Category Archives: games

Pokémon’s popularity due to simple escapism

It’s the second-most successful video game franchise in history. It’s spawned a television show, toys, over a dozen movies, toys, trading cards, toys, and more and more games. But the success of this juggernaut comes from something incredibly simple.

Why has Pokémon caught on so much with each new generation, and why do some of its original fans still play the games nearly 20 years after their introduction? Because the games offer a simple, magical tale that every kid and kid-at-heart loves to experience. And with two new games coming out this week, the franchise remains just as good as it has ever been.

The first generation of American Pokémon fans experienced the game in its simplest form: on the original Game Boy or Game Boy Pocket, with simple graphics and a game engine that strained itself to the point that glitches were inevitable and considered a normal part of the game. The feeling today’s 20-somethings experienced as children entering into this magical world of special creatures is impossible to relate to anyone who never experienced it.

Imagine you are between the ages of 5 and 12 and you are told about a mystical land, resembling our own but inhabited by creatures called Pocket Monsters — or Pokémon, for short. You are now being given a license to travel the world and befriend these unique monsters. You will raise these animals as pets and help them unlock their fighting potential. Success means the monsters will evolve into stronger and fiercer fighters, but their loyalty to you will remain strong.

And you can capture and raise as many as you want. In fact, finding many monsters is encouraged, because you are also on a scientific mission to gather information on these creatures. That’s right, at age 10, you are being sent out into the world, alone, to train monsters with superpowers to fight each other. For science.

Fans of the game will never forget that first agonizing choice. Bulbasaur, Charmander, or Squirtle. Grass, fire, or water. Most kids I knew picked Charmander, probably because he evolved into a freaking dragon, but my choice was always between the grass and water Pokémon. Ultimately, being the hipster that I am, I chose Bulbasaur, and despite my awareness that he is only a fictional monster, I’ve always felt a strange defensiveness toward the toad with a plant in his back. Other players of the Pokémon games could relate the same feelings.

We were told back in the last century that there were only 150 of these monsters, and it was our journey to capture them all. But soon, rumors grew that there were secretly more Pokémon out there that we’d never heard of. As a 10-year-old boy, this was like finding out there was a second day of the year when Santa Claus would deliver presents. We would scour the grass outside of Viridian City or Lavender Town, hoping to spot a Pokémon not mentioned in the official lists. Sadly, the only unlisted monster we could ever find was the MissingNo., the Pokémon created by a freak glitch in the game and now a legend in its own right.

As it turned out, the rumors of new monsters were simply a brilliant marketing ploy. The success of the original Pokémon Red and Blue (Green in Japan) versions of the game guaranteed sequels. First, there was Pokémon Yellow, which acted as a direct tie-in to the television series and eliminated the agonizing first decision by forcing you to take Pikachu as an initial Pokémon, but this game offered no new creatures. Following Yellow version, however, GameFreak and Nintendo released Pokémon Gold and Silver, featuring 100 new Pocket Monsters. In order to complete your mission to catch ’em all, you would need access to at least four versions of the Pokémon game. And so it goes.

Today, the games still require several versions in order to capture every Pokémon, which is an admittedly diabolical, business-savvy move. But despite the obvious money grab in the overall scheme, the games remain popular and, perhaps more importantly, they remain fun.

Nearly 20 years after Red and Blue’s introduction, those of us who have stuck around have come to accept that we will never again experience the feelings we had when first encountering Articuno or Mewtwo. Nothing about the games feels as mystical as it once did, and many longtime players have turned the games into math tests. But we continue to play, perhaps chasing that high that we can never again attain. Or perhaps we simply enjoy the games in a new way now.

The newer games work hard to add new levels of depth to the games’ story lines, whether through legends on the origin of Pokémon, or by adding moral ambiguity to the villainous factions’ intentions. This week, Nintendo will be releasing remakes of Pokémon Ruby and Sapphire versions, which were the first games to add this small layer of depth to the story.

Whereas Gold and Silver were direct sequels to Red and Blue, Ruby and Sapphire were fresh starts — and the first Pokémon games to a new generation of fans. For the older fans like myself, the games’ villains were an odd addition. Unlike Team Rocket, who sought only world domination, Teams Aqua and Magma appeared to be fighting for more noble goals: Team Aqua aimed to expand the oceans, while Team Magma aimed to expand the world’s landmass, both supposedly driven to better the world for life. Though their ideas were ultimately poor, and their methods atrocious, their intentions at least seemed pure.

But more importantly for the older fan base, Pokémon Ruby and Sapphire were the games that truly added new levels of strategy to competitive battling. No longer were victories determined strictly by levels and the rock-paper-scissors game of elemental types. Special abilities and character traits guaranteed that each Pokémon was unique, and the traditional ways of battling were no longer valid. Double battles, introduced in this generation, also required much more strategy. Battles were no longer simply fire versus water, but fire and electricity versus water and grass. In succeeding generations of Pokémon games, strategy became even more important to competitive battling, leading to the creation of an entire subculture devoted to Pokémon breeding. Yes, it’s as exciting as it sounds.

But investing in strategy and learning the proper methods of Pokémon breeding are not necessary to complete the games. At their core, Pokémon games are still about simple myth and unending fun. The game can be mature for those who want it that way, but for kids picking up the game for the first time, that magic is still there. Only now, in order to catch ’em all, players must find 721 different species of Pokémon. That’s not even mentioning mega evolutions and different forms of other Pokémon.

I can only imagine the magic kids feel when they first experience Pokémon through these new games. The heart of it is still there, the mystery of it is still profound, and the level of fun the games brings about will never disappear.

Chesnaught, Fennekin, and Froakie will never replace Bulbasaur, Charmander, and Squirtle, but to a new generation of fans, they are their first Pokémon. In 10 years, Pokémon X and Y may be remade for a new generation of fans, and today’s new fans will look at the new game with a sense of nostalgia, remembering the day when they took their first step into the grass with their very first Pokémon.

‘Cybertron’ series a good fit for Transformers franchise

As you read last week, Charissa is in the British Isles. Filling in at Fanning Out this week is video game expert Nick Rose.

With the release of Transformers: Age of Extinction upon us, I thought it necessary to look at a set of related Transformers media: the “Cybertron” video game series. While the first two installments were not directly related to Michael Bay’s previous films, which had their own exclusive video game tie-ins, the next installment in the “Cybertron” series, Rise of the Dark Spark, acts as a sequel to the previous games while also tying into the upcoming film. Confused yet?

Let’s be honest here. 2010’s War for Cybertron and its 2012 sequel Fall of Cybertron were marketing ploys. Aware of the commercial success of Bay’s films, High Moon Studios developed games that might serve as loose prequels to the films while also giving fans some gun-toting, wheel-spinning robot action in a different medium. This article is part-review and part-retrospective of the first two games. Ultimately, the “Cybertron” series differs from the films in that the critical debates over loyalty to a particular continuity are not as important as having a blast … literally.

War for Cybertron (WFC), as its title suggests, begins by thrusting players into the civil war that is an integral part of several Transformers incarnations (take your pick). Though most sources will agree it fits best with the “Aligned” continuity family, conventions from “Generation 1” are also present. The first half of the campaign is from the Decepticons‘ point of view, covering Megatron’s harnessing of Dark Energon to defeat current Autobot leader Zeta Prime and eventually corrupt the very core of the planet. While Megatron is undoubtedly the head honcho, his rivalry with fellow Decepticon Starscream is given significant attention, sometimes to laughable effects. Each robot may carry two weapons and possesses a special combat ability. A simple press of the joystick sends your character effortlessly twisting into his vehicle form, be it a weaponized Cybertronian car, truck, or jet.

The campaign’s second half puts you on the other side of the action. The Autobots, their capital city in ruins after the defeat of Zeta Prime and gargantuan defender Omega Supreme, struggle to halt Megatron’s plans. When they learn of their planet’s fate, all efforts are devoted to evacuating the planet while still mopping up any remaining Decepticon threats. An added bonus comes from original Optimus Prime voice actor Peter Cullen reprising his role. Longtime fans will certainly appreciate the confident eloquence he brings to the character. Other popular Autobots like Bumblebee, Ironhide, Warpath, Ratchet, Jetfire, and Sideswipe make appearances as well, most of them playable. The winner of best game sequence goes to an action-packed later mission in which Jetfire leads an assault against a Decepticon orbital weapon that transforms into the game’s final boss, Trypticon.

War for Cyberton‘s story ends inconclusively, most definitely leaving things open for a sequel. For those who tire of the campaign, WFC introduces what has become another staple of the series. In the online multiplayer mode “Escalation”, up to five players must survive against increasingly difficult waves of enemies.

In WFC, Trypticon is produced from the planet’s infected core. Photo source: Gameinformer.com

Two short years later, Fall of Cybertron (FOC) was released. To switch things up from last time, players now begin as Autobots and pick up with the Decepticons later. As with most sequels, the cast is expanded in this outing. Two additions hyped by the game’s reveal trailer were that of Decepticon Bruticus (formed by the Combaticons) and the fan favorite Grimlock for the Autobots. The campaign’s structure is more varied as well, placing you in control of about a dozen different characters by the time the end credits roll. Everything about FOC is bigger, louder, and oh-so-glorious in its execution. New enemy types like the Decepticon Leaper or Guardian challenge players, but the formula to defeat them is easily executed after a first try. A reformatted weapons system allows players to carry one primary and one “heavy” weapon for tougher enemies. Once blueprints for these weapons have been recovered, players can access them from an in-game store.

Cinematic trailer for FOC. Video source: YouTube

Fall of Cybertron’s biggest improvements come in the departments of sound and mechanics. Transforming is just as simple as in the first game, but vehicle movement is superbly more fluid. High Moon made sure to include more areas that require players to navigate in vehicle form. The opening of chapter 3 sees Optimus being escorted by the massive Metroplex through Iacon city’s ruins. Danish composer Troel Brun Folmann’s score for the second game definitely channels Steve Jablonsky’s work from the live-action films. Key moments on both sides of the campaign are complemented by the music’s epic feel, especially in the explosive final battle that bounces between faction perspectives. The adventure concludes with the Autobot’s escape vessel, The Ark, being sucked through a space bridge.

Impressive and enjoyable as they are, both games are not without their respective downsides. As third-person shooters, they are not groundbreaking in any way. Players expecting anything cerebral or challenging beyond the occasional boss fight might be disappointed. Also, both games encourage cover but lack the sophistication to perform it properly, à la Gears of War. None of these drawbacks ruin the overall experience, and I recommend them to anyone willing to shut off their brain for hour or five.

Megatron fights against the Autobot’s mightiest defender, Omega Supreme, in War for Cybertron. Photo source: IGN.com

I suppose the bulk of my enjoyment stems from the fact that the “Cybertron” games seem to possess a meta-knowledge of what they are. They’re two more installments in a media franchise inspired by toys. Are we meant to take more seriously Optimus’ and Megatron’s philosophical banter on freedom and destiny, even if it is expertly performed? Is a tear to be shed when Metroplex sacrifices himself so his Autobot allies can escape their crumbling home world? Maybe a little. Not to downplay storytelling in games, but it seems many fans feel those deeper considerations toward theme, story, and “accurate” characterizations are better suited for discussions of Bay’s films.

Rise of the Dark Spark, released Tuesday for both current-gen and previous-gen consoles, will merge the formerly stand-alone “Cybertron” universe with that of Bay’s films. Screenshots and trailers suggest that its game design and physics with be very similar to Fall of Cybertron’s “Havok” engine, with developer Edge of Reality taking over for High Moon. Early reviews range from mediocre to downright negative, unfortunately, I’ll reserve judgment until I play the actual game, but all signs point to Dark Spark as a rush job that may potentially tarnish this game franchise’s otherwise decent reputation.

Slender Man finds role in adaptive horror gaming

In 2009, a competition on the somethingawful.com forums challenged users to create paranormal images. Victor Surge, using little more than creativity and Photoshop, authored the photo above (click here for full image).

Other users, taking note of the strange figure’s elongated limbs and exaggerated features, named it “The Slender Man.” Within weeks, Slender Man became a viral sensation. As memes are specially equipped for mutation and adaptation, other web users offered their own versions of Slender Man in photographs, short fiction, and videos. Some, like the Marble Hornets YouTube series, garnered widespread attention and soon became the go-to source for Slenderlore.

Many fans were introduced to Slender Man through the hugely popular video game Slender: The Eight Pages. Developed by Blue Isle Studios in 2012, The Eight Pages is a free, downloadable title that improves upon its simple predecessor, Slender.

The game included many conventions of the survival horror genre: limited resources, investigative features, and an ongoing sense of dread. From a first-person perspective, players were challenged to locate eight pages hidden in a darkened forest. Slender Man’s pursuit of the players becomes more pronounced and erratic as each page is recovered.

An impressive audio system of ambient sounds adds to an engaging aesthetic of fear. In a game market that has become burdened by developers who needlessly try to meld action and horror into convoluted, run-and-gun campaigns, The Eight Pages brings a measure of innovation, even with its “less is more” design.

Slender: The Eight Pages also moves horror games in another positive direction. The pages the player is tasked with finding change locations with each play-through. Though there are limits to how many different spots each one will be hidden in, there is a certain level of fresh suspense to each game session. Of course, the faceless, teleporting, otherworldly entity on the player’s tail adds to that feeling. Overall, these variables border on something I have long waited to see in the horror game sub-genre, and that is an “adaptive” horror experience.

To further explain, we might look at a similar concept. Adaptive difficulty has been around for well over a decade. It describes a process of an artificial intelligence’s internal, real-time reaction to external activity. As early as the mid-2000s, video games were given the capability to “react” to a player’s actions, dialing back the difficulty of certain in-game scenarios and increasing it for others in an effort to create a more varied gameplay experience.

However, most gamers can tell you that several play-throughs of certain games ultimately enables them to decode these internal patterns and reverse the efforts of the AI. While certain sequences may still give players a hard time, their conditioning to a game’s parameters will almost always allow them to advance without struggle.

Adaptive difficulty is featured more in multiplayer modes that do not include many scripted, narrative events (as a story campaign often does). A good example is Valve’s 2008 zombie shooter Left 4 Dead. Though a single-player campaign is possible, this game was clearly intended to be a cooperative effort where up to four players can team up to lay waste to an overwhelming number of zombies and “Special Infected,” like the bloated, bullet-sponges called Boomers.

There is no set pattern to the enemies’ attacks, and there are many moments when players will find themselves completely surrounded. The game adapts to encourage or impede players’ rates of success.

I’d be interested to see developers create a game that included an adaptive brand of horror rather than difficulty. Many of the frightening moments in franchises like Dead Space and Resident Evil follow a script. Once they happen, players know to expect them.

What if such a game existed in which each scare and spine-tingling moment occurred randomly? What if we couldn’t predict each window-shattering attack? What if game environments were so fluid that literally every inch of physical space was open to enemy attacks? Imagine every play-through of a game including a potential threat around every corner.

Slender: The Eight Pages and its sequel, Slender: The Arrival, are steps in the right direction. Outlast, recently ported to PlayStation 4, remains a fresh entry in the genre but still fails to re-create its initial play-through’s scares. Since 2012, there have been rumors of a game called Sound of Silence, an offering that will read players’ choices to create a setting catered to their specific fears. The extent of the game’s ability to do so has only been shown in brief previews, and no demo yet exists. Reports suggest we could see a release sometime this year.

As media in the business of haunting becomes more formulaic, weighed down by clichés, remakes, and “re-imaginings” (a rallying term used by the unoriginal), what we need is an art form with a clear sense of what we fear. As the next generation of game consoles gets off its feet, we are seeing technology capable of renewing the horror genre.

The newness of adaptive difficulty has faded. Let’s turn creativity toward readapting the entire gameplay experience, especially in horror games. After all, regardless of how we dress it up or the level of gore we cake it in, we have and always will fear that one thing: the unknown.

Facebook buys Oculus Rift: Awesome or not?

I remember walking into an arcade at some theme park or other almost 20 years back and seeing a haphazard rig set up in the middle of the floor. Barely more than a monitor with wires pouring out of it and a cushioned chair, what drew people to stand in line and gawk from afar was the specialized helmet that was hooked up to the electrical system. I watched as people donned the helmet, grasped a controller, and swiveled their heads around while the monitor showed a 16-bit Doom environment swivel in unison. When it got to my turn, I strapped on the helmet with inexpressible joy, took up my controls, and gawked at the images, so close to my eyes that they were all I could see. Then a demon popped out of the hallway and killed me, and my turn was done. For that moment, though, even with the crappy, low-resolution graphics, I was inside the game. And it was glorious.

If you’re tech savvy or into video games at all, you’re probably familiar with Palmer Luckey’s company Oculus VR and its wildly successful Kickstarter campaign for the Oculus Rift a few years back. Unlike every attempt ever over the past two decades to put together a compelling virtual reality system, the Oculus and its prototypes have generated a nearly messianic buzz in the gaming magazines and related circles. “It works,” they say.

Demos, which showcase seemingly simple concepts, like a simple flight simulator, or undersea exploration, or even the guillotine program that makes you feel like your head is being chopped off, are all eliciting haunted responses from everyone who tries them out. The ability of the gizmos to pump out the appropriate resomolutions (I’m not an engineer) are “ready,” they say. A consumer version will be released sometime this year, they say. The time is now.

Then Facebook went and bought it.

Now don’t get me wrong. You won’t catch my ever blaming Luckey and his crew for this. If Facebook offered me two billion freaking dollars for my right eyeball, I’d be like “Uh … sure?” It’s almost more money than there is money. They would have been fools not to sell. It seems entirely likely that the $2 billion number came around because they rejected lower, more reasonable numbers. And his crew is, of course, still in charge of designing and engineering the device. Plans are still very much in the works to keep the video gaming end of the device on track, even bolstered with the influx of new money, though some developers seem to be jumping ship as a result of the sale. The Rift is still their magnum opus, their baby. It’s just that now, if Facebook tells them the baby has to jump, they have to make it jump.

So what the heck does a social media giant want with virtual reality, anyway? Well, there’s a lot of speculation, but the company itself says they’re going to use it to facilitate communication in a way similar to Skype or Google+ Hangouts. You and your friends, who may be in disparate cities, states, countries, all put the headgear on and voila! You’re in a room together, or at the pyramids of Giza, or on the moon. “Sexting” is no more. Say hello to “Oculust.” (Okay, maybe that one won’t catch on.)

Facebook is trying to take an idea to make video gaming more immersive and turn it into something that may very well fundamentally change the way human beings interact with each other. Want to work from home? Put on your headset and sit in on daily meetings with corporate HQ seven states away. Want to sing your kids to sleep but have to be across the country on business? Done.

Video chat lets us do these things as well, but we all know the hassle of dealing with low-resolution cameras, limited view fields, and visual lag. Much like talking on the phone, it’s hard to “just hang out” in video chat. If you don’t have anything in particular to talk about, then it’s like you’re staring at a screen, with your friend or loved one’s distended face taking up three fourths of the viewing area, wondering if things are likely to get less awkward. With VR, maybe it’ll feel more like hanging around your dorm room with your old college friends, just shootin’ it and watching TV, or like you’re really there with your parents in Tulsa, joining them for breakfast.

Facebook evidently thinks these ideas are worth pursuing and put a hefty price tag on it accordingly. The downside to all this, of course, is the idea that they’re going to make it Facebook-y. Put 3D ads flashing obtrusively across your field of view, like in Minority Report. No one wants to see his mother’s forehead plastered with the Maalox logo.

The other thing is that, unlike with our smartphones, the Rift requires a certain separation from the world at large in order to operate. You really need to sit down somewhere without a lot of breakables nearby and try to stay calm, because your nervous system is going to start trying to react to the virtual environment. This means that it’s very hard to be “present” in the world of the headset and also in the actual, real world around you at the same time. Perhaps Facebook has ideas about augmented reality, like Google Glass is attempting to master, where you can see the real world with virtual information overlaid on top of it. Either way, splitting off focus from the real world into a virtual one is already a source of problems, as the incidence of car accidents due to texting while driving can attest.

Ultimately, whether Facebook’s plans for the Rift unfold the way they want, or for that matter, the way we want, remains to be seen. If it lives up to the hype, and the United States starts to make sensible decisions about its telecommunications industry to keep up with demand for service, then we may all be talking about it in Middle Earth in a few years. Or Tatooine. Or Paris or something, for you not-nerds. Cheers.

Arkham Knight release puts Batman back in black

Rocksteady Studios debuted the first trailer for its new game Batman: Arkham Knight last Tuesday. By Internet standards, the video is old news. Since fans have had over a week to digest the next-gen-fueled spectacle, I think it’s time we attempt a more in-depth analysis of it. Rather than speculate on the game’s plot or our collective geek-out over the trailer, let’s investigate the deeper issue of Batman’s characterization in the Arkham video game series.

The nature of any cross-media adaptation is that the end product is an accumulation of traits defined over time. For a property like Batman that has been (re)adapted numerous times since the early 1940s, this basic truth is all but hitting us over the head with an onomatopoeic “BOP!” While similar in some ways, each iteration has been slightly varied, a necessary byproduct to a character that has evolved along with the culture that spawned it.

The Batman featured in the trailer for Arkham Knight is a collection of representations dating back to Tim Burton’s 1989 film version. A voiceover from Bruce Wayne’s late father plays through the majority of the video. I’m intrigued at how many portrayals of Batman still find creative ways to display his eternal struggle with that one, fateful night on which he was robbed of his parents. But his more noticeable traits are the physical ones, and for this, Rocksteady depicts a fully black-armored Batman for the first time in its proposed trilogy of games.

It’s a notable departure from the lightweight, Nolan-esque Batman outfit featured in Warner Bros. Montreal’s Arkham Origins this past year. Though the modified costume lacks the eye-catching yellow emblem (meant to distract thugs with firearms) of its comic book counterpart, it puts our hero in a position to do battle with some of his tougher adversaries. Two-Face and Penguin’s thugs are effortlessly handled in the trailer, and I am anxious to see what other challenges are thrown at this darkly clad Dark Knight.

It looks like transportation won’t be a problem for Batman either. If rumors are true, players will have access to the Batmobile for the first time in the franchise’s history. Most references to Batman’s signature vehicle still lean toward the version driven in the campy 1960s television series starring Adam West. As the Christopher Nolan film series has become an endless source of reference for recent iterations of Batman, the vehicle we see in Arkham Knight is very close to the tank-like “Tumbler” we saw in Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. Apparently, the Batmobile will be the only drivable vehicle in the game. If its usefulness is anything close to what is featured in the trailer, players will have a huge asset at their disposal.

Another mystery of this latest outing is an exact setting. Beginning with Arkham Asylum in 2009, Rocksteady has done a fine job framing the story in a manageable space. The sequel allowed players to explore a limited, walled-in section of Gotham City functioning as a prison. Arkham Knight looks like it may be set in a similar environment, but the aftermath of Arkham City’s conclusion may force the story line to another location. Recent reports state that Gotham has been separated into three islands and will include a space five times larger than Arkham City.

What has most fans talking is the possible identity of Arkham Knight’s main antagonist. Contrary to many fans’ first impressions, the game’s title is not a reference to Batman. Early reports suggested that we may finally see Hush take center stage. After three games of The Joker as a primary villain, Hush would be a welcome change.

I’m surprised at how underused he has become since his 2003 debut in the pages of Batman. In this hugely popular story line, Hush allies himself with just about every rogue in the Batman mythos to give the hero his ultimate physical and mental challenge. His identity is revealed to be Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend of Bruce Wayne who had recently returned to Gotham after a lengthy absence. To make matters worse, Elliot is fully aware of his former friend’s alter ego and uses this knowledge to his advantage.

Though the true mastermind of the overall story line shockingly turns out to be The Riddler, Hush easily steals the show. Future story lines in the Gotham Knights series fleshed out his backstory, and many fans appreciated his role as a sort of anti-Batman, a twisted reflection who actually orchestrated his own parents’ murder.Â Despite Hush’s positive reception, he was scrapped from appearing in The Batman animated series that ran from 2004 to 2008 on Kids’ WB, instead replaced by Rumor, voiced by Ron Perlman.

It was not until the game Arkham City that Hush made his first real appearance outside of comics. As an added bonus, his voice work was done by Kevin Conroy. It is without a doubt that Conroy’s long tenure voicing Batman allowed him to emphasize the characters’ antithetical relationship. In the game, their shared history is alluded to, but this version of Hush remains unaware that Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same person. It would be phenomenal to see Hush take the spotlight and lead a similar “villains united” campaign against Batman in the upcoming game. Perhaps it is Hush’s voice we hear issuing an ominous warning to Gotham in the trailer’s opening frames?

All of this is, of course, speculation. And though the footage we have so far is quite impressive, I urge viewers to keep in mind that none of it features anything from the actual game, as developers prefer to save that footage for later previews. It’s been intriguing to see the video game trailer evolve into something so theatrical. With visuals this impressive, it’s no wonder Batman’s latest adventure will be released solely for the Xbox One and PlayStation 4 consoles. (Sorry, 360 and PS3 owners: it’s time to upgrade.) Hopefully, Rocksteady’s direct involvement with this sequel will help fans get rid of the sour taste Arkham Origins left in its wake.

Batman: Arkham Knight is slated for an October 2014 release.

I got 99 protagonists, but a woman ain’t one

I’m a white man. I should probably get that out of the way up front. Now, then:

Women and non-white folk get short shrift in all manner of media. Time after time, they are relegated to support characters and trophies. When, after all, was the last time you watched a feature film in which the primary protagonist was a black female? There’s Precious … uhhh, Catwoman … oh, and that Disney frog movie. (She’s a frog for half of it, but that still counts.) I am having a lot of trouble thinking of others.

In video games, though, the problem is even worse. Most games don’t have playable female characters. Of those that do, the females are usually one or two choices out of a dozen characters (see fighting games), and/or their only real purpose is to feature in one or another state of undress on the cover of the game box. There are, of course, notable exceptions. I could talk about Mirror’s Edge, Metroid Prime, or Ittle Dew, but they are diamonds in the rough. And make no mistake, there’s a lot of rough.

I get ads on Facebook for online games that warn, “Males only allowed,” and show CGI girls thrusting their hoo-has at me in improbable poses. In video games, female armor seems to cover up, on average, about one-fifth as much of their torsos as male armor does. Women in games are constantly getting kidnapped (to spur a man’s rescue quest), murdered (to spur a man’s revenge quest), or just bartered around between male characters like a used lawn chair at a yard sale.

Make a game starring a woman, “they” say, and you’re shooting yourself in the foot financially. (“They” say the same thing about women in movies.) Males play video games, and they won’t buy a game that forces them to play as a woman.

Never mind that women did 45 percent of the gaming in 2013. Never mind that women gamers over age 18 outnumber male gamers under 18 by a factor of 3-to-2 (even if many of those women are, in fact, your mom, who likes to play Words With Friends with people from her high school graduating class … or from your high school graduating class, for that matter).

What “they” say creates a self-perpetuating cycle in which certain kinds of games turn away women because they aren’t represented, and then the game developers are told not to cater their games to women because women don’t buy them.

Marketing zooms in on specific demographics, I get that. The pink aisle is for girls and the black/blue/white/brown/grey/red/green/yellow aisles are for boys. If you can sell more units by indulging your target demographic’s prejudiced and misogynistic tendencies, then gods bless you, you big damn hero of the free market.

OK, now that I’m done ranting, I want to bring up another point that’s sort of been missing from this particular conversation. Even if women made up 0 percent of the gaming population — if something about that mysterious “woman gene” inured them to the sweet, sweet lure of pixelated, interactive media — even then: Why shouldn’t games be made by women, featuring actual female protagonists, with actual feminine perspectives, solely for the sake of the male gamers who would play them?

Perhaps it is because there is a stigma about male gamers playing games as female characters. In many recent games, particularly in MMOs like World of Warcraft and western RPGs such as Mass Effect, where players are permitted to choose dialog options in social situations, it’s become common practice to allow gamers to choose their own gender. Sometimes women play these games with the male option. Sometimes men play them with the female option. Many reasons are cited, ranging from, “If I have to stare at someone’s butt for hours on end, I might as well stare at one I find attractive,” to, “I like the female voice actor better,” but not many of us male gamers are very comfortable telling non-gamers (and sometimes even other gamers) that we enjoy playing as female characters.

For example, I played a game relatively recently called Fortune Summoners: Secret of the Elemental Stones, a game in which the protagonist is a tomboyish 12-year-old who kills monsters with her sword and makes friends with her schoolmates. I absolutely adored the game, but almost everyone I talk to about it looks at me funny. You, dear reader, are quite possibly looking at me funny right now, I shouldn’t wonder.

I’m no pervy old man who gets off on watching underage girls swing “swords” around, all right? The truth is, there’s not much difference between playing a game with a certain protagonist and watching a movie or reading a book about one. Why should I be ashamed of playing Fortune Summoners, but not of watching Pan’s Labyrinth, or reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn?

I shouldn’t be.

I can watch Pan’s Labyrinth and strongly empathize with the plight of a brave, creative young girl trying to survive the harsh reality of living in a household surrounded by violence. I can read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and cheer along young Francie Nolan as she struggles to thrive in a society that’s determined to push her down into “her place.” I love these stories. I love that they come from a fresh perspective, one that happens to be so different from my own. Both of them have contributed to my personal and moral growth as a human being.

So in sum, I absolutely want games with well-fleshed-out, interesting female characters for women gamers (who deserve them greatly, though I will let them speak for themselves on the matter), but I also want those games for me. And, for that matter, for my fellow male gamers, who on the whole (and especially among the 12-17-year-old demographic) could probably use the education.

The final paragraph of this article has been modified since its original publication.

Would a Saga by any other name taste as sweet?

Trademarks are obnoxious but necessary. If I slapped some set of ingredients together to make a dark cola drink, called it a Pepsi, and tried to sell it to passersby at a train station, PepsiCo Inc. could sue me for infringing their brand. I would be doing them wrong on two counts: profiting from their popular name, and duping people who tried my (presumably) inferior product into thinking that the “real” Pepsi soft drink tasted differently than it does.

Obviously, Pepsi isn’t a word you’re going to use in a different context. We don’t go “pepsi-ing” or vacation in the “Pepsis.” But let’s take a moment and think about some other brands that are used as everyday words: Crush and Sprite (to stick with sodas). Gap. Crest. Blockbuster. Ivory. Tide. Visa. Apple. Windows. Mars. Champion. Mustang. Not to mention brand names that have become the common words for their products: Kleenex. Lego. Xerox.

Brand identity is also important in the gaming industry. You almost certainly know at least three people who play or have played Candy Crush Saga, or you are one yourself. It’s one of the most popular mobile app games at present, and it rakes in about $1 million a day from in-app purchases. Candy Crush Saga is very closely based on the game Bejeweled, which was made over a decade prior. It’s about matching three similar objects in a row to clear them from the board. The player advances through levels until he or she run out of “lives,” at which point the player either has to wait around for more or buy them with real money.

King.com, Ltd., the game’s developer, has a number of other games in its roster that end in the word “Saga” — Pet Rescue Saga, Farm Heroes Saga, and Bubble Witch Saga, to name a few. However, if you put the word “Saga” into the search bar for Amazon app games, you’re going to get 613 results, including Jewels Crush Saga (advertising itself as the “#1 Puzzle game on the world”), Fruit Crush Saga, and Candy Rescue in Farm (by Candy Crush Game), none of which are made by King. I wouldn’t dream of accusing these games of trying to leech off of Candy Crush’s commercial success rather than succeeding on their own merits, but I won’t stop you from coming to your own conclusions about it.

Product confusion is a strategy hardly unique to video games. I’m sure you’ve all seen movies, either in video stores (what?) or on Netflix, which are either: a) cheap knock-offs of recent blockbusters and children’s movies with similar-sounding names, or b) documentaries of some sort for which you really have to squint to read the bit about it being a documentary. They come out when the popular film is still in theaters and are mostly purchased unwittingly as gifts for relatives.

So what’s the problem? Why shouldn’t King trademark its intellectual property and protect it from poachers? Well, maybe because of this.

Stoic, an independent game producer, recently released a game, called The Banner Saga, about leading a tribe of Vikings through the wastes to find a new homeland. It’s a tactical strategy and leadership simulation game, where the player makes hard choices about how to spend resources in order to keep the game people alive amid the dangers around them. I haven’t played it yet, but it looks awesome.

King is pushing the trademark office to prevent Stoic from registering the name “The Banner Saga” because they claim people might be confused about whether or not it’s a King game. Essentially, because it uses the word “Saga” in the title.

If Stoic can’t get a trademark on the name, then anybody else will be able to put out a game with the same title and pass it off as their own, causing actual confusion. And that will happen, because people will hear about the game, see the legitimate version costs 25 bucks, and then look in the app store and see what looks like the same game only costing a dollar or two.

Here’s the kicker. The word “Saga” means “a long story.” In Old Norse. You know, Viking language.

Aside from that, though, it’s a common word that should be accessible to any serious creator of content. This kind of focused effort to trademark the word comes off as a serious power grab of the worst sort. If a company can own the word “Saga” as it pertains to video games, why can’t I own the word “a,” as it pertains to … uh … writing, say? After all, the word “a” appears in the title of my article, which you’re reading right now! (Of course, if I did manage to pull off something like that, it would make cataloging easier. You would never again mistakenly look under “A” for A Separate Peace: just flip right to “S”!)

Permit me to take this idea to its logical conclusion and posit a dystopian future where every individual word in the English language can be trademarked because it is part of one brand or another. In this world, major corporations use all of the positive, upbeat, happy words they associate with their products, leaving only the depressing, the morose, and the morbid and grotesque for common usage.

All of art (not borne of commercial materials) becomes dark and forlorn, offspring of Poe and Sylvia Plath. Mankind pays out of pocket for positive thinking and emotional stability, directly from vending machines that spout little cards with the words “Hope” and “Laughter” on them. (Eventually, these vending machines are banned in schools due to high caloric content.)

Advertisers become new gods, able to wrap the masses around their fingers with inspiring words (wait a second…), while subversives make up a new, ever-evolving lexicon, like a password language, going obsolete every few months as the corporations trademark their leavings.

OK, maybe that’s not too likely, but who knows? What are your thoughts?

Better to get them all down now before somebody can sue you for copyright infringement.

The scale of nerd: Gamers and shamers

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