I was looking through my collection of games across my consoles and computer and I saw more than a few by Rockstar. For those that don't know, Rockstar is famous mostly for making the Grand Theft Auto series of games. Now, I won't lie, I own a couple GTA games. I own the original, San Andreas and GTA 4 and to be honest, I've never been able to play them for more than just a few hours before I get sick of it and turn it off.
It's not the violence, God knows I play violent as fuck video games. Where I start taking issue with these games is the horribly overblown stereotypes and the language. I swear like a sailor, but when every third word out of the main character's mouth is a racial slur that I refuse to repeat, I start getting sick to my stomach. Surround that main character with five other stereotypes that talk the same way and I shut the game off. I thought GTA 4 would be a little better with that; seeing as the main character is a European immigrant, I figured the racial slurs would be minimal, and I was right. Honestly I couldn't tell you why that game bugs me, but it does.
The two games that I keep coming back to in Rockstar's catalogue are Red Dead Redemption and L.A. Noire. I love these games, not only because they represent two genres that are cliches in movies but under used in games, but because they show that Rockstar as a company is maturing. Sure, the stereotypes are still there, although I don't find them as gratingly annoying as in GTA, and they tend to play the same as the aforementioned series, but its the subject matter that really shines. RDR is similar to GTA, except in the wild west. It's been called Grand Theft Horsie, which I find annoying, because I enjoy RDR even despite its similarities to GTA. It may have something to do with how jaw droppingly beautiful the game is, or that I'm a sucker for westerns, so much so that I actually own Red Dead Revolver, the game that Redemption is a spiritual sequel to.
L.A. Noire is a completely different beast altogether; its main controls are almost identical to GTA and Redemption, but the subject matter couldn't be more different. It's a cop drama, stylistically made to look like a film noire, in fact there's an option to put it in black and white, just to keep that noire film feeling. Set shortly after WWII, the player is in the polished wing tips of rookie cop, Colton Phelps. What's revolutionary about it is the interrogations, where the player must pay attention to the suspect's facial expressions to tell if they're lying. You also have to look for clues and evidence and whatnot. Spanning two disks, it's so huge and there's so much to see and do, that I have yet to finish it.
Hopefully these two games, Red Dead Redemption and L.A. Noire are a sign that Rockstar is maturing and is getting ready to leave the offensive bullshit that Grand Theft Auto has always been and bring us something that's worth playing.
Showing posts with label games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label games. Show all posts
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Sunday, August 7, 2011
And now for something completely different.
A few days ago I read a story someone on The Lord of the Rings: Online had written concerning his character and I thought that I should attempt that. I've been writing short stories off and on since the first grade and this is probably the first one I've managed to write all the way to the end in probably 11 years. This is basically a backstory for my main character on the Elendilmir server, Ruras the Warden.
A lone elf stands on a hilltop near the bounds of The Shire. He had been in this country before; he adored the rolling green hills and the lush farmland. He came here to think, it was one of the few places left in Middle-Earth peaceful enough to sit and think about all that had happened to him over his long, long life.
He was found by Marchwardens of Lothlorien near the Great River Anduin. They supposed his parents had been slain by the orcs of the Misty Mountains, but they could never be sure. As is the way with the Eldar, he grew quickly among the people of Lorien, and learned the skills of the Warden. He became known throughout his homeland as a hunter of orcs, for the hatred of their kind burned more fiercely within him than in others of his kindred. A need for some sort of vengeance seemed to consume him.
This was why he was in The Shire now. Rumours had reached him in Bree that camps of foul orcs and goblins had been seen near the bounds. Sitting atop this hill, he could see several camps, not just of orcs, but also goblins and bandits. Raising himself slowly, gripping the rawhide-wrapped haft of his spear for support, he let out a sigh and set out for the nearest orc camp, running full-tilt, not feeling the weight of the shield on his left arm, or the javelin on his back. Occasionally he used his spear to brush aside branches of trees but otherwise he ran unimpeded.
Skidding to a stop a few hundred yards away from the camp, he gripped his spear in the same hand as his shield and took down his javelin. The orc guarding the entrance to the camp was not only hideously malformed but was also inattentive; perhaps the eye it was missing had something to do with it, or the fact that its ears had been melted off, probably by a spell. The warden slowed his footsteps, making sure not to tread on anything too noisy he snuck up on his unknowing quarry. Muttering softly in Elvish, he hurled his javelin at the orc.
The javelin flew true, as it always did when he threw. It sailed through the air and embedded its self in the orc's skull, the steel head buried in the soft flesh of the creature's brain. Charging forward, he transferred his spear to his right hand and planted the head in the creature's chest, making certain the foul beast was dead. He pulled his spear and javelin from the orc and cleaned its blood off his tools. He pushed forward into the camp, killing silently where he could, wielding his spear as the farmer wields the scythe, cutting down orcs as quick as they sprang up.
Nearing the end of the encampment he began to hear muffled struggling. Ducking into a shrub near a small hill, he surveyed the area ahead of him. The leader's tent was near, and he could see several hobbit prisoners near, as well as...He armed sweat from his brow, blinked his eyes and looked again. Yes, he was right; a lady elf. He took in her appearance. Tattered robes, face smeared in ash and plaster dust, and the satchel at her side all signified a rune-keeper. Trained in the tongues of Men and Elves, they used words and runes of power for both healing and destroying their opponents. She would make a powerful ally if the warden could but save her.
That was where the problem lay. He had never faced orcs of this type before, they were bigger than the orcs of Mordor, could bear the light of the sun without harm and bore a strange sigil on their armour, that of the White Hand. This was not a problem, these creatures died like any other orc.
Summoning all his strength for the final charge, he let out a yell and bounded down the hill, throwing his javelin at one of the orc guards at the entrance to the camp, and plunging his spear into the throat of the other. Yanking it free of the foul creature, he spun and plunged the head deep into the guts of another orc. Slashing the throat of another with the head of his spear, he pulled a throwing dagger from his belt and, almost casually threw at another beast, taking it in the eye.
The warden glanced at the lady Elf and saw the gag around her mouth turn instantly to ash. She raised herself up to her full height, bonds also falling to ash. Pulling a runestone from her satchel, she muttered something in Elvish and pointed the stone at the warden. He felt his muscles come alive as the healing magic took effect, and he resumed the fight, bashing orcs with his shield, shouting taunts and impaling them with spear and javelin.
The rune keeper also joined the fray, not only healing the warden's wounds, but throwing lightning bolts, and doing a curious bit of foretelling, prophesying how her opponents would fall. The two Elves worked around each other flawlessly, each covering the other's back, taking down orcs by the dozen. Finally the foul creatures were dealt with and the two warriors looked at each other. Standing to his full height, the warden bowed.
'Mae govannen. Im Ruras.'
The rune keeper laughed softly and replied in the Common Speech:
'Greetings Ruras. I am known as Lalaith, though that is not my true name. Come, let us loose these merry folk and be upon our way.'
As the two set the hobbits free, Ruras asked, 'Lady Lalaith, how do you know our path goes the same way?'
Smiling, she answered, 'The runes tell me much of what is to be. Surely a warden of Lothlorien has encountered such powers of foresight?'
'Indeed not, lady. I was a march warden and did not often journey to Caras Galadhon. If we are journeying together, whither are we going? Into the West?'
Lalaith shook her head sadly and looked into Ruras's eyes.
'Nay, strong-heart. The West is denied us for now, our road lies East; into Shadow. You are a hunter of the creatures of the Enemy, you feel the same hatred for them as I. As long as they haunt Middle-Earth, neither of us shall leave.'
Adjusting the rawhide wrapping on his spear, and replacing the javelin on his back, Ruras smiled.
'Then let us begone.'
A lone elf stands on a hilltop near the bounds of The Shire. He had been in this country before; he adored the rolling green hills and the lush farmland. He came here to think, it was one of the few places left in Middle-Earth peaceful enough to sit and think about all that had happened to him over his long, long life.
He was found by Marchwardens of Lothlorien near the Great River Anduin. They supposed his parents had been slain by the orcs of the Misty Mountains, but they could never be sure. As is the way with the Eldar, he grew quickly among the people of Lorien, and learned the skills of the Warden. He became known throughout his homeland as a hunter of orcs, for the hatred of their kind burned more fiercely within him than in others of his kindred. A need for some sort of vengeance seemed to consume him.
This was why he was in The Shire now. Rumours had reached him in Bree that camps of foul orcs and goblins had been seen near the bounds. Sitting atop this hill, he could see several camps, not just of orcs, but also goblins and bandits. Raising himself slowly, gripping the rawhide-wrapped haft of his spear for support, he let out a sigh and set out for the nearest orc camp, running full-tilt, not feeling the weight of the shield on his left arm, or the javelin on his back. Occasionally he used his spear to brush aside branches of trees but otherwise he ran unimpeded.
Skidding to a stop a few hundred yards away from the camp, he gripped his spear in the same hand as his shield and took down his javelin. The orc guarding the entrance to the camp was not only hideously malformed but was also inattentive; perhaps the eye it was missing had something to do with it, or the fact that its ears had been melted off, probably by a spell. The warden slowed his footsteps, making sure not to tread on anything too noisy he snuck up on his unknowing quarry. Muttering softly in Elvish, he hurled his javelin at the orc.
The javelin flew true, as it always did when he threw. It sailed through the air and embedded its self in the orc's skull, the steel head buried in the soft flesh of the creature's brain. Charging forward, he transferred his spear to his right hand and planted the head in the creature's chest, making certain the foul beast was dead. He pulled his spear and javelin from the orc and cleaned its blood off his tools. He pushed forward into the camp, killing silently where he could, wielding his spear as the farmer wields the scythe, cutting down orcs as quick as they sprang up.
Nearing the end of the encampment he began to hear muffled struggling. Ducking into a shrub near a small hill, he surveyed the area ahead of him. The leader's tent was near, and he could see several hobbit prisoners near, as well as...He armed sweat from his brow, blinked his eyes and looked again. Yes, he was right; a lady elf. He took in her appearance. Tattered robes, face smeared in ash and plaster dust, and the satchel at her side all signified a rune-keeper. Trained in the tongues of Men and Elves, they used words and runes of power for both healing and destroying their opponents. She would make a powerful ally if the warden could but save her.
That was where the problem lay. He had never faced orcs of this type before, they were bigger than the orcs of Mordor, could bear the light of the sun without harm and bore a strange sigil on their armour, that of the White Hand. This was not a problem, these creatures died like any other orc.
Summoning all his strength for the final charge, he let out a yell and bounded down the hill, throwing his javelin at one of the orc guards at the entrance to the camp, and plunging his spear into the throat of the other. Yanking it free of the foul creature, he spun and plunged the head deep into the guts of another orc. Slashing the throat of another with the head of his spear, he pulled a throwing dagger from his belt and, almost casually threw at another beast, taking it in the eye.
The warden glanced at the lady Elf and saw the gag around her mouth turn instantly to ash. She raised herself up to her full height, bonds also falling to ash. Pulling a runestone from her satchel, she muttered something in Elvish and pointed the stone at the warden. He felt his muscles come alive as the healing magic took effect, and he resumed the fight, bashing orcs with his shield, shouting taunts and impaling them with spear and javelin.
The rune keeper also joined the fray, not only healing the warden's wounds, but throwing lightning bolts, and doing a curious bit of foretelling, prophesying how her opponents would fall. The two Elves worked around each other flawlessly, each covering the other's back, taking down orcs by the dozen. Finally the foul creatures were dealt with and the two warriors looked at each other. Standing to his full height, the warden bowed.
'Mae govannen. Im Ruras.'
The rune keeper laughed softly and replied in the Common Speech:
'Greetings Ruras. I am known as Lalaith, though that is not my true name. Come, let us loose these merry folk and be upon our way.'
As the two set the hobbits free, Ruras asked, 'Lady Lalaith, how do you know our path goes the same way?'
Smiling, she answered, 'The runes tell me much of what is to be. Surely a warden of Lothlorien has encountered such powers of foresight?'
'Indeed not, lady. I was a march warden and did not often journey to Caras Galadhon. If we are journeying together, whither are we going? Into the West?'
Lalaith shook her head sadly and looked into Ruras's eyes.
'Nay, strong-heart. The West is denied us for now, our road lies East; into Shadow. You are a hunter of the creatures of the Enemy, you feel the same hatred for them as I. As long as they haunt Middle-Earth, neither of us shall leave.'
Adjusting the rawhide wrapping on his spear, and replacing the javelin on his back, Ruras smiled.
'Then let us begone.'
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Game Review: Metro 2033
I don't know whether to dislike this game or not. I'm incredibly under-whelmed by it. Maybe I'm just burned out on FPS's from days of playing Singularity. That may be it, because if I pick the game apart, it's pretty good. I'll explain.
It's a post-apocalyptic game, based in Moscow. Twenty years ago we blew the world to shit and the survivors took refuge in the subway tunnels. Pretty original; far-fetched, but not quite as far-fetched as the government preparing decades in advance for the apocalypse and building Vaults for it. Our main character, Artyom, was born when the bombs fell and raised in the Metro tunnels. A friend of his step-father is visiting the station (apparently named Exhibition, although I don't think this is mentioned until much later in the game.) The station is having problems with mutant attacks and also attacks by something called "Dark Ones". No, that's never explained; it's kind of like the weird shadow people in Condemned. They're there, they're vital to the plot but nobody really knows what the fuck they are.
The graphics are OK. The majority of the game is in the dark so you don't really notice them a whole helluva lot, but there are glitches. I don't know if it was just me, because the DVD drive on my Xbox 360 is starting to crap out, but the textures sometimes lagged behind the rest of the game so sometimes things were really fuzzy. Other than that they were good; the mutants were disgusting and rather creepy, seeing Moscow and a city blown to hell and plunged into nuclear winter was mildly depressing. The sound was basically what you would expect from a game where you're stuck in the subway tunnels under a nuclear blasted Moscow inhabited by mutants: lots of growling, grunting and other creepy sounds.
The other thing that struck me as original and actually making sense was the currency: they use military-grade ammunition as money. I know I already mentioned that, but I still think it's awesome. That was one of the things that bugged the piss out of me about Fallout 3. Bottle-caps? Really? What the fuck use is that? Bullets makes sense; in a mutant infested wasteland, bullets have value.
I don't know, there aren't any major sticking points that really piss me off with this game, but I still just can't tell if I like this one or not. Just...meh.
It's a post-apocalyptic game, based in Moscow. Twenty years ago we blew the world to shit and the survivors took refuge in the subway tunnels. Pretty original; far-fetched, but not quite as far-fetched as the government preparing decades in advance for the apocalypse and building Vaults for it. Our main character, Artyom, was born when the bombs fell and raised in the Metro tunnels. A friend of his step-father is visiting the station (apparently named Exhibition, although I don't think this is mentioned until much later in the game.) The station is having problems with mutant attacks and also attacks by something called "Dark Ones". No, that's never explained; it's kind of like the weird shadow people in Condemned. They're there, they're vital to the plot but nobody really knows what the fuck they are.
The graphics are OK. The majority of the game is in the dark so you don't really notice them a whole helluva lot, but there are glitches. I don't know if it was just me, because the DVD drive on my Xbox 360 is starting to crap out, but the textures sometimes lagged behind the rest of the game so sometimes things were really fuzzy. Other than that they were good; the mutants were disgusting and rather creepy, seeing Moscow and a city blown to hell and plunged into nuclear winter was mildly depressing. The sound was basically what you would expect from a game where you're stuck in the subway tunnels under a nuclear blasted Moscow inhabited by mutants: lots of growling, grunting and other creepy sounds.
The other thing that struck me as original and actually making sense was the currency: they use military-grade ammunition as money. I know I already mentioned that, but I still think it's awesome. That was one of the things that bugged the piss out of me about Fallout 3. Bottle-caps? Really? What the fuck use is that? Bullets makes sense; in a mutant infested wasteland, bullets have value.
I don't know, there aren't any major sticking points that really piss me off with this game, but I still just can't tell if I like this one or not. Just...meh.
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