Simplicity: 1HN Better than Realism

Today, a wistful feeling has overcome me. As I see events unfold around me, I am disturbed and deeply saddened by how my beliefs are challenged and I am viewed as anachronistic and a relic for what I believe...

I'm talking about video games, of course...

Granted, some things haven't changed much since I received my first video game console (a Colecovision) thirty years ago. One thing that hasn't changed is the general popularity of video games. Back in the early 80s, Atari, Intellivison, and Colecovision were extremely popular as game commercials dominated the airwaves, store shelves were well-stocked with games, and most of the kids I knew had at least one of those systems. When the Nintendo Entertainment System came out in 1985, it was an even bigger deal; I have indelible memories of ROB the Robot and Excitebike from times I spent at my friend Brian's house. Fast-forward to now, video games are still popular among the young and now the old, as well. Another thing that hasn't changed is how video games can bring disparate social groups together. Whether it be Starcraft across the Internet or a bunch of neighborhood kids huddled around a Wii, video games unify people. A third thing that hasn't changed much is the characters. Thanks to the staying power of such icons as Mario, Sonic, Snake, Samus Aran, the Belmont family, and Earthworm Jim (he's still popular... right?!), the nostalgia of the past lives in the gloss and sheen of the superior graphics and sound of the present.

However, much has also changed with the passage of time. Some may argue that games nowadays are not as "hard," and that you don't need the practice and precision of past games to master today's games; but some may counter and say that games as less "cheesy" than, say, Ninja Gaiden II or Rush 'n Attack (of which I have a fond disdain). Some may opine about the realism of first-person-shooters and how games just seem more violent today, while some may respond that games are no less violent today than 8-bit shooters like Contra or Metal Gear; "It's not that games are more violent, but that they're just more graphic," some may observe. There is also the complexity of games today, in which you can play for hours on end and barely stratch the surface of a convoluted storyline; conversely, you could finish The Legend of Zelda in eight hours or so (which would be insane, but still...).

One cannot argue with the cliche that "the more things change, the more things stay the same." Yet, as I watch the visual and auditory quality of games escalate with improving technologies, and the sheer number of buttons and analog sticks increase with each new in-game function, I am reminded that today's games lack something that past games had in spades: simplicity. Remember the Atari 2600 with its one joystick and one button? I challenge you to find an easier game to learn, but harder game to master on the Wii than Pitfall was on the Atari with just its one button. Remember the NES with its two buttons, or the Sega Genesis with its three buttons? Remember how easy it was for an inexperienced friend to come over and play games with (or against) you on those consoles because the controls were easier to master? I challenge you to train your inexperienced friend about how to play any current EA Sports game on the XBox and its ten buttons...

Besides simplicity, which factors into what I am about to state, games of the past seem lighter by today's standards. Whereas now one can get lost in a game world and not emerge for days, I could play a Genesis game for a couple hours and then walk away and enjoy the rest of my day. In this way, games today are immersive to a fault. Of course, some may argue that The Legend of Zelda or other older RPGs were the same way, but I could walk away after a few hours. Try doing that with Mass Effect or any of those story-based games... It's difficult.

But, the most apparent difference between the games of the past and today's games is the creativity it took to render great games with such comparatively poor resolution. Compare Super Mario Bros. on the NES to Super Mario Bros. on the Wii; obviously, the Wii trumps the NES big time, but think about the limitations those Nintendo programmers had to overcome to render a classic game on the NES. For the Wii, on the other hand, the developers had much more to work with when it came to graphics and sound.

Upon reflection, my wistful feelings about video games come from remembrances of more carefree times with friends in high school or college when we sat around and laughed at buddies messing up in a game, or discussed strategy or if the Genesis or the SNES versions of games were better. I suppose that kids today may look back on 2012 when they're adults and feel the same. The interesting thing I've observed, though, is that there is a fervent attempt to make games simpler with motion capture, as with the XBox Kinect and the Wii's long-in-the-tooth wand-based controls. Perhaps, we are seeing a renaissance of simplicity in gaming, pulling in a new generation of youngsters, but I contend that the retro-charm of jaggedly rendered 8-bit characters will always transcend the smooth textures of today's sprites because, as with many things in this world, we will always look backwards and remember we could walk away from a couple hours (or less) of play and be satisfied, while one often fills the day with gaming today to get their fix. In this way, realism isn't always good, and I am saddened to see that people today put that much stock in the realism afforded to us by stellar graphics and movie-quality sound when video games are best played as a brief escape from reality.

Doorways to Adventure: 1HN Treasure Hunting, VHS-style

Back in the 1980s, you got to watch the latest movies either on cable TV or by renting the VHS cassette at a local video rental store. I am not including laserdisc or Betamax because hardly anyone owned either medium and Betamax died in the early 80s. Anyway, if you didn't have cable TV, you watched movies on VHS. In the mid-80s, Pressman, among other companies, came up with an intriguing idea: instead of using a video-cassette recorder (VCR) to just watch movies, why not create games that use VHS cassettes, along with game cards and other realia? At the time, this was a novel idea; yeah, we had Atari, Intellivision, and Colecovision (until the NES emerged in 1985), so using a TV for interactive entertainment wasn't entirely new, but using a VCR for a game was unexplored territory.

In 1986, for Christmas, I asked for two games that incorporated VHS: Doorways to Adventure and Doorways to Horror, both created by Pressman. My parents gave me Doorways to Adventure, and I am glad they did. Doorways to Adventure is actually a rather straightforward game: the object of the game is to obtain the highest combined value of treasures by the time the VHS tape ends. Let me describe the format for you. First, you watch the first segment on the tape, which was some amusing or overly dramatic scene from some classic B-level adventure or action movie (such as Abbott and Costello clips). As you watch the movie clip, you are told that there is a particular kind of treasure on which you were to bid, be it precious metals, an art object, a deed to property, or jewelry. Next, you are told that you have to pay a ransom in the form of food, clothing, a shield, or other object (in the context of gameplay, these ransom objects are special blue-backed cards you retain in your hand). If you do not possess the appropriate ransom card, you must pay a bribe from a pool of money you are given at the start of the game. After you have either paid the ransom or bribe for the object, all players put out bid cards (special yellow-backed cards) face-down and then flip the cards simultaneously. Whoever has the highest bid wins the object. After the winning player receives a treasure card corresponding with the object, someone rolls a special color-coded die; the VHS cassette is then fast-forwarded to the next clip with a "doorway" title screen with the same color as what was was rolled. These steps are repeated until the end of the tape is reached. I could go in-depth about the prevalent strategies in the game, such as which kinds of treasure are more advantageous to obtain or the role of the "Key" and how to steal it, but the basic gist of the game is that you try to end up with highest total value of treasure, all the while bidding against other players and watching some hilariously cheesy movie clips of movies dating from the 1930s to the 1970s.

For a 12-year-old, Doorways to Adventures was undeniably fun, but I faced one problem: I was an only child, which meant I didn't have brothers or sisters that I could ask/compel to play with me. Also, my parents weren't the gaming types; they much preferred watching TV or hanging out with their friends when they chose to do so. With this in mind, I didn't have a ready pool of opponents against which I could play. I did have my friend Brian, who was game to play a few times; but, beyond him, the landscape of prospective competitors was barren and lifeless. Thus, the game was largely unplayed and remained in my closet for several years until it was packed up with my other board games and put into storage at my grandma's house.

A few years ago, I rediscovered the game in my grandma's rafters and showed it to my sons and wife. My sons were intrigued, so I relearned the game and played it with them. At first, my sons were confused by the rules, but they caught on quickly and were outbidding each other (and me) by the time we passed through the first few doorways. They began to grasp the concept that, for example, getting a bunch of Precious Metals was more profitable than focusing on Art Objects in the long run. They also enjoyed stealing the Key from each other and stealing treasure from each other whenever one spotted water or fire in a movie clip (note: there are "Steal Treasure with Water" and "Steal Treasure with Fire" cards that allow you to take an opponent's treasure if water or fire are present in the movie clip). We eventually roped my wife into playing a game with us, which can last two hours. Despite the length, when we all have the time to play, we are consistently amused and bemused in equal measure as treasures are gained and lost with alarming regularity.

Doorways to Adventure is an integral part of my family's game rotation, though the game length can be incredibly protracted if bidding and stealing become fierce. This is so much so that whenever one of us suggests that game for Family Night, the other three of us will cringe, look at the clock, and say, "That game takes TOO long." Nonetheless, Doorways to Adventure is one of those games, along with some of my NES games, that is seeing new life now because, unlike the time of my youth, I have a pool of people with whom I can play. Whenever I have the time and mental space to play Doorways to Adventure, I feel like the 12-year-old inside of me gets to do what he never got to do in 1986: play his games with other people. Considering that, I implore you, the reader, to hold onto, or find, your old games because someday you may have a new generation of opponents with whom to play right under your own roof.

The Legend of Zelda: 1HN Epic Questing

What else can be said about The Legend of Zelda on the NES that hasn't been said? It was a genre-defining RPG? It was a wonderfully rich game from a time when such games were rare on consoles? It has two of the most well-known videogame characters out there today -- Link and Zelda? It was easy to learn and fun to play, and yet difficult to solve and challenging to beat? All of these things have already been said, so what would the point be in writing a blog review about this game? Well, there's one reason why I'd write such a blog entry: because, like most blogs, this blog is self-indulgent, right? (wink)

Humor aside, The Legend of Zelda was one of the most important games in my collection and represents the hours of fun I spent playing it. If I remember correctly, my first introduction to The Legend of Zelda was through my friend Brian, who lent it to me in 1987. I don't remember much about how I felt playing the game, though I do remember how colorful and thick the manual was and how informative the enclosed map was. I also remember when, quite accidentally, I pressed down on the game inside my NES console to release the game without turning the power off, which wiped all the data out of memory, including Brian's saved games! When I return the games to him, he was visibly distraught. However, when I got back the Lone Wolf books I had lent him (I'll write a blog entry on these books in the future) and noticed how white-lined and bent-up the spines were, I felt that by accepting my damaged books I had paid my penance for my sad mishap. In any case, I learned a crucial lesson: turn the power off BEFORE you eject a game cartridge.

I ended up getting The Legend of Zelda for Christmas in 1988. I still have the cartridge in all its gold-plated glory, though I cannot find the manual or the map. Recently, I started up a new campaign in the game and made it through the first dungeon. As I played the game, I noted how fun it was to go from screen to screen and blasting baddies with my sword (note: you can "blast" your foes with distant sword shots if Link is at full strength), but I also noted how Link seems to move as if stuck to a grid, which can render fighting more challenging than it should be, and makes dying an all-too common occurrence. I remember beating this game in four games, but I've already died six times in my current campaign! So, it's an understatement to say that The Legend of Zelda is hard.

Even in this day and age of graphically-amazing games, I would heavily recommend The Legend of Zelda as it is on the NES. The graphics are quaint and suitable for younger kids, and even the skeletons and ghosts look "cute." Of course, if you have a conviction against such creatures in a game, then I would consider the appearance of such foes as a chance to discuss if such creatures exist. The one thing I get from this game, though, is that Link is a hero who is on a quest to rescue the princess. There aren't many missions purer than that.

Top Gun: 1HN Old-Timey Flight Simulation

I must make a bold statement: any American born in the 70s (like me) would find it challenging to NOT have some kind of positive feeling associated with the movie Top Gun, an 80s fighter flick directed by (at the time) young director Tony Scott and starring Tom Cruise as Pete "Maverick" Mitchell. Top Gun was a rather straightforward film about a hotshot F-14 pilot and his RIO buddy as they challenged similarly talented pilots and RIOs at a Naval flight school in Miramar, CA. Along the way, Maverick (Tom Cruise) and Goose (played by Anthony Edwards) would engage in dogfights, dangerous flying, and other macho escapades. Of course, tragedy strikes in the middle of the movie, from which Maverick must recover to overcome his own doubts and defeat some MiGs to boot. The movie then ends on an encouraging high note. I know I'm glossing over much of the movie, but that's the basic gist of it.

To cash in on the success of Top Gun, Konami developed the Top Gun videogame for the NES and released it in 1987. In the game, you are the pilot of an F-14 Tomcat, and you must complete four missions, each of which concludes with having to land on an aircraft carrier. All four missions are comprised of much dogfighting from the first-person perspective of sitting in the cockpit. At the beginning of each mission, you have your choice of one of three types of missiles: you can choose 40 of the weakest missiles, 20 of the medium-strength missiles, or 10 of the most powerful missiles. Depending on the mission, some missiles are better than others; for example, for the first two missions, choose the 40-missile option because you will engage in much dogfighting. However, for the fourth mission (if I recall correctly), go with the more powerful missiles. You get a briefing before each mission, so pay attention to the text.

Top Gun has much nostalgia value for me, both because of the movie with which it is associated and because the gameplay is so simple and easy to grasp that anyone can play the moment they press Start. Now, even my sons have taken to the game, if only because it's uncomplicated. That said, Top Gun was a flawed game: dogfighting is terribly stiff and simplistic, you can shoot at missiles and destroy them (really, this isn't entirely bad), you can avoid the action all together (just by going up or down for the entire mission), and landing the F-14 can be extremely difficult for a first-time player. It takes some practice and steady fingers to land your plane; if you cannot land it, you waste a 1-UP but you move on to the next mission. As expected for an early NES game, the graphics are unspectacular and the point-of-view doesn't change much and is largely useless; just look at the unnecessary gauges in the lower-right corner of the cockpit, which have NO bearing on gameplay. Also, does one really need a horizon indicator when you can't roll the plane?

In any case, Top Gun is a fun little game to play for 20 to 30 minutes, but it becomes dull rather quickly. As a teenager, I had acquired this game from my friend Brian in a trade, though I don't remember what I traded. At the time, I enjoyed this game and could play it for a much longer duration than I can now, mostly because my time is too precious these days to spend with this game. Honestly, I'd rather play a Sonic or Mario game. This is not to say that the game is a "dud," especially for younger players; there are just better games to play. One thing, though: there is a music loop that plays before the start of every mission when you choose your missiles. I can't explain why, but I can listen to this loop for hours; there is something soothing and enthralling about it. Listen to it for yourself and let me know what you think:

Role-Playing Games: A RETROspective

(Originally posted as Role-Playing Games: One Christian's Perspective on Epinions)

Okay, this is a tough one; why RPGs are a "tough" subject is something I'll explore later. So, before I offer my "brief" opinion, let me provide some background:

From the mid-80s to the mid-90s, I was a HUGE RPG fan. It all began with Choose Your Own Adventure-type books, like Lone Wolf (by Joe Dever and Gary Chalk) and the Wizards and Warriors series. As I became interested in the fantasy milieu, I delved into the "dreaded" world of Dungeons & Dragons (D&D), starting with "first edition" Advanced D&D in the 80s and then second edition in 1993. I expanded into other worlds of gaming, such as various Palladium RPG series like Robotech, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turles, and Rifts. Because I often didn't have the time or enough friends that were interested in playing RPGs, I was more of a collector and reader of the rule books than a player, though I spent countless hours rolling up characters and designing game campaigns in my head. When I did get to play, I was often the Dungeon Master (DM) or Gamemaster (GM), telling the interactive story while relatively inexperienced players assume the roles of characters. One classic session of gaming featured my friends Ed and Tim, who were brothers, playing the roles of bungling assassins. Ed's weapon of choice was a trident because it did the most damage (one twelve-sided die's worth of damage) and his primary tactic was charging at non-player characters (NPCs) with it. Ed once kicked Tim's character in the butt for double-damage (which is done by rolling a 20 on a twenty-sided die), reducing Tim's assassin to one hit point. Ah, the heady times of RPGs...

During my college years, I largely left RPGs behind in favor of comic books and, later, collectible card games, so my books sat in boxes for years until I unearthed them last year in my parents' garage. I thumbed through those old tomes, remembering the good times: games with Ed, Tim, and Brian; the hours of rolling up characters; memories of the histories of characters that existed only in my imagination; the times I walked to Comic World, eagerly awaiting the purchase of any newly-released book. At the time, RPGs seemed like intelligent, but somewhat carefree fun with wizards, fighters, clerics, and thieves intermingling in fantasy worlds of adventure and combat; the rules could be dense, esoteric, and almost impenetrable to the novice enthusiast, but RPGs were simply rules for conducting interactive games unlike any board game.

However, having given my life to Jesus in 1999 in Japan, I now peruse those books as a Christian. As a believer, I cannot help but consider some of the themes that are present in many RPGs: violence, stealing, questionable character decisions, occult imagery, the (pretend) use of magic, and the general darkness of the motifs and settings in many RPGs. I also consider the broad array of critical articles and opinions leveled at RPGs, particularly D&D, by Christians: in the 80s, D&D was linked to the suicides of obsessive players; in the 90s, the criticisms were largely redirected at card games like Magic: The Gathering, but RPGs were still viewed with scorn as gateways to the occult, witchcraft, and devil worship. Even today, RPGs, which are mostly digitized and game console-based, are nonetheless associated with the same negative influences as the paper RPGs of twenty years ago.

Anyway, I'm kind of beating around the bush, so I'll go straight to my opinion, assuming that you, the reader, have at least been exposed to RPGs either as a player or as a reader of the criticisms against RPGs. In my opinion as a believer, playing a paper-based RPG can be a fun, social event with friends who want nothing more than to make characters, do a little play-acting, and take part in an adventure told by a storyteller. Granted, there would have to be the proviso that certain things would not be done, such as playing characters that commit atrociously criminal acts in the game, worshipping deities, and summoning demons or other hellish creatures. Also, the friends would have to agree that the game would start and end at times decided beforehand, and that future games would occur only at set times -- this prevents the potentially life-sucking temptation to play daily. More than that, one would have to look critically at any game and decide if the story and the characters are an affront to Christ, but what does that mean? That would be up to the individual, in prayer and contemplation, to determine. With all of these conditions in mind, an RPG can be a viable way to spend time with friends.

All of that said, I find it extremely difficult to reconcile RPG play with a Christian worldview because most of what makes RPGs "fun" is predicated on action and violence. Now, for me, I don't have a problem imagining a quest to rescue somebody and having to fight orcs, dragons, beholders, and the like; after all, Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, who were big influences on Gary Gygax and his creation of D&D in the 1970s, often depicted epic battles between the forces of good and evil in their Christian-influenced works. But, many campaigns often involve one-on-one violence between characters and NPCs; yes, even though the violence is highly imaginary, one must question if one's imaginary actions reflect what is in one's heart. Though Jesus spoke of adultery in Matthew 5:27-30, what He says is also applicable to violence; in other words, if violence is in your heart, it is just as bad as committing the act of violence. Of course, violence is a topic I have broached before, and it is a tricky one vis-a-vis games, especially pencil-and-paper games like D&D or NES 8-bit games like Contra, but the idea that your heart can be reflected in your gameplay cannot be dismissed.

Besides violence, there is still much to consider regarding the imagery of some, but not all, RPGs. Obviously, D&D and other fantasy-based games are steeped in wizardry and occult elements while games like Robotech (which is based on the animated series of the same name) are not -- this is undeniable. One may point out once again that Tolkien and Lewis also employed such elements allegorically, and that they were using spellcasting and witchcraft as plot elements, but are these concepts that anyone, let alone children, should allow in their minds and hearts? Some would say these things are merely in-game actions; if your conviction towards such things is this, then I cannot speak against that. Likewise, if you feel convicted about having any of that in any game or medium in your household, I cannot speak against that, either. The important thing is knowing one's own weaknesses and not exposing oneself to ideas that can take away from Christ.

I could go on and on about the positive and negative aspects of paper-based RPGs, but I will just present the basic ones. The positive aspects of paper-based RPGs are the use of imagination, the inherently social nature of gameplay, the creativity necessary to conduct the games, and the sheer fun of rolling cool-looking dice. Conversely, the negative aspects of paper-based RPGs are the imagery, the incorporation of violence, the encouragement of occult activity in the game, and the temptation to spend too much time in game play and game preparation. I do not believe that RPGs are inherently satanic or demonic, and I don't believe that RPGs are categorically amoral and mind-warping, but much of what is published for game use can be all of these things -- that is the danger of paper-based RPGs. If, somehow, one can elevate the positive aspects and minimize the negative aspects, one may can have a fun time with paper-based RPGs, yet this is more easily said than done.

To close, I must mention video game-based RPGs -- the kind you play on your computer or game console. Because these games are audiovisual and presented for the player, one is both dissociated from the action and engulfed by the action: dissociated insofar as the action is external to the player's mind and reduced to button presses and hand-eye coordination, yet engulfed in that one's senses of sight and sound are enraptured by the graphics and effects of the game. In this way, PC- and console-based RPGs are no "worse" than paper-based RPGs except that console RPGs are mostly non-social and somewhat isolating while paper-based games are not; and, console RPGs require little or no preparation to play, so one can play these games anytime, which enhances the addictive qualities of such games. Plus, one has to ask oneself: what is more powerful, the imagined appearance of a monster, or the appearance of a monster as visualized in a computer or console game? I'd choose the latter because the detail is too particular and too realistic.

RC Pro-Am: 1HN Racing

Back in my adolescent days, I owned an NES console, along with 15 or so games. Most of the time, I was entertained by those 15 or so games, but there were times when I wanted to try other games, so I'd often borrow games from my friends Ed and Brian. One game I borrowed from Brian was RC Pro-Am.

The premise behind RC Pro-Am was simple: take control of a red radio-controlled car as you zip around a track riddled with various power-ups, oil slicks, speed-boost strips, and other road hazards. All the while, you can use bombs or missiles to hold your rivals at bay as you strive to cross the finish in third place or better (fourth place meant elimination). It was a relatively simple game except for one wrinkle: as it is with controlling RC (radio-controlled) cars, if the car comes toward you, you have to steer left to go right, and vice versa. Okay, this is a bad explanation... Imagine this: the RC car is coming at you and you want to make it go to your left, so you press right on your control stick, right? Wrong. You press left because you have to pretend that you are driving from the perspective of the RC car... Get it?

That's okay -- my sons don't...

My wife and I got RC Pro-Am, along with several other NES games, for our sons for Christmas, along with a Gen-X Dual Station clone console. I initially thought that my boys would enjoy this racing simulation, but I found that the concept of oncoming perspective was too much to overcome. Thus, after 10 minutes, both of my boys asked to switch games, obviously frustrated at the idea that you had to press left to go right.

In any case, once you overcome this mental hurdle, RC Pro-Am is a whole lot of fun, especially when the computer turns on the cheese and gives the yellow RC car sudden bursts of supersonic speed -- and, the only way to stop this yellow demon is to blast it to bits... repeatedly. Despite this, RC Pro-Am is addictive and is easy to pick up, play for a while, and then put down with the satisfaction of having gotten the "need for speed" (and destruction) out of your system.