Location Matters

Freeform: Nix the World Map

Just a matter of minutes ago, I was browsing NeoGAF (as I tend to do idly before I head to sleep) and came across a thread that spurred my train of thought a bit. The general gist of it was reminiscing about past games that took place in a singular, isolated area. Either large or small. Several people mentioned a few classic games that have used this factor of scope in their design, but I'm slowly realizing that almost all of my favourite games of all time fit into this very distinct restriction.

Vagrant Story, the current ruler of my "best games ever" list, uses this style in the same vein as a lot of classic action/adventure titles have (action RPG in this case). It comes from the original Metroid, a game that pushed the conventions of gaming boundaries in its time. As the retrospective featured on GameTrailers puts it, it was one of the first open-world games, yet also one of the most cramped and claustrophobic. And because of it, it was brilliant at generating one of the most effective design aesthetics that I've come to appreciate over the years.

Since Metroid, every game in its series (with the possible exception of the upcoming Metroid Prime 3: Corruption) has taken place in this concept of isolation and discovery, preying upon the player's natural instinct to explore and become awestruck at what they find.  While Samus was in hiatus between Super Metroid and her eventual 2D predecessor Metroid Fusion, the Castlevania series borrowed the open world convention for its hallmark title Symphony of the Night. Instead of exploring the depths of an alien planet, those that would seek Dracula's head instead found themselves exploring the ever-changing labyrinth of a castle. As a convention, it was a perfect fit. The feeling of isolation and discovery held true due to the nature of a castle: Finite space, every room needing to be searched for all the treasures they held.

With Vagrant Story, a very similar bout of exploration came about in the adventures of Ashley Riot and his game of cat and mouse with the mysterious Sydney Losstarot. With exception of the opening sequence and initial dive through cavernous hallways to reach the city proper, all of the game took place within the abandoned city of Lea Monde. It was epic, yet not in the sense of world scope. The secluded location kept it private and personal. Several characters enter a mystical location and are changed forever. It is the stuff that the best theatrical plays utilize to their fullest. In the theater, location is always a limitation. There's only so much an audience will believe when presented with a static and often sparse visual. And so the transformations of characters is exploited to its fullest, whether it be subtle or bombastic.

Another game that does this exceptionally well is the extremely under-appreciated title Shadow of Destiny. Released relatively early in the PS2's lifecycle, the game was ultimately passed over for its somewhat sub-par adventure-based gameplay. However, it remains with me as a very strong piece of character development (despite some cheesy moments that prevent it from being excellent). Like the previously mentioned title, the game takes place distinctly within one small town. However, this town has several key differences: It's fully populated and busy, and you get to visit it in 5 different points in time thanks to the time-travel heavy plot. Between tracing family trees to ancestral roots in the medieval hamlet version of the town, to observing the parents or grandparents of several of the town's inhabitants; Shadow of Destiny explores every aspect of the town and its citizens' histories.

I could probably ramble on for a lot longer, exploring the elements of solitary exploration in a closed environment in my favourite games and what makes them tick. Other titles include ICO, the Silent Hill series, and Breath of Fire V: Dragon Quarter. Ultimately, the theme sits strong with me and always strikes some part of my gaming tastes.

Weekly Gaming: Minish Rogue Stories

This week has been one of rediscovering and playing old games from several years back that I never got around to. The only unfortunate part to it all is that I know I probably won't finish any of the console games before the heavy hitters start getting released. Next week is the lovely Persona 3, which I've been waiting for quite some time for. Two weeks afterwards, and Metroid Prime 3: Corruption makes its way to the Wii. Which gives me two weeks to complete P3, whereas the titles I'm currently playing have only got a few days left! This means that ultimately I'm going to have to stop playing one of the two console titles. But why don't I get on with what exactly they are.

My portable title of the week has been Legend of Zelda: Minish Cap for the GBA. This little gem of a game is, believe me, absolutely impossible to find. After weeks of futile searches, a co-worker mentions that he'd be willing to lend it to me. Score! And so my adventure into this title came to be. I've been enjoying it thoroughly so far, having beaten two out of the four dungeons initially presented. What I like the most is how unique it feels, yet still remaining a traditional Zelda game. In the same way that Link's Awakening or Majora's Mask shook up the formula, Minish Cap does it again and even better in some parts. New gameplay mechanics are introduced, brand new items never used before are mixed in with series staples (mainly in the form of bombs and the ever-present boomerang).  The story is a classic and overdone tale of greed and lust for power, but that's what the Legend of Zelda series has always been about since day one. I wouldn't expect anything else, though this game continues to prove that Ganon doesn't always need to be that embodiment of greed.

On the console side, I've been juggling between two rather similar (in some ways) action-RPGs: Rogue Galaxy and Radiata Stories. During the first 5 hours of both, I remained somewhat tentative on giving either of them a chance. I'll deconstruct them a bit in the paragraphs to follow.

With Rogue Galaxy, I came in with some bit of knowledge. I've owned the soundtrack for over a year now, and am very familiar with its tracks ups and downs. The composer is trying very hard for a Williams-esque Star Wars feel in its more orchestral and dramatic pieces, and ultimately fails at it. Synthesized choruses attempt to chant out ala Phantom Menace's epic battle theme, and just come across as a cheesy mess. However, the soundtrack really shines when it comes to the smaller and more tribal sounding pieces. The man is clearly a guitarist, and it shows in these smaller tracks.

As far as the actual game, it begins on a huge downer: A starry view of space with a simple page of text labeled "Story" and concluded with "Press X to Continue." Not exactly how I would open up an epic RPG adventure. Once passed though, a CG cutscene begins and introduces us to our hero: Jaster. He's returning from something, parched and on a desert planet not unlike Tatooine. He laments the Empire's (not really, but it's not like it's any different) dominance over his planet. I bet if provoked, he'd whine for some power converters too. Regardless, he gives a bit of an eloquent monologue about how he wants to make a difference. And then in the next scene, all pretense of a serious plot is shattered. Cue over-the-top goofy comic relief music as C3PO wannabe "Steve" and his companion (An R2D2 that happens to be more of a mechanical mole with a Scottish accent.) search for a legendary bounty hunter. When all's said and done, a big monster attacks the city and everyone's drawn to it as a catalyst for combat explanation (a well-fortified city suddenly has skeletons popping out of the sand!) and plot advancement as the pirate version of Han Solo invites Jaster to join him (under false pretenses, having been mistaken for said legendary Bounty Hunter.) It's all very goofy and tongue in cheek, and ultimately do I care much for it yet? Too early to tell, but I was going to stick with it until I reached a certain point in the second game I'm tackling with...

Radiata Stories is a bit of an odd one. It arrived without much fanfare, but is one of the very few original IPs that Square Enix has published in the recent years. It's actually developed by Tri-Ace, the team behind the Star Ocean games. And it shows, especially in its battle system. However, since I talked about Rogue Galaxy's first, I have to mention Radiata's obscure soundtrack. Never have I seriously hated and loved a soundtrack so much simultaneously. On one hand, you have the very over-the-top jazz-inspired tunes with wonky pitch-shifting woodwind lines and a cheesy midi horn section extremely similar to Marvel VS Capcom 2's schlocky BGM. Yet, on the other hand you have some genuinely beautiful bits of live violin playing and orchestral writing that seems to come out of nowhere considering the goofy vibe most of the soundtrack takes. I can only hope the lighthearted theme begins to fade slightly as the game dwells deeper in into reality, which I'll touch on below.

The storyline of Radiata, erm, Stories is somewhat deceptive. In the beginning you have Jack Russell, a character that at several points in the game's first 5 hours made me want to strangle him on the spot. He's your typical happy-go-lucky anime star that is reckless and idiotic yet somehow respected because he is courageous and true. He fails miserably at his trial to apply for the Radiata Knights, and yet gets in on the pretense that his father was one of the best warriors the kingdom has ever had. The rest of the game's lengthy introduction is spent in two missions where several overarching story elements and main characters are introduced. We learn that there's a very lenient tension between the humans of Radiata and the non-human faerie creatures including the dwarves and elves. All very standard fantasy stuff. You also have the bumbling and strident Captain Ganz and the sheltered raised-a-knight female protagonist Ridley. The latter of which has a very predictable competative-yet-caring relationship with Jack. At this point, I'm asking myself why I'm continuing to play this game and on the verge of switching back to Rogue Galaxy.

However, something happens that (as most typical movie trailers reiterate) changes everything. Throughout the game, the idyllic and quirky vibe has been quite abundant. Jack is a Naruto-esque guy that wants to be the best despite his constant failing. During the second mission, a blood orc suddenly appears and engages the brigade in battle. Ridley nearly dies as a result, and Jack breaks from his fantasy world to suddenly grip reality and takes charge in the intention to help her survive. Upon returning with the girl on the brink of death, her father snaps and orders the head of the Knights to take action against Jack and Ganz. The pressure is on, and so he does. Just as the game begins to make you feel safe in the happy and predictable life of a royal knight, they disband your brigade and strip you and your captain of all rank. Homeless and aimless, the two emerge into the suddenly very real streets of Radiata. Ganz heads to the tavern for a drink, and the two of them eventually discover the Theater Vancoor, a rough and tumble Warrior's Guild. It's then from there and your shanty apartment do you embark into the real world, and the real game. Gone are the original stereotypes that plagued my first impressions, and instead you have a bleak sense of abandonment and a quest for survival out on your own. The game has already taken the first steps of a great coming of age story, and I look forward to how things develop from here.

Weekly Music: A Brief Sonata

I've probably spent long enough blathering on in the previous two sections, but I at least wanted to mention something about what I've been listening to this week. The new release in gaming soundtracks this time around is Eternal Sonata, or Trusty Bell as it's known in Japan. Motoi Sakuraba of Valkyrie Profile and Star Ocean fame delves into his more classical and orchestral side (versus the palette of synths and guitars he often falls back on in most soundtracks.) While I won't go too in depth, I was on a whole pleased with the soundtrack, though it was all very similar and relatively safe writing. The main things of note that challenged Sakuraba's usual faire were a variety of original piano pieces to fit in with Chopin's own compositions. They hold up quite well, surprisingly, and are even rather inventive compositionally. The true hallmark of the soundtrack though, comes in the form of the most badass final battle music ever: Chopin's Revolutionary Étude (Op. 10 No. 12) fused with Sakuraba's progressive rock style of battle music in one impressively bombastic tune. Classical music really is the predecessor of metal after all.