NES - Jackal

Haiku-Review:

the four-wheeled wonder
sporting infinite seating,
the name you trust: Jeep

Additional Comments:

War is hell! Unless you have a Jeep that is. Then you can just mercilessly run over enemy soldiers as you unload an infinite round of ammo across the countryside. Drive a tire up their backside! Isn't that how the top brass drew it up? Where's that dossier?

After buying an in-box copy of this a good while back, I've been itching to play it. I'm not exactly sure why; based on the pictures and information I was able to gather, it doesn't exactly appear to be a stand out NES game, or even a less than stand-out NES game. Instead, it reeked of forgotten mediocrity, but still, something vaguely intrigued me about Jackal. Maybe it was just the driving/shooting hybrid and after popping it in for a short test roughly a year or so ago, I was eager to move forward. Except, I don't think this was the game I tested as my memory of that test run doesn't exactly match up with my present day experience. And the more I think about it, I have no idea what I tested as I don't appear to own any other game that matched what I thought this was. It makes me suspect it may have all been a dream, which makes me apprehensive all the more. Reminds me of when I managed to concoct an entire movie script to star Samuel L. Jackson in a dream, yet the idea behind the script seemed so  plausible; so real, that for a while I could swear it miraculously transcended the bounds of reality. After all, I had the dream during his career peak and considering the number of movies he was pumping out at the time - sure, why not? But I digress.

Either way, after finishing up the heavily taxing game that was Fallout 3, I was looking to hit up a number of short and sweet titles before I put the full brunt of my focus into another time-eating monstrosity. Sounded like the perfect time to finally tackle Jackal and see what sort of rip roaring, Jeep driving adventures I could get myself into. Well, they're not the most exhilarating of adventures, but then, when was POW rescue ever meant to be an exhilarating experience, even in video game format?

Jackal's an interesting take on the basic STG formula. Some of its quirks remind me of Lost Castle in Darkmist in that it sort of goes against the grain. If not, it at least feels like it's doing so. In other respects, it culls up long forgotten memories of The Advenutre of Dino Riki. The first thing you'll notice is that the scrolling falls completely within the player's hands. This alone makes it seem like the game isn't so much trying to break tradition but instead distance itself from the genre altogether giving it more of an action/adventure vibe. At the same time, however, this transitional effect feels unintended; more of a product in experimentation yet the type of experimentation that blossomed from a happy accident as opposed to careful planning. I feel put off by how I should approach this game only because I'm not entirely sure how I should approach this game. It's an improper blend that unfortunately weakens either front which is all too often a problem in games that try to step beyond the recognizable bounds. But when it works, it typically shines wonderfully.

Citing the manual scroll for the game's lack of luster is not the problem, though it is part of the problem. I rather enjoy the manual scrolling and find it to be a refreshing take on typical vertical fare. Thanks to the additional area provided by horizontal scrolling, the stages have actual substance. Unlike stages in nearly every other STG out there, which typically consist of backgrounds plastered for the sole purpose of eye candy, the stages here have taken on a purpose. Of course, having a vehicle confined to land as opposed to the air helps necessitate a functional background. The point is, with the expanded space, each stage just doesn't give the illusion or appearance of an environment - oh, I'm driving through a generally sandy area - but instead depicts a complex environment. Suddenly, I'm driving through a rather detailed sandscape that requires me to reroute my mission because there's a river in my way or a forest. Yes, the same could be done with a single screen wide experience, but it wouldn't carry the same gratification by not knowing what lies beyond the edge. It creates a bigger, better world through which you can drive.

So, what exactly is the issue with manual scroll then? The issue deals with the uncertainty surrounding the style of play. What sort of game is this really trying to be? And what I mean by that question is that the Jeep's weaponry appears to define the game more than anything else. More precisely, the machine gun's mechanics dictate how I should perceive this game. The machine gun is designed for a top down shooter because it can only shoot in a single direction no matter your trajectory. Obviously, a great many arguments can be made for Jackal's inclusion in the top down shooter category and honestly, I agree with every one of them. To me, Jackal absolutely is a top down shooter, yet the way you can handle the screen, or hell, the levels themselves by slightly backtracking if necessary goes against that idea. However, given the circumstances of the game's goal, the vehicle in question, and the design of the levels, I can accept this game's divergence from tradition. Except the machine gun refuses to play by Jackal's carefree rules and instead sticks to the well established practice that as far as the player is concerned, only one direction exists and that is up. This sucks because it kills any driving experience that isn't straight up or at least within 45 degrees of said direction. I shouldn't have to rely solely on grenades and missiles for three out of the four major cardinal directions since those actually do fire in whatever direction the Jeep is facing. In fact, I find this to be ass backwards in relation to game theory in general. Special weapons should never take precedence over your default weapon when it comes to ease of ability. Maybe if there was consistency between the primary and secondary weapons regarding all roads point to north, then maybe I wouldn't have this sense of disconnect with the game's intention. As is, the machine gun is fiendishly awkward in its presentation.

It's not as bad as I'm making it out to be, although I wasn't led to believe this until my third or fourth attempt at the game. For my first couple of runs, I was making the game far harder than necessary because I was unaware that you could just run over the various infantrymen. Makes sense, I suppose, when you think about it, but the thought never crossed my mind. Therefore I was constantly trying to outmaneuver various soldiers just so I could get my machine gun below their position. If I could control the swivel, life would be so much easier, but running over the bastards works just as easily. Unfortunately, it took some accidental gameplay to discover that. If it said anything about flattening the opposition with steel belted radials in the manual, I must have skipped over it.

Jackal isn't a bad game, but it isn't necessarily a good game either. I find it to be the very definition of middle of the road. However, if the machine gun didn't perpetually point towards in-game magnetic North, I think it would be...well, it would be a decently okay game. There's still a few issues here and there. That being said, and while I didn't have the opportunity to experience the game in two player mode, I can imagine the game working much better with a second player than it does as a solo excursion. I think some of the frustration surrounding the machine gun would take more of a back seat, if not melt away altogether. Something else to consider is that Jackal is a port of the arcade game, Top Gunner - also enjoying ports on the Commodore 64 and the ZX Spectrum among others. Unfortunately, and as much as I'd love to pin the machine gun's stubbornness down to poor porting, alas, I cannot, since Top Gunner utilized the same silly mechanics. Unless.... Unless I hold the game to a different standard; that of Tokushu Butai Jackal, the Japanese arcade variant in which the machine gun fired in a player forward direction as opposed to a world up direction. You fiends! You dastardly fiends who understand sensible mechanics!!

Would I recommend Jackal? No, but I'm glad I gave it a go nonetheless. There is merit to the game, mostly its rebellious approach to the STG genre. Also, it's got a few cool little tunes. Boss 1 has that definite Konami feel to it whereas Ending Theme leaves us with that perfect feeling of pride and victory. I've saved my fellow soldiers, mowed down a few hundred scumbags, and I'm damn proud of my actions.

Nano-Rant:

Stage 5's boss irritated the crap out of me as I completely misinterpreted it. Considering the enemy is throwing everything but the kitchen sink, it took me a while to comprehend what my true target was. I think I was wailing on tank reinforcements for ten minutes before I realized there were small targets tucked within each garage. It's possible I'm just an idiot, and honestly, the way I handled that battle, I consent to such a claim, but that particular battle seemed incredibly non-intuitive.

Rating: 2.5 map illiterate soldiers out of 5

WU - Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker

Haiku-Review:

coin enthusiast
dares birds, dragons, and mummies;
it's not Scrooge McDuck?

Additional Comments:

Honestly did not expect this to be my first Wii U title to hit the books since I've had New Super Mario Bros. U finished for over a year now. Unfortunately, I've been mired in challenge hell with that game and it's rather sapped my energy. Nevertheless, Captain Toad is an equally brilliant game to open up the road for the Wii U, a console I've really come to love despite thinking it was going to be a flop upon release and having heavily derailed the GamePad. My whole Wii U prognostication turned out to be nothing more than baseless opinion as some truly amazing games have come along for the system and it turns out the GamePad is a rather comfortable and easy to use controller. I could still say some snide remarks about some of the more gimmicky features of the GamePad, and I will in relation to Captain Toad, but first I wish to muse about the magnificence of this wonderful little title.

Captain Toad proved to be a game to be on the look out for when Nintendo first showed glimses a couple E3s ago, and am I ever glad I kept it on my radar. Even in the beginning, it appeared to be one of those rare games that showcases a unique charm and innocence, which is surprising considering it's a Marioverse spin-off - not that charm and innocence should be surprising for anything Mario related, but the fact that it took those qualities to a whole new level. Toad's not out to save the world; he's just after a few coins is all. Ok, maybe Mario's been after a few coins throughout his adventures as well, but Toad's quest feels so much more down to earth than Mario's high-flying, globe-trotting, Bowser-defying exploits against the greatest denizens of doom that the King of Koopas can muster forth.

However, the down to earth quality nearly worked against Captain Toad. The first book is so short and easy that doubts regarding its worth quickly surfaced. I fully expected the game to fall on the easier side, but it was too easy. Even the challenges proved dauntless. A funny feeling crept over me to the point where I had a hard time coming to grips with the game being anything more than a $10 download. Not only that, but I couldn't quite digest Nintendo's development time - a bare minimum of two years to make this? The content is damn near negligible. But then, something wonderful occurred - something truly unexpected considering the presentation of the game up until that point. Captain Toad's journey continued. Well, to be precise, Toadette carried the baton, or in this case, the pickax, proudly forward, hot on the heels of Toad. And when that was done, there was even more. I think Nintendo's tactical surprise further boosted the game's overall affable charm captivating our hearts with unexpected material after being suckered in by an initial staff roll. It build on the idea introduced during King K. Rool's battle in Donkey Kong Country, except instead of a half-assed continuation to a very straight-forward fight, we're practically getting a whole new game, and then again, and again. I'll admit, after the second book, I was genuinely shocked to see yet a whole other treasure hunting experience on offer as the first two books felt a little on par with what I originally expected in game length, even if the difficulty still seemed to measure up on the easy side.

Despite the first book masquerading as a preschooler's bead and wire toy as far as challenge was concerned, the stages and puzzles were quite innovative. A majority of the touch screen puzzles especially fascinated me, which is rather surprising considering my disdain towards touch screen shenanigans - not just here, but in all walks of technology in general. However, the lack of difficulty continued to trend relatively level through far more of the game than it should have. But then, it's tough to judge. The game's core tenets need to be fully understood in order to better comprehend the difficulty scale. Are we to interpret difficulty by the complexity of the puzzles themselves or should the various threats be accounted for? I only question this because a large number of levels are strictly puzzle based, even if some imminent dangers do exist. It's just that a lot of those dangers can be regarded simply as obstacles as opposed to actual dangers - think Shy Guys, Bullet Bills, or Chargin' Chucks. Levels that utilized more proper enemies typically had a higher degree of difficulty, yet these levels were almost haphazardly strewn among the various straight-up puzzlers which in the end created a very skewed line of difficulty as well. So while the difficulty curve remained relatively flat for much of the game, jagged spikes would suddenly appear without warning every now and again. But I found myself embracing these spikes as they typified where I believed, or at least hoped the average difficulty should have been for most of the game as opposed to the easier than apple pie interpretation.

Speaking of the touch screen mechanics, the Wii U's GamePad plays a vital role in the way Captain Toad is played. As I  said, I hate touch screen mechanics, be it on the Wii U, touch screen computer monitors, smart phones, self checkout registers, ATMs, whatever...simply put, I hate it. I'd pin it down to the old fogey in me protesting change, but then I look around and see so many people who are older than I embracing it with open arms. To me, it feels like short-sighted, and very expensive to replace technology, but that's all a whole other argument that has no place occluding Captain Toad. If anything, I found most - most - of the touch screen puzzles and mechanics worked beautifully. Some, like rotating gears or turrets, or temporarily stunning the various enemies hinders or slows down the game's pace unnecessarily.

Allow me to expound on this, but first, let me clear up my actual issue with the extraneous control features of the Wii U, namely touch screen and the microphone. Nintendo has a track record for coming out with gimmicky products, but unlike a lot of people I applaud them for that as it's usually very innovative in terms of approach to video games that other companies may or may not pick up on down the road. Sure, Nintendo can't exactly compete with the other two big dogs currently on the block, but I've never really viewed Nintendo as direct competition to them. However, because of this, Nintendo likes to take chances with silly ideas or take brilliant ideas and unfortunately make poor decisions regarding how to best make use of them. The Wii U GamePad is a perfect example of the latter. In general - again, old fogey change is evil alert - I dislike the second screen experience, but I can see great use in it if utilized correctly. Sadly, I've yet to see Nintendo do this outside of Nintendo Land - a brilliant game, by the way. Most of the time, the GamePad is just mimicking the TV, which essentially obsoletes the TV. Except, I have no interest in obsoleting the TV as I'd rather play the game on my nice 72" behemoth then this puny little screen sitting six inches from my face. I've already explained my aversion towards handhelds while discussing Me & My Katamari. Why would I want to play another handheld, especially when I'm playing a console that's, well you know, a console? And by that, I mean it can hook up to my big ass TV!

I know what you're thinking, "But Mr. Peters, no one's forcing you to play Captain Toad using the micro-vision screen on the GamePad." That's true. Except I have to constantly advert my eyes from screen to screen whenever I need to quickly tap a block, or spin a wheel (which is the worst offender), or immobilize a charging Shy Guy. And while the damage may be minimal, there's fractions of a second lost that can possibly spell doom. Mummy-Me Maze Forever is the perfect example of this nonsense. To put it in more contemporary terms, it's akin to the anti-driving and texting referendums that are sweeping the nation. Again, fractions of a second are at stake. Ok, we're safe in the virtual world of video games unlike the real world, but when constant momentum is necessary only to be nominally distracted while we redirect our eyes, that's a problem. The reason Mummy-Me Maze Forever is especially poignant is that an already frustrating stage now suffers secondary levels of difficulty that are artificially increased by second screen stupidity. The solution, bypass the TV and just use the screen on the GamePad. That's a stupid fucking solution. Why? Because it's a game for a console system which allows me to play it, again, on my big ass screen TV!

But the touch screen isn't the most infuriating aspect of the peripheral controls. Blowing into the microphone takes that prize. This is something that already bothered me in Nintendo Land's Donkey Kong's Crash Course - a great game that was unfortunately ruined by an incredibly asinine mechanic. Blowing into the mic is one of those ideas that might sound great on paper - I italicize "might" as even on paper I have a hard time believing this to ever be a worthwhile addition to any video game - but just sucks in practice. As a whole, video games are pretty juvenile. I accept that, and I believe most, if not all, of the gaming populace accepts that. What bothers me is when video games make use of mechanics that work as a reflection of just how juvenile they can be. Blowing into a tiny set of slots on a Wii U controller, to me, emphasizes not only how childish this game is, but how childish and immature I'm being at that very moment. I'm embarrassed for myself and for anyone who needs to see that. I don't need video games to remind me just how much of a loser I am - that I need to blow into a piece of plastic to elevate a virtual fan-powered elevator just for a bit of light entertainment. Never mind that the necessary excessive blowing required in the optional route for Magma Road Marathon in order to grab the third diamond does not combine well with the fast pace zipped action since you're now controlling Toad with the GamePad about two inches from your face. This is all very uncomfortable, unconventional, and frankly, stupid. Why can't a controller just be, you know, a controller instead of being this glorious extension to our body? Blowing into a microphone is unnecessary and adds zero level of merit to the game. Everything controlled by my breath could have just as easily, and more conveniently been controlled by the press of a button. But that's Nintendo - doing stupid shit because they can or because they think it's a cool new funky way to experience a video game. It's not. It's a pathetic, childish way to infuriate your fan base.

Touch screen, breath control, and a long walk down Easy Street can't stop this game though. All that aside, or hell, even with it included, Captain Toad is an awesome little gem that hooked me from its initial sneak peek and delivered on every promise. I genuinely had fun from beginning to end, well almost end, and the stages themselves were little marvels of architecture. Additional gimmicks such as cloning further sweetened the pot. Actually, I wish the cloning gimmick was used a couple more times. Then again, I wish they made more use of some of the pipe maze stuff or included more touch block stages, but I think moderation may have been key to Captain Toad's success as a game. While including a variety of gimmicks, the developers were careful not to saturate or overindulge in certain gimmicks which made certain stages all the sweeter. Of course, the opposite can be said for a few particular gimmicks that only made a single appearance, such as Shadow Play Alley. To be honest, I found the gimmick here slightly underwhelming as it felt like they didn't make full use of the gimmick's potential, even if it's just a rehashed level from Super Mario 3D World.

Nintendo may recycle a lot of stuff; look no further than Mario. 2D Mario has essentially been built on the same old run and jump agenda from the very beginning. New Super Mario Bros. U, when it comes down to it, is fundamentally no different from Super Mario Bros., but somehow Nintendo has managed to splash on just enough sparkle and glimmer to make us, or at least me, to continually come back for more. Same can be said for Zelda or Mario Kart, but Captain Toad feels fresh, and that freshness feels authentic unlike Zelda's face lifts or Mario's new coat of paint. Captain Toad feels innovative, creative, and it has that certain wow factor that a lot of Nintendo's original IPs are lacking nowadays. And even if it's just another title within the incredibly extensive Mario franchise, it hold its own weight and does so proudly. Sure, it's just another trip through the all so familiar Mushroom Kingdom, but the Mushroom Kingdom has never felt so different - to the point where it feels like we're being introduced to the Mushroom Kingdom for the very first time all over again.

For anyone with a Wii U, Captain Toad is a must buy. Even if the lack of challenge puts you off, I highly recommend this game. Besides, don't worry. You'll get your fill of challenge before all is said and done. But I think having a head for difficulty is the wrong mindset for this game anyway. Captain Toad isn't out to frustrate, but instead offers a fun little romp through some astonishingly creative worlds. At it's heart, Captain Toad exemplifies entertainment through a variety of engaging puzzles and exciting little challenges. Not to mention there's a plethora of jaunty, beautiful and/or magical tunes, notably: Main Theme, Spinwheel Library, and Touchstone Trouble.

Macro-Rant:

Ah! It almost made a clean break by having only been casually mentioned in regards to a completely different issue. Almost. Anyone who's played this game through to the end knows exactly what I'm referring to - that dastardly randomized marathon that is Mummy-Me Maze Forever. I played Captain Toad, rather casually I might add, over the course of several days and suddenly hit a roadblock with Mummy-Me Maze Forever. For anyone banging their head against the wall over this level, let me just say two things: turn off your head lamp and poke the hell out of that screen. Really, this is the stage that made me dislike the whole touch screen mechanic employed by the game. Up until this point, it bothered me, but on a pretty low scale. Cog and turret rotation caused the biggest issues, but even then, whatever, but then Mummy-Me Maze Forever pulled the ends of my frown closer to the floor. There is just so much working against you in this stage: endurance, randomization, a shitty camera that is highly susceptible to the GamePad's internal gyroscope, and the need to immobilize various enemies by placing your hand within your field of vision at times which also can potentially trip up your controls for a stage in which you must continuously be on the move else fall in the clutches of the persistent Mummy-Me. Let's look at each in closer detail.

Endurance. Honestly, I have no problem with running a 15 minute gauntlet. What I do have a problem with is consistently running a 15 minute gauntlet because a combination of touch screen hi-jinx and temperamental camera controls have screwed me for the umpteenth time four floors from the end. Let the fire piranhas pose their own threat, which they more than do, than having Camera Joe and Screen Shenanigans McShane nudge you into their path.

Randomization. I love randomization and I love it here, but combined with everything else it became a presence that further annoyed me mostly by toying with me when it came to mushrooms. It's like the game would hang a mushroom in front of me and then swiftly kick me in the dick. Mushrooms a plenty when I never needed them, and whenever I did, nary a mushroom be found.

Gyroscopic camera controls. Why isn't there an option to turn this off? Having a gyroscopic camera as well as a dedicated joystick for the camera makes no sense to me. Given how certain intersections within the Mummy-Me Maze are concealed with a layer of bricks I found myself constantly adjusting and readjusting the camera only to be thwarted by the gyroscopic camera because I barely nudged the GamePad this way or that. This is a perfect example of an implementation made for the heck of it. Outside of the mine cart rides and the turret controls, I found the gyroscopic camera to be nothing but a nuisance and never was this more true than within Mummy-Me Maze Forever.

Touch screen controls. Without attempting to unnecessarily berate this subject more than I need to for the topic at hand, Mummy-Me Maze Forever showcases just how stupid second screen tomfoolery is. Despite wanting to play as much of this stage on the big screen as possible to help me deal with the fidgety camera and have a more impressive perspective of the playing field, I found myself mostly confined to the small screen for this stage because of touch screen nonsense on the latter floors. But to make things worse, I often found my hand obstructing my field of vision on multiple occasions. This is a huge problem considering vision is already at a premium given how unpredictable the camera can be unless you're the steadiest hand in the west.

In the end, it took me several weeks to finally slay this stage mostly because after two or three runs at roughly 15 minutes a piece I simply had to walk away from the game. Not to mention, as the weeks wore on, I began taking 20 to 30 minute breaks every time I hit an intermission floor just because I couldn't handle the endurance any more. And finally, the intensity combined with all of the aforementioned attributes would just crush my soul by the time I hit floor 46. My final saving grace turned out to be a token of good will from the RNG gods as my final run through the last few floors proved straightforward and nearly devoid of any plant life or ectoplasmic goo. I couldn't believe it and when I finally reached the final floor I cried tears of joy. Looking back, I can't believe a game, that I've admittedly given flack for being far too easy, nearly destroyed me and brought on such an emotional victory, something that very few games have managed or managed for good reason - looking at you card sorting à la Fable.

Thing is, Mummy-Me Maze Forever is difficult for all the wrong reasons and it's pretty much all because of the GamePad. If we took away the GamePad's gimmicky features, the stage's difficulty would be absolutely just - still difficult as hell, but entirely just. The idea behind the stage is endurance and randomization and an almost - I shiver to say it as I hate the term - roguelike lite quality to it, so I can fully accept those qualities if those were the key qualities behind the stage's difficulty. But they're not.

And finally, amiibo support...nope, not even going there.

Rating: 5 biddybuds out of 5

XB1 - Forza Horizon 2 Presents Fast & Furious

Haiku-Review:

were I vaguely hip
to the Fast and Furious
I'd pen better words

Additional Comments:

Ah, a breather. After an incredibly long winded post, I expect I'll cull something up on the shorter side of the spectrum, and with good reason.

One, I'm fairly unfamiliar - no, outright ignorant of the Fast & Furious franchise. I've only ever seen bits and pieces of Tokyo Drift, and am well aware of Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, and Michelle Rodriguez being the primary acting mainstays across all the films (along with a few others that I couldn't name without looking the information up). Funny enough, those three, well Walker and Rodriguez (of what I've seen of Tokyo Drift, Vin Diesel had yet to make an appearance - I think) aren't even in the one movie I've seen bits and pieces of. Apart from all of that: fast, expensive cars, stupidly unrealistic stunts, and general bullshit that I can frankly care less about when it comes to movies. In a nutshell, that's my all-encompassing knowledge of the entire Fast & Furious line. Hate me all you want.

Two, being that this is some weird anomaly of a game - a standalone expansion pack - the content is...well, it feels incredibly limited compared to what could potentially exist given the full scope of Forza Horizon 2. Wait a minute. A standalone expansion pack. What we have here is an oxymoron. Let's make one thing clear. It's not an expansion pack. Gifting a single car into your Horizon garage by smashing all 20 bonus boards is the only "expansion" to Horizon 2 present. Technically, you can get the Fast & Furious cars used here in Horizon 2 as well, but only by purchasing a separate DLC. Wait, what!?

What is the point of this game? Admittedly, for those that don't have Horizon 2, like me, it's a fun little introduction to the game and a nice, exciting way to kill a few quick hours for free. Well, actually it isn't free anymore which only further fails to justify the thing, especially if you already own Horizon 2. Being bossed about by Ludacris and taking advantage of nitrous in a few particular events is all the new glossy coating you get to take advantage of. Otherwise, you're really just playing a highly censored variant of a game you already own. And while I may not own the full title, I'm well aware of its content to understand this strange constricted demo that is Horizon's attempt to make a few new friends off the back of the Fast & Furious franchise. Honestly, I'm sure it worked. After all, when the game plasters a nice advertisement for the full game all over the place, it's hard to escape the obvious commercial interests being shoved down our throats. Congratulations! You delivered all of the cars to the airfield. Time to shell out some real dough and download an overstuffed monster of digital media to your hard drive and play the real Forza Horizon 2 instead of this gimmicky introduction.

That being said, as a free...er, fairly cheap advertisement, it works. I enjoyed the original Forza Horizon, though not enough to warrant a definite purchase of the second. Thing is, I love the Forza Motorsport series, however the Forza Horizon series, while good, feels like it discredits the Forza name. It's far too arcadey of a game to properly carry the Forza moniker. If the series simply carried the name Horizon; thus dropping the name Forza, I'd probably take no issue with the game as I wouldn't hold the series against the upper echelon of console driving sims only to feel like I'm playing ripe competition for Need for Speed et. al.. Need for Speed and Forza Motorsports don't even remotely belong in the same category of racing games and as such, neither does Forza Horizon. Therefore, while fun, Horizon 2 failed to make my shopping list. Maybe in a year or two when I can get it for a discounted price - maybe, but even then I can't guarantee a purchase.

Which brings us to our demo, or expansion, or however this game should be labeled. To me, demo is a perfect term since it holds more than enough content to experience most of the major selling points of Horizon 2 while being stripped down enough so to not overload us with extra drivel. Unfortunately, for someone who's familiar with the series, it's disheartening not being able to paint, tune, or upgrade the cars, but given the context of the game, it's not exactly necessary. In a way, Fast & Furious can be viewed as a more arcadey version of a game that's already an arcadey version of another game - a constant devolution of fast action racing if you will.

With most of the Forza-esque toolkit missing, what's worth writing home about? Well, there is nitrous...when the game allows it, which unfortunately is seldom. While nitrous is a really cool new feature used to help tie in the Fast & Furious franchise (ah, something else I'm vaguely aware of in the series), the feature is utilized in probably only 2% of the game considering most of your time will be spent traversing the countryside, unless you're just looking to bang out the various events as quickly as possible. Eh, even then the mileage spent cruising from event to event weighs heavily in favor of little to no nitrous usage in the grand scheme of things. Why? Why add a feature that can genuinely set this little standalone glimpse into the world of Horizon apart from the actual game and then place heavy restrictions on its usage. I find it only furthers the question of why this is even a standalone product to begin with.

It seems that's a common theme - a multitude of back ass decisions that renders the whole thing as useless. Sure, I got my few short hours of fun out of it for free, and most would argue that I have no place to criticize. Defending those of us who downloaded it within the first week of release, I totally agree since it was initially free, but it's no longer free and I have to question anyone who would spend money on this. From a monetary perspective, it feels like a scam. Spend money on what's essentially a demo, then buy the full game, and while you're at it, spend some extra dough on the Fast & Furious booster pack so you can get seven of the cars that appeared in the Fast & Furious standalone expansion that you already paid money for. What the fuck!? Seriously! Maybe it's just me, but I'm having a really hard time wrapping my head around this other than it being a product of today's nickle and dime mentality that most gaming manufacturers appear to be trending towards. I'm grateful for the opportunity to have a free pass at Horizon 2 style play; even if it's tied into a movie franchise I can care less about, but once the exchange of money enters the picture I see no reason for this to exist. If anything, I see this title as nothing more than a poor decision made by dollar-goggled executives hoping to make a quick buck off of two highly favored franchises just in time for the latest tied-in movie release. This reminds me of another video game blunder: E.T. for the 2600. Exactly the same story all over again; rush some half-assed product out in time for some momentous occasion, be it Christmas for E.T. or the release of Furious 7 for this bullshit.

And finally, I want to touch on multiplayer. Since I haven't played the full blown game, I don't know if this is a spot on representation of Horizon 2's multiplayer or if some minor changes managed to creep in. I suspect it parallels the main game's fairly exact. I found the multiplayer in the original Horizon fairly straightforward, but here, I find it confusing. The seamlessness of it is well done, but I felt totally lost when it came to event set ups, racing to various meetups, or if that was even necessary since it appeared you could just drop in and out from anywhere on the map, as well as co-op bucket lists. I spent more time scratching my head trying to comprehend the multiplayer aspect of multiplayer. I can't help but feel something got lost in translation. Other than taking part in several drag races where everyone had the same Bugatti Veyron and it seemed the only difference between victory and loss was whether or not you drove a manual transmission, I imagined I was no more than a few steps away from just roaming the countryside with a bunch of mindless drivatars. Ok, I got to do a couple races, otherwise it was see who can upshift a Veyron quicker or...whelp, back to solo play I guess. Fortunately, I was completely done with all of the solo stuff by the time I hit up multiplayer, so in reality, there was nothing left for me to do.

But the real question is whether or not the game succeeded in its clever marketing ploy by exciting me enough with this short teaser to go on and buy the full game. No. No, it didn't. However, I'll applaud it for at least offering me a mild distraction for a couple days.

Rating: 2 iron bound saplings out of 5*

*Yea, that's something that annoyed me to no end in the first game as well. How can some frail little sapling take a car from 200 mph down to 0 mph in a matter of millimeters yet I can tear a small airplane in twain?

X360 - Fallout 3

Haiku-Review:

Capital Wasteland:
live life as a vagabond
who's armed to the teeth

Additional Comments:

WOW!!

I can't believe I'm writing a post about Fallout 3; not because of the game itself, but because I actually finished everything and anything I could possibly bear witness too. This game has been on my backlog of incomplete train wrecks for years - literally years. Let's see - Fallout 3 came out on the 360 in late 2008 which means I must have gotten it sometime around early to mid 2009. I believe the first two DLCs were available by the time I got it, so that sounds about right. But more importantly, that means I've been humming along off and on since 2009. Well, maybe not off and on; more like steady play until one day I just put the game down and never returned. I'm not really sure why I put the game down to begin with because I was deeply enthralled by the dark, post-apocalyptic bedlam of the Capital Wasteland. I'm trying to wrack my brain over what may have pulled me away from the game. The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion maybe. Also, there's the matter of Beat All Games starting up not too long after that which completely shifted my mindset on how I play games and what games I play. Yea, this godforsaken blog has ruined my carefree attitude of play whatever the heart desires; instead drilling into me the idea that games like Where's Waldo?, Hello Kitty: Happy Party Pals, and Shenmue are all totally worth playing from beginning to end.

I've had every intention of returning to Fallout 3 on multiple occasions over the years but just couldn't bring myself to it. A good part of that hesitation was due to my personal fallout with open world games. I both love and hate open world games, and interestingly enough, I think I can thank The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind for each emotional polar conviction. Ultima Online may have been the first game properly fitting of the term "open world" to truly introduce me to the concept, but Morrowind, a recommendation from a friend, was the game that made my jaw drop to the ground as I gasped an endless string of "Holy fucks!" as the total grandeur of the whole experience immersed me into a gaming world unlike any other, and did so like no other game had done before. I recall some extended plays from my UO days, but Morrowind was the first game that dragged me into the deepest hours of the night, unable to escape the computer monitor even for a quick forty winks. But it turned out to be nothing more than a passing phase. My love for Morrowind faded quickly and I returned to whatever other game may have occupied my time - Super Smash Bros. Melee, I think. My unblinking adoration lasted a mere couple weeks if I'm not mistaken and I'm certain any TES fan would thumb their nose in my direction upon hearing my claim that two weeks was all I needed to appreciate the game and then without regret walk away. Why I walked away at the time, I don't know the exact reasons; perhaps something better came along. Though thinking back, I can't recall spending a lot of time with games at that point of time.

What I do know, however, is my next rendezvous with open world brilliance would turn out to be one of the best games ever made, Fallout 3. Everything I loved about Morrowind, this game expanded upon, and everything that irked me about the former, Fallout 3 perfected. Sure, it's not without its issues, but those issues had to get down and dirty in order to show their face. But until that time came, and even after, Fallout 3 enthralled me like no other game. From the very beginning, in what I believe is one of the most ingenious introductions to a game ever, it just screamed perfection. Before this time, very few games impressed me to the point that Fallout 3 managed. Dark Cloud 2, Final Fantasy X, and Super Mario Bros. 3 may be the only games worthy of the title gaming perfection at that point in time - which is very important to note since a few new games have also managed to snag membership in that very exclusive club while my opinion of Dark Cloud 2 teeters dangerously thanks to my downtrodden experience with Dark Cloud. Nevertheless, Fallout 3 encapsulated the idea of perfection in gaming to me for a variety of reasons.

However, before I move forward with what may be one of my rarer overjoyed posts I want to make it very clear that I love this game because I love this game. Anyone familiar with me would understand that I'm very, very opinionated about games, but I'm very opinionated about games thanks to my own personal experiences with said games. I'm not a trend follower nor a fanboy when it comes to any game. Honestly, my pure hatred towards Shenmue should easily affirm any of this, but the point is, based on internet stupidity, there seems to be two distinct camps when it comes to the Fallout series: the "true" Fallout fans who favor the more tactical Black Isle games, and then the Fallout "fanboys" who favor the latter Bethesda games. Sadly, because I've never played any of the Black Isle titles, I have to accept the idea that I "don't get" the series, haven't earned the right to call myself a Fallout fan and am relegated to a large gaming populace of ill repute: the uninformed fanboy idiot, because, well, that's what the internet deems those of us who started the series with Bethesda's entry. Stupid, I know. Personally, I find it ridiculous that people get so caught up in such a ridiculous, not to mention pointless, schism. Who the fuck cares? As long as people are making informed opinions about why they like or don't like a game, who the fuck cares? Unfortunately, the internet breeds bandwagoners replete with uninformed douchebags. Like I said, I love this game because of my own personal experiences with it and all 400 some odd hours that I put into it or however many hours I managed to rack up - probably a lot more since I'm not accounting for the hours logged on my second run to obtain some of the stuff I missed out on on my first run thanks to some unwanted radscorpion kills.

If I had played either of the Black Isle titles, perhaps I can make an informed opinion about one versus the other, but I can't and the best I can do is focus on why Fallout 3 works as a game and why I believe Bethesda crafted the perfect game. Whether or not it works as a Fallout game, for me, is moot. Fallout 3, along with New Vegas, is all I know. Perhaps in the long run, should I ever manage to get around to playing Black Isle's games, that'll work against me, but for now, it's all I need. Now, to be fair, because of my own ridiculous rules I imposed with Beat All Games, one of the reasons Fallout 3 has been shelved for so long was that I had every intention to go back and play the first two titles, at least, before finally finishing off this game. As time passed, the idea became less and less likely, especially since I had no real desire to slog my way through a couple PC games that never exactly piqued my interest. Besides, based on the aforementioned rift between the stylistic and mechanical choices taken by each developer, I got the sense that they can almost be considered two separate franchises that happen to follow the same general backstory.

And with that, a return to what may be my all-time...eh, one of my all-time favorite games. I brimmed with excitement knowing that after several years I was finally returning to this game. Again, why did I ever put it down to begin with? I will never know. What I love most about Fallout 3 is the freedom. Not just the open world, but the freedom to choose how to play. Being a huge fan of stealth games, despite playing very few stealth games, I loved the fact that I could play Fallout 3 as one. I think Grand Theft Auto III first instilled my love for the sniper rifle, and this instantly became my gun of choice here which additionally dictated my play style which turned out to be my comfort zone. Even late in the game when I had a super mutant overlooking my shoulder playing linebacker rushing across the great expanse of the Capital Wasteland, the gameplay began to feel a little hollow compared to the intense waiting games introduced by my voluntary covert operations. Then again, any hollowness is really a result of the same god complex that can be found in any RPG. Unfortunately, Bethesda's two mainstays, Fallout and The Elder Scrolls, seem to suffer from this more than any other game. But unlike most games that quickly loose their charm once Hulk-like superiority kicks in, Fallout can make due since there's still very much an instilled since of freedom running through its veins. As such, even when the typical tropes of RPGs begin to surface, you can easily escape them if you so choose. With other RPGs, it either takes a herculean effort to try and bypass the inevitable and/or is outright impossible to avoid.

Next on the long list of praise is the controls. Very rarely do I have nothing to squabble over when it comes to controls, at least when it comes to modern gaming. With so much to do and a bountiful set of buttons at your disposal, it's not uncommon for games to sometimes get it wrong; asking us to perform absurd finger acrobatics. Or, what turns out to be a more frequent issue, the developers will map the controls in some of the most maddening configurations. Fallout's, on the other hand, feels so natural. Sure, on odd occasion, I accidentally pulled the R trigger as I lay quietly in the shadows waiting to pick off a group of raiders only to blow my cover with a misfire, but that was more down to game or system transitioning between play sessions. Obviously, the argument can be made that any control mapping eventually comes natural with time - Neverwinter on Xbox One has certainly proved that, though Shadow of the Colossus or Fable might beg to differ. But with Fallout 3, there was no teething era. Everything just made sense.

One of the improvements over The Elder Scrolls series is the V.A.T.S. system, a sort of active tactical system used for combat. Though I call it an improvement in consideration to the engine itself as I imagine a V.A.T.S. like system would be horribly out of place in an Elder Scrolls game. While the combat is downright despicable in Morrowind, I rather enjoyed it as presented in Oblivion and only envisage V.A.T.S. as a nasty deterrent. In Fallout, however, it feels like a match made in heaven, though I completely understand the arguments against it; the most prevailing being that V.A.T.S. nerfs the entire game. I find that to be a baseless argument, however, since again, freedom to choose how you play seems to be the core ideology behind the game. V.A.T.S. is entirely optional much like the first person camera is entirely optional or my own personal choice to play it like a stealth game is entirely optional. To me, this allowed for Fallout 3's success by opening doors to fans of RPGs and FPSes alike. If V.A.T.S. had been mandatory, I could see myself aligning with those who decry it as it can unnecessarily slow the game down at times or break immersion, but it serves its purpose well and does so as a proper option to help enliven to game through additional optional game mechanics. The difference between Fallout 3 and a number of other games that attempt to add optional "improvements" is that V.A.T.S. works and seamlessly fits within the context of this game. I emphasize "this" as I'm aware of Black Isle fans disagreeing wholeheartedly with V.A.T.S.'s integration as anything less than meaningful but Fallout 3 should be viewed as its own beast.

Another aspect of the game that instantly grabbed me was the setting. The idea that technology and design peaked in the 50s is key. It gives proper meaning to the term "nuclear family" all over again and it's heavily underscored throughout the game. There's something so perfectly fitting between a nuclear holocaust and a 1950s motif timestamped firmly on the world. On top of that, the game offers a vaguely familiar environment, even if you've never been to Washington D.C. Fallout 3 offers just enough landmarks interspersed with decaying, post-apocalyptic mayhem that the setting becomes easily passable for the real thing, no matter how many liberties are clearly taken. As a result, even with its parallel dimension 1950s notion, there's an uncanny comprehension that the game isn't exactly displaced from reality to the extent that most games are. For me, this constantly produced an unnerving sensation rattling around in the back of my mind. Fallout 3 touched me psychologically in a way. If anything, it's the first game that instilled a bit of fear in me, at least in my early days of play several years ago as I stayed up until 3 or 4 in the morning on some nights traipsing around the abandoned subway tunnels. But it wasn't so much the darkness or the sudden run ins with a pack of ghouls. It was the combination of everything coming together in this weirdly familiar yet obviously fictional, safety of the nuclear family 1950s D.C. It really fucked with my head. Of course, as the hours slowly added up and the immersion faded as the mechanics of the game became more "mechanical", the fear faded as well. I found this to be an unfortunate drawback as the fear helped keep the immersion alive, and never was this more true than in the Point Lookout DLC.

Over the years, I often heard and read very critical reviews or opinions regarding Fallout's DLC. Some of the criticisms, I agree, namely The Pitt and Operation: Anchorage. Actually, I was gutted over The Pitt because when I first stepped into the world of post-apocalyptic Pittsburg, I was blown away. The Edgar Thomson-esque mill was such an imposing beast, and though the ingot hunt felt juvenile for Fallout 3, I welcomed it as a chance to explore every nook and cranny of the monumental behemoth representing yet another poignant piece of history much like the Washington Monument or Arlington Cemetery did for the Capital Wasteland's D.C. Sadly, that was the only appreciative moment in The Pitt, feeling swindled by a rather lackluster product in the end. But then, that may be because I ventured through Point Lookout's content first and as such, all subsequent DLCs were held to what turned out to be a rather high standard,

To me, Point Lookout proved to be the definition of additional content. The map was large and retained Fallout's proper open world design and carried a sufficient amount of questing and exploration. And, returning to my original train of thought - that of fear - it contained the most provoking quest throughout the entire game when you had to retrieve the Punga seeds. I found the subtle manipulations of environment far more evocative than if the game resorted to the usual tricks evolving cut scenes or general lack of interactivity on the player's part like most games do when the character suddenly finds themselves locked within a vicious bender. As a result, I was both mesmerized and terrified by everything that was going on. It reminded me of the scene in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas when Raoul and Dr. Gonzo are stumbling through Circus Circus...er, Bazooko Circus - excuse me - on an ether high. I felt trapped within a maddening fever dream, and for a while, I thought I plain fucked up and grossly glitched out the game. But by the end, the emotional response was magical, akin to the sparsely distributed moments of supernatural phenomenon that caused me to jump in my chair such as some of the abnormalities throughout the Dunwich Building. I fucking hated that place the first time I went through it. But that's what amazed me about this game. Without being a survival horror game or relying on cheap scare tactics, it perfected mood and environment to create just enough of an unnerving experience at times, and I loved it for that.

Mothership Zeta pleasantly surprised me. Of the five DLCs, through my internet travels, Mothership Zeta seems to get the most flack. This is one of the reasons why I hate to read reviews before I play anything, but for this situation, I think it helped me because I went into this DLC with very low expectations. Outside of the anger stemming from the recordings achievement because I missed the one recording that is locked withing a side area in which you only get one chance to enter and I missed that chance; having to revert back to a far - and I mean far - earlier save where I had to replay all of the fucking Pitt again, I really enjoyed my romp through the interstellar craft blasting the hell out of those green goo masochists.

On the flip side, Operation: Anchorage was a fucking joke. If I wanted to play an intelligence sapping FPS that holds my hand the entire way, there's games out there that do it much better. I don't exactly understand the point of this DLC when you consider how all of your freedoms - the absolute essence of Fallout 3 - are suddenly stripped away. Fortunately, Operation: Anchorage can be knocked out in a single sitting, but I'm not sure it even deserves that much of my attention.

And finally, there's Broken Steel, but before I talk about Broken Steel, I first need to wrap up some loose ends regarding the core game. As I've stated multiple times already, Fallout 3 is a perfect game, but it's not without it's problems. General glitchiness, object bugs, texture deficiency, collision misappropriation, repeating deathclaw rockets, and weird rubber banding infinite object stretches run rampant throughout the game, but most if not all of it is rather inconsequential to the greater good that it can all be easily overlooked. Random radscorpions killing key NPCs on the other hand? That was strike number one. Both Strictly Business and Election Day got totally botched because of unwanted radscorpion kills. Strike two came in the form of endless lockups. Most of these occurred after the main game was complete becoming more and more frequent with each passing hour. Strike three, which happens to be the number one reason I stopped playing Oblivion years ago, was a save corruption which cost me roughly 40 hours of game play. Admittedly, I should have learned from Oblivion regarding my save habits and the need to frequently set manual saves. As such, I can accept blame, but not all of it since it is a known bug found within Bethesda's games and in my opinion is totally unacceptable.

Together, these three issues are very hard to overlook, the last two causing me to rage quit on multiple occasions. The save corruption nearly caused me to walk away from the game for good. As a gamer, I'm well aware that video games have no beneficial value outside of pure entertainment, and as such are arguably nothing but a waste of time. However, I certainly don't enjoy when a game clearly exhibits just how much of a waste of time they really are. When you realize how many hours have just been wasted with nothing to show for it, you suddenly realize how sad it is to be a gamer. Gamers should never be subjected to the reality of their situation by the very enterprise their using to escape reality. Save corruption has got to be the single most dispiriting thing that can ever happen in a video game. The will to carry on from such a setback - fuck... Why bother?

But sadly, between quest breaking kills that I had nothing to do with, constant freezes, and a disheartening corruption, Fallout 3 managed a far more severe misdeed: the ending. My first attempt at the ending, I had literally no clue what the code was therefore succumbing to explosion or whatever the hell happened. Cut scene rolled, thought nothing of it and loaded my last save. Before proceeding any further, I first had to thumb through a plethora of notes and excerpts trying to find something that might have a code. Unfortunately for me, I obtained that information half a decade ago, so forgive me if my memory's a little fuzzy, or rather absent completely. Eventually, I figured out the code, punched it in, and.... Uh.... Wait. What the fuck just happened? That was the end!? Are you fuckin' shittin' me!? I felt like I just got slapped in the face. This is an insult to my intelligence as a gamer. I managed to skirt what should have been a pretty epic battle without a trace of damage nor a shot fired, made amends with the enemy, punched in a code on a rather controller unfriendly interface, and poof...the same shit I saw when I died in the explosion. Why'd I even bother...with anything? I found it to be totally unforgivable, and easily the worst ending I've ever seen in a video game. In fact, I felt so betrayed by the ending that I didn't even bother giving Ron Perlman's narration the time of day, and frankly, he doesn't deserve that sort of treatment.

With the aforementioned killjoys partnered up with an atrocious claim at closure, how can I manage to continually heap boatloads of praise? Sometimes the good is just that good. Despite its flaws, I could go on for days, weeks, probably even months wandering around the Capital Wasteland; finding some interesting little raider's alcove tucked between some rocks that I've failed to find no matter how many times I've traversed the map. Along with freedom comes endless exploration within a massive landscape that continues to turn up never before seen locales - some of which appear to me nothing more than goofy little Easter eggs. One such locale, which I found on my second run through, is the Roach King. Besides finding it incredible that I never managed to stumble across the crazy hermit before, I could only laugh at his inclusion - much like the garden gnome playing chess or the birthday celebrating ghoul, Gallo.

And finally, with the aid of Broken Steel, there was a final breath of redemption for everything that went so horribly wrong. For as much of an anticlimactic disappointment the original ending turned out to be, Broken Steel proved to be the epic, guns-a-blazing genocide that the original final battle should have been. Broken Steel took the game home in a true blaze of glory. I don't know if it was by design or as an acknowledgement and apology for the game's initial shortcomings, but it treated us to a battle for the ages. Even the Liberty Prime battle was a massive step up. After playing through Broken Steel, I just couldn't understand how they could get it so wrong on their first attempt. All I can say is thank god for Broken Steel, otherwise my final opinion would likely be skewed because of a few short minutes of idiocy.

Or...I'd still affix the title of perfect video game, overlooking obvious flaws with an air of flippant nonchalance. Yea, turns out Broken Steel just managed to further accentuate the game's obvious eminence.

There's so much more I could discuss, but I think I'll call it here, though morality is one aspect I'd hate to pass up. The short of it: Lionhead Studios, take note. This is how you properly inject a morality system. Let the player decide through the course of his actions without heavily influencing said actions or favoring one over the other. Let morality take a back seat, yet remain enough of a subtle influence that the player is mildly aware. It shouldn't dictate every foreseeable event throughout the entirety of the game as a purely mechanical device but as a seamless and natural character element.

But wait! Music! How can I forget? Well, there's not much to speak of regarding music - a whole lot of low decibel ambiance, but the opening song by The Ink Spots, I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire sets the tone better than anything else could have ever hoped to achieve. Love it!

Rating: 5 naughty nightwears out of 5*

Love Lug-Nut's harrowing demand for the leopard print nightie.