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Is there life after God?

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written for the issue published November 13, 2008.

Ronald Aronson posits himself as the champion of the invisible minority that is the agnostic community. A community that is impossible to oppress because many believe it has yet to be recognized. In a society where praising any number of Gods for even minor blessings is a daily occurrence, agnostics and secular believers often feel excluded for they don’t believe in any God to thank.

On November 7th at the Centre for Inquiry Ontario, Ronald Aronson gave a lecture in promotion for his new book, “Living Without God: New Directions for Atheists, Agnostics, Secularists, and the Undecided” that he hopes will demonstrate the potential for a moral and meaningful life without religion. His argument is simple: religion is an obstruction to all progress, and it must be overcome. Using well developed European nations such as Austria and England as validation, he sees limiting the influence of religion as key to the prosperity of a nation.

Looking to America, he notes that the United States is a peculiar county. America is certainly developed, but the lack of a stable and efficient safety net for its citizens has caused an unnecessary overdependence on religion. People tend to abandon religion as their lives become more secure, but Americans still cling to God, which Aronson believes is causing the country to trip over its own feet as it develops.

A sound argument perhaps, but Aronson is unfortunately not very consistent in his intentions. He often claims to merely want a friendly sit-down between believers (of any religion) and secularists to reconcile their quarrels at one moment, while advocating the complete abolishment of religion without a second thought the next. Catering to the passionate and practical components of your argument in the same breath does your cause a great disservice since those two disparate elements are rather volatile in conjunction. A blind zeal cannot be focused.

Whether or not Aronson’s ideas are presented in an ideal fashion does little to detract from the impact of his points, if empirically true. Looking past his shallow (and perhaps ultimately futile) cries for political recognition of the agnostic community, the idea that progress and prosperity can be attained simply by a population growing out of religious dependency is an interesting theory. “Living Without God” might prove to be an enlightening read assuming Aronson was able to keep his slightly schizophrenic voice out of it.

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Richard Garriott goes to space

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written for the issue published October 23, 2008.

It appears as though it’s time for General British to grant himself another promotion. The famed creator of ‘Tabula Rasa’ and the ‘Ultima’ series of video games, Richard Garriott reportedly paid $30 million USD for a ride to the International Space Station aboard the Soyuz RMA-13 spacecraft. The shuttle launched on October 12th, and Garriott will return on October 24th as the sixth ever private astronaut.

Son of retired American astronaut Owen Garriott, Richard Garriott is the first second generation American citizen in space. While at the ISS, Richard will be participating in a variety of science and communications experiments, most notably the Windows on Earth project. Developed as an educational tool and museum exhibit, Windows on Earth allows users to explore an interactive virtual image of earth as seen from the ISS 360km above.

A popular title for any of the six private astronauts is ‘Space Tourist,’ which is often thought of as a negative label. Mark Shuttleworth, who became the second Space Tourist in 2002, personally prefers ‘Pioneer of Commercial Space Travel.’ Should Garriott also object to Space Tourist, it is entire likely that he will christen himself Commander British in order to keep with his fantasy persona.

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PixelJunk: Monsters (Video Game Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written and posted on August 7, 2008. Review was later revised and reposted on March 2, 2010.

PixelJunk: Monsters

I was once a cynical person who looked at downloadable games from the PlayStation Store and the like as tantamount to browser games; cheap trinkets only useful for frittering away empty time. And while I can’t in good conscience say that I’ve been cured of this perspective, I have come to realize, however, that this isn’t entirely the case. PixelJunk, for example, is a series of downloadable PlayStation 3 games created by small teams of developers from Japanese based Q-Games. Their catalogue is four games strong in just two and a half years, and more remarkable than that is how varied their catalogue is. They’ve already got a racer, shooter, platformer, and tower defender under their belt, and I can confidently say that the two lattermost games are exceptional. I will be reviewing their tower defender, PixelJunk Monsters, today.

Tower defence is arguably the simplest statement of real time strategy gameplay. Every game in this genre features a base, a selection of towers for the defence of said base, and an assortment of persistent foes from which said base must be defended. And while the gameplay of PixelJunk Monsters doesn’t deviate terribly far from the well established conventions of the tower defence genre, it nonetheless endeavours to throw a few novel spins on a largely stale idea. Yes, there are towers, and yes, the primary function of those towers is to defend, but there’s a bit more to it than that. The combination of the fully predictable levels and the paper-scissors-rock gameplay manages to create a surprisingly appealing and addictive experience. Each level in Monsters consists of either 10 or 20 waves of baddies (depending on the difficulty setting) and each wave is comprised of a single sort of monster that staunchly marches the exact same path in the exact same formation. One might think that such banality would detract from the spontaneity and excitement of the assaults, but this simply isn’t the case. Seeing swarms of enemies getting decimated by mortars and flamethrowers never gets old, and the panic instilled in the player when the odd monster slips through the cracks and threatens victory is often very real, if occasionally a tad cheap.

Complimenting the very formulaic and very predictable AI is a generally well balanced array of towers, each possessing their own strengths and weaknesses against certain enemy types. The player has 500 gold coins at the start of each level with which to build their initial defences of four or five towers. By default, three towers are available at the beginning of each stage: the arrow tower, which is the standard all-rounder, along with the anti-air gun and cannon tower, which are effective against flying and ground critters respectively. Six other towers, including a laser, tesla, and hive tower, can be unlocked over the course of each level at the expense of blue gems, a rare item collected from fallen foes. Gold coins are also dropped constantly and need to be snatched up so as to increase the defensive lines warding off swathes of baddies.

One of the more interesting features of Monsters is how the player is actually required to run around the battlefield to collect items and build towers in real time. Most of the tower defence games I’m familiar with (Defend Your Castle, Lock’s Quest, etc.) give the player a window of down time between waves of action so that they have a chance to collect and organize themselves. However with Monsters, there is no down time. Everything the player needs to do must be accomplished with the seemingly endless stream of enemies stepping towards your base at a murderous stride. There is no intermission or break that lets you regroup, seize plunder, and tweak your defences. For this reason, there’s a particular fervour that arises when you’re zipping through battle lines picking up coins, building new towers, and powering up existing ones. It’s doubly peculiar considering how it’s some rather rigid and methodical core mechanics that are eliciting genuine intensity.

Visually, Monsters is simple and crisp. There are no ground breaking visuals to be had here. Instead, there’s a very charming and sensible art style, presented in full 1080p HD. The core colour palette makes use of soft and subdued earth tones with the only vibrancy in game coming from the occasional sparkling blue gem and the effects from the stronger towers. Even the character models are dressed in soothing and agreeable bands of colour. Browns and greens dominate, evoking an idyllic sense of nature. In fact the overall aesthetic is so pleasing and refined that almost any in game screenshot feels like it could be framed and mounted.

The music functions on a similar level of tranquility as the graphics, largely consisting of airy and peaceful synthesized sound loops. It’s quite repetitive, especially considering how many times a short track can cycle through a lengthy level, but it’s never obtrusive, which is what matters most. The sound bytes, on the other hand, can occasionally be a bit discordant. Each type of enemy sounds alike, as does each type of tower. When dozens of identical enemies are being attacked by dozens of identical towers, the ensuing dense torrent of noise does occasionally become a tad grating.

Yet despite some minor audio quibbles and gameplay that, for as hectic as it can sometimes be, is nonetheless entirely stiff and routine, PixelJunk Monsters is an excellent title. Tower defence games have seen a bit of a resurgence in recent years owing in no small part to the likes of the PlayStation Store and WiiWare, and Monsters seems to stand at the forefront of this particular renaissance. Its well balanced gameplay and breezy aesthetic makes it an easy buy, either for a $5 pittance on the PlayStation Store or for the $20 PSP Deluxe edition.

PixelJunk: Monsters is exclusive to the PS3, downloadable from the PlayStation Store.

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Prinny: Can I Really Be The Hero? (Video Game Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written and posted on June 25, 2009.

Prinny: Can I Really Be The Hero?

“Prinnies” are tiny disposable peg-legged penguins that are blessed with a pair of superfluous bat wings, sport brown hip-packs, and are as fond of sword based combat as they are of the word “dood.” They are also incredibly fretful, bound to eternal servitude, and violently explode when mishandled. You see, Prinnies are the reincarnated souls of terrible beings from past lives. Their punishment for such crimes is to serve as cannon fodder in the Disgaea games and, in the case of Prinny: Can I Really Be the Hero? for the PSP, fetch the Ultra Dessert for their cruel Master Etna.

As ridiculously badass as a game featuring a platforming, “dood” quipping, sword swinging penguin already sounds, I have to admit that what really drew me to this game was the allegedly sadistic difficulty. Prinny doesn’t ask you to be the hero; it dares you. The wager is simple. You have 10 in-game hours to traverse ten stages, and you have 1000 lives at your disposal.

Since Prinnies are tragically combustible, Master Etna is kind enough to give you a red scarf that enables you to take three hits before you reach your explosive demise. This is the only act of kindness you will ever receive from the game, and it only applies in the standard difficulty setting. The hard mode does not grant you the same luxury. One hit kills you instantly, rendering the red scarf fashionably useless. I started off playing the hard mode, figuring that I should embrace every handicap in an ostensibly difficult game. After losing 150 Prinnes to the boss of the fourth stage, I declared success mathematically impossible and resigned myself to what the game facetiously calls “casual difficulty.” This is a furiously difficult game reminiscent of the platform hells offered by the early Castlevanias and Ghosts ‘n Goblins, and a manner of hard not seen all too often these days.

What makes Prinny a throwback to the brutal 2D platformers of consoles past are the controls and combat mechanics. The few moves you have at your disposal are simple to execute and wonderfully mapped, but they’re incredibly rigid. Jumping in particular is an exercise likely to make some Prinny players turn their PSP’s into a DS. As soon as you hit that jump button, you’re committed to wherever you’re going. You can’t change direction mid-leap to avoid an obstacle or pitfall unbeknownst to you, and you can’t control how far into the abyss you’ve just leapt. Once you take flight, you’re at the mercy of the engine, for better or for worse.

Needless to say, if you’re ever going to make those Prinnies last until the final exchanges, a relatively cautious approach is demanded of the player. Constantly dashing through a level cowboy-style is a sure-fire way to kill a sizable chunk of your Prinny reserves, especially if you’re not learning from your mistakes. This is particularly true in the last stages where a certain degree of finesse is necessary in order to make the final treacherous leaps to victory. Even on the standard difficulty, it’s not uncommon to go through dozens of Prinnies simply trying to figure out how to proceed safely.

And even if you do somehow make a flawless run to the end of the stage on your first Prinny, there’s always the level boss to deal with. With the exception of the first boss of the first stage, all of them will decimate your hapless peg-legged penguins. Each boss is a murderous challenge sure to try the patience of even the most Zen-like players. The small ones are incredibly nimble, the big ones use devastating attacks, and most would be guilty of Prinny genocide.

In order to survive these encounters, the player must deconstruct their opponent’s tactics. This involves determining how they respond to your actions, learning how to successfully react to their attacks, and discovering the opportune moment to strike. I’d say it’s like playing an exceptionally lethal game of chess, but this is giving the AI too much credit. Most bosses have no more than a half dozen manoeuvres and their attack patterns are relatively predictable. When battling the smaller bosses, the main challenge lies in baiting attacks and then sneaking in with your counter. However with the larger bosses, it’s more a matter of memorizing the way they move around the screen and patiently applying a “hit and run” method. The last boss, Sir Sweet, is especially guilty of this, owing in equal parts to his own size and the small field of battle. The order of his attacks never changes, so it basically boils down to remembering his routine and how to sneak your shots in between the cracks.

Don’t fool yourself into thinking the battle is magically easier when your approach it logically. Victory was often one miscalculation away more times than my frustration-addled mind could remember, especially during my brief excursion into the hard mode. The stun attack in particular has the crippling deficiency of not being able to interrupt the movements of certain bosses unless it’s their last hit before the temporary knockout. This means that while you may have just landed the blow successfully, they’re still on a collision course with you that renders your current Prinny another victim of carelessness. Put simply, just because you know how to go into the fight doesn’t guarantee a win in your pocket. The margin for error is always impossibly slim and the slightest error usually results in a well-done bird.

What does magically come about is the satisfaction and pride associated with triumphing over the beast that took 92 Prinnies worth of trial and error to fell. While there are loads of hellish platformers out there, few of them manage to be worth half a damn when they neglect to reward the player for their patience and effort. And this is where Prinny shines. Between the colourful presentation, vibrant soundtrack, and hilariously energetic dialogue, is a game that is a real pleasure to toil through. And when you do reach the end of your quest, you will have accomplished something truly worth bragging about. Beating standard mode will turn you into a man, regardless of your current gender assignment. I can only assume that becoming one of Hell’s Finest turns you into a God.

If you can appreciate the challenge that is so very rarely offered by most games these days, then by all means buy Prinny: Can I Really Be the Hero? You’d be hard pressed to find any test quite like it.

Note: Prinny: Can I Really Be the Hero? comes bundled with Prinny: Can This Really Be the OST?. The in-game music is great, but not the sort you’d want to listen to on your way to the grocer. A neat bonus to be sure, but not exactly worthwhile.

Prinny: Can I Really Be The Hero? is exclusive to the PSP.

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MotorStorm: Pacific Rift (Video Game Review)

By Andrew on April 26th, 2010

Originally written and posted on April 14, 2009.

MotorStorm: Pacific Rift

The original MotorStorm was an incredibly attractive game, unfortunately held back by its bare bone features and lack of content. The core gameplay was (and still is) a lot of fun but there just wasn’t enough of it to merit a full price purchase. I picked it up for $30CND, and while I don’t regret my investment, the game is undeniably thin. One game mode, one setting, one hit wonder. Luckily for Evolution Studios, I enjoyed MotorStorm enough to be sufficiently piqued by the sequel, and when the price game down enough, I picked it up and could not be happier.

MotorStorm: Pacific Rift trades in the dusty desert of the previous game for a tropical island that is far more visually varied. There are sixteen tracks equally split into four zones representing earth, air, fire, and water, all of which are distinctly unique. The earth zone has you trudging through mud and foliage, the air zone has you throwing yourself off rock formations, the fire zone has you skipping over lava flows, and the water zone has you cruising the beaches of the island. While sixteen tracks may seem like a meagre number, keep in mind that every single track is expertly crafted with multiple routes and hazards. Narrow corridors, muddy passages, jagged rocks, dense vegetation, and treacherous jumps, all demand the player keep their wits about them at all times. Beyond the initial shock of the obstacles lies an ingenious design that is quite easy to appreciate.

To keep the tracks fresh, Pacific Rift relies on the lighting engine and vehicle selection to add replayability. Experiencing the island from different times of day often reveals new routes and lines to take advantage of, as well as elevating the technical prowess of the game. Beyond that, the eight different vehicle types present their own challenges to master. A certain track in the fire zone called The Rift is a great illustration as to how vehicle and line choice is the key to success. The Rift is essentially the classic racing oval from hell, featuring drops, jumps, mud, and water hazards, all of which play differently depending on what vehicle approaches them. For example, the nimble motorbike isn’t powerful enough to plough through mud and water but lends itself well to leaping over the competition, while the big rig can’t fly over obstacles nearly as well as it can use brute force to power through them. Balancing the strengths and weakness of your vehicle class against the track and your competition makes for additional challenge and enjoyment.

While there are options for individual vehicle choice, the variations between one ATV and another are so discrete that I’m not entirely sure I’m just imagining them. The difference is primarily aesthetic, mainly serving to change the colour and shape of your ride even if it has zero affect on gameplay. In the end, when it comes down to picking your ride, careful class selection should be your foremost consideration.

There are three main event types consisting of the standard race and time trial with the occasional eliminator race (every twenty seconds, the driver in last place blows up until only one remains). The primary game mode is the Festival, which is essentially the career ladder. You start off at the lowest tier with the easiest races, until you earn enough points to advance to the next level. It’s far from being the most impressive way to progress, but it does succeed in appropriately managing the difficulty curve, which is all one normally asks of the career anyway. Races feature sixteen combatants from a variety of vehicle classes though it’s normally either all heavy (Racing truck to monster truck) or all light (Motorbike to rally car) vehicles, and difficulty is handled by adjusting the adversaries’ aggression. Fun and frustration go hand in hand when you and fifteen other racers careen recklessly over edges and though caverns, thankfully more so the former than the latter.

The boosting mechanic has also been slightly deepened and nuanced. Any encountered water traps and cooling stations have the double effect of slowing you down while cooling your engine at an increased rate thereby allowing more boosting opportunities. On the flipside of this are lava flows which cause overheats and explosions if you’re near them for too long. Largely, this added gameplay dimension is fairly superficial as external overheating is only a concern in the fire zone, and there are only a handful of instances where extended water pools actually factor into route consideration. It’s a welcome addition, sadly just not fully developed.

All things considered, the opposing AI is quite good. Pacific Rift doesn’t coddle the player by scaling the enemy’s performance to match their skill. The game knows that a good run on a certain track takes a certain amount of time, and victory is ascertained chiefly by matching that circumstance. If an opponent climbs too far ahead of the pack, they probably aren’t going to be caught unless either they crash or you run one hell of a race. A win or loss by a split second is just as likely as a win or loss by twenty seconds. Furthermore, any opponent is able to win. Unlike any given Mario Kart, whose AI is automatically set to award the results of a race to certain characters based on who you’re playing as, there is no golden racer you know from experience will spring ahead. The outcome of every race is unknown, and it makes the game significantly more enjoyable for it.

Part of the fun of MotorStorm for me has always been picking the manly big rig, painting it hot pink, and running everything off the road, and it’s nice to see that somewhat ironical demeanour persist. There was a certain charm and attitude in the first MotorStorm that made playing it all the more enjoyable. A large part of it was the licensed soundtrack that prominently featured lots of gritty, organic, guitar based rock songs that mixed well with the dirty wasteland it played in. The visual crashes and the aural twangs fit together perfectly in a way Pacific Rift attempts to mimic, but unfortunately falls short of. It’s a new soundtrack for a new environment, but the genres are a tad too disparate. On top of the guitar oriented songs is an overabundance of electronic music that occasionally undermines what the game is about. MotorStorm is a party, but Pacific Rift isn’t exactly sure what type of party it is.

The game’s effects are remarkable. Environments are lush and vibrant, and the setting sun reflecting off glistening mud and water are some of the prettiest visuals I’ve ever seen. Tracks deform, obstacles persist, and cars take damage and dirt appropriately. To be honest, first person driving is the only way to fully appreciate the game’s visual design and visceral nature. Driving physics occasionally appear a bit wonky from the third person perspective, but front seat driving goes a long way to easing this particular complaint, which normally tends to manifest itself during ridiculous air and hang time anyway. Crashes hearken back to my childhood days of slamming Lego models against the wall in order to see shrapnel fly everywhere, only now I get to see it in slow motion. Metal buckles, tires fly, and your ragdoll is launched into oblivion. An added bonus is being able to pause and manipulate the camera so that you can take pictures and appreciate the game’s splendour. The sound design is loaded with the requisite engine revs and metal crunches, though the mix is very low end heavy. Horns, splashes, and other minor sound-bytes are largely lost in engine roars, and even the soundtrack is difficult to hear at the default volume setting (I cut the sound effects to half and max out the sound track for the best results).

I’m not a racing connoisseur, but Pacific Rift strikes me as being one of the better titles in the genre. Whereas the first MotorStorm was a shallow, albeit incredibly pretty, shell of load times and a single thought, Pacific Rift does a great deal to give some much needed weight to the idea. It’s not the deepest racing game, nor is it the most feature laden one, but it’s the most fun I’ve had in the genre since Burnout 3: Takedown, and more than that a game I heartily recommend to any PS3 owner.

MotorStorm: Pacific Rift is exclusive to the PS3.