I've been working my way through the big gay game, Enchanted Arms, which has turned out to be not quite as gay as I had been led to believe -- world's nelliest videogame character Makoto (well, after Tingle) "disappears" fairly quickly, and is quickly replaced by the standard array of Japanese RPG stock characters. At 32 percent complete, the game's rapidly becoming a chore that I feel I have to finish rather than a story I feel I want to hear.
One of the reasons I love videogames is the story aspect -- well, at least the good ones. Even dinosaurs such as Super Mario World told simple stories -- odd versions of old fairy tales, but stories nonetheless. But I really got my gaming on with the Playstation One, with Resident Evil and Final Fantasy VII. Those were some games that told stories in a new medium in some new and interesting ways, and some have improved over time. I'm not in the majority, but I thought Final Fantasy X was pretty much the culmination of that particular story-telling method -- I'm looking forward to seeing if the next iteration takes things in a different and unexpected direction.
One can hope.
The problem I'm having with Enchanted Arms, and other games, is that all the vaunted new media aspects of the game as story telling device or artistic experience is being lost under a deluge of hackneyed and trite conventions. I had to give up on Xenosaga 2 -- who the hell wants to spend hours staring at a videogame that tells its story almost exclusively through non-interactive, glacially-paced cut scenes? It's the first time a game's nearly bored me to tears. Then along comes Enchanted Arms, with its promise of next generation, high-definition Xbox 360 goodness. And what do I get? Two nearly static characters standing on opposite sides of the screen exchanging stilted dialogue. If I wanted to play at two-generation old RPG like, say, Persona, well, I'd frickin' go play Persona. But instead I paid hundreds of dollars for a high-powered console and $59 for a story presentation that's less dynamic than a Punch and Judy show?
Plus, did the world need another story about a cutely androgynous guy who has no memory of being a humanoid weapon with the hidden power to destroy the world?
It's not all bad on the videogame story front -- I thought Oblivion was addictively interesting, although the story took a backseat to the telling. Halo has maintained a strong enough story to make me finish both games, a rare thing for me and a first-person shooter (I'm old and my fine motor skills aren't fine enough to compete with the pre-teens who cheat-code their way across Xbox Live). But as my time for games becomes more limited -- things like work, reading and relationship have to take some priority -- I'm losing my patience for this second grade level story telling approach. Some developers need to start paying as much attention to their writing as they do to their polygon count.
Yes, this is an old lament. But if game companies can recycle tired old hash, why can't I?
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