Happy Mothers’ Day

It’s not often that I encounter words (or themes) directly related to motherhood in games, so for today, I decided to do the next best thing, and post a word I learned from a game where one of the main antagonists is simply called Mother.

pertinacious, adj. –  Obsessively or maddeningly persistent.

Learned from:  Iconoclasts  (PS4, Mac, PC, Switch, Vita)

Developed by Konjak / Joakim Sandberg

Published by Bifrost Entertainment

On the surface, Iconoclasts appears to be a fairly straightforward platformer with some interesting mechanics, light Metroidvania elements, and some really nice pixel art.  Once you get into it, though, you’ll find a story about religious totalitarianism, oppression, backstabbing, sacrifice, and people clinging to their own ideals, no matter the cost.  This includes the main character of Robin, an unlicensed mechanic in a world where all technology is controlled by the ruling elite.  (At one point, one of the antagonists refers to her as the “pertinacious heroine of House Four,” hence today’s word.)

All in all, Iconoclasts handily lives up to its name (an iconoclast is sort of an anarchist–someone who works to tear down established belief systems or institutions.  Yay, two-fer!).  It’s a little rough around the edges, and a couple sections are a bit frustrating, but it’s a good game overall, with some boss fights that feel like they came straight out of a Treasure game.  Oh, and (to the best of my knowledge), it was entirely developed and the music was composed solely by one man: Joakim Sandberg.  Considering how well Iconoclasts came together, that’s quite a noteworthy feat.

iconoclasts

Such a bright, happy game, where assuredly nothing tragic will happen.

I’m surprised this word isn’t used more, these days.

Maybe it’s just my perspective, but in recent years, it seems like everybody is a lot more tense than they used to be.  From money issues, to health scares, to concerns about politics, society in general just feels significantly more worried, angry, and fearful than I remember it, even five years ago.  Given that, it does seem a bit odd that you don’t hear this word bandied about more often:

anxiolytic, noun –  Medication or treatment that reduces anxiety.

Learned from:  Enter the Gungeon  (PS4, PC, Switch, XBox One)

Developed by Dodge Roll

Published by Devolver Digital (2016)

Enter the Gungeon is an odd little game; it’s a roguelike, twin-stick shooter, where almost everything is a gun or something gun-/explosive-related.  Many of your standard enemies are anthropomorphic bullets and grenades, copyright-free versions of iconic weapons from other games abound, and there are a ton of D&D references with gun puns worked in (beholders are “beholsters,” medusas are “gorguns,” and the latest update was even called “Advanced Gungeons and Draguns”).

The developers really took this theme to the hilt and ran with it, which gives Enter the Gungeon a lot of heart and personality.  But not every item you find entirely fits this tongue-in-cheek mold, as is the case with the Muscle Relaxant.  It fits well in the overall theme of intense gunplay, in that it calms your character’s nerves and steadies their aim, but I guess they couldn’t work in a groaner into the item description itself.  Instead, they taught me a word.

enter_the_gungeon

If you enjoy roguelikes, this one will blow you away.  (See?  I can do it, too.)

Happy Easter

As a kid, the whole Easter Bunny thing never made sense to me, because rabbits clearly don’t lay eggs.  As I grew older, their roles as symbols of fertility became clearer, which tie strongly into Easter’s pre-Christian roots, so it started to make more sense.  But in the spirit of my youthful confusion, here’s a word that references a completely different nonsensical belief regarding what hatches from what.

anatiferous, adj. –  Producing ducks or geese.

Learned from:  Skullgirls (PS3, Android, iOS, PC, PS4, Switch, XBox 360, XBox One)

Developed by Reverge Labs

Published by Autumn Games, Konami (2012)

Skullgirls has the distinction of being one of the quirkiest fighting games I’ve ever played, from its character designs, to its old-timey theater aesthetic, to the fact that every combo has an associated descriptor.  For example, a 7-hit combo is “Lucky,” while an 18-hit combo is “Barely Legal,” and so on.  For some reason, a 32-hit combo is “Anatiferous.”  It’s inexplicable in the game, and even the history of the word fails to shed any light on the reasons why it’s there.

See, at one point in time, it was believed that barnacle geese hatched from barnacles on the sides of ships.  As if that weren’t weird enough, people somehow got the notion that the barnacles themselves grew on trees, and dropped off into the water, before floating over to ships and attaching themselves.  Because geese hatching from barnacles hanging from trees would just be silly.  I marvel at what kind of worldview must have prevailed at that time, to not only come up with this idea, but to somehow make it stick.

barnacle_goose

Even the goose is unimpressed by its origin story.

And now for something completely different.

I’m going to take a break from the usual today, and actually review a game I just played.  Since (in a way) this blog is about how games can impact our lives, it seems in keeping with the spirit of things–especially when I’m left feeling uncertain of how I should feel at all about a particular title.  This will be long, so if you want the tl;dr version, skip to the last paragraph.  So, without further ado…

labyrinth_of_refrain

In one of my earlier posts, I mentioned how my early experiences with Dungeon Master shaped my love of the first-person dungeon crawler, and how happy I am that the genre is still alive and well in Japan.  So, even though many contemporary releases don’t reach the level of depth and immersion of that old classic, I still tend to pick them up.  Some I enjoy more than others, and despite its shortcomings, Labyrinth of Refrain was proving to be a fun example of the genre…until one of the characters was unceremoniously killed in a back alley nearly 60 hours in, and I lost.

This is a problem, because I have no idea what I did to get a bad ending.  In, say, Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey (another dungeon crawler), if you got an ending you didn’t want, the story made it clear that you supported the wrong people.  Going a bit further afield, in something like Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors, if you got a bad ending, it was because you trusted the wrong people, or split the party into the wrong groups.  You might not know exactly what went wrong, but you had an idea of what to try.  Even in Silent Hill 2, a game with some of the most subtle elements that influence which ending you get, you at least see a list of statistics at the end, so you have an inkling of what you can do differently the next time around.  In Labyrinth of Refrain, I have absolutely no clue what I did wrong, and this is due in large part to how the story is presented.

See, you aren’t the main character.  Your role in things is to just venture into the (increasingly inexplicable) dungeons, kill monsters, and answer the occasional yes or no question (or remain silent).  The actual plot plays out around you in visual novel-style cutscenes, that happen mainly when you enter a new area, or find a certain item.  There’s no way to choose which scenes to watch, so I can’t opt out of the one that gets me the bad ending, and I’m at a complete loss as to what I did that got me to this point.  Did I complete a side quest I wasn’t supposed to?  Was my karma too high?  Too low?  Did I not sell enough items at the market, or too many?  None of the yes/no questions seemed to pertain to how things ended up, so I don’t think it’s that, but I have no way of knowing, because the game doesn’t communicate my mistakes at all.  And after sinking that much time into it, that’s frustrating.

The experience leading up to that point was…more enjoyable than it probably should have been, honestly.  In about 95% of the battles, I just ordered my units to attack, and sat back until the enemy was dead.  The other 5% was the early game, where you’re a lot more fragile, and thus have to experiment more to stay alive, and during boss fights.  Attack magic usually wasn’t worth sacrificing the base attack damage from your units, and it’s fairly easy to get a skill that auto-heals your party after battles, so healing magic is pointless most of the time.  What kept me going was the story I wasn’t directly involved in, and the loot…for awhile.  I’ll touch more on the story in a bit, but the loot takes some explaining, because even that has issues.

Your adventuring party consists of five slots (called covens) of units.  Each coven can hold between one and three individual units, depending on its type, with the possibility of having numerous “support” units attached as well.  And each unit has its own set of equipment: left arm, right arm, head, chest, boots, accessory.

Starting to see the issue?

Weapons aren’t so bad, because not everyone is going to be using a crossbow, or lance, but for armor, nearly every class and gender can wear any armor in the game.  So, whenever you find a new armor piece, you have to go though potentially 15+ units, comparing its stats to what they’re currently wearing.  And loot drops ALL THE TIME.  Stats are randomized (within a range) for each piece, too, and if you factor in the Diablo-style item prefixes (“breezy” sword, “odorous” traveler’s cape, etc.), there’s no shorthand way of knowing whether an item’s worth checking or not.  You can have one piece of gear with four pages of stats you need to consider.  Do you sacrifice a bit of illusion resistance for a boost to your guard chance?  Is losing some defense worth the increase in charm?  It’s micro-managing to the extreme.  But for awhile at least, it’s fun chasing higher numbers.

The dungeons themselves are distinct and nicely drawn (as are the enemies), though they’re nonsensical in how they fit together.  Maybe it gets explained in the “good ending,” how you go from underground areas, to open-air kingdoms, to towers who knows where, but it wasn’t during my 58 hours of play time.  And while there are some puzzles, they’re never terribly complex–find the key, or the switch, or the MacGuffin to move forward.

As for the story itself, it’s very disjointed, but there’s enough of a sense of mystery and foreboding, that I wish I’d been able to see it through to the real ending.  The characters aren’t always sympathetic, and some are downright confounding (like the nun who has an immediate and seemingly-inexplicable crush on one of the other characters), but underneath it all, there’s more I wanted to learn.  Something is undeniably wrong with the town of refrain, and the people in it, and discovering just what’s going on is a big part of what kept me going…which makes my sudden, unavoidable failure all the more galling.

Labyrinth of Refrain: Coven of Dusk is a hard game to recommend–or to completely write off.  There’s enough tension to the combat (will an attack miss, deal a critical hit, apply a status effect to give your units a breather?), that even just spamming “attack” like I did kept my interest in the battles, more often than not.  The maps are huge, with tons of loot to find (for better or worse).  And the graphics are quite good for a game of this type.  But at the same time, you as a player aren’t a direct actor in the story that unfolds, and whatever impact you do have behind the scenes can lead you down an unwinnable path, and good luck figuring out what you did wrong.  Also, your predilection for micromanagement might greatly influence your enjoyment, when you get to the point of having to juggle equipment between upwards of a dozen characters.  There are also some, uh…questionable scenes of either a surprisingly violent, or weirdly sexual nature, depending on which ones you get.  You never directly see anything overtly gory, or X-rated (at least I didn’t), but reading about someone being mercilessly beaten, or pursued by someone they have no interest in can be uncomfortable.  It’s a very mixed bag, but there’s some fun to be had here–just be warned that you can lose a lot of time, if the game decides you deserve a bad ending, for whatever arbitrary and unexplained reason.  Best of luck, if you decide to pick this one up.  In a very literal sense, you’ll need it.

The worm turns

I have a long history with the first Dark Souls.  When the game first came out, I made it to the Four Kings, got stuck, and had my PS3 die before I had a chance to get any further.  Later, when I’d replaced my system, I bought the DLC, and got frustrated when I couldn’t figure out how to access this thing I paid extra money for.  So I put it down again.  Later still, I looked up what I had to do to get into the new content, got to the point where you free Dusk of Oolacile…and accidentally killed her, when I set my controller down, and the R2 trigger registered that as being pressed.

Long story short, I loved the game, but it kept frustrating me for the wrong reasons.  Just recently, I picked it up again and finally beat it.  Since it’s fresh in my mind, here’s one of the words I learned from it.

vermifuge, noun – A medicine that kills or expels parasitic worms from the body.

Learned from:  Dark Souls (PS3, PC, PS4, Switch, XBox 360, XBox One)

Developed by From Software

Published by From Software (2011)

Once you’ve finally fought your way through the horrible frame rate of Blighttown, you enter the realm of Quelaag, one of the Daughters of Chaos.  She, herself, can be a tricky fight, but her minions are pretty pathetic: regular humans who are infested with giant maggots.  As long as you just run past them, they can’t do much to you, but if you kill them, their parasites burst free, and they’re more of a pain to deal with.  Happily, they do sometimes drop the vermifuge needed to end your own infection, if you’re unlucky enough to be bested by the worms.  Though, it’s still easier to just avoid them.

vermifuge

“Do you have a moment to talk about our lady and savior, Quelaag?”

%#)@!

Multiplayer console games that require memberships to services other than the platform-specific subscription you pay for to play online drive me up the wall.  The Anthem demo has shown me that I can apparently never play another EA game online on my PS4, or any other iteration of the Playstation brand.  Because at some point, I created an EA account, linked to an email address that literally does not exist anymore, and there seems to be no way to change it.  (I think it may have been way back with Dead Space 2 on my PS3.)

I’d been cautiously looking forward to Anthem, so EA’s stubborn insistence on making Bioware shackle the game to its own online service (and rendering it unplayable for me), has me rather livid.  So, after that lead-in, here’s today’s word:

coprolalia, noun  –  Uncontrollable swearing.

Learned from: Rogue Legacy (PS4, PC, PS3, PS Vita, Switch, XBox One)

Developed by Cellar Door Games

Published by Cellar Door Games (2013)

Rogue Legacy is a roguelike platformer, where the gimmick is that once your character dies, you start over as his/her child, come to avenge the long line of ancestors who came before.  You’re given a little choice over what traits you want each descendant to have, from gigantism to color blindness–there are dozens of attributes.  It’s a quirky little feature that can affect gameplay in a lot of ways….

…or not, as in the case of a descendant with coprolalia.  The only thing this really does (as far as I can tell), is cause a cartoon text bubble filled with gobbledegook swearing to appear, every time your character takes damage.  Neither helpful nor harmful, it is at least worth a bit of a chuckle.

qbert.png

Q*bert: Gaming’s first foul mouth.

Deep freeze

Things have been very, very cold lately, in my neck of the woods, so let’s go with a word that captures that idea this time around.

permafrost, noun  –  A permanently frozen region of land.

Learned from: Neuromancer  (Apple IIGS, Amiga, Apple II, Commodore 64, PC)

Developed by Interplay Productions

Published by Mediagenic (1988)

In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have been playing Neuromancer as early as I did.  It’s a game that involves corporate espionage, existential crises, red light districts, organ harvesting, and a whole slew of other themes I didn’t fully appreciate until years later.  Still, adventure games were things I could play with my father, and we both enjoyed the experience of puzzling our way through the narratives.  It was also my first exposure to the cyberpunk genre, and it’s a love that’s endured to the present day.

“Permafrost” was a password you needed to give someone on a forum, to enter into a shady arms deal, if memory serves.  I’m pretty sure that deal resulted in your character getting arrested, but then, there seemed to be little in that dystopian world that wasn’t illegal, so that’s neither here nor there.

neuromancer

Cutting edge graphics for the time, really.

A sign of things to come?

As I’m sure most of you are aware, Bungie cut ties with Activision-Blizzard just a few days ago.  So, this week, it only seems fitting to go with a word that I learned from one of their games.

thrall, noun – An enslaved servant.

Learned from:  Myth II: Soulblighter  (PC, Mac)

Developed by Bungie

Published by Bungie (1998)

Myth II is one of my favorite real-time strategy games ever, partly because it had so much character.  You didn’t just have healers, or ghosts, but rather journeymen and soulless.  Thralls were the game’s equivalent of zombies: slow, shambling units that absorbed a good amount of damage, and hit pretty hard if they ever closed the distance.  When you get down to it, arguing semantics doesn’t seem like it should amount to much, but these little choices in nomenclature did help give the series its own atmosphere.  Instead of just a mindless corpse, the thralls were dead bodies pressed into service against their will–that’s a lot of information to convey in just a simple name.

It’s also nice to see that this word is no longer applicable to Bungie, themselves.

thrall

#Mondays

No theme this time

Nothing immediately jumped out at me as a theme for this week, so I decided to just go with the most recent word I’ve learned from a game so far.

cenotaph, noun – A monument or tomb containing no actual remains.

Learned from:  Immortal: Unchained (PS4, PC, XBox One)

Developed by Toadman Interactive

Published by Sold Out Sales and Marketing Ltd. (2018)

Immortal: Unchained is a game affectionately referred to (by those who’ve actually heard of it), as “Gun Souls.”  And it is a game that tries to imitate the Dark Souls formula as closely as it can, in a sci-fi setting–but like a child wearing its parents’ clothes, the final result is…uneven, at best.  The format is pretty similar, with obelisks standing in for bonfires, a nebulous quest for which you’re the Chosen One, and all that.  But the difficulty curve is all over the place–case in point, the second-to-last area is a cake walk (minus the boss), but the final level is flat-out unfair.  To the point where most regular fights felt like taking on the Capra Demon for the first time: i.e. you don’t have enough room (or time) to get out of the way of everything that suddenly pops up.

Even the backstory is imparted in the same way as in the Dark Souls games–that is, primarily through item descriptions.  Every gun you pick up, or lost idol you find will have some lengthy synopsis of where it came from, and what group of people was using it.  The problem is, there are so many different factions, and mythical figures, and conflicts that have happened off-screen, that it’s hard to keep any of them straight–especially when most of the enemies are just dark humanoid dudes with glowy bits on them.

Speaking of them, in addition to guns or health kits, enemies will occasionally drop things that are referred to as cenotaphs.  If you’re feeling charitable, this choice is almost poetic, considering your enemies are the undead remnants of fallen civilizations…at least, I think that’s what they’re supposed to be.  (As I said, the story’s kinda vague.)  The civilizations themselves quite literally have no remains of their inhabitants left, since they all seem to be rising from their graves, so these “cenotaphs” (which can be anything from pendants, to data pads) are the only memorials left that speak of their history.

Or, maybe I’m giving too much credit to a mediocre game.

Immortal_Unchained.jpgStill might be worth checking out, if you can find it cheap.

United States of SMASH

With the release of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate just a few days away, I felt I should do something in honor of the series…in a roundabout way.  The first Smash Bros. game I played was Melee, on the Gamecube, yet I learned that word many years prior.

melee, noun – A close-quarters fight among several people.

Learned from:  Dungeon Master (Apple IIGS, Amiga, Atari ST, PC, SNES, Turbografx-CD, Sharp X68000, PC-9801, FM Towns)

Developed by FTL Games

Published by FTL Games (1987)

I remember being six or seven years old, and unwrapping this game on Christmas morning, only to see the sticker on the box that said it required an entire megabyte of memory to run.  I also remember the feeling of surprise and awe, when my father told me he’d upgraded our Apple IIGS from 512k to a whopping TWO megabytes of RAM for the occasion–to this day, I do kinda wonder if he bought the game as much for himself, as for me.

And I can understand why.  Dungeon Master is still close to the epitome of the first-person dungeon crawler, for me.  Its levels were huge and mysterious, its puzzles actually made you think, and you were just as likely to die of starvation or dehydration, as you were by falling down a pit or getting killed by monsters, if you weren’t careful.  Magic worked by entering the arcane alphabet of each spell, no area was entirely safe, and weapons and armor didn’t have obvious numerical stats, so you had to experiment to see which ones worked best for your party.

This carried over to attacks as well, where one sword might offer a slash and a slice attack, while another might be designed for thrusts.  Each type of attack used a different amount of stamina, and seemed to work better against certain types of monsters, though the more stamina used, the stronger the hit, generally.  Which brings us to the battle ax, which had a strong (yet inaccurate) attack simply labeled “melee.”  As a child of less than ten, I probably relied on that attack (and others like it) way too much, which explains why I didn’t do very well in the game until years later.

And I know a dungeon crawler is about as far from a Smash Bros. game you can get, without delving into sports, but I learned a lot of words from Dungeon Master, so this seemed like a good opportunity to get one out of the way.

dungeon_master_logo