Showing posts with label video games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label video games. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Residing Evil: Sweet Home

The relationship between movies and video games have always been tenuous at best and destructive at worst, with horror serving as the stabilizing element in this volatile Venn diagram. To wit—horror movies are great and horror video games are great, while movies based on video games are awful and movies based on horror video games are somewhat palatable if not enjoyable. Paul Anderson’s first Resident Evil flick had nothing to do with the source material but was a passable creature feature. Hell, even Uwe Boll’s shlock-fests give you something to riff at with friends. In sharp contrast, “competently” produced features like the Super Mario Brothers movie exist solely to traumatize your inner child.



Turnabout is fair playvideo game licenses of horror titles have also failed to transfer that sense of terror from the screen to pixels, although no one has made an honest effort since the dreadful Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street adaptations for Nintendo.
Sweet Home famicom title
This makes the re-discovery of Sweet Home all the more shocking. Released for the Famicom in December 1989, it broke the mold of traditional Dragon Quest-style RPGs in serving as Capcom’s first stab at survival horror and established a template for the first generation of Resident Evil titles.


Sweet Home for Famicom
The story follows a group of five reporters who visit the abandoned Mamiya mansion secluded deep in the wooded mountains to film a piece on the fresco paintings of the previous owner who died under mysterious causes thirty years prior. Our cast doesn’t even make it past the foyer before things go awry. Suddenly the rotted ceiling collapses seemingly of it’s own will, blocking the way out, and the vengeful spirit of Lady Mamiya appears to deliver a wicked portent—you will all die here!


Sweet Home monster
The validity of her prophecy all depends on how the player manages their limited resources. Healing tonics are scattered few and far between about the manor grounds. Each character can only carry two items at a time in addition to their default tool, making inventory management a psychologically stressful task. Do you risk leaving recovery potions where they lay to keep your pockets empty for the key puzzle items supposedly coming up around the next turn? What’s your backup plan if the group carrying the candle is ambushed and needs support, but the other team has to fumble through the darkness to reach them?


Sweet Home for Famicom death scene
Therein lies the defining feature of Sweet Home. The five characters can team up in groups of up to three, meaning that one team will always be a pair of hands short in exploration and combat, leading to tense moments where one party calls for the other mid-battle and the other races against the clock to save their friends from being butchered by the mansion’s supernatural inhabitants. Once a character dies, they (and their puzzle-solving tools) are gone for good. As the number of survivors dwindle you inch closer to a literal dead-end draws closer, making each enemy encounter a countdown to certain doom as your HP falls away into the void.



The immediacy of rushing in to help your teammates is only heightened by the frantic battle theme breathing down your neck as threatening as any ghoul or ghost. Like a good film, the soundtrack is another character in itself, covering the abstract pixellated mansion in a miasma of dread.
Sweet Home for Famicom door sequence
The cinematic qualities don’t end there. The birds-eye-view opening shot establishes the Mamiya manor as a desolate locale far removed from outside help—you are in this on your own. Unlock a door and we switch to a cut-scene of it creaking open, daring you to challenge the darkness within. There’s even pseudo-quick time actions where falling chandeliers and spike traps come flying at your POV, prompting you to make a quick dodge to safety or suffer the fatal consequences.
Sweet Home for Famicom QTA
So far we have a creepy mansion, resource scarcity, pus-oozing monsters, door sequences—we're only missing one more of Resident Evil's hallmark features; Progressing the plot through diaries and letters left by their deceased authors. Sweet Home does this too with pages torn out of notebooks, dying messages writ in blood, and still cognizant corpses. As the party progresses through the house's puzzles, the gruesome truth behind the death of Lady Mamiya's baby and the local child kidnappings comes to light. The team will need to assemble the evidence of her terrible crimes in life to exorcise her spiteful spirit in death.



If the haunted aesthetic of the game was crafted by Fujiwara Tokuro, the Ghosts ‘n Goblins director and future general producer of Resident Evil, than we can assume that the cinematic flair was imbued by filmmaker Itami Juzo. Renowned for his satirical works like Tampopo and The Funeral, Itami had teamed up with Capcom and Fujiwara in the past to produce a Famicom adventure game adaptation of A Taxing Woman, his black comedy about a female IRS agent hounding the yakuza to come clean with their cooked books.
Sweet Home movie poster
In fact, this wasn’t the first version of Sweet Home that Itami had produced either. He mentored a young Kurosawa Kiyoshi, director/screenwriter of the Sweet Home film that the game was faithfully based on. The tone of the movie is far removed from Kurosawa’s later slow-burning cerebral thrillers and feels more like a Hollywood haunted house flick, ironic considering that the gruesome special effects were handled by Poltergeist alumni Dick Smith. 


Before his breakout hit with Cure, Kurosawa was stuck doing pink films like Kandagawa Pervert Wars for Nikkatsu. Through a lucky twist of fate, he met Itami on the set of The Excitement of the Do-Re-Mi-Fa Girl, a bawdy college sex romp where the seventy-year old actor played a lecherous professor who was very hands-on with his students. Itami took the promising director under his wing and showed him how to manufacture a hit in the industry—a bit too forcefully as it turned out.



The senior producer immediately wrested over creative control, bringing on Nokko, singer from the rock band Rebecca, for extra mainstream appeal, and, in typical Itami fashion, cast his wife Miyamoto Nobuko in the lead. He then proceeded to re-edit the movie without the director’s knowledge for the coup de grace. We’ll never know what Kurosawa’s vision of the film was—the final print shown in theaters and released on VHS is the Itami cut. As to be expected, the incident led to irreconcilable differences between the filmmakers, leaving the intellectual rights and possible remakes of the movie or game in legal limbo.
Sweet Home movie
While the film drags a bit in the third act and the cast is worthless, its impressionistic use of shadows and eerie soundtrack make things bearable during the lengthy intermissions between special effect shots to keep the viewer from zoning out too much. If you're looking for more of a non-stop thrill ride, skip the movie and track down a translated version of the Famicom game. It delivers all the melting old man Itami-goodness you're itching for without the wait.
Sweet home Famicom melt

Monday, September 24, 2012

Wave Jack Series: Fighting Piracy With Pin-Up Girls

Video game companies have always been designing schemes to encourage consumers to purchase their software mint in the shrink wrap and discourage piracy.  Before first day pre-order bonuses, before Working Design pack-ins, before Star Tropic had you dip the manual in water, there was the Wave Jack series.

Published by Imagineer for the Famicom Disk System, these open-ended titles pushed passive players to be more proactive in searching out clues, not only in the 8-bit world itself, but also in the materials included with the disk. These ranged from simple maps to detailed guidebooks by living gaming legends to music cassettes featuring trending idols. A promising project on paper, in execution the trilogy was a buggy, unfriendly, unbeatable mess not unlike Atari’s Swordquest experiment. 
The adventure kicked off on November 6th, 1986 with Ginga Densho, aka Galaxy Odyssey. Set in a distant future of space colonies and interstellar travel, an ominous meteor shower rains down an unknown skin-calcifying virus, and you must scour the galaxy in search of the cure. Each of the five planets begins with a vertical-scroll shooting stage where you gather oxygen for the top-down exploration segment set deep within the alien star. 
The Guardian Legend this ain’t. Spaceship sequences feel tacked-on and half-baked compared to competent contemporaries like Super Star Force which was released just a week afterward. The exploration bits are hamstrung by finite oxygen resources, copy-pasted screens, and game-freezing bugs, making this a kusoge by our modern rubric. Despite its fatal flaws, the opulent packaging drummed up enough interest to move a few units.   
Relatively unknown sci-fi manga artist Okazaki Tsuguo provided the character designs while teen superstar Oginome Yoko lent her voice to the theme song Romantic Odyssey. The lyrics, in conjunction with the instruction manual written as a prose novella, supposedly contain clues for deciphering the in-game space runes left behind by extinct civilizations—a DIY Al Bhed primer. There’s even a 10-page pamphlet from the Japanese Psychoeducational Institute extolling the benefits of these mental gymnastics on a growing mind to scam parents into buying more edutainment for their family computer.  
Imagineer’s sophomore effort, Kieta Princess (Missing Princess) is considered the strongest entry in the trilogy, albeit a confusing mess. The princess of the imaginary country Rabia (or Labia, depending on how you romanize it) is kidnapped during a goodwill visit to Japan, putting the kibosh on trade—specifically, the vaccine for an incurable virus running rampant across the archipelago. As a private eye employed by the government, you have thirty days to find the missing princess and restore international relations.

Thirty in-game days, mind you. The clock ticks forward relentlessly as you scramble for clues and resources in a completely free-roaming world. You can interact with nearly every building on the congested map, go to the martial arts dojo to boost your life total, or even take on a part-time job to supplement your daily stipend. But don’t dawdle. Come nightfall, shops close and the streets are overrun by pistol-toting gangs. Get too trigger-happy in self-defense and you’ll be arrested and slapped with a fine.

Missing Princess tried to do more than the infant technology could handle. Years later, once hardware grew up to fit the design, sandbox games become a cornerstone of the medium. Until then, players were left to sift through the litterbox. 
At least they didn’t have to dig in with their bare hands. The package came with a police badge notebook, map of the city (whose backside served as a poster of the game’s token idol), travel log by Mori Meijin (mousy rival to Takahashi Meijin), and vocal tracks by actress Tomita Yasuko who had recently been launched to stardom by her role in Lonely Heart (Sabishinboh) by Hausu director Obayashi Nobuhiko. 
Finally we have Holy Sword Psycho Calibur, the most competent of the trifecta for what it's worth. Released on May 15th, 1987, this quest puts you in control of a young orphan on a journey to find his father and unravel the secret of his mother’s memento, an ancestral sword. Aided by the fairies Pipi and Popo, you must make the sacred blade shine once more to free the land from the Demon Lord Hrungnir and his hundred-year rule of terror.   
Don’t let the flip-screen overhead view and sword-slinging fool you—this isn’t Zelda’s long-lost cousin, it’s the mutant twin confined to rot in the attic. Right from the offset the player is asked to purchase equipment that will make or break their adventure without any explanation or context, making it a blind crap shoot amongst an already aimless sprawl. Good thing there’s pack-in guides, right?
Well, not so much. There’s a storybook illustrating the history of the realm, a Bikkuri-Man style monster manual, and cassette tape soundtrack needed to solve the musical Lost Woods riddle hiding the true last boss. Very fancy, but not useful in divining what items do. Do cherries restore health? (No, they’re actually bombs.) Is it worth dropping all your rubles on a teardrop? (Yes, it’s an over-powered boomerang). The game is still playable if you factor in the vintage. Do you enjoy the perilous learning curve of Rougelikes and poor hit detection of lazy programming? Then you’re in for an import gaming treat.

The rest of us can enjoy the totally sweet cassette illustration by Kamen Rider Black RX monster designer Amemiya Keita and the screamin’ saxophone accompanying smalltime idol unit Poppins on Springtime in the City Means Adventure. 
Citing low sales given the high production costs, Imagineer pulled the plug on the Wave Jack series after just three titles. Their 5000 yen price tag—normally reserved for cartridge games—was highway robbery compared to other Disk System offerings. Thanks to the proliferation of disk writers, you could download new games for 500 yen a pop at the corner store after an initial 2000 yen investment for the blank disk. With A+ titles like Castlevania, Kid Icarus, and Metroid at their fingertips, kids would be insane to spend their lunch money anywhere else. Even idols, normally the sexy deciding factor in the war for young boys’ pocket money, lost their luster in light of bootleg porn games, including Bishojo SF Alien Fight and other NSFW titles

Ironically, Wavejack’s pack-ins were originally devised to fight such unlicensed disks through added value. Rogue agents quickly figured out how to bypass Nintendo’s lax copy protection systems, with the Disk Worker from Hacker International being the workhorse of choice for counterfeiters. The Famicom homebrew scene hit a growth spurt with mooks dedicated to Disk System mods, blurring the line between hobbyist and hacker pirate. 

Despite the ease of piracy and format obsolescence from advances in ROM carts, the Disk System enjoyed a robust life cycle, cranking out titles and providing disk writing services through 1993, three full years after the release of the Super Famicom. The Wavejack series is a fondly remembered footnote in Japan for what it could have been, while hardly known in the west due to the language barrier. Still, there’s enough clues scattered across the internet to start hearty enthusiasts down the right path. After all, a journey isn’t an adventure unless it’s into the unknown. 

Special thanks to Mind Rot for introducing me to Poppins and putting this post into motion.
Images of packaging and pack-ins taken from StrategyWiki.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Screaming Mad George's Paranoiascape

Art by Screaming Mad George
Illustration for Punk magazine.
Even if you're not consciously aware of Screaming Mad George (AKA SMG), he has fingers curled tightly around the throat of your repressed inner child. The Osaka-born visual effects artist is responsible for some of the best in traumatizing B-movie body horror, such as the cockroach transformation sequence from A Nightmare on Elm Street 4 and monsters in The Guvyer live-action, as well as connoisseur-level camp in Jack Frost and The Dentist 2.

He first journeyed to America in the 70's to study at the New York City School of Visual Arts before forming seminal horror punk-performance band, The Mad, whose gore-strewn sets loaded with prosthetic appendages—including self-disemboweling and cannibal babies—helped pave the way for a Hollywood gig on Predator.

Irrational, SMG's post-Mad group from 1983.
George describes his style as “anti-realism,” an outlet to free associate nightmarish dreamscapes onto the screen with a thin veneer of fantasy that insulates against the shock of real world violence. His mantra drowns out the critics who peg gore hounds as psychopaths. To quote, “you can enjoy fake violence even if it's a really, really horrible thing. But I don't like violence when it's real. I don't like anything that is real.”
Paranoiascape gameplay
World 1-1 as you've never seen it before.
And nothing is as unreal as Paranoiascape. A Japan-only Playstation release from 1998, George handled the creature design, concept, and music in reanimating the long-deceased pinball genre as a first-person shooter. Imagine equal parts Devil Crash and Doom stitched together with a screeching metal soundtrack and you're only halfway there—Paranoiascape needs to experienced firsthand to fully plumb the depths of its madness.
Paranoiascape gameplay
The gameplay and environmental hazards are straight out of a Dali painting—if Dali had been a gutter punk from the 80's. Dirty syringes spring up from the floor to jab the skeletal flippers. Flocks of vitreous-sucking Vampfish swoop in to steal your flaming brain pinball. The stage select screen is a pizza of death topped with melted ears and giggling cancer cells. George never fails to put on an entertaining show.
Paranoiascape gameplay
His final act plucks you out of the familiar POV hallways and drops you into an overhead maze infested with cardboard zombies. You command a mannequin grafted onto a wheelchair, a failed alchemy experiment straight out of a Brothers Quay feature, in navigating the crypt to unite the spirits of the king and queen so they can create a new form of life. Behold, the first ever pinball concept album.
Paranoiascape gameplay
 The title plays  more like an extended music video for his at-the-time band, Psychosis, than an actual video game. Regardless of how precisely you time the flippers, they only launch the ball in one direction—the one you don't want. It's best to simply set it to infinite credits, sit back, and enjoy the twisted ride.
Paranoiascape gameplay
With the gameplay removed, you're left with a guided tour of George's impressive career that terminates with a FMV of his creature workshop. The breathing walls come from his time with H.R. Giger on the set of Poltergeist II. The ass-faced walkers in high heels are a send-up of the infamous “butthead” scene from Brian Yuzna's Society. After a certain point you start to see the method behind George's madness. Don't take my word for it—I implore you to spend an evening mucking through SMG's mind. You too will realize that what goes down on the inside is far more sane than what is perpetrated on the outside.

BONUS STAGE:
The Mad Eyeball 7", I Hate Music
The Mad 7"s available for download:
Eyeball
Fried Egg

Monster Maker's Contest 1986
A grotesque parade of the best in creature effects, curated by Screaming Mad George.

Longplay of Paranoiascape on Niko Niko Douga.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Atlus' Catherine: Long Inverview with Creator Hashino Katsura


Catherine, Atlus’ hotly anticipated quasi-spin-off to the Persona series, has finally hit Western shores with all its naughty bits intact despite the initial hullabaloo over potential censorship. Reviews have been glowing—Finally, a “mature” game that lives up to the moniker without defaulting to insular prepubescent fantasies of sex and violence.

Producer/Director Hashino Katsura steps up to the mic on behalf of all men making plans for their impending midlife crises and explains how dangerously stable girlfriends, a night out with the guys, and Nintendo Hard design sensibilities found themselves joined in holy matrimony to create one of the most unique next-gen gaming experiences ever.

(Interview originally featured in the April 2011 issue of Dengeki Gamers Monthly.)


Games for adults ‘gotta cut to the chase.

-Generally speaking, Japanese games use young protagonists while foreign games feature adults. Any insight?

Hashino (H):The Japanese view adulthood as some sort of bogus trick, all smoke and mirrors. I guess being an adult is pretty bogus when you get down to it (laughs). But on the flip side, this makes us idolize our youthful "glory days."

At the risk of going off topic, those of us in the Famicom Generation grew up with video games there to provide us dreams, and many of us still pick up the controller seeking entertainment. I think this group of 30-40 year olds came out on top in life. I mean, we’ve got all these awesome games waiting for us as we grow old (laughs). Of course, things will be more virtual by that time, and communication tools will be leaps and bounds beyond today’s standards. So while most current games feature youth protagonists, as the Famicom Generation starts aging into its 40’s and 50’s, I think we’ll see more games catering to them over the next 10 years.


-When creating entertainment for adults there’s always the issue of self-censorship of expression.

(H): We wanted to base Catherine around the disconnect between the title’s worldview/characters and erotic elements, with this disconnect as the selling point. This brings up all manner of self-censorship issues, but in the case of Catherine, the characters are old enough that this isn’t a problem, and we’re able to use eroticism as a means of expression. The visuals themselves aren’t erotic… Well OK, maybe they are a bit erotic (laughs).

It’s tough to make the call between erotic and pornographic,but you're not supposed to go into the game looking for that. If anything, I want the player to get pumped up thinking about the unique experience waiting for them in the puzzle segments. It’s better to let your imagination run wild about the other stuff. I mean, we're all adults here.

The common ground adults all share: Love and marriage.

-How did love become one of Catherine’s dominant themes?

(H): The initial scenario called for soldiers on the battlefront sharing a communal nightmare between skirmishes. But then I thought, soldiers? Really? How many people have combat experience?

On the flip side, everyone can relate to the framework provided by a high school setting. It offers these “that’s totally me!” moments. But with 30 to 40 year olds, everyone has different jobs and lifestyles. There’s no catch-all framework. The only common experience that rings true is dealing with relationships.

For adults, romance and marriage creep into all aspects of our life, some more than others. It’s a reoccurring theme of TV shows, but there’s never been a game that tackled it head-on. I knew I was on to something.

-Talking about games and romance calls to mind dating simulations and their ilk. How is Catherine different?

(H): Dating simulations are all about wooing the girl of your choice. Catherine cuts out the smooth talking. You and the heroine are dating from the start. If anything, this time she’s putting the squeeze on you. (laughs) We’re telling the story of what happens after you jump through the hoops and win the girl.

-I’m curious as to how women feel about the game.

(H): We factored that into the equation as well. When we had our female staff sit down with it, the littlest things Vincent did would set them off. “I hate the way he’s always talking down to me!” and so on. After their critique, I’d ask them if they could forgive Vincent for having an affair, to which they responded, “A one night stand means he’s out the door!” (laughs)

We massaged Vincent to be more amiable over the course of development, but apparently not amiable enough to get away with sleeping around.

-Did the female staff help come up with the selectable e-mail responses you send to your girlfriend and mistress?

(H): To some degree, yes. But at their heart, the e-mails are structured like a guy’s mind. (laughs) Even so, our female staff had a blast playing these segments. Telling you girlfriend “I’m at work” when you’re really drinking at the bar with your mistress opened up a portal to another world. It gave them a rush.

-Naturally males and females have different reactions to the game, but what about the married man and the single guy? I can imagine much of it hitting home, and perhaps even below the belt for the former. How would the latter take it?

(H): While every one’s take on the game is different, there’s always a certain element that draws them in. No one’s immune to love sickness, so even though the content may be questionable (laughs), the barrier to entry is low.

-Judging from reviews and feedback online, a segment of gamers feel repelled by titles with romantic elements. They want their games to be straight fantasy, almost as if they’re afraid that otherwise it’ll come back and bite them in the real world.

(H): That’s precisely why the protagonist doesn’t follow the Persona model—He’s Vincent. Not you. Making the player a spectator helps lessen the blow. And although you mentioned that some fans don’t want their games to be serious business, I don’t think that’s the case. Catherine's story isn’t totally grounded in reality. It’s more of a dreamlike vignette that ties up neatly at the end. Even without the romantic element, the game still stands on its own merits.

-Your decisions over the course of the game dictate your ending. I can see how the player’s bias towards love and the opposite sex could shape their destiny.

(H): That’s one of the interesting things we tried to do with Catherine. Be you married or single, people flock towards romance aptitude tests. (laughs) You hear people joke, “Hey baby, what’s your sign?” A better question would be, “What’s your ending?” At the very least it’s great bar talk.

Jerks get all the chicks

-Let’s talk about the characters. Vincent isn’t your standard hero by any stretch of the imagination. Why make a dopey dude the protagonist?

(H): We were aiming for a “sexy loser” kind of vibe. The sort of guy whose wishy-washy and can’t commit, but eventually does deal with his problems, albeit in his own roundabout away. It’s easier for the players to project themselves.

One thing I was adamant about: He needed to be a snappy dresser. If he looked like a shlub I figured no one would buy the game. (laughs)


-That sounds just like Vincent Gallo’s character from Buffalo ’66.

(H): Gallo was the model for our Vincent. He’s the perfect example of a guy whose actions back up his cool posturing.

-Who was the girlfriend Katherine based on?

(H): Stop me if you've heard this before: A guy's been dating his girlfriend for so long that he can’t remember how or why they started, but she’s beautiful, and everyone’s jealous of him for snatching her up. She’s a straight shooter with a respectable job. Other people say “Dude, she’s hot, what’s stopping you from marrying her?” But once they hear about what goes on behind closed doors, they clap you on the back and sigh “Man, that’s rough.” Katherine is a reflection of this.

-How about your mistress Catherine?

(H): There’s no tiptoeing around it—Young girls are attractive. Not only is Catherine sexy, she knows exactly what to say to us “young old men” in their 30’s-40’s, making her an ideal catch. She’s a day dream come true. Imagine what it would be like for this sweet young thing to make a pass at you. Just to give you a peek into my creative process (laughs).


-Vincent’s friends are quirky and unique. Did you pattern them after adult male archetypes?

(H): There was a resurgence of weddings right when we started work on Catherine. Prior to that, the dominant philosophy was “Men don’t want to marry.” Then all of a sudden it shifted to “Everyone get married!” This clashed with the theme of the game so I hoped it would all quickly blow over. (laughs)

Reading books and magazines during this period, I found examples of men who either couldn’t take the plunge or be bothered to marry. These guys form Vincent’s entourage. The four of them spend their time shooting shit at the bar. I couldn’t help but think to myself during production, “If these were the protagonists from Persona 4 they’d have something more upbeat to say.” (laughs)

-You mentioned that Vincent and his crew get together at the bar Stray Sheep. Where did the idea to base the game around a watering hole come from?

(H): Going back to the romance angle: What place do all adults have in common? More ambitious people might be active after work, or go experience nature on the weekend, but most end up simply going out for drinks. I decided on your run-of-the-mill corner bar, the kind of place you drop by because going back home is such a drag.

-Now that you mention it, although the setting is outside of Japan, it feels somehow familiar.

(H): Whatever impetus there was to make the cast non-Japanese was so trifling that even I can’t remember why. I must have had Vincent Galo on the brain. That reminds me—When I first decided to make the protagonist a cool adult, I faltered between either Vincent Galo or Paul Newman. But Paul Newman’s pretty far up their in years, so I gave that part to Boss, the barkeep.

His friends are named after Hollywood heart throbs—Jonathan is Johnny Depp, Orlando is Orlando Bloom, and Tobias is Toby Maguire. (laughs)

The “Nintendo Hard” of next-gen gaming


-When Vincent falls into a nightmare, the game transforms into an action/puzzler. How did you hit upon this unique mix?

(H): The Persona Team messes around with their own pet projects once the latest game is in the can. A climbing box puzzler was one of them. Originally created five years ago, it was shelved because machine specs at the time couldn’t support it in true 3D and it was too simplistic without a story to back it up.

When production on Catherine began, I got the idea to create a world based upon the logic of this mini-game. Struggling hand over fist in your climb upwards—It gelled with the story.

-Why did you include adventure elements, rather than leave it a simple action/puzzler?

(H): I thought that by capitalizing on our storytelling skills in a genre outside of RPGs we could broaden our range as game makers, which is part of the reason we took a crack at an action title.

-Catherine is different than anything you’ve done before. Did you have trouble balancing the difficulty?

(H): People that get it, get it, and people that don’t never well—We don't run into this situation when crafting RPGs, which made things crazy hard.

During the first incarnation, block placement was random, meaning no prescribed solution. The player would have to stumble their way through with what they had and gradually make their way upward without fully realizing how they did it. And while this trial-and-error style game play was satisfying in its own right, we found out that it just didn’t click with some people, hence the decision to create stages with defined solutions.

By the way, the Japanese trial version uses randomly placed blocks, so it’s closer to the true spirit of the game. It was so wicked that the only way to see the ending is to look it up on Youtube. (laughs)

Let me put it this way—We had 20 debuggers testing the final stage, and only one of them cleared it. And only two of our highly trained developers were able to clear it, myself not included!

-At first it seems impossible, but each session brings you closer to that breakthrough. The sense of satisfaction from getting better the more you play reminds me of games from the Famicom era. I think that’s another turn-on for adult gamers.

(H): During the first play, you’ll get flummoxed wondering why you can’t figure it out. Then as you progress, the in-game hints show you new ways to approach the puzzles, only to let you hit another plateau later on. And another after that. And another after that… That trial-and-error process is a lot of fun. It’s like gnawing on a bone to get to the marrow.

The puzzles aren’t all about reflexes and skill. You need strategy, serendipitous luck, and instincts. There’s no single solution to a stage, and finding your own way is half the fun!

With thanks to Dengeki Games Monthly for running the original Japanese interview.

Monday, April 12, 2010

Yokoi Gunpei's House of Gaming: The Maverick (Part 3/3)

Yokoi's untimely death coincided with release of the ill-fated Virtual Boy and his departure from Nintendo, casting a tragic shadow over the last chapter of his life. Yokoi Gunpei's House of Gaming (横井軍平ゲーム館) illuminates this dark episode, alluding to ways in which Yokoi continues to be even more relevant now than in life.

Sometime during Nintendo’s transition from the pixel-perfect Super Nintendo to the anti-aliasing-unfriendly N64, Yokoi lost interest in creating current-gen games. In his eyes, all the good ideas had run their course, and future reiterations could only rehash what had come before. There is the common misconception that the commercial failure of the Virtual Boy forced Yokoi to leave Nintendo. Nothing could be further from the truth. Yokoi, over 50 at the time, had long since planned to retire and establish Koto Laboratory to focus on design he believed in. The Virtual Boy’s mission was twofold: Firstly, offer a parting gift to the company who graciously took him in like the stray he was all those years ago. Secondly, give a wake-up call to an industry driven mad by processor speeds and flashy graphics.

Despite being lauded for its 3-D capabilities, the Virtual Boy was never intended as a next-gen system. Rather, it tried to take gaming back to its arcade roots while crafting a new experience with enhanced visual depth. Once again, Yokoi stripped technology down to the bare essentials to make gaming more accessible for the masses. The result, of course, was disastrous. Though well meaning, all the lateral thinking in the world couldn’t save the system from itself.

The Virtual Boy’s failure was a blow to his ego, and couldn’t have come at a worse time. If he went ahead with his retirement as planned, the public would take it at face value as admission of defeat. If he stayed at Nintendo to scrub out the blemish on his track record, he would be developing for systems he didn’t believe in.  

Yokoi opted for a concession. His last job for Nintendo would be producing the Game Boy Pocket, a New Game+ that would take him back to his origins with his integrity intact. The circle was now complete.

The success of the Game Boy Pocket kept the door from hitting his ass on the way out, but more importantly, it validated Yokoi’s design philosophy. The Game Boy’s core technology, on its last legs when first released in 1989, managed to stand up against proportionately behemoth systems over half a decade later. Push the hands of time further forward, and titles from that intermediate dark period between sprites and polygons are nearly unplayable in retrospect. Yokoi didn’t need the Virtual Boy to wage his guerrilla war against the N64 and PlayStation. The Game Boy was the only  armament he would ever need to dominate on all fronts.

There's something familiar about this clamshell case.
Media publications allude to the fact that Yokoi left Nintendo out of shame, his legacy cast to the wayside. In some ways the company is still living in the shadow of its once golden child. Yokoi, being the OG that he is, continues to put out greatest hits posthumously. The Game & Watch Donkey Kong's dual screens projected the future of the company’s handhelds from way back in 1982. Similarly, Donkey Konga is a not-so subtle homage to the Ele-Conga electric bongo. Most recently, the buzz surrounding the upcoming 3DS makes you wonder if the only sin committed by the black-and-red sheep of the family, the Virtual Boy, was of being born too soon.

I'm not chiding Nintendo for cribbing Yokoi’s ideas. That’s exactly how the man would have wanted it. He was neither a technical wiz nor a business mogul. He was a product developer, and only smart enough to know that he needed to farm out the heavy mental lifting to actualize his inventions. Patents were a boring nuisance that he happily relinquished to anyone up to the mind-numbing paperwork. Yokoi understood the inherent limits of a sonority-ruled system that smothered the creative spark of young inventors. He would rather give them the kudos for his work and help them up the totem pole to a position where their voices could be heard. Raising the next generation of designers up on his shoulders was a far greater reward than empty accolades.

Yokoi has contributed more to video games than we will ever know. They may not exist in the west in their current capacity if not for him. The market crash of 1983 made parents and investors leery of anything branded as a “video game.” The American public had been burnt one time too many by shoddy ports and fly-by-night operations. Nintendo of America circumvented this fallout by presenting itself not as a gaming system, but as an entertainment system. Backed by Yokoi’s peripherals, such as the zapper and R.O.B, the NES promised to be the next step in interactive entertainment, far removed from the shady game systems of yesterday.

A million-seller used to signify a bonafide classic. Now it’s the low water profit mark for a studio to stay afloat. Developers are feeling the squeeze of exorbitant production coasts, inflated to make the best out of bloated system specs. Consumers seem listless as well. The Wii and the DS domination over the X-Box 360 and PSP, not to mention a glut of retro remakes and downloads, suggest that consumers want something simpler from their virtual realities. The pendulum swings back and forth between elegance and opulence. It’s only a matter of time before its lateral trajectory takes it back to Yokoi’s simplified sensibilities.

BONUS STAGE: Speculation Surrounding His Death

Yokoi was killed in a car crash on October 4th, 1997. He was being driven through Komatsu City in the Ishikawa prefecture by Etsuo Kiso, a Nintendo businessman, when they came across a minor fender bender in the road. The pair stepped out to investigate when a third vehicle slammed into theirs, crushing Yokoi between the cars.

The mysterious circumstances surrounding his death have led many to wonder if Nintendo didn't take out a hit on their ex-employee. Unlikely, yes, but don't be so quick to discount Nintendo's mob connections.

Nintendo, based in Kyoto, got their start producing hana-fuda playing cards, a facet of Yakuza gambling houses. Urban legend has it that this tied them in with Kyoto's most powerful Yakuza family, the Aizu-Kotetsu Kai, going so far as to suggest that many of their factory workers were in fact gangsters! Likewise, it's whispered in the bowels of 2-chan that Nintendo flexed this muscle to rub out Yokoi for both the failure of the Virtual Boy and his betrayal with the Wonder Swan.

Consider the step-up:

The Ishikawa prefecture is a mere six hour drive from Kyoto, putting it well within reach of the Aizu-Kotetsu Kai. Why was Yokoi on a road trip with his past employer, in a backwater town like Komatsu of all places? And what of the third mysterious car that slammed into him with all-too-perfect timing? There is a suspicious lack of concrete information regarding the accident. Of course, claims made by the whistle-blowers are equally insubstantial. The truth has long since been buried together with the man's potential for innovation.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Yokoi Gunpei's House of Gaming: The Regulator (Part 2/3)

From software mechanics to hardware processes, we take for granted the many precepts that rule gaming,. Yokoi Gunpei's House of Gaming (横井軍平ゲーム館) expounds upon his role in institutionalizing many of the features we instinctively know today.

(Source)

Consider the controller, that cold hunk of plastic we hold in our hands that provides a visceral link to virtual worlds. Why is it designed the way it is? Who decided to put the directional input on the left, with face buttons on the right, and that it should be operated with our thumbs? Out of all possible configurations, how did we end up where we are? To understand its evolution, we need to first observe it in its primordial state.

Flash back to 1978 and the release of Space Invaders. Taito’s runaway hit becomes an international phenomenon that inadvertently sets a number of industry standards. The cabinets were built with the joystick on the left side and the fire button on the right. Logically, you’d expect to control the fickle directional input with your dominant, right hand, but it was not to be. Perhaps the designers felt that the firing button demanded more finesse than scooting back and forth. Or that conventional controls would cut into profits by flattening the learning curve. In any case, the setup stuck, and going against their better judgment, future developers felt obliged to give consumers what they were accustomed to.

The industry’s next killer app was the Game & Watch. Released in 1980, it attempted to transplant the arcade experience, control scheme and all, into to a slim, portable body. Yokoi and his team tried every trick in the book to squeeze the jutting joystick into a finite space, even entertaining the idea of a breast-shaped flick-stick, which unfortunately proved too round and firm to fit into the casing. Plus the teats lacked finger feedback—it was difficult to tell where your thumb was in relation to the center.

Through trial and error, Yokoi’s team at R & D1 created a laundry list of everything a controller should be, based on what it wasn’t. Their resulting D-Pad solved every problem they had created for themselves. Press down on one side and the opposite rises, giving you immediate physical feedback and sense of direction. The workaround was sublime, its design transparent.



Here’s another point that seems obvious in hindsight—why do we operate the controller with our thumbs? What stopped the buttons from turning into a mini-keyboard, or, even worse, a calculator, the very device that inspired the Game & Watch? Like Japan’s burgeoning economic growth of the 80’s, the Game & Watch’s design was built upon the back of the salary man.

The term "salary man" has taken on an odious connotation, calling up caricatures of mealy-mouthed oyaji with as much self-respect and self-control as an incontinent uncle. But this wasn’t always the case! During the bubble, these oafish suits upheld the social contract they were bound to, one whose Samurai pride kept them from doing frivolous things in public, such as playing video games. In secret they all pined for a way to kill time on the commute without losing face.

Yokoi’s design gave top priority to these needs. The rectangular body fit neatly into the user’s hands, fingers cupped to keep the unit safe from view. This clandestine arrangement left the thumbs of the user open to maneuver little men around the screen, free of embarrassment.

Every subsequent controller has evolved from the Game & Watch model, which in turn is a byproduct of a culture of shame. What we take for granted as brilliant, simplistic design, wasn’t designed at all. Rather, it was born from the need to create a socially acceptable means to expand gaming to a previously untapped market. That last comment should have your shovelware-sense tingling. Nintendo has always been focused on appealing to the non-gamer. Yokoi would likely be loath to the concept of a "gamer," as it turns a harmless diversion into a demanding hobby. In fact, it was the bloated technological needs of the gamer that eventually ran Yokoi out of Nintendo towards the end of his career.

On to part 3!

Monday, April 5, 2010

Yokoi Gunpei's House of Gaming: The Toymaker (Part 1/3)

I have been fortunate to gain access to Yokoi Gunpei's House of Gaming (横井軍平ゲーム館). The book details the creative history of the mastermind behind Nintendo, Gunpei Yokoi. Upon reading it, I was struck by the man's charm and the intangible effect he has had on the gaming industry as whole. A tragic traffic accident in 1997 cut his life and career short at the age of 56, but there is still much that we can stand to learn from him, both as producers and consumers.
(Source)
Gunpei Yokoi was Nintendo’s most prolific designer, having developed classic applications such as Game & Watch, Donkey Kong, and the Game Boy. Many are familiar with his mantra of "lateral thinking of withered technology," which entails discovering new uses for outdated, cheap technology. However, this is only half of the story. This series shows his design philosophy grow organically alongside technological constraints and an inborn impishness. Imagine if Uncle Fester was a toy maker, and you won’t be far from Yokoi’s true nature.

Ultra Hand (1966)



BOING! This is the Ultra Hand! It extends and contracts and... BOING! It can grapple many things!

Cobbled together out of boredom during his frequent down time between menial machine testing tasks, the Ultra Hand was Yokoi's first commercial success and a taste of things to come. Something about the extending and contracting motion grabbed people by the heart and wouldn't let go. His future creations would likewise pull the inner child out of unsuspecting passers-by. Boing!



Ultra Machine (1968)



The Ultra Machine brought baseball from the backyard into the living room—literally. Inspired by a youth spent hitting things with sticks, his indoor pitching machine gave mothers across the country a free pass to spank their children. Its no-setup design complete with pre-packaged retractable bat helped it sell over 7 million units and established his position as breakout idea man.

Love Tester (1969)




The device operates under the same principle as a polygraph test. Two people each hold onto one of the metallic sensors and it measures the flow of electricity through your bodies. On the surface, a totally innocuous toy. The crux of the design hangs on the fact that you need to physically complete the circuit for the glorified galvanometer to work.

Yokoi, in his infinite wisdom, created the Love Tester as a vehicle to carry out every young man’s mission—an excuse to hold a cute girl’s hand! The instruction manual goes so far as to suggest the couple try kissing to pump up the meter. Before you cry foul, consider this—the added excitement will cause your hands to sweat, increasing conductivity and topping off the scale. Practicality blends seamlessly with necessity.

NB Block Crater (1970)

(Source)
Any moron can make a Lego rip-off. It takes a genius to make one that self-destructs. The craters were more like land mines—drive your car over it, and watch it pop like Perfection. Yokoi sanitized the sadistic glee of knocking one’s completed model off the table to watch it smash and scatter on the linoleum.

Lefty RX (1972)
Yokoi pursued practicality in all things. Practical price, practical production, practical usage. The twist is the impractical ways he went about achieving his goal. Remote controlled cars were prohibitively expensive when they first hit the scene. Yokoi lowered the barrier of entry to an elementary level by stripping their mechanical guts down to the barest essentials: One control channel, meaning the car can only turn one direction—left. Kids were smart enough to realize that one direction is all you need on a circular racetrack, making his economic alternative an instant hit.

Wild Gunman (1974)

Don't be intimidated by Yokoi's impressive bandoleer of light guns—aside from the NES Zapper, its mostly festooned with creative oddities such as Wild Gunman. An arcade simulation of a Wild West shootout, this cabinet was revolutionary for its duel movie projectors that displayed film of real actors and switched reels depending on success or failure. Draw from the hip in time and put the cattle rustlers out to pasture. Loose your nerve and the town will need a new sheriff.

The 1973 oil crisis kept Wild Gunmen from reaching its full market potential, and despite its popularity, only around one hundred cabinets were produced. Rarer still is its secret love child, Fanaticism, a strip shooting game commissioned by male-dominated press clubs. Much like Wild Gunmen, it uses footage of live actors, except this time your bullets are blasting the clothes off of a blonde Swedish model. All this a decade before Bubble Bath Babes!

Ten Billion Barrel (1980)



Yokoi designed this spinning puzzle as a roundabout answer to the Rubik Cube. Ironically, he didn’t know the solution himself, reasoning that “if the balls begin lined up correctly, you should be able to put them back to where they started!”

In Germany, the toy was called The Demon’s Stone. The puzzle was so wickedly devious it must have been placed on earth by God himself as a test for man. Subsequently, Yokoi was credited not as the designer, but the discoverer, of the devilish device.

If his thought process is so free and easy in designing toys, you can only imagine what puckish impulses would surface dealing with something even more frivolous—video games! Next time we’ll explore how Yokoi helped stitch together a Frankenstein’s monster of an industry that would bring equal parts disappointment and fulfillment, grief and joy.

On to part 2!

Monday, November 16, 2009

Drifting Classroom 8-bit BGM























Beep City has the BGM to The Drifting Classroom, the greatest game that never existed, free for download on their site! The composer, Moldilox, did an outstanding job conveying the atmosphere of the comic with the use of layered drones, drums that sound like the pitter-patter of little kids' feet as they run for their lives and what has to be an 8-bit theremin. Download it here!

Everything else on their site is worth checking out as well, my favorites being Inseguitore Della Via(Street Stalker) and Mastars of the Universe.

Thanks to Scott Green for the heads up on this.