We All Fall Down

Headspace

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In case you’re curious, most of my “culture” columns on NextGen have been renamed for headline-grabbing power. Here are some of my original titles, with links to the articles, so you can see what (if anything) changed:

The Ends of the World (Original article)
And Then There Were None ( Original article )
Home of the Underdogs ( Original article )

They’ve been growing less artsy, as I’m getting a feel for what will and won’t be changed. Generally the subdivisions remain intact, though. You can probably tell when a header isn’t mine.

It’s-a Heem! Again!

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So far, New Super Mario Bros. isn’t as annoying as I expected. Kind of flavorless, yes. Well-made, though. Some nice ideas in here.

I like how they’ve stripped down everything except the mushrooms, fire flowers, and turtle shell — and then refocused the game so it’s basically all forward momentum. There’s plenty of stuff to dink around and find; that’s kind of peripheral, though. The overworld map pretty much drives the point home: it’s a straight line from the first level to the final castle, with only the occasional tangent to access an alternate route or a special item. The levels themselves are much the same. And the way the secret routes and items are hidden is nice and old-fashioned; reminds me of Mario 1 and Sonic 1.

Likewise, the focus on Mario’s size-changing is interesting. In past games (except Mario Land), there’s never been much point in being small. Here, not only is being small occasionally of value; you can also be smaller than small. And to trade it off, you can be bigger than big. Conceptually, it’s definitely got its stuff together; this is kind of like how Gradius V focuses on the Options. In execution — well.

The problem, as Toups pointed out earlier, feels like a lack of confidence. That seems to be an issue with a lot of Nintendo games these days. A shame. I mean. With more confidence in its own ideas, Wind Waker could have been really amazing. And again, whoever conceived of this game was a really clever person. You want to revive an imporant series, you break down what defines it and you build upon that. In this case, you focus on Mario’s growing/shrinking ability and on forward momentum; ditch all the suits and playground design and as much clutter as you can get away with, then slowly build back up with an eye toward the central themes.

Even the level design is often quite snazzy. Same with the very limited treasure hunt aspect, and how that ties into the world map: spend the coins however you like, whenever you like; go back and dink around to find the other coins whenever you feel like it. No pressure to complete everything; to the contrary, the game’s constantly pushing you forward. Yet it allows leeway if you want to explore. Again, sorta reminds me of early Sonic. Heck, Mario even runs like Sonic now.

Partly because of all that, I really wish this thing felt less generic. Less… cardboard. Whereas Gradius V and OutRun2 almost supplant Life Force and OutRun, this comes off more like a tribute game than something important in its own right.

EDIT: Actually, I want to say it reminds me a lot of a milquetoast follow-up to Super Mario Land. You’ve got some of the same ideas in it: better use of Mario’s size and working it into level logistics; more thematic enemies, and levels with memorable one-time quirks. I keep expecting the fireball to work like the Power Ball, and bounce all over, allowing me to collect coins. Instead, it just creates coins. (Not sure of the in-game logistics there. I think the Mario Land model would have fit better.) What Mario Land has that this doesn’t is a bizarre and quirky personality of its own, allowing it to stand as a response to Super Mario Bros. rather than just a new take on it.

Home of the Underdogs

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by [name redacted]

Part five of my ongoing culture column; originally published by Next Generation, then reprinted by BusinessWeek, under the title “The Lasting Impact of “Failed” Consoles”.

The videogame industry is usually portrayed as a battle of titans: Xbox versus PlayStation versus the Nintendo Whatever, butting heads over the biggest market share. The winner, by virtue of winning, will lay the law for future generations. This is a tough industry, where the ruthless survive and the weak or incomprehensible are savaged and devoured.

A curious thing about videogames is that, underneath the bluster, you’ll nearly always find that the “losing” platforms – from the Sega Saturn to the Turbografx-16 – are in many ways either objectively superior to or subjectively more intriguing than what “won”; what they typically lack is balance. Like root beers or politicians, typically the top candidates rise to the top not out of pure excellence; they rise because they serve the basic desires of the greatest audience while offending the fewest.

Rose = (Susan + Ian + Barbara) x 2005

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Somebody like the Doctor – an ageless, lonely wanderer – he can’t be that desperate can he? You would think that with his wisdom and experience, the last person he would want to get his leg-over with was Rose.

Since that’s the same thing as love, yes.

Rose “saved” the Doctor when he was at his most vulnerable, his most miserable. Therefore, he became attached to her in a way he rarely allows himself to become attached to others. She became attached to him because, well, she’s a silly little kid and he showed her the world. Though in the short term they bettered each other, eventually the two of them had to part ways — for reasons illustrated in both School Reunion and Girl in the Fireplace (the one on Rose’s end; the other on the Doctor’s).

The Doctor’s fixation on Reinette, if anything, helps to illustrate the nature of his relationship with Rose. All it takes is that rare person at the rare moment who can break through and touch him, and he’ll latch onto her. Rose did it by being stubborn at the right time, then worming under the Doctor’s skin, showing appreciation, nurturing him. By giving him a certain regularity, and a family of sorts. Reinette did it by literally crawling into his head, seeing things that he normally doesn’t show anybody. When he lost Reinette, and he reacted that badly after having only known her for a few hours, that set up just how much of an effect it would be on him when Rose left.

At least Rose is safe, though. In a way he gave her what she always wanted, before he came around — and what he could never have. Though the TARDIS will feel very empty for a while, the Doctor will… well, not get over it. He’ll put it behind him, though; chalk up the sadness to just one more illustration of his curse — how alone he innately must be — and move on. It’s kind of like ditching Susan all over again.

I don’t think we’ll see him that ga-ga over another companion. I get the feeling the Doctor isn’t about to be so dependent on anyone again, if he can help it. At least, that’s the way he always used to work.

Dalek Bay

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Unless I missed something, I don’t think the location being called Bad Wolf was a revelation.

One way to read it — and I think perhaps the way intended — is that this beach is the original “bad wolf”, explaining the phrase getting scattered through time last series. This is what Rose was really trying to tell herself, in the moment when she could see all of time and space: she saw that this was the end of the road; the precise time and place that will allow her to “get back” to the Doctor and say her farewell, and so she scattered the clues backwards to lead her there. The earlier “bad wolves” are all backwards echoes of this.

Either by coincidence or design (on Vortex-Rose’s part), the situation in Parting of the Ways works as a really good early metaphor for the true “bad wolf” situation that will arise one series later — a metaphor aided by the “DÃ¥rlig Ulv” business. (Dalek = bad! Yuk yuk!) Though maybe Vortex-Rose also meant it as a trail to lead her back to the Doctor in that moment and create herself, that now seems like a secondary effect.

I mean. She could have used anything, any phrase to lead herself back there — and yet instead of any old phrase from out of a hat, she chose to use the ultimate “you can get back to him” phrase. This suggests that the phrase was less intended to get her to that precise moment (since, hey, she was there already!) than it was to impress unto herself its future significance. Which in a sense is slightly less paradoxical (and arbitrary) than the action seemed last year.

Still a little weird, of course.

EDIT:

Because what’s presented on-screen and in the dialogue of Bad Wolf/PotW clearly indicates it?

All that TARDIS-Rose says there is “I take the words, I scatter them” — at which point the words on the sign literally rip off the wall and fly off. Clearly the latter isn’t meant as a literal depiction of her transforming those particular physical objects into the Platonic forms they represent, and then scattering them — so I don’t know that it really means anything other than as an illustration of what she’s talking about: scattering the words “Bad Wolf”. Not neccesarily those particular tangible letters that she ripped off the wall; just the words themselves. Nowhere in the episode is it stated that the words originate at the station.

Because it’s the only way the plot arc makes sense?

Now, that’s clearly not so. Again, the arc would make more sense (and be more dramaticall fulfilling) if the words had some significance beyond simply the name of the owners of the TV station. Even within the episode, everyone assumes the TV station’s name is just another instance of the “repeated meme” (if you will). And frankly, the entire situation feels unresolved: why was the company called “Bad Wolf”? Well, it just… was. So why did Rose latch onto the corporation name as a “code” to send through time and space? Well, she just… did. The connection is tenuous and not really satisfactory. This isn’t an elegant place for a causal paradox.

Now, had the name an actual origin — were it to actually mean something significant to Rose or the Doctor (or better yet the relationship between the two of them — then we’d be onto something. Then the plot arc would make a little more sense, and it would be a little more satisfying as a piece of drama.

What to some degree makes the most thematic sense is if the original “bad wolf” is the final one, which is then projected backward. And as it turns out, this “bad wolf” is probably the most significant individual instance of all, as it refers to a time and a place at the end of everything where Rose can find the Doctor — where that last dimensional anomaly happens to be located.

Logistically, there is no reason why this could not be the origin of the phrase — and I don’t see how, as a retcon, it particularly complicates the events as played out before. Again, Rose had access to all of Time and Space. She would therefore see her entire arc with the Doctor; she would know when she left him, and would know the significance of that last meeting where they admitted their love for each other. TARDIS-Rose is, to an extent, a being formed of pure love for the Doctor — therefore, “I am the Bad Wolf: I create myself” makes sense in that context. Likewise, “Bad Wolf” as a message to spread throughout time to lead Rose to the Doctor carries a great metaphorical weight that would not otherwise be present.

It’s not impossible, either, that the bay is just one more thing she renamed way back in Parting of the Ways — except, why? Again, it just becomes arbitrary. If she was able to look forward enough to randomly rename the bay back then according to the name of the owner of a TV station, then how is it any less plausible that in looking forward that is where she originally found the name? Again, thematically that has the greater dramatic resonance; it’s not really any more complicated; and I don’t recall anything in either series that would logistically negate it as an option.

Bad Wolf Bay

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Dear God.

…

Well. The series could end perfectly well here. Even with that final ten seconds or so. Actually, it would have been kind of interesting had the show ended like that in 1989.

It would be fruitless to even begin discussing the details.

Though… I like how long they held off with the 3D glasses, and the way Davies finally explained them. This is almost certainly his most clever, best-written work for the show to date. Almost nothing wasted. Almost everything introducing something new to the mythos or the characters, even as it’s ending an era. And it’s all so sincere. It’s a real shame he’s been cutting down on his scripts.

Indeed, this pretty much makes up for the earlier meandering.

Maybe after I dwell a bit…

Mascots and Messages

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by [name redacted]

Part four of my ongoing culture column; originally published by Next Generation under a different title; something like “The Problem with Mascots”. Somewhere between this article’s completion and its publication, one of my more vocal “fans” started a forum thread about Sonic the Hedgehog. He felt a few of the points were similar; I think something in my description of Sonic. Considering this is one of my least favorite articles, I sometimes wonder if it was worth the bother. Still, here it is again.

I wrote a while ago that there’s maybe one good Sonic game for every two flops. At the time I was halfway kidding, setting up the premise for a silly “top ten” list. Where I wasn’t kidding, I was speaking from a historical perspective rather than a contemporary one. As much as I have loved the guy, I’m aware that Sega hasn’t done too well by Sonic for a long time – to the point where he’s now the butt of dumb jokes on semi-respectable business websites. Since the Genesis we’ve seen, what, one truly great Sonic game?

When Sonic and Sega came back with the Dreamcast, they did it with a collective bang. Everyone cheered at his return, and at Sega’s. Then came a less interesting sequel. Then Sega went out of the console business, and suddenly there didn’t seem much point to Sonic anymore. More games kept coming out, each worse than the last, each building on the least compelling parts of Sonic Adventure. People stopped caring about the character, then started mocking him. Sega tried to address the problem with Shadow: a grittier, cooler answer to Sonic. Without even playing the game, people immediately wrote off the character, Sega, and everybody involved with the franchise.

The problem wasn’t really Shadow, or his game – even the concept behind it, for what it was worth. Heck, people didn’t even have to play it to dismiss it. The problem was that it didn’t seem like Sega knew what the hell it was doing anymore.

And Then There Were None

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by [name redacted]

Part three of my ongoing culture column; originally published by Next Generation, under the title “Culture: Five that Fell”.

For all its immaturity, you can tell the videogame industry is getting on in years. With increasing, even alarming, frequency, the faces of our youth have begun to disappear – forced from the market, absorbed into conglomerates, restructured into oblivion, or simply retired from the grind.

The first big wave hit back in the mid ’90s, when increased development costs, the demise of the American arcade, and the shift from 2D development left dozens of small and mid-sized developers – from Toaplan to Technos – out in the cold. Those that didn’t die completely – Sunsoft, Vic Tokai – often pulled out of the US market, or even out of the videogame business. Western outfits braced for the storm by merging with larger and ever larger publishing conglomerates, rationalizing that it was the only way to survive in an uncertain market.

The second wave came only a few years ago, after the burst of the tech bubble. In effort to streamline costs, parent companies began to dump their holdings left and right, regardless of the legacy or talent involved. Those that didn’t often went bankrupt, pulling all of their precious acquisitions down with them. Sometimes the talent moved on and regrouped under a new game; still, when an era’s over, it’s over.

True Balance

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I am never so constructive as when I am meant to be working on something else.

The Invasion

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There have been rumors for a while; now it’s been publicized. A teaser trailer‘s even out.






Yes, the legendary and long-incomplete 1968 Patrick Troughton serial The Invasion has been completed — through modern flash-based animation, set to the original off-air soundtrack. It’s been done by Cosgrove Hall (Danger Mouse, Count Duckula) — the same people also behind the Scream of the Shalka webcast from a few years ago. This is supposed to be a good deal more sophisticated, though.

It’ll be out this November, in the UK; we’ll probably have to wait until next spring for the DVD. The remaining six episodes are getting the typical Restoration Team cleanup — which is welcome, considering the condition all existing consumer prints are in.

As it is, I find the story hard to take, as it’s drawn out and padded to a ludicrous degree. (It was conceived as six episodes, then cut down to four because there wasn’t enough story to sustain a six parter, then expanded to eight because another serial fell through at the last minute.) The whole middle part of the serial consists of the characters repeatedly breaking into the enemy compound, getting caught, escaping, then breaking back in again. And again and again and again. It’s impressive, on a certain level.

Even so: wow. The cleanup on its own should make the story far easier to watch. Interspersed with animation of this detail, this release perhaps wins out over The Beginning as the most ambitious and appealing classic series release to date.

Odd that there have been so few truly great Cyberman stories, considering how much potential the Cybermen hold.

The Nintendo Syndrome

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by [name redacted]

Part two of my ongoing culture column; originally published by Next Generation.

So Nintendo’s at the top of its game again – or near enough to clap, anyway. The DS is one of the bigger success stories in recent hardware history. People are starting to buy into the Wii hype; even Sony and Microsoft’s chiefs have gone on record with how the system impresses them. Japan is mincing no words; 73% of Famitsu readers polled expect the Wii to “win” the next “console war”, whatever that means. And these people aren’t even Nintendo’s target audience.

Satoru Iwata has done a swell job, the last couple of years, taking a company that was coasting on past success, whose reputation had devolved to schoolyard snickers – that even posted a loss for the first time in its century-plus history – and making it both vital and trendy again.

So what happened to Nintendo, anyway? How is it that gaming’s superstar was such a dud, for so many years? What’s the white elephant in the room, that everyone has taken such pains to rationalize? It is, of course, the same man credited for most of Nintendo’s success: Shigeru Miyamoto.

NextGen’s Top Ten Years In Gaming History

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by [name redacted]

Originally published in some form by Next Generation. I was asked not to include 1999 or 2000, because the Dreamcast was perceived as a low mark in the industry rather than a high one. I was also asked to include the previous year, to suggest that we were in the middle of an upswing. So… that explains some of the selections.

In videogames, as in life, we tend to get things right about a third of the time. There’s one decent Sonic game for every two disasters; one out of every three consoles can be considered an unqualified success; the Game Boy remake of Mother 1 + 2 was released in one out of three major territories. With the same level of scientific accuracy, one can easily say that, out of the thirty years that videogames have acted as a consumer product, there are maybe ten really excellent milestones, spaced out by your 1984s and your 1994s – years maybe we were all better off doing something out-of-doors.

It kind of makes sense, intuitively: you’ve got the new-hardware years and the innovative-software years, spaced out by years of futzing around with the new hardware introduced a few months back, or copying that amazing new game that was released last summer. We grow enthusiastic, we get bored. Just as we’re about to write off videogames forever, we get slapped in the face with a Wii, or a Sega Genesis – and then the magic starts up all over again, allowing us to coast until the next checkpoint.

Just dreamed: the following phrase:

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“Government scientists developed a drug named Rygar” — conspiracy nut, about a supposed anti-errection product in the water supply.

Zombies, Love, and Closure

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The second series of Doctor Who has, to date, focused to an unusual degree on a loss of identity by outside influence. It’s been a central plot point in every story: the blood control in The Christmas Invasion, Cassandra’s shenanigans in New Earth, the Werewolf in Tooth and Claw, the children in School Reunion, the repair droids’ use of humans in The Girl in the Fireplace, the Wire’s victims in The Idiot’s Lantern, Toby and the Ood in The Satan Pit, the Abzorbaloff this Saturday — and then there’s all the Cyberman stuff. In each case the victims are robbed of a personality, such that their bodies might be used for other purposes — in most cases, to be physically transformed or integrated into something else.

Then there’s this lesser theme of people with obsessions abandoning them and “moving on”: The Rose with Doctor #9, Cassandra again, Sarah Jane, Mickey. The Doctor keeps half looking for excuses to give up wandering (in both Fireplace and Satan Pit) — or at least, he sure gives up quickly whenever it looks like he’s going to be stuck somewhere. To contrast, there are the characters who insist on clinging to the past — and we see what happens to them: Sarah Jane, who nearly wasted her entire life waiting for the Doctor to return; Reinette, who did. Then there are all the “Doctor Who fans” in Love & Monsters.

And yet there’s this temptation, this constant theme that maybe one can return to the past. That there’s some way to reclaim what you’ve lost: Cassandra and her business with Chip, Victoria and her paranormal mutterings, the Skasis Paradigm, this “before Time” business in The Satan Pit. Though she thought it was behind her, Rose still can’t get over her father and is drawn to his doppelganger. Part of the Doctor’s infatuation with Reinette was in how she managed to help him revisit his old, buried memories. And then there’s “Army of Ghosts”, coming up.

Of course, given that an identity is mostly built up out of memories… this all gets rather complex.

Especially in light of the huge new spoiler that will not be mentioned, I wonder how this all ties into the last couple of episodes. I doubt we’ll see any true conclusion in the next few episodes; these themes seem to be setting up something so huge that it’ll take most of series three to address.

The modern heart

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The driving force behind all “civilized” behavior is loneliness.