The "of the week" theme is now kind of misleading. But on the plus side, it's like playing safe Russian Roulette with guessing when there will actually be new updated content on this blog. Just keep pressing F5 guys! Speaking of which, if you have been playing, congratulations, you've struck gold (or possibly just shot yourself, if we're making a direct analogy).
This week, we're taking a look at Nosaj Thing's new music vidoe for "Eclipse/Blue", a pleasantly calming track with accompanying choreography and uniquely designed visuals. Take motion tracking out of the games/entertainment industry bubble for a second, and you might turn some heads. The performers here are moving in real-time as the shapes and lines track and react to their dance. The result is a mesmerizing technological and artistic feat: a combination of performance and new media.
Get with the times folks, this is becoming standard practice. Painting and shit better move aside.
It's been three days since I finished the final episode, No Time Left, of the five-part episodic zombie survival series. Several times throughout those three days, I have become deeply troubled because I kept thinking about this game. I ate a clementine today, which only made it that much harder to swallow. I realized early on that this was the only game to forge such a strong connection with me, deeper than just a superficial desire to play it out of enjoyment. I kept playing this game not because of it's fun factor, because frankly there is no such instance in any of the five episodes out there where fun is ever factored in. You play it because you have to. Like finishing each episode, getting to the end, and sacrificing everything with the choices you make is the onlypossible thing you can do.
This is a game that will be discussed in online forums, lecture halls, and gaming websites for a long time. From a developer that's been in the down-low for quite some time, known for several sub-par games (Back to the Future? Wut?), and some memorable ones (Sam & Max), Telltale surprised absolutely everyone when the first few episodes rolled out. Because it just kept getting better. And rawer. And unbareably addicting. What this video game has done for the industry, it is not something to be ignored.
It is a revolutionary gaming experience. Here's why:
THE STORY
By far, the greatest virtue of The Walking Dead's offering to its players. This is a compelling, loyal story to the source material, and yet it offers something completely new -- it takes advantage of the medium that its produced on. The wise choice to make a new narrative set in the same universe opened up an entire new canvas of possibilities, and the writing team took advantage of it, by the spades.
Set right at Day 1 of the zombie epidemic, instead of watching Rick Grimes in comatose in a Georgia hospital, we follow Lee Everett, a college professor stuck in the back of a squad car, on his way out of the city. The slate is clean. We know nothing about this guy. But at the end of No Time Left, the tether between character and player, avatar and human, it's closer than most games can ever hope to achieve.
The second central character, Clementine, is the lifeblood of this
series. She is the core -- Lee might be the player's avatar, the main
influencing factor within the game's story, but Clementine is cleverly
constructed to be absolutely everything to the player -- the
core, the goal, the emotional center. From Episode 1 through to Episode
5, Telltale's story team has been able to strengthen and reinforce that
notion with each single dialogue choice for Lee. And her presence just
drives the motivation to finish the game, however you're playing it. The
amount of investment we put into this nine-year old girl is through the
roof. I furiously clicked my mouse button if any zombie or human went
anywhere near her -- I felt genuine anger when her life was threatened,
and I wanted to hug her to death myself whenever she was sad. One of
the best non-player characters in gaming history, and definitely the most
deftly-written, organic and complex child characters in any story I've
ever read, played, or watched.
Each episode deals with a chapter in Lee and Clemetine's trials for survival, from the original survivor group of Episode 1 in the drugstore, switching to the motor inn, down to the dairy and eventually into Savannah in the hopes of sustaining Clementine's search of her parents -- its a mirroring of the comics that works so ubiquitously that there is no detachment from the structure of the story. It takes the context of both the comics and the television show, and imparts its own elements, given by the nature of the video game medium, and molds those mechanics to serve the story. The separation of these chapters are natural, gripping cliffhangers. And The Walking Dead is nothing without character deaths -- and they come a-plenty. They are all left-field. They all made me gasp, sometimes yell. They are all heart-breaking in some way or another. There is no extra air being wasted -- all these characters have a part to play, and they're all essential to the story; of course, this being a game structured around player choices and their effects on characters, that's a necessity. And nicely done it was.
There was never a point in the game where I stepped out of the story. The immersion was deep and satisfying, emotionally draining because of the subject matter, and relentlessly manipulative. Players never get away with a story choice that won't have consequence later on. The 'hints' to notify the player that an NPC will 'remember' certain things -- that's the tease that gives the added tension of the gameplay mechanic. But story-wise, it's an incredible achievement for this amount of immersion to come from a point-and-click adventure, and I truly think its because every element of this game's development has always served the story. By the fourth and fifth episodes, Telltale had mastered that to the tee. And the result was an ending sequence that collectively punched every player right in the feels.
The best part about this story? It wouldn't work in any other medium. It is distinctly a product of its constraints and its opportunities set by the nature of the video game. The interactive storytelling, the branching character outcomes, the poignancy of player choice -- all gone if you transpose or adapt it into another environment. Like the comic takes advantage of the ever-lasting storyline, or the show takes advantage of the power moving images can do for a story, the game puts all its cards on the table.
THE GAMEPLAY
The technical aspects is where a lot of critics would have had parts to nit-pick, but it all becomes moot by the further episodes, where Telltale really figured out how to handle their limitations in an effective and terse way. Using the repertoire they had, they turned simplicity into a complex player-centered experience. The playing of a point-and-click adventure has that level of nostalgia that early gamers in the 90's love, but there was never a Walking Dead kind of brooding storyline to accompany it. What do you do to mesh the two together?
A lot of the studies coming in about why exactly the game is just so good keeps coming back to the decision mechanics of the player. The dialogue options, and the dialogue itself, is the core of the gameplay here. The adventure elements of searching for interactive parts of the levels, or the short action sequences are always there as effects of the initial choices that players make, through these instances where they must make a choice to decide the direction that Lee and Clementine should take.
Rooting them in the themes of the game, instead of the progression towards a goal, is how Telltale solved the point-and-click risks. Each dialogue option represents a way to respond to characters that would change their disposition or attitudes towards Lee. The player being in control of these decisions places a unique kind of responsibility in their hands -- not like an sandbox shooter, or a platformer, where the level of detachment is clear and accepted. The Walking Dead is an intimate, personal experience. The detachment instead comes in the form of control. The pre-ordained selections for dialogue are going to be Lee's thoughts, players choose the kind of Lee they feel is the right one for the job. So, players maybe aren't in the shoes of Lee Everett, but are responsible for constructing his attitudes. That sense of responsibility towards a character drives the gameplay.
Everything branches from the choices. The emphasis on full-circle, karmatic foreshadowing help hammer that down for the player. And without a doubt, it becomes one of its central themes - and also it's one of the themes of both comic and television show. Gameplay serving story.
Most of all, it's simple. Icons to represent points of interaction. Four directions of movement within an environment. Optional hints. Everything designed to minimize the focus of the player's attention on what they're doing, but rather, why they should do something.
THE DESIGN
Aesthetically, the stylized, comic-book art design of the game is the best choice Telltale made right from the starting gate. Importing that connection with the comic book universe not only settled down antsy comic book fans, but it aided the construction of that universe tenfold. It just looks straight out f the pages. Immersion factor multiplies quickly. The gore is so prevalent, but it's never over-the-top, never kitschy or silly. The raw and the grit is there, not in the detail, but the atmospheres and the soundtracks and the colours. Complexity hidden under simplicity is a running visual theme here. The faces emote so well for stylized faces, but the expressions are heightened by the weight of everything that's going on.
The sound design obviously gives the dimension it needs. Jared Emerson-Johnson's sombre and ominous background score punctuates just about every major decision with a melody that, on cue, will bring you back to those fateful decision in a heartbeat. By Episode 5, it's a cue for waterworks.
The locations are fittingly TWD-esque. The drugstore - enclosed, encapsulated, a boiling pot for tension, waiting to fall down. The motel is wider, but way more dreadful. Dilapidated and tired - just like its characters. The dairy farm's idyllic falsehood represents just that -- there is no safe haven from what they're experiencing. The train is a much more direct thematic connection to the story, and it has a lot of good story moments. Pushing forward to the end, full steam. Until Savannah, with the sewer system, Crawford, and the mansion, it's a variety of locations to evoke a variety of moods and feelings, with all the characters running amok between them, the sense of evolution and emotional progression is supported by steel-thick design and aesthetics that augment just about everything.
THE VERDICT.
Game of the Year for 2012, it should win all the awards. Just the context of having a second-rate, pseudo-indie developer come out with this gem, it's a direct display of story overpowering flare, sales revenues, marketing prowess, or franchise profitability. Just tell a fucking good story, and keep that goal with every artistic, technical or gameplay choice, and you'll have an amazing game. In a way, this is the best fan-fiction in the world. The collaborative nature is undeniable - players themselves get to impart their own thinking into the outcome, sort of, of how Lee and Clementine end up. The developers took everything they knew about The Walking Dead, and kept their vision sound and loyal.
Buy this game, if you've never played games before. It's simple to understand and unbelievably addicting from the first 10 minutes in. If you're gamer, play this game because it's not like any other game you've ever played. If you're a person, play this game because having the chance to feel this kind of emotion from fake people gives you a refreshing break from the simplicity of real life.
The Walking Dead will make you feel alive with conviction and motivation. Play it, and you'll know why.
