So, let’s talk about
shooters one last time. Because I
thought about giving Destiny another
shot, but decided against it; I made a cat robot in the beta, but now I want to
make a female avatar.
If the game industry
won’t put women in, then the duty falls to us.
#ForJusticeOrSomething
Anyway, no more Destiny for me -- or at least no more
posts on it. That’s a shame, because I
feel kind of bad about dumping all over the beta. I was under the impression that my biases got
the best of me, and I ended up skipping out on huge amounts of meaningful
content -- either that, or the full game would offer it instead. But it would seem as if that isn’t the
case.
Reviews came later (as
expected from a pseudo-MMO), but the impression I’m getting is that it falls
shorter of the hype than even Watch Dogs,
with one review after another unafraid to lambast the failings. Even my brother’s pretty much walked away
from it disappointed, and he was excited to
try it. Based on his testimony, the only
thing that’s worth anyone’s time is the PvP -- that is, Destiny is at its best when it’s just being Halo.
But that’s not enough
anymore. That’s not what we were
promised -- or if not that, then it’s not what we wanted. We have Halo,
several times over. And Xbone owners are
going to have even more Halo very
soon. Destiny could have secured its place not by banking solely on
shooter mechanics (and to a lesser extent, the promise of loot), and instead
been a bang-up space adventure where the very cosmos would act as our
playground.
It didn’t. From what I can gather, it isn’t now. It’s true that eventually Bungie, Activision,
and the rest will add in more content, but that’s an incredible
disservice. You don’t get to think about
extra content before the core game even launches; certainly not when the core
game is flawed and hollow. Time will
tell how Destiny is received and
remembered, but at this stage I’m not exactly feeling confident. My brother tells me that the game’s
Metacritic user score was around 3.4 at one point, and while that’s hardly the
definitive measure of quality, it has to stand for something.
In any case, let’s stop
talking about Destiny. Let’s talk about Gears of War -- as in, all of them. (Except Judgment.) Furthermore,
let’s see this miniseries through to its conclusion, starting with a reasonable
summation.
FUCK SHOOTERS.
Okay, I’ll be
fair. There are some good shooters out
there. There are shooters that can do
and have done some interesting stuff -- something more than just offering up
the basest level of enjoyment. BioShock Infinite is one fine
example. And thanks to this miniseries,
I can say the same about Wolfenstein: The
New Order. From what I’ve heard, Metro: Last Light is another solid
entry. Spec Ops: The Line has earned
plenty of fame for doing its best to subvert conventions. That’s cool.
I respect that.
But just because there
are a couple of standouts doesn’t mean I can give my support to an entire
genre. Think about it: of the six games
I’ve talked about for the ShootStravaganza, there’s only one I’d strongly recommend. And one of those games -- the other one I
praised with some heavy caveats -- barely counts as a shooter…because if it
does, then so does Cave Story. That
is not a good average. And it leads
me to believe that I’d get the same result, again, and again, and again, even
if I tried to dive into other shooters.
It’s just a broken model. Not
even the efforts of the best among them can repair the damage.
At some point, I
started trying to compare shooters to fighting games, because when you pare it
down to the basics they’re very similar.
Both of them (along with plenty of other games) are about one thing: expressing dominance. You use the mechanics given to you to defeat
your opponents, be they human or CPU.
It’s just that one’s more likely to have you chuck fireballs, while the
other has you lobbing grenades.
But there’s a key
difference. The road that fighters take
to get to the end goal -- expression of dominance -- is variable. It varies from franchise to franchise, and
even from game to game (Third Strike is
nowhere near the same game as Ultra
Street Fighter 4). It’s true that
there are basic fundamentals that carry over from one game to the next, but
even a slight variation in mechanics makes for completely different approaches
and outcomes. And those are compounded
by plenty of other variables.
Example: BlazBlue and Persona 4 Arena may both be the products of Arc System Works, but
you can’t expect to perfectly play one just because you can perfectly play the
other. BB’s core is the Drive system, i.e. a special ability possessed by
each character; if you’re looking to win a match, you’ll have to find ways to
not only stay aggressive, but use your character’s Drive to its maximum
potential -- working it into combos and setups to gain the upper hand.
P4A may have characters with unique toolsets, but their weapons --
their Personas -- have even greater value than BB, precisely because there’s no guarantee you’ll have them. Personas are used in combos, to create
setups, to zone, to approach, and much more, but they’re more vulnerable than
the player characters. If they take too
many hits, they become unusable for a while -- and even then, taking just one
hit is enough to screw up a game plan at a crucial moment.
There are a terrifying
number of factors to consider in a single match, let alone in a fighting game
in general. Character selection, stage
size, strategies inherent to the game, strategies inherent to the chosen
character, offensive options, defensive options, mobility, team composition (if
applicable), number of opponents (if applicalble), meter management (if
applicable)…hell, whether it’s in 2D, 3D, or some holy union of the two. Fighters across the board come up with their
answers to the question of “How do you make a good fighting game?” And they consistently provide something new. Something exciting.
Now, compare all that
to shooters. What’s their answer? How do legions of developers make a stand on
“how to make a good shooter”? Well,
there’s one overriding idea that comes to mind.
Translation: it’s not
exactly a pretty picture.
I will be fair,
though. I can rattle off all those
fighting game factors because I know them intimately. In another world, I’m sure Bizarro-Voltech is
doing the opposite -- naming all the nuances that make shooters the greatest
genre gaming has ever known. And indeed,
those things do exist. Some friends of
mine were able to point out a difference between Bungie shooters and others --
namely, that aiming at the center requires a slight tilt downward.
There are some obvious
on-the-surface differences between something like Team Fortress 2 and, say, Counter-Strike. That’s appreciable, without a doubt. Again, not all shooters are awful. Some of them -- the best of them, naturally
-- really are doing God’s work in this day and age.
But again, those feel
more like the exceptions. All roads lead
to “shoot that guy”. But the bigger
problem -- and take this with a grain of salt -- is that shooting isn’t that
compelling of a mechanic. It’s
functional, no question, but it’s just so dull.
There’s no flair to it. You point
at an enemy, pull the trigger, and make them drop dead.
Oh, sure, there’s skill
involved in placing your shots, and which weapon you use adds a wrinkle to the
process, but it can’t compare to the thrills plenty of other games have
offered. In a medium primed and ready to
deliver HD spectacle, how am I supposed to derive pleasure from something as
banal as picking off someone from the other side of a map? Or after poking my head up from a chest-high
wall? And even if there are class-based
powers that mix things up (Borderlands,
Destiny, and Mass Effect come to
mind), are they really the game-changers you’d expect? Are they really anything worth getting
excited about, especially since they’ve long since started becoming rote?
So the question that
comes to my mind is a simple one. If a
shooter, which emphasizes thrilling combat at the common expense of everything
else, fails to deliver thrilling combat by design, then what does it have left
to fall back on? The answer that comes to mind is “damn near
nothing”.
Enter: Gears of War.
I would have preferred
to keep the ShootStravaganza focused
on eighth-gen games, but I feel like I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk about the Gears franchise at least a little bit --
because it’s unlikely that I’ll ever get a chance as good as this.
I’ve taken some
potshots at the franchise before (who hasn’t?), but I’ve never gone too far in
depth about how I feel about that.
Granted that’s partially because I finished all three of the main games
a while before I even thought of
Cross-Up, but I’ve never had a burning passion to do anything like a Let’s
Discuss post on it. There are two
reasons for that. The first, of course,
is that I don’t have any of the games anymore; they pretty much became tribute
for other games, seeing as how my brother and I finished our co-op adventures
(and neither of us felt like touching the multiplayer suite ever again). The second reason is that I don’t like
talking about games unless I feel like they’re fresh enough in my mind to talk about -- and while I’ve broken
that rule at least once before, I’d prefer not to.
So here’s my issue: I
don’t think I can remember anything substantial
about Gears.
Normally that would be
a death blow for all parties, but in this case?
It’s perfect. For starters, it’s
an emblem of the exact thing I’m talking about.
On top of that, if there’s any franchise that deserves to be a whipping
boy -- yes, maybe even more so than the CoD
behemoth -- it’s Gears. I’m hard-pressed to think of another
franchise that, from its outset, was used to prove the emergence of the next
generation of games. (Well, at least on
the Xbox 360/Microsoft side of things.)
It got the first attack, and -- if you’ll let me be a little
presumptuous -- likely set the stage for a lot of problems the industry still
hasn’t overcome.
So…cripes, where do you
even start with a game you can hardly remember?
Well, I guess there’s
the basic setup. (For the record? I’m going to try and say as much as I can
WITHOUT using the wiki or any online resources.) The story follows Marcus Fenix, a soldier and
member of the COGs. While the rest of
his organization -- and the planet Sera, at large -- is embroiled in a war with
the Locusts -- crusty-skinned, vaguely-insectoid bipeds in DIRE need of some
lotion -- he’s locked away in a jail cell for committing war crimes. That is, until his buddy Dom comes to bail
him out under orders from the higher-ups; the COGs need soldiers wherever they
can get them. And so begins a trilogy
spanning [INSERT MEASURE OF TIME HERE] and across [INSERT MEASURE OF DISTANCE
HERE].
I guess the point of
note about the Gears canon is that
the COGs are technically the bad guys here.
The humans practically invaded Sera and pushed the Locusts underground,
and beyond that they come very close to wrecking the planet with their dependence
and overuse of “immulsion” (read: space oil).
The idea that you’re playing as space conquistadors is an interesting
idea…but it’s pretty much background noise.
The only thing that
really matters is the war between the Locusts.
At most, there are only glimpses as to what life on Sera used to be like
-- so even if the COGs were supposedly fascists, they don’t communicate it as
well as they could. Maybe if we didn’t
have to start with Sera wrecked, or if there were pockets of human resistance besides
the guys in hulking armor, then it could have gone somewhere substantial.
But, alas. We had to suffer Marcus instead.
I’m not so arrogant as
to say that Marcus was the progenitor of all the meathead space marines, but he
is one of the more notable examples.
Certainly a recent one. If there
was anyone we could blame for the glut of brotastic leads, I’d say it’s
him. Even then, he’s far from the only
one in his franchise alone. Marcus’ only
three modes of expression (and perhaps thought) are rage, angst, and snark --
maybe weary cynicism, if you’re feeling generous.
Baird is pretty much
the same character, only with the snark and cynicism dialed up by a factor of
five. I guess he’s supposed to be “the
funny one”, but I was under the impression that funny guys were supposed to be
funny. I have a hard time believing that
“the Cole Train” even knows where he is half the time, because he’s too drunk
on testosterone to register coherent thought.
Dom is the only member of Delta Squad that even tries to have an
emotional range, and is pretty much the best character because of it.
And then he dies in Gears 3.
And that was the exact point when I mentally checked out of the
franchise. Not that I was all that
invested in the first place, but that clinched it.
See, here’s the thing
about me and Gears: there are actually several things that I
remember clearly about it. The first of
those things would be Dom’s death (which left me angrily spouting “BRING BACK
DOM” for the rest of the playthrough).
But there are others. The Carmine
brothers’ deaths, Kim’s death, Tai’s death, Maria’s death, Ice-T’s townsfolk
dying en masse…you get the idea. Indeed,
those things stick out because they’re designed to be poignant moments --
punches to the players that emphasize the great cost of the battle.
It’s just too bad it
doesn’t even come close to working.
Killing off a character
is something that should be done very carefully. Take away one life, and it CAN be powerful;
take away half a dozen (at least), and it cheapens the effect
dramatically. On top of that, I suspect Gears GROSSLY overestimated our
attachment to these characters; Kim and Tai barely had a personality between
the two of them, the Carmines were interchangeable, and Dom’s wife Maria had a
mile-high death flag hitched to her skull.
On top of that, Dom was the
only member of the core four who showed anything resembling human emotion and
thought -- so if Marcus can’t be bothered to show concern for Tai’s death, then
why should we? Are these moments
poignant because of our investment to these people and their tale? Or is it just because “death is sad”?
So basically, the only
card Gears has in its deck is “kill
off a character”. Riveting stuff, to be
sure.
It’s easy to write off
the franchise’s penchant for urban decay -- and that’s exactly what I’m going
to do now. There’s so much chaos and
ruin with no weight attached that the lovingly-rendered, million-dollar visuals
of any given Gears game ends up
blurring into one another. It’s a missed
opportunity that turns years of work into just a bunch of just-barely-connected
arenas.
It’s a disservice that
makes the world feel irredeemably small.
Sure, I could tell you that there’s a desert level, and a train level,
and a cave level (several of them, actually), but I couldn’t tell you what
impact they had on me or what they contributed to the overall package. Even the average Mario level has more cohesion.
In fact, let’s go ahead
and bring Mario games into the
fold. See, the reason why that franchise
can “get away with” one release after another is that the levels (and games, by
extension) regularly bring something new to the table. If they were just about stomping out Goombas
or Koopas, the franchise would have withered ages ago. But they’re not. They’re about traversing environments of
variant shape and size -- levels with no shortage of moving parts, traps, and
paraphernalia. They’re an active part of
the experience.
They’re characters in
their own right -- allies and enemies at the same time, depending on the moment
and what they can offer you (power-ups or, for example, spikes). In contrast, the arenas in Gears -- and plenty of shooters, by
extension -- are static. Once you figure
out where to shoot from and where not to
stand, you’ve pretty much cracked it. It
does put focus on perfecting your skill at aiming, but it devalues areas that
should practically come alive. The
potential for thrills is capped.
And really, you could
say that about shooters in general -- Gears
or otherwise.
Once you crack the
game’s code -- once you find a way to consistently and effectively kill
enemies, whether it’s your own method or one recommended by the game -- it’s
pretty much over. You’ve reached the
limit. And sure, that’s enough for some
people. Maybe they want to stay right
there at that level, because it satisfies them.
But for others? They’re justified
in shying away. There aren’t enough
paths to make each venture into the genre worth it.
The assumption with
shooters, I bet, is that being able to score a headshot or blow up a bunch of
opponents at once is supposed to be a thrill unrivaled -- alpha
bursts, or something like it. It’s
all about exerting dominance. For a lot
of people, exerting that dominance feels good; by marrying it to a shooter, the
player is funneled immediately to that conclusion. Base mechanics lead to base parameters, which
lead to base outcomes. Read: to gun is
fun.
But that’s not
enough. Not anymore.
It’s probably true that
the Gears franchise offered up some
momentary thrills thanks to its mechanics.
Remember, it was the franchise that popularized things like active
reloading, sticking to cover, and gruesome takedown animations. And from firefight to firefight, there was
probably some glee felt by me after clearing an arena of Locusts.
But here’s the thing:
even if I did indulge, I can’t remember any of those moments of glee. I don’t remember the elation I felt back
then, precisely because they were victories had within the moment. I didn’t play through Gears because I wanted to feel that hype; I played through those
three games because I did a co-op run with my brother. Not for thrills. Certainly not because I had any attachment to
those people or their struggle.
Shooters just strike me
as antithetical. That sounds like a fat
load of hypocrisy, considering my praise and enjoyment of fighters -- but
there’s a difference. I play Street Fighter 4 because I get to engage
with its characters; I get to feel T.
Hawk and Dee Jay, and try and solve the puzzle of “how to defeat this online
player”. I can turn on BlazBlue: Chrono Phantasma or Persona 4 Arena and see that even if
they’re part of a genre not known for their stories, there are genuine attempts
to do more than just make the plot an excuse for some evil warlord to host a
tournament.
I like Tekken because even if I don’t know all
of its nuances -- or any of them -- I can still feel like there’s something there. I can look forward to Smash Bros. 4 because even if the game is inherently simple, it’s
filled with countless possibilities.
Every match is different. Every
match is exciting. Every match is
wrought with danger, immediate and potential, from any number of factors. Every match has puzzles to be solved,
outcomes that can’t be predicted, and all of it is built on the tools provided
by my characters -- from decisions made long before a match even starts. Every match is fun.
So I’ll ask again: if a
shooter, which emphasizes thrilling combat at the common expense of everything
else, fails to deliver thrilling combat by design, then what does it have left
to fall back on?
You know, I never
thought I’d say this, but I miss The Last
of Us.
I know I’ve said some
harsh things about it, and I still can’t really bring myself to like it, but it
had the right idea. Well, in a
sense. I consider it a botched product,
but given what’s come out before and after its release -- and what’s destined
to come our way yet again -- I don’t have any problems looking back on it
fondly. It hamstrung itself, but on a
conceptual level it tried to be something more than just run-and-gun action. It tried to have a good story. It tried to make its world matter. It tried to step away from the rollercoaster
mindset. It tried to make the combat
tense. It tried to introduce concepts
like stealth and resource management.
If The Last of Us managed to get some of its elements together, then
it could have been the turning point of the industry. Gears
of War helped set the generation -- shooter or otherwise -- on a path
toward our current, borderline-mediocre present. Its “bigger, better, more badass” trappings
belonged to (or maybe, should have stayed confined to) Gears and Gears alone. But it didn’t. So if Gears
set us down one path, I’d like to think that TLoU tried to refute that -- tried to set us down a different path,
while the seventh generation lied on its death bed. Thus far, that hasn’t come to pass.
I started this ShootStravaganza with Destiny, so let’s end it with Destiny.
I would think that Bungie, Activision, and their cohorts/supporters
believe that Destiny represents some
bold new plateau, a way to not only prove that “next-gen is here”, but that
gaming at large is about to be taken to the next level. And yeah, maybe that game will come someday
-- maybe even from Bungie, or Activision of all companies. But today is not that day, and Destiny is not that game. Guns or otherwise, I would have gladly
accepted a grand adventure through space; Mass
Effect has shown us what happens when you go beyond just firing at distant
foes.
But if Gears represented a dark turn, and TLoU a potential turn for the better,
then Destiny is pretty much what
happens when fate jumps in its convertible and drives in reverse at top speed
-- right back to where Gears sent us
off, in the best-case scenario. I’ll
concede that shooters can be thrilling, but the problem is that at this stage,
they have to do more. They have to be
more. They’re whipping boys for a reason
-- because when a genre that reduces everything to its basest can’t even get
the basest right, then it’s a signal that something has gone seriously wrong.
We're on the wrong path -- and no amount of bullets will change that.
BRING BACK DOM
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