crimson_tide wrote: ↑Sat Jan 09, 2021 9:41 am
I appreciate the sports representation, izzy! I am not a sports gamer generally (I mean Tecmo Bowl is Tecmo Bowl and all) so I have no clue what's happening in the field. I do remember loving a Genesis NHL game. Might have been 94...and also, I somehow don't own Rocket League. I think whatever month it was free, I didn't claim my PS Plus games because I was gallivanting with my new girlfriend at the time (now wife) and was so smitten with her I just didn't bother. Oh well, I think it's always on sale cheap
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Thanks crim! And love >>> games, so it's all good.
Actually I just remembered after I got back, but I just spent a month in Brooklyn (Cobble Hill), and I thought after the fact that I should have let you know and looked you up. (I think you're in Brooklyn, right?) I'd have loved to meet the real crim - if you weren't terrified of the virus.
Anyway, here's the last couple of replays from my 2020. Just a reminder for those who bother to read my reviews, I don't consider replays for my year-end rankings. I realize SOTC may be a remake/remaster/whatever, but it's a faithful enough version to the original that I consider myself to have already played it. So, no matter how much I love a game I have replayed, it isn't eligible for my rankings.
On with the list:
The Last of US (PS4) (replay)
I think that The Last of Us, along with all the other (relatively) recent post-apocalyptic content on offer within books, movies and other games, shines a mirror upon an unconscious understanding that the state of the world and global society as we currently know it is probably the exception rather than the norm for humanity. We know deep down that the relatively peaceful facade of our globally connected society and small world we live in is always teetering precariously on the cusp of collapse due to myriad potential reasons, and we see this unconscious awareness bubbling up in the form of our art. In the case of The Last of Us, it is a fungal pandemic that rolls in from the sea and washes away our castles of sand.
We see this scenario play out through the eyes of two primary characters in Joel, a hardened survivalist who lost his daughter at the outset of the apocalypse and witnessed the world change in the blink of an eye, and Ellie who grew up in this chaotic struggle for survival and knows nothing else, aside from some whispers coming through some relics of the past. And as good as the gameplay can be at times - which I'll touch on later - this game is primarily driven by the narrative surrounding the relationship between these two characters, and what a dynamic and profound connection it turns out to be because of what each of these characters represents on the larger stage of human drama.
Without going into great detail, Joel was destroyed by the loss of his own daughter at the outset of societal collapse. It ruined him completely and calcified his heart, forming a buffer against any emotional connection, something we witness throughout. He's, ironically, not that dissimilar to the fungal zombies that roam the world, only functioning on a superficial level. He survives on a biological level, but he died inside long ago. And to be fair, it's an understandable response to a world in which life is incredibly fleeting, even more so than in the pre-collapse world from which he came. Embracing anyone from the depths of your heart has its consequences, and especially so in the fragile world of The Last of Us. So he becomes a soldier of sorts, marching forwards with instincts perpetuating his biological survival while never really living in any meaningful way. Yet, he wants to genuinely live as evidenced by his stubborn struggle to hold on.
Ellie, on the other hand, has known nothing other than a world where everyday survival is a terrible struggle and fraught with constant peril. But we're all born human, and she hasn't lost her humanity to the bitterness of the world yet. She carries the intrinsic hope and optimism tightly woven into youth, and she's very much alive. And in some ways, she's more alive than most people who came from the better circumstances of the past. In the absence of any real sense of safety, she is naturally tuned into the moment, and capable of an innate vulnerability, born from a magnified uncertainty relative to the previous "normal" world. She lives and dies with every breath, and yet still craves the sense of family and community that is born into us all.
As these players cross paths, the dynamics of these two characters may make for an interesting tale without any further layering. However, Ellie brings something unique to the tale in that she is immune to this fungal infection. This immunity makes her an absolutely essential chess piece in humanity's quest for ongoing survival. She provides a hope for all, and Joel is tasked with bringing her to a location where she can be studied in the hopes of finding a cure. And although no cure is guaranteed, she is most certainly a beacon of light towards that end. This aspect of Ellie gives her added weight as her meaning to both the human race and to Joel personally form the crux of the climactic conflict.
Of course, all who have played this game know that Joel ultimately chose to save Ellie over allowing experimentation on her, as these experiments would have apparently killed her, whether or not a cure was ultimately discovered. Whether Ellie knew this or not is left open to interpretation, so this becomes more of an examination of Joel from my perspective. Joel had come to view Ellie as a surrogate daughter and was his reason for really living. It took time for him to let his guard down and let Ellie in, but once he did there was no way he was going to accept losing another daughter, and he ultimately chose to kill dozens on the way to saving her, not to mention the potential of losing a cure and the impact that would have had on humanity at large. I know there are many interpretations available for this story, but for me, Joel is a clear villain who prioritizes his own needs over that of the larger human family. And while you could say that most of us fit into that mold - living for our self day to day, few of us knowingly place our desires so obviously and blatantly ahead of *all* our other fellow humans. Of course you could argue that Ellie's worth as a cure is an unknown, but it *is* a reasonable hope, and to take that away is gross self-interest in my view, leaving me no other view of Joel than that of an enemy to humanity as he callously prioritizes the needs of the few (the singular even) over the many. How much worth can you assign to your connection to another person? It may be intensely important to you, but is it worth giving the middle finger to all other members of your species? But this dynamic between Joel and Ellie is what gives such impact to the narrative. Not only were they meaningful to one another, but their relationship held the potential for much larger meaning to all of society. Regardless of interpretation, however, I found the story to be quite enjoyable, and certainly of a higher quality than is found in many games.
Narrative examination aside, there are other things to praise in The Last of Us. Of course, coming from Naughty Dog, this game is gorgeous and a real technical achievement on the PS3. I remember hearing stories of the game killing systems for some, and my own machine roared loudly at times as it struggled to tackle the hardware-stretching code. (Even my PS4 was louder than usual playing this remastered version.) The visuals of society's picked carcass are impactful and do a wonderful job placing the player in the shoes of the protagonists and their fight for resources and survival. The remnants of the world gone by are evocative, giving an added melancholy to some already harsh conditions. And the gameplay is also enjoyable, if not always realistic. There is plenty of tension as you seek to evade the desperate remnants of humanity along with the mutants of the new world. Sneaking and stealthy dispatch of foes along with efficient utilization of resources make the experience wonderfully involving, especially on higher difficulties where you find yourself barely scraping by in terms of acquiring armaments and healing resources.
On the down side, the ai often behaves in unbelievable ways, as Ellie and other members of your crew can appear functionally invisible to the same enemies that are highly attuned to player presence. Seeing some of these encounters play out can remove the sense of realism which can draw you out of the experience, if only a bit. It doesn't happen always, but it happens often enough that it is worth mention as a negative. I also found the forced walky-talky sections to be frustrating at times as you felt the loss of a sense of control. Sometimes you can sprint, sometimes jog, sometimes fast walk, sometimes only walk slowly. It wasn't always clear why the restriction was the level chosen, feeling arbitrary at times. I felt as if I were not in charge of the character I was playing as much of the time which brings me to another point. Games like this that are heavily cinematic often make concessions towards that end, and there is a real tradeoff in doing so. In telling such a tight and limiting narrative, you are bound to remove some sense of agency, and that is the cost often paid in games of this nature. We see it many times in The Last of Us, but the one that stands out most to me is the conclusion where you are forced, as Joel, to kill a doctor holding Ellie for research in order to rescue her. I, as the presumed embodiment of Joel, would not have taken lethal action here, and even tried shooting the doctor in the foot which hilariously killed him instantly. But that only stands to reinforce that this is a story where you are more of a witness than an active participant. It's not inherently bad design, to be fair, but if you naturally form any sense of connection to your on-screen avatar, you will be reminded that this connection is false here.
Criticisms aside, I thoroughly enjoyed The Last of Us the first time I played it at launch, and I enjoyed it just as much the second time around. The work on offer here offers an incredible attention to detail visually, is fun to play, and has an involving narrative with some very well-acted characters. I enjoyed it enough that I could envision myself playing a third time at some point in the future, and that is surely a mark of a game you love. One of Naughty Dog's best, and a wonderful game in general. 5/5.
Shadow of the Colossus (PS4) (replay)
After playing ICO on its launch in 2001 on the PS2, no one could be sure what would follow in Fumito Ueda's 2005 sophomore effort as game director, Shadow of the Colossus. Would the director prove to be a one hit wonder ("hit" creatively speaking), or was there some greater substance to be mined from fertile ground of a genuine creator? His first offering was so unlike his contemporaries, and for those who loved it, that was a big part of its appeal, but that unique flavor also kept the title in the shadows of more mainstream gaming. Would the same design restraint, subtle narrative and haunting atmosphere return in this follow-up, or would he abandon his artistic principles in the face of ICO's commercial failure, either by force from those funding him or through disappointment at not finding an audience initially? Would this be a sequel or a prequel, or an altogether new creation? For fans of ICO, there was a lot of uncertainty leading up to this game's release, both in terms content and creator. So did Shadow cast its own and present gaming with a legitimate new colossus, or was it destined to live under the one cast by its predecessor?
Any doubts about the type of experience Shadow of the Colossus would offer were answered almost immediately. The soft and mysterious lighting, otherworldly atmosphere and minimalist approach were evident very early on, and that came as a sigh of relief back in 2005 for someone who really loved ICO and was concerned that Ueda might have been forced down another path in order to maintain his presence in the industry. After a brief introduction showing a young, horse-riding man (Wander) deliver a young woman (Mono) to an altar in a temple, we are greeted by a booming voice from above (Dormin) that promises resurrection for the (presumed) loved one if certain tasks are completed. In order to see life breathed into Mono again, a variety of Colossi that roam the land would have to be found and slain. Do that, and Dormin promises Mono's return.
With that simple premise, we are off to explore the land to find these giants and attempt to restore the girl. Upon exiting the temple we encounter Ueda's design elegance immediately. We find ourselves in a vast natural landscape. and per Dormin's instructions in order to locate the next colossus to fell, we simply raise our magical "Ancient Sword" and position it within the light until the rays emanating, or reflecting, from it converge to a fine point. That point is the direction we follow in order to take on our next quest. This natural and cohesive integration of subtle guidance is just one of many thoughtful and elegant examples of Ueda's brilliant design. We are guided with an gentle and subtle hand that is never intrusive or reminds you that your are playing a game.
The world feels incredibly vast in its wide open spaces - much larger in sensation than it is in reality, which I found to be fascinating. And this brings me to another element of Ueda's work that I find particularly impressive. He understands how to allow his creations to breathe. There is room to reflect and soak in the experience since he isn't constantly inundating you with rapid-fire changes and hyper-stimulation. You have a real opportunity to inhabit Wander and link yourself to the world, especially if you take your time and connect with the game's natural rhythms. On the path to the various colossi, there are gorgeous landscapes and little remnants suggesting an ancient world or society. Everything is saturated with a sense of mystery. And as you move through the world, it's easy to imagine and write your own little stories of what might have been. This openness highlights Ueda's understanding of the value of negative space and the value it brings in strengthening what you do want to emphasize. His approach to craft makes me think of him as a brilliant jazz composer or musician that recognizes that the spaces between the notes are just as much the music as the notes themselves, and that approach is particularly lacking in this medium.
Another of Ueda's strengths, in my view, is his delivery of narrative. He is always willing to give a taste of things, but he never relies upon heavy or clumsy exposition to crush the mystery or deaden the experience. We know all we need to know in order to proceed, but we are left to fill in the blanks on our own. And within those vacant spaces, he invokes the imagination of the participant, asking the player to engage more fully with the experience which adds a great deal of power to his stories. As we work out our own interpretation of things, the worlds he creates come to live within our own minds rather than simple 1s and 0s, giving them an impact they otherwise could never achieve. He worms his way deeply into our curiosity as he stubbornly refuses to create certainty regarding the characters and the world they inhabit. But there is always just enough to bite onto. For example, in Shadow, there are very clear suggestions connecting things to ICO as evidenced by an ending that - without spoiling things for any who haven't played - likely places this as a prequel to that game. And part of what I love about Ueda's trilogy as game director is the idea that all three of these games are within the same universe. So many little clues keep me spellbound and regularly reflecting about all the possibilities.
Another aspect of Ueda's work that always keeps me engaged is the exploration of myriad themes. Because they're so ambiguous, many interpretations of his creations are always available, and I always find myself exploring those possibilities while playing. The first potential theme that struck me on this play-through of Shadow was the idea of rejecting nature (refusal to accept Mono's death) bringing about a curse. For me, I certainly think that our rejection of nature is often accompanied by dire consequences, and I really felt that theme coming through. And on the topic of death and letting go, I found quite a bit of grist for the mill within. Wander was willing to sacrifice anything for his goal of reviving Mono as reflected by his response to Dormin's warning that the price he would pay may be heavy. He simply responded, "It doesn't matter", and he certainly overcame great challenges to achieve that end, but as with all lives, sooner or later it all unravels and we must face failure and death. I found myself embodying the sorrow and frustration Wander must have felt as he tried in vain to make his way to the girl at the alter at the conclusion of things. I knew it was impossible to make it there, but I refused to be sucked into the pool for a *long* time because of all I/he had done to bring about her resurrection. Seeing all you have worked for right there on the precipice, and knowing that seeing its fruition is going to unravel for you was powerful and relatable imagery, and I couldn't help but act as I imagined Wander would. I needed to reflect his pain. The theme of death and karma also makes its appearance via Wander as he travels through a tunnel of light after succumbing (dying) to the shadows after slaying each colossus. And finally, after accumulating sufficient negative karma, we see him reborn in a cursed state in the finale. There are so many themes that I always find within Ueda's creations, and this is but a small sampling.
The music was also a brilliant standout that made an appropriate and epic appearance while fighting the colossi, but otherwise staying off-stage. The soundtrack for all three games in this trilogy really add to the totality of the experience and are very befitting of the overall mood. I honestly don't know who the composer was for each piece in any of the series, but the work has always been brilliant.
There are some minor issues worth noting for me. Visually, I thought this remake looked very nice, although I think I prefer the softer edges and lighting of the hardware-constrained original. Sure, it may be due in large part to those technical limitations, but the original release benefited in many ways from those constraints. That's not a criticism of this remake, as it's gorgeous, and in some ways more attractive, surely in terms of detail. The controls have never been the focal point of Ueda's games either, and while functional, I'd never say that I am enjoying myself because of refined mechanical interaction. The camera could also be problematic, especially on the final colossus in spots. In that fight, it's already hard to see because of the lighting and rainy weather, but then when you add in a troublesome camera, and you can find yourself falling to the bottom of this massive creature, having to ascend all the way to the top again, and that can lead to some frustration. And if for some reason you aren't sure how to tackle a colossus on your first run through the game, the epic music can shift from feeling appropriate and epic to comical or mocking as the fight drags on longer than it should.
All things considered, Ueda is one of my favorite creators in the industry. I really appreciate creators that value subtlety and appeal to the imagination of the audience as integral to their creation, and Ueda does this as well as anyone in any medium. Shadow of the Colossus is one of the legends of gaming, and replaying this remake only cemented its mythical status with me. 5/5.
