Tag Archives: games

Oh my Maker, like, Alistair is such a hottie!

TWO-WAY SPOILER ALERT: I will be talking about Dragon Age: Origins without regard for spoilers. (Except that I won’t discuss the origin story, for your replayability’s sake.) That said, I haven’t finished it, so if you could avoid discussing the ending or major plot points, I’d appreciate it.

I might as well just hand over my ATM card to Bioware, because eventually they get all my money anyway. I just have a thing for their brand of RPG, heavy on the story and relationships but not light on action. I especially like the ones, like Jade Empire, where your actions push you in the direction of an alignment, one good, and one bad-but-we-won’t-explicitly-call-it-that.

My preference is always for the latter type of character, so I was a little disappointed that Dragon Age: Origins doesn’t really have such a system. You spend more time working on your relationships with key characters, or ones you just want your character to get it on with, and their approval of you may increase or decrease depending on your words and actions, and whether you bring them something pretty from time to time. It’s like The Sims: Darkspawn.

"So, um...you a big <i>Buffy</i> fan?"

"So, um...you a big Buffy fan?"

So your character’s personal morality can get a little confused given that there aren’t always clear benefits to taking the high, pure ground versus being a lying, thieving snitch. One of your party, Alistair, is a templar — in this case a warrior devoted to hunting down apostate mages for the Chantry (the religious authority). You’d think he might object to your accepting a quest to ditch the bodies of some deals that went south, and you’d really think he’d kick up a fuss when it turns out the well in the Chantry courtyard is the designated dump site. But he takes it entirely in stride, with no relationship penalty.

Since there was no good/bad alignment to work towards, I decided to see if I could play my character as an atheist. This isn’t particularly easy. Early on, I pissed off a priest with some backtalk and that ended any further lines of communication. However, you don’t always have that option. There’s a fairly hilarious scene with an obstreperous older Chanter (like a nun who’s only allowed to talk in Scripture) who appears at first to be mangling the Chant by inserting references to bacon and other things, but it turns out she’s doing it on purpose. With this character, you can have a conversation where you challenge the Chantry. However, when you’re in a conversation with a murderous goon from a different culture, your choices are all in the direction of convincing him that the Chant is a good thing.

"Yeah dude, religion's totally awesome. Now you want out of there or what?"

"Yeah dude, religion's awesome. Now you want out of there or what?"

You’re given a pretty wide range of ways to interact with people, from obsequiously polite to downright bitchy. But if you decide to have your character behave immorally, such as killing allies and going back on promises, or even just get a little snippy with someone, as a player you end up missing out on content, such as with the priest who didn’t like my challenge to her beliefs. This has been mentioned many times about Bioware games, and especially when the game isn’t set up to accommodate a “bad” or “evil” option, you’re more or less forced to be nice to people you’d rather mock or yell at.

But then there are other curious moments where you lose your ability to make those choices at all. There was one quest that for a while I refused to take, where the Chantry asks you to go help out some soldiers in the employ of the game’s villain, who has personally betrayed you and all you stand for. Eventually I got curious enough to take the quest, at which point my character decided on her own to find out where those soldiers were and kill them. Now, that was my plan all along, but I assumed it was going to be done through dialogue trees and persuasion, like many other similar situations. It further muddies the waters on where my character stands, morally.

Now honestly, these are just my musings as I play an entirely entertaining and addictive game. I really don’t have a problem adapting my expectations of evil glory into a more conventional, but bland, white-knight role. Villains always get the best lines, the best accents, and the best musical numbers, but never mind. The annoying thing about this is I find myself crushing on Alistair. Not just any goody-goody templar (okay, I won’t spoil the rest of that), and in any case he hunts down apostates! It’s completely embarrassing. Oh sure, I’ll be cozying up to the assassin to get him to teach me a few things about sticking knives in people, but what my character really wants is to rip off the warrior’s chainmail and make the good boy do very naughty things. And then I need to go play Fable II and assassinate a few townspeople until I feel okay again. Damn you, Bioware, for allying me with the forces of good!

He totally wants me.

He totally wants me.

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Steve Meretzky needs no introduction, and yet…

teenage_zombie_500When I was 10 or 11, my father brought home two games for our IBM PC. One was Microsoft’s Flight Simulator; the other was Infocom’s Zork I. It took him a little while to explain the concept of a text adventure, and I wasn’t convinced. I figured I’d give it a try but was much more excited about the graphical game.

In the ensuing years, I played every game Infocom ever published at least once, almost all of them more than once, and many of them dozens of times. (And like music fans moving from vinyl to 8-track to cassette to CD, I’ve bought and rebought the games many times over.) I subscribed to The New Zork Times before a certain other newspaper got all tetchy and it was renamed The Status Line. I was a full-on Infocommie, a fangirl long before I ever learned the word. And incidentally, I played Flight Simulator once and then never again.

My entire gaming career has been an attempt to recreate the imaginative magic that interactive fiction engendered. From Myst to World of Warcraft, I’ve sought out the sense of adventure into which I was immediately immersed upon starting up an Infocom game. The Myst series came rather close, but a more conspicuous lack of humor would be hard to find, and even the most serious of the Infocom games were very funny at times, let alone the comedy titles. (There is still a thriving interactive fiction community, and the browser-based RPG Kingdom of Loathing puts a similar emphasis on writing, puzzles, and humor over a graphical experience.)

I’ve always remembered a certain “action sequence” from an Infocom game: a description of a roller-coaster ride in Sorcerer, the second game in the Enchanter trilogy. The sequence has no significance to the story other than to provide color and depth to a carnival area of the game, but I’ve never forgotten the way the verbal description evoked vivid, even visceral memories of the best roller coaster rides I’d ever been on.

1094-1That sequence was written by Steve Meretzky, a prolific and versatile contributor at Infocom. While he provided devious puzzles that completely suited each genre, be it science fiction or the Zork universe, and also successfully brought a darker sensibility to games like the dystopian A Mind Forever Voyaging, it’s impossible not to associate Meretzky’s name with the humor for which Infocom was famous. He is probably best known for co-writing The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy game with Douglas Adams, along with creating the comedy classic Leather Goddesses of Phobos and the sci-fi puzzler Planetfall, which featured the unforgettably funny and touching character of Floyd the robot. He has graciously accepted his role as game-culture hero, if his appearance in MC Frontalot’s video for “It Is Pitch Dark,” a paean to Infocom, is anything to go by.

Meretzky has continued to integrate humor into games like his Spellcasting series and The Space Bar. He was very kind to share some thoughts with Newly Nerfed on this subject.

Humor in Games

by Steve Meretzky

There’s not enough humor in electronic games. There are several reasons, mostly revolving around a self-replicating order. Most games treat their subject matter incredibly seriously…after all, ridding the world of Nazis and zombies is serious business. Most budding game developers arrive in the industry with an imagination colored by this limited landscape. “I loved Halo…and I want to write a game that’s exactly like Halo! Except I have this great idea for a new kind of flamethrower…”

Game industry execs compound the problem. They are an amazingly timid, visionless group, and can’t risk their development dollars on something that isn’t almost exactly like one of last year’s hits. So if someone comes to them with a game that’s humorous in tone, they look at last year’s lineup of hits, and slowly their brains come to the conclusion: “Uh, none of these hits was humorous in tone…so games that are humorous in tone don’t sell well…so, uh, you can’t have any money to develop this game.” They’re not very different from the book publishers that Douglas Adams once told me about; people who would say to him, “Hey, remember that book you wrote last year, that sold so well because it was nothing like anything that had ever been done before? Well, write us another exactly like that.”

Of course, there are shining lights in the darkness, such as Portal and the games of Tim Schaefer. And humor is such a strong performer in other media — film, TV, live performance, etc. — that I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before it breaks through the Neanderthal-manned Maginot Line of game industry execs. Until then, just do what I do, to turn both fortune cookie fortunes and bad game dialogue into something more entertaining: add “…with no pants on” to the end of every sentence.

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Weekend sendoff: Lighten up!

I’d like to switch channels and get back to some of what the name of this blog implies: that which is nerdy. While I am a skeptigeek, and I’ve really enjoyed the discussions over the past couple of weeks, I’m going to take a break for some gaming on Monday. That is, I’ll be writing about online games.

I started out on this blog trying to make sure I replied to every comment, but I’m going to admit defeat, or less melodramatically a change of policy. There are times I dither over responses for longer than it takes me to write a Friday post, and in those cases I usually end up with something inane. As I mentioned before, I appreciate everyone reading regardless of whether you comment, so I hope you will in turn know that if I do not respond to a comment, it’s not necessarily a snub or an implicit disagreement. More than likely I’m just fatigued. I get that way. Kinda chronically.

In advance of Monday’s return to games, I send you off with nerdcore guru MC Frontalot‘s homage to the greatest games ever made, Zork and its interactive fiction descendants by Infocom. Also, this post was written to the dulcet tones of loud raccoon sex. Just thought you’d like to know.

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