Friday, December 19, 2008

Game Review: Prince of Persia (360)


Hey all-

I had a tough time with this game at first... a third-person platformer/ adventure game comes with its own genre standards for controls, while the makers of Prince of Persia seemed to take a step back and rethink. In a genre that typically combines precision aiming, 3D awareness, button choices, and timing for navigation, as well as an equally intense set of combat and exploration equipment controls, PoP decided to throw out a few elements; Reflecting on it after completing the experience, I think I can understand why... they've boldly tried to redefine the "game hero" experience, opening its accessibility to a broader audience and moving 3rd person gameplay forward into the next generation.

First, let's get some criticism out of the way... if my opinion of the game was formed on my first 30 minutes, I would have never played it again. By changing the "formula" of 3rd-person navigation controls to focus more on timing of streamlined choices, I was thrown off. Frustrated. But more on this below. As for combat, although its cinematic moments were often amazing, I never could get used to the eventual monotony and passive style of combat... I wanted to attack, not wait for a predetermined pattern. As for story, for the first half of the game I didn't really buy the chemistry between the Prince and his cooperative "damsel in distress" partner, Elika. And most importantly, I never felt like I knew the final boss well enough to be scared of him, leaving the final encounter to be kinda empty.

All that being said, don't let the bad stuff cloud the great lessons the game has to offer. The first thing to consider is our innate mental image of a "hero". A hero, if flawed at all, is flawed in his choices. Moments that reveal his human soul. But generally speaking, he's a hero in the first place because of immaculate physical accomplishments... in this case, our hero is an agile, acrobatic, and deadly explorer. Someone we're supposed to believe in. But in the case of most video games, when we (as designers) throw too many variables and demand too much out of the average player, our main character has a corresponding awkwardness. If we were watching that character in real life it would be agonizing... running into walls, forgetting how to duck at the wrong time, missing an easy jump 5 times in a row, swinging in the opposite direction of a stationary enemy at point blank range... embarrassing! There's a conflict between the ideal image of a hero in our minds, and the fumbling hero we control in front of our eyes.

And that's where PoP shines... by dramatically reducing some of the "precision" elements of aiming, timing, and choice, then leaving generous windows of opportunity and the forgiveness of "saving" the character when failing a jump, it allows the player to effortlessly do the things a hero should do: gracefully flow from one death-defying acrobatic challenge to the next. Hardcore gamers might dismiss the erasure of pixel-perfect precision, but I think that challenge can easily be shifted to other design elements to compensate. Instead, we get to slip easier into the fantasy of our superhero alter-ego, and take for granted the skills that made him a superhero in the first place.

But the most revealing moment for me was not within the game itself, but after finishing, when I popped in a couple older 3D platforming games that used to be my favorites. They now feel completely unplayable. This is how you know a new bar has been set... when you can't imagine going back. Congratulations and thanks to the PoP team for getting closer to the essence of a hero... I hope more developers will follow in your footsteps, and hope Ubi will continue to polish the new Prince of Persia experience.

Saturday, December 13, 2008

Laughter is the Best Medicine...


... except after oral surgery. :) 

Oh, the  joys of painful dental work. I have nothing against dentists, but recovering from oral surgery has its challenges. The first week's experience was liquid diet, a puffy chipmunk cheek, trippy painkillers, 14 hours of sleep a day, strange Daffy-Duck-meets-Elmer-Fudd noises when I tried to talk, and the inability to laugh without quickly resorting to crying about 10 seconds later (it hurts). 

To make the situation even more awkward, my girlfriend and I were coincidentally diagnosed with the same issue and procedure... and more for practicality than any kind of quirky romantic reasons, we decided to have the same surgeries a week apart from each other. Complications aside, this should allow us to be able to chew turkey together, just in time for the holidays. 

Outside of the physical discomfort, the hardest part for me personally has been having to attend a job interview while recovering. Having to apologize to a group of strangers for any unintentional grimaces, lisps, or drooling was a humbling experience. 

On my girlfriend's side, however, the hardest part has been my unintended habit of making her laugh. I consider it one of my life's missions to make her happy, and since recovering the ability to speak, I find myself exercising the right joke regularly. It always happens before I realize I've done it, just saying a little something to make her smile... I look up when I hear her muffled chuckle, and am reminded of the surgery at the sight of her puffy, scrunched up, I'm-laughing-and-crying-I-love-you-I-hate-you face, usually followed by a series of light slaps to make me stop. I didn't mean it! 

I'm sure glad she loves me.