franchise. (Good for him.) I suppose it was only a matter of time before he managed to work himself into one of the games, and that he did with the weird, bright and occasionally annoying RPG: Fnaf World. ("You won't get tired of my voice, will you?") Months before the impressive fangame 'The Joy of Creation', Fnaf World featured Scott as its final boss to round off this LSD trip of a game. Cawthon is envisioned as his blocky Twitter avatar and spends most of the fight bemoaning his excessive work cycle due to his voracious fans. (Okay buddy, well at least you have fans who want to see your work.)

One franchise that I have a begrudging respect for, even though I could care less for the movies themselves, is the Matrix franchise. It was one of the first legitimate attempts to create a multimedia franchise spanning websites, movies, tv-shows and games. (If only they could all tell interesting stories that aided a bigger narrative. What do you mean that was the intention? Well it didn't work. They sucked.) That being said, I appreciate the Wachowski's attempt to pull something original and unique with the concept of a franchise and I especially appreciate their tongue in cheek little message at the end of the second Matrix game; Path of Neo. That game very much ends like the film, with Neo and Mister Smith duking it out in the remains of The Matrix in a symbolic battle of good versus evil. (Very anime now I come to think about it.) However, this wouldn't work so well for a game (one on one final battle? Lame.) So the Wachowski's amended this fight into a mecha-like battle against one giant Mister Smith made out of several little Mister Smiths. (Creative.) Just before this fight, the game pauses for the Wachowski's to speak directly to the player to explain this change reasoning that this just seemed more fun.

I always do enjoy those little moments when developers go out of their way to remind you of the human element that goes into our favourite games. (Even when they do it in ways that are both super weird and uncomfortable.) It's a way for us to take a look at the faces of the hard working individuals and recognize those that don't get to take the stage at every E3, and for them it's a chance to be immortalized within their work. Who could ask for more?

Rain

It's pretty risky

We all have those little quirky things we love that we can't explain. The kind of things that make you smile internally for some unexplainable reason that no one else shares. When it comes to games, I like to think of it as that little piece of love that you share with the one developer who worked on that. An inside joke that the two of you share and always bring up in conversation. Judging from the title you can likely see where this is going so I'll just out and say it; I like rain.

Being a Brit, one could make a sound argument that such an affirmation is a manifestation of Stockholm syndrome, but whatever the case I am a rain connoisseur. (Purely in video games, you understand. Can't stand the stuff in real life.) Anytime a video game boasts dynamic weather changes I'm always excited to see how they handle that most common of phenomena. Radiation storms are cool the first time, I guess. Snow blizzards are usually more annoying than fun. And hurricanes always sound more exciting in concept than in person. (Sorry, Just Cause 4.) I prefer to dedicate my escapism fantasy experience to the fun activity of staying out of the rain. Or rather, I would, but I have quests to do and stuff so I just have to grin and bear it. (Kind of like in real life.)

If I were to take a psychoanalytic angle to this predilection I may conclude that these feelings stem back to my days indoors as a child. Oftentimes in the autumnal months, the heavens would open up on a nearly daily basis, and in Britain when it rains it absolutely pours. During times like these I often liked to wrap up in a cover and sit by the window sill, observing the uncomfortable, cold downpour outside whilst basking in the warmth and comfort of the indoors. Perhaps there's a little bit of sadism involved in it too, as I have lived up the road from a train station most of my life, so I often got to see commuters, fresh off the train, suffering the consequences of being ill-prepared for the cloud's wrath. (It's always satisfying when it's happening to someone else...)

Something about watching my video game avatar bear the same struggles is infinitely endearing and relatable for me. I may not posses the upper body strength to wear plate armour, the charisma to make friends, the intelligence to solve crimes, or the immortal spirit of Akatosh within which I can consume the souls of slain dragons; but I can stand in the rain. (Heck, I've done it before!) Maybe me and the video game guy aren't so different after all.

"But you didn't call yourself an 'enthusiast', you specifically said 'Conisseur', which implies some critical consideration." Very astute, dear reader, yes I did. That is because I am such an individual who takes great interest in the way that rain works in video games and am always eager to ensure that there are some carnal sins of rain implementation that are not broken. (Feel like I misplaced the term 'Carnal', but what's done is done.) I won't say that poor rain implementation is enough to break my immersion from a game, that would be silly. But I would, undoubtedly, be immeasurably disappointed and have my day be ruined. So allow me to take you through the weird things that I check whenever I encounter a game with the hubris to imitate Zeus.

One of the most important aspects to consider is one that so many games ignore, does the rain fall where it's supposed to. In order to understand this, there is something I must established. Rain falls from the sky. Discounting the affects of velocity, cloud angle, and wind, that would mean the rain would fall in a downwards motion and a straight manner. Being that those facts are solid and immutable, can someone explain to be why in 'Grand Theft Auto: Liberty City Stories' I get rain that falls on me whilst I'm inside my garage?

Of course, this comes down to the fact that some developers can't be bothered to program rain that reacts to collision boxes. (Maybe that would cause too much strain on the system. Whatever Dev excuses they want to use.) The result is rain that effectively ghosts surfaces and hit the player anywhere as long as they are in an outside wordspace. As a rain lover, this absolutely ruins the potential to stand in shelter and watch everyone else deal with the sky's tears, which is an absolutely damnable crime to the depiction of rain. Oh yeah, it's also deeply unimmersive and makes it feel like weather effects were haphazardly slapped onto the game as an afterthought. (Which, honestly, may be close to the truth.)

Those proud games that do go that extra mile to ensure that rain reacts to solid surfaces do earn my respect. Games like 'Witcher 3: Wild Hunt', 'Red Dead Redemption 2' and 'Watch Dogs 2' showcase how at least one Dev on the team cared about this as much as I do. In these games you can have those moments when you stand under an awning, close your eyes, and just listen to the rhythmic patter of rain drowning out the ambiance of civilization. Something you can't do in person because it's always too chilly in rain season and you're vulnerable to splashback when you stand under awnings, it's just not worth it. (Plus, if you stand in the middle of a busy street with your eyes closed you're pretty much asking to get pickpocketed. Or is that just my area?)

This here's a real new age technique. The kind of stuff that wasn't possible with game engines back in the day. I like to look out for whether or not the rain forms into puddles. I'm not implying that the game should dynamically create puddles to match the force of the rain, because at that you'd just be making a rain simulator game. (That would be awesome but I don't think the world's quiet ready for it yet.) Instead I'm referring to those times when the world crafter's have gone in meticulously to designate spots in the world that would accommodate puddles so that such can form when the heavens open.

Games like 'Red Dead Redemption 2' and 'Spiderman PS4', real gems of the market, like to show off how this technology works and the results are astounding. Even 2002's Divine Divinity boasted reflective puddles in it's gorgeous hand drawn sprite art. This here isn't even really an immersion factor for me as games haven't yet reached the universal level where such an absence would be brow-raising. More so, puddles serve as an atheistically pleasing tool to show of a particular game's reflection tech. (A process that is typically a lot more intensive to the processing memory than one would think.) Just seeing light bounce off of tiny mud lakes on the ground is enough to transform a soggy morning into something serene and beautiful.

Here is an issue focusing more on immersion. One that betrays the nature of game design in a way that I can accept, but still don't want it shouted at every time I look up. This particular point of contention relies on if the rain is centralized on me. Now, I understand that it is unreasonable to load an entire game world at once, no game has, or would ever have, the memory to accommodate that. Instead, games will load relevant data in chunks and have the audience's viewing point loaded whilst unloading everything around them. This works with rain too, obviously.  It would be imprudent to have a rain effect engulf your entire gameworld if the player can only see the space around them, so developers would have it only displayed where it's necessary.

The problem here, is that some games take this to it's lazy conclusion and have it so that rain literally follows you around as though you're Little Misfortune. (Yikes forever!) To understand what I mean by this, load up Minecraft and wait for it to rain, then look up and move around. Notice how, no matter where you move, you're always perfectly between the same strands of rain particles? That's centralized rain. Minecraft isn't the only the game that does it either, despite the fact that, given it's visual flair, it is the only game that should be allowed to. If rain falls through the scenery then that blunder is often accompanied with this in some form. A constant reminder that weather effects for this world were an afterthought and you are stupid for caring about their implementation. This is a feature that I find supremely immersion breaking, contrary to my earlier affirmation, and I hold particular distaste for any who choose to subject their audience to it. (For shame, sir.) 

Let's go back to the cool little Easter eggs. Rain effects that aren't really new, but which impress me when I see them every time. I'm talking about games in which my clothes react to the rain fall. Games with particular care given to their visual flair, like 'Red Dead Redemption' (Again) and 'Metal Gear Solid: The Phantom Pain',  recognize that it is just as important to have fabrics react on the player model as it is to have rain interact with the world. This goes further than just adding a lingering drip effect, too. I'm talking about moments in which players are treated to dynamically damping clothing material that reflects how much liquid you just interacted with. That also goes for dipping in the drink.

Many games have model variations that they subtly blend together when you enter the rain, but they feel like the bare minimum in this department. Rockstar had John Marston's trousers get more soggy for the further he wades into the sea, that's despite the fact that John couldn't even swim in Red Dead 1 and drowned if he went in as deep as his hat. (His entire face could be submerged and he would still be fine as long as his hat was dry. Weird, I know.) Having Big Boss' clothing react the same way was also a very neat immersion tool as players spent quiet a lot of time sneaking through rain, crawling across damp marshes and summoning sound dampening rainstorms through experimental chemical drops. (Oh that's a 'chem trails' joke isn't it? Oh Kojima, what are you like!)

Now we approach territory that could be considered somewhat subjective. What I find acceptable in this field may not reach your standards and vice versa, the only thing for it is to judge for yourself. You see, I always pay attention to whether or not the rain looks like rain. Let me explain. Oftentimes, the hardest things to recreate in a digital medium are the effects that we see everyday in the real world. Can computers create an electrical tornado? Sure. No one knows what the look like so their brains will judge what you show them and just go "Yeah, that looks about right." But when it comes to animating water, or the ocean, then we enter whole new territory. How do you simulate something that billions of people see each and every day? How do you predict it's randomness, it's rise and fall or the way that waves come in and leave the shores? More pertinently, how do you portray the rain?

You see it everyday but stop and think for a second, how do you draw it? Take a look in most comics and you'll see it as a collection of black lines across the page, but that isn't really what rain looks like, we just kind of get the message. Making rain actually look like rain requires so much effort that it usually isn't worth it for the dramatic tension, might as well just have Spiderman and Kraven the Hunter duke it out indoors. The same goes for video game developers, only they often don't have the luxury of going the lazy route. It's often posited that every rain drop is unique (or is that snowflakes?) so designers have to ensure that it moves fast enough for you not to see the droplets but not so fast that it doesn't appear to be rain anymore, or harms the picture quality. Every aspect of rain design must take these factors into account to truly create something believable.

That doesn't mean that there aren't those that still go the lazy route. As much as I adore the game, 'The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim' features some of the worst vanilla rain in modern gaming. It doesn't fall hard enough to look like rain, the strands are so thin that you hardly notice it and the atmosphere doesn't adopt the damp ambience that one would expect. (Yeah, I'm taking that into account too.) Altogether, the visual design is key to selling the effect and everything else can fall apart depending on how much care was put into this process.

For the last point, I want to address what I consider to be the most cathartic part of rainfall, the sound. When I sit at home and relish in the suffering of those outside who forgot their umbrellas (It sustains me) I love to hear the pitter patter of the droplets clattering into the street. The more rain there is, the more satisfying the sound. Few natural wonders derive as much genuine pleasure out of me as wrapping up and listening to the cacophonous orchestra of a flash flood. (The shop at the end of my road, which is also lowered to street level, might not share my enthusiasm there.) All that means I am someone who takes it very seriously when they hear ingame rain, either get the sound right or don't try at all.

Sound design isn't something we talk about too often on this blog, as it is a process that is mostly alien to me, but what snippets I have seen always do impress me. Oftentimes sound designers go out of their way to construct devices that create sounds identical to the ones you are trying to portray. If push really comes to shove, they just go outside with sound equipment and try to capture the raw sound, but I'd imagine the level of control that needs to go into such expeditions make it unappealing. With such a variety in potential methods, it's hard for me to explain what makes a 'good' sound for rain and what doesn't. It's one of those things that you just know in your heart of hearts. I'm not qualified enough to spell this one out for you, just to encourage you to pay attention for yourself.

I don't know whether or not anyone else pays as close attention to Video game rain as I do, or even if they should. There are so many large scale issue I can forgive in game's design that should turn me into a joy hating shrew if I were to apply the same level of critique there as I do to this inconsequential feature. (This blog is 20 paragraphs long, for goodness sake!) I suppose we all just have those lines in the sand that we draw and mine is in the shape of a puddle that better collect rainwater or so help me... I should probably wrap this up before I start to give away just how neurotic I really am, although that's likely already out of the bag considering today's topic.