If you haven’t heard of Mirror’s Edge, the first-person parkour fest from EA and DICE, you should really come out from under that rock you’ve been living under. Seriously, everybody can get behind jumping around on skyscrapers and giant construction equipment. Think Assassin’s Creed minus the knives and ancient architecture, with a slick monochrome aesthetic that makes the city appear almost too clean and perfect – something that stands in stark contrast to the abundant political corruption in the story.

What’s puzzling to many people (myself included) is that Mirror’s Edge achieved great review scores (averaging 79-81 on Metacritic, depending on platform), yet has somehow fallen by the wayside. Several representatives from both EA and DICE have expressed a love for the game and a desire to see a sequel, but so far nothing concrete has happened aside from hints at a second game during E3 2011. This is a sad scenario indeed, but it begs the question of why. With a cult following backing it up and people within the development and publishing companies both advocating it, why hasn’t a sequel already been made?

The obvious answer is that it didn’t sell well. Mirror’s Edge sold less than 150,000 copies during its first month on shelves, a relatively small number for a game that was supposed to kick start a new series for EA. With such low numbers, it’s no wonder EA decided a second game wasn’t worth backing. But why didn’t the game sell well? What was it that kept people from picking up an excellent title with high review scores and general praise from critics and players alike? What turned Mirror’s Edge into a sleeper hit?

First, its price was too high for the amount of content it had. I completed my first playthrough in only a few hours and given that fact, I’m glad I didn’t buy it on launch day. It certainly isn’t worth the full fifty bucks. This explains why initial sales were dismally low, whereas currently EA has recorded sales exceeding two million across all platforms (including the iOS adaptation). Mirror’s Edge just couldn’t get away with its own price tag.

Second, the game tried something relatively new – platforming from a first-person perspective. This was both a blessing and a curse. I can attest from personal experience that when the game was first released I was not motivated to buy it. I heard good things about it, but not enough good things, and the idea of a first-person platformer was too bizarre and overwhelmed any desire to try it out. Once I bought a copy last year on Steam for twenty bucks and was immediately hooked. I’ve done multiple full playthroughs since; something I can’t say about many other games. Preconceptions about game genres die hard sometimes. Mirror’s Edge sought to expand the borders of what games can do and be; unfortunately it did so at the cost of its own franchise integrity, at least in the short term, thanks to consumer bias about the limitations of the first-person camera.

Third and last, Mirror’s Edge used a controversial visual style. The starkly monochrome areas were beautifully minimalistic to me, but as we all know, there will always be those who favor ultra-realism over everything else. The cutscenes were another point of dissent; rather than using CG or live-action scenes to represent story moments, the development team chose to incorporate 2D animations. Personally, I felt that the choice was a good one – the animation was professionally done, always smooth, and matched the rest of the game’s aesthetic incredibly well. But some players disliked the choice of style. I’m sure we’ve all met a gamer at some point who refuses to play anything that isn’t gritty and dark. Visuals are a huge part of games and the impressions they give, and using an aesthetic that eschews any kind of realism is going to alienate a large portion of the market on the basis of graphics alone. This is especially so when the game’s basic mechanic is already questionable prior to purchase, and therefore isn’t doing anything to help overcome a bias against certain visual styles.

It’s been three years since Mirror’s Edge was first released. In that time, I sincerely hope EA and DICE have learned from the muted success of their innovative title, and are ready to put it back on the drawing board for a sequel. Keep the first-person parkour, keep the aesthetic, and lower the price of entry. More people will be likely to try something new if it’s not going to break their wallets. I would also like to see a more aggressive marketing campaign for Mirror’s Edge 2 should the sequel be made. People need to know that there’s more to gaming than gray-and-brown first-person shooters, and the first Mirror’s Edge had only a few vague ads that didn’t really push it as a unique and interesting title. It’s all about first impressions for the new generation of gamers.

There’s a lot of ground to cover before Mirror’s Edge 2 is allowed to see the light of day, but I have high hopes that it will be able to make the leap (pun intended) from a sleeper hit to an instant classic.

Video game narratives have so much potential. Through this interactive medium, we are often able to forge our own version of a story with the power of player choice. But despite so many games providing us with options, we are often left creating not the story we want, but the one that fits in line with predetermined binary extremes.

The moment a game rewards you with good or evil points, you start to decide which of the two moralities you want to base all future decisions on. This is because we have been trained to assume that there are far greater benefits from leaning to one side than finding a happy middle ground. Sadly, this assumption is usually correct.

This severely limits the variance between each player’s experience. We stop trying to roleplay a character and instead find ourselves exploiting each decision to reach a specific desired end (whether it be special powers or a literal ending).

"Do you want Paragon or Renegade points in Mass Effect 2?"

It also bases everything on a predetermined moral compass. This is problematic as roleplaying enthusiasts know there is a huge difference between a character who is “Lawful Good” and one who is “Chaotic Good”.  Yet, occasionally games will tell you that you’re evil for choosing one or the other.

Mass Effect 2 has often been praised for its array of dialogue options, but while it is a very good game, it still falls prey to a lot of these same problems. Often times dialogue is colored bright blue or bright red, essentially telling the player, “Click here for Paragon points or click there for Renegade points.” The game practically begs you to exploit it instead of encouraging you to choose what your version of Commander Shepard would actually do in that situation. Fortunately, there are a handful of more meaningful decisions as well, but they’re often in the minority.

Catherine was certainly on the right track, but it wasn’t perfect either. The text message approach to dialogue trees is genius. By allowing you to build a conversation from several blocks of text (each of which have their own array of multiple choice options) before sending it off, the triggers for the results you witness are far more obscured. Still, with a morality meter shown immediately after clicking the send button, I still found myself choosing what I thought the game wanted me to say to make the bar slant to one side or the other. Despite making it harder to game the system, they still directly encourage you to do so by showing your immediate results.

"This is four different dialogue decisions in Catherine queued up before hitting send."

The biggest mistake most developers make with player choice is limiting it to morality in the first place. Other characters within a game’s world shouldn’t respond to you based on some magical newsletter they received letting them know whether you’ve spent your time being a jerk or a nice guy. Instead, they should act based on whether or not they agree with how you handle the situations they are aware of.

Deus Ex: Human Revolution is a game full of choices, but you won’t ever see points fed into a red or blue bar. Because of this, I finally felt free to do what I wanted. If I decided to be a jerk to somebody, it wasn’t because I wanted to save enough jerk points to get me into the jerk club down the road. It was because I didn’t like the guy and I wanted him to know it.

You could argue that most of the major dialogue trees in Human Revolution are still a means to an end, and you’d be right. But they aren’t about being good or evil. They are about getting inside the head of the person you’re talking to and manipulating them into doing what you want. Most importantly, these dialogue trees are incredibly satisfying experiences that manage to make talking to somebody a game in itself. Who knew that talking could be so much fun?

"Which version of Cybil will you meet in Silent Hill: Shattered Memories?"

The art of subtlety is difficult to achieve, but Silent Hill: Shattered Memories managed to do so exceptionally well. You are constantly judged by your actions and you’re in a constant state of making decisions whether you realize it or not. Did you answer that phone call? Which room in this building did you enter first? How was your eye contact during that last conversation? Did you examine the clothing on that mannequin a little too closely? You will be judged on all of these things without ever being told.

Even the game’s therapy sequences play with your head by presenting you with tasks such as ranking people in a story in order of bloodguilt, or picking out which people in photos are sleeping and which are dead. The result of therapy and the subtle ways you interact with the game world determine not only your ending, but the way certain locations and characters look and act, your own dialogue during cutscenes (which you do not get to choose directly), and even your own personality profile after completing the game.

To successfully make a decision based game interesting, it is crucial to avoid black and white situations. Judge a player when they think the developer’s all seeing eye isn’t looking. Obscure which piece of chosen dialogue triggers different reactions. And most importantly, make players feel a sense of freedom instead of compulsion.

Most gamers were introduced to the Super Nintendo through the latest adventures of a certain portly plumber, but for me things were a little different. I was too young to have a job when the system released, and I still had only experienced a fraction of the NES library anyway. But as time went on, focus increasingly shifted to the more Super of Nintendos on the market, and eventually a cheaper package was released sans-Super Mario World. It was after this that one of my older brothers surprised me with what I still consider to be the greatest video game system ever made.

A Super Nintendo, the very same one that is hooked up behind me right now, sat on my bed and I was beside myself with excitement. The cheaper model came with a mail-in voucher for Super Mario All-Stars, but what was I to play in the meantime? It turned out the other surprise my brother had in store was a copy of Cybernator, a game I had never heard of before.

I’m so glad that Cybernator was my first Super Nintendo game because even today, I can’t seem to find a single living soul (in person) who knows what it is. Had it not been given to me with the system, I might still be unaware of this incredibly solid gem of a game.

"Please don't hurt me. I have a robo-wife and kids."

Cybernator, better known in Japan as Assault Suits Valken, felt familiar thanks to other run and gun games like Contra. But at the same time, it far exceeded anything I had ever seen. Missions opened up with a briefing before a giant robot rocket boosted out of a drop ship. Characters talked (via written text) to move along an actual story in an action game. The graphics were incredible and the music sounded like actual instruments instead of square waves. Did I mention I got to control a giant robot?

But that was only the beginning. Nothing could have prepared me for the actual gameplay. Eight point aiming is nice and all, but all the cool kids have sixteen points. Having trouble handling your many aiming options? No problem! Just hit the aim-lock button and you’re free to blast away baddies at a twenty-two and a half degree angle while rocket boosting.

When rocket boosting and hovering with your jet pack isn’t enough to get you out of harm’s way, your trusty shield is there to save the day. Of course you can’t move while using it, but it’s a smile price to pay for protection. No run and gun would be complete without a variety of weapons. Cybernator delivers and does so with a persistent upgrade system. And if your various guns aren’t enough to do the trick, you can always punch the enemy in their stupid face with your giant robo-arm (which is also upgradable).

"Meanwhile, in a shmup..."

Stages actually follow the context of a story, taking you to different meaningful locales instead of randomly throwing you about. And to dig up an overused term, these stages are epic! In as early as the second stage, your mech has giant space jets attached to its back so it can fly through an asteroid belt in a level resembling a shmup. After your space jet pack detaches, you find yourself in what can only be described as “robo-Contra with zero gravity”. In a later stage, you’ll fire at enemies as you fall through the Earth’s atmosphere at breakneck speeds.

Many stages have side goals that will determine which of two endings you’ll get. They also have a sense of openness about them allowing for a bit of exploration. This is how you’ll get more of the aforementioned upgrades. You’ll come across giant boss fights. Some of these are fairly straight forward while others involve you destroying the engines of a space station hurling toward Earth in 2 minutes while another mech attempts to robo-punch you with an arm bigger than your entire body.

Sure, Cybernator may be a bastardized version of the Japanese original. Some of the story is less coherent, the anime character portraits have been removed, and the main villain no longer commits suicide after realizing he’s lost. But even with those changes, it’s still an amazing game and one that I’m proud to have experienced as an introduction to the greatest game system of all time. It’s also available on the Wii’s Virtual Console service. I think you know what to do.

Superlatives are interesting things. Even though most reduce down to simply “better” or “best”, countless hundreds have become mainstays of the English lexicon. Just pick up any thesaurus and take a look. Seriously, try it. Oh, and when you’re done, look up the word “lexicon”. You know what it means? Thesaurus. I know, right? It’s all so meta. So meta in fact, it’s beyond meta. Fun fact: Meta comes from a Greek root meaning “beyond”. What does all this have to do with the Super Nintendo you ask? You’ve got some nerve mister.

One day, way back in the summer of 1986, my friend Franklin called me and said he had just got something called a “Nine Ten Doetainment Sister” for his birthday and that he wanted me to come over and “play it”. I had no idea what he was talking about. I assumed Franklin was high (again) and was seeing ‘skin spiders’ (again). But you know Franklin, what a nut. Anyway, I didn’t really have any friends and I was intrigued at this whole ‘Doetainment Sisters’ idea. So over I went. Once there, I discovered two things: 1) Franklins’ parents had actually got him a “Nintendo Entertainment System” for his birthday and, 2) Franklin wasn’t high at all. He was drunk. Very, very drunk. Seriously kids, stay in school.

That summer Franklin and I played his NES (a term I just invented just now) until school started. I remember it well. There were so many games. My favorite? It was a tie. Between all of them. I found it to be an amazing toy game system. It was better than an Odyssey, taped to the back of a ColecoVision, stapled to an Atari 2600. But as often happens, time passed and Franklin and his NES (mostly the latter) grew apart. Little did I know at the time, but the best was yet to come.

Flash forward to 1991. Now I was eighteen and out on my own. I had my own apartment, my own car, and climbing the corporate ladder at OfficeMax (and by ‘corporate ladder’ I mean actual ladders…usually carrying boxes of 3-ring binders or Sharpies). I was all grown up and eager to assert my newly found adulthood. So I did what any mature, responsible adult would do: I headed down to Toys “R” Us and bought my very own Nintendo.

"Super-King of Prefixes"

I was surprised to find the Nintendo Entertainment System had been recently usurped as the Fresh Prince of game systems. It was now all about the Super Nintendo Entertainment System (see, I told you that first paragraph would be relevant eventually). I decided to call mine the ‘SNES’ (a term I invented, by the way). All the kids were saying it was more dope, more fresh, and at least 50% more other 90’s slang words than its predecessor. So I spent my Officemax money and bought one. It came with a similarly superlative-ized game called ‘Super Mario World’. In fact, as I browsed through the other available games, I found quite a few called ‘Super (something)’. Apparently everyone had elected ‘super’ as the new king of prefixes. It had become a veritable ‘Super Prefix’ (side note: I played Super King of Prefixes and it sucked). Being the counter-culture, iconoclast, hipster I was, I deliberately looked for a game without any nominal superness. I came across one called “Populous” and it looked interesting. It was a game where you basically played a god. I found that it was more fun than Super Mario World and way more fun than climbing ladders at work. Not to get into too many details, but suffice to say an inordinate amount of ‘sick’ was ‘called in’ during those first few weeks.

During those days of marathon Populous-playing sessions, my friends (of which I had none) would watch me play and say things like ‘Can we play Mario or something?’ and ‘Why are all your friends imaginary?’ (they would also tell me to burn things occasionally). FOOLS! They knew not of what they spoke. This was no mere ‘Nintendo’. This was the ‘Super Nintendo’. The Nintendo to end all Nintendo’s. The controller alone blew my mind. This one had eight buttons. Eight. And two of those buttons? That’s right — shoulder buttons (later, I discovered they existed but for one reason: to make high-speed turns in F-Zero…but that’s a story for another day). And the SNES provided such sublime gameplay. Case in point: at the end of every level, the Populous guy (who kinda looked like Skeletor) would say ‘Well done, mortal.’. It would actually say it…out loud. It was surely the best game system that would ever exist, ever.

"Well done, He-Man... er Mortal."

But as Yoda said, “Always in motion is the future.” It’s been twenty years and the world is much different now. Phrases like “I have a VCR” have now been replaced with “I have a Blu-ray player and it can’t record anything”. Shows like “In Living Color” or “The Arsenio Hall Show” have been replaced with lots of shows without black people in them. What I called the “Walkman” is now called, well it’s still called the Walkman. But it’s a lot different now. Listen, the point is, it’s been twenty years since those heady days of 1991. Sure, some things are better. I mean in 1991 the US was only engaged in one war and now we have three at once. You can use peanut butter to kill quite a few elementary school kids. And let’s not forget about Fox News. But the greatest tragedy of all these advancements is how Nintendo no longer uses superlatives when naming their systems. It’s really quite an atrocity.

The latest iteration of the veritable Nintendo Entertainment System, the ‘Wii’, is very popular among today’s young people. One would think that naming a game system after a urine euphemism would be a bad idea. But it seems anything goes with kids today. I’m not surprised. Just look at them. With their rap singing and Macpods. Honestly. And for the love of god, will you please pull up your freaking pants?! Don’t even get me started on what passes for Voltron these days. Plastic, Mattel? Plastic?!

"We're supposed to fly in what?"

But I digress.

There are so many systems today. I don’t know, I guess they are all pretty cool. And I admit I left my SNES behind long ago (I think I sold it for rent money). But despite all the advancements in gaming technology, it’s still the Super Nintendo that holds the fairy bottle to my heart containers.

And that, true believer, is the greatest superlative of them all.

Check out more from Mike over on his blog.

It’s hard to believe that it has been twenty years since the launch of the Super Nintendo. It may have taken us an extra nine months to get the machine here in North America, but I’m sure we can all agree it was worth the wait. My friends and I had been drooling over the screenshots in gaming magazines for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few months. They showed off the latest Mario, where he was riding some kind of crazy looking dinosaur.

There were screenshots of games we had no idea what they were about, like Act Raiser. There was this flying game that looked like they were pulling off actual 3D. Our minds were sufficiently blown.

August 1991 was a magical time for many, I’m sure. But I was 11, and I sure as heck didn’t get my grubby mitts on the  impressive looking gaming machine for several more years. If you were like me, you had to settle for grabbing every second you could on the demo stations they had at most retailers. I was often told that “This isn’t an arcade” when I would hang out in the gaming section of a store while my mom did all the boring shopping (clothes shopping is THE WORST at that age).

The big killer was that the system was $200 and neither my, nor any of my friends parents, would go for that price. If my shaky memory serves me, I believe the first real play time I had with the console was when a friend of mine rented a SNES for the weekend and we played through as much Super Mario World as we could possibly cram into a weekend. We couldn’t quite figure out how they had managed to make a game this awesome.

Eventually Nintendo offered a version of the console that came with both Super Mario World and a mail-in certificate for Super Mario All-Stars, an updated collection of the SNES Mario games. This is when everyone I knew started getting them. They also did a bundle that came with no game and only one controller, which every gamer I knew thought was complete crap. It’s funny to me how that has now become the norm. The good news was, the mail-in certificates worked with this version as well. Thankfully that was the case, because this was the edition we eventually had in our house.

"All-Stars Version of Super Mario Bros. 3"

One of our older brothers that we usually didn’t get along with had spontaneously decided to do something really nice. When Jesse and I got home from school one day, there was a SNES sitting on his bed. It was technically for him, but we usually gamed together anyway. I had the better TV in my room (I had bought it for $10 at a garage sale), so it was often hooked up in there. It is the same SNES Jesse still uses today. I can’t even say that about my current 360, and it’s only a few years old.

This not only kickstarted the SNES era of gaming in our house, but also introduced us much earlier than most households to being able to play all the games. You see, not too long before this, our NES had died and our parents, in association with me paying a small part and the same above mentioned older brother paying half, had purchased a Sega Genesis. The console wars were soon in full effect in the schoolyard. Everyone would pick a side based on the system they owned, but even before owning a SNES, I liked it better. It had the games that appealed to me. They are the same games that still hold up, whereas almost none of the Genesis games I enjoyed back then do. Baditude could not match good game design…itude.

But I don’t want to focus on the negatives here. I really just wanted to get everyone thinking about old games. They are the ones that have already stood the test of time, and I’m confident they will continue to do so.

The actual date of the Super Nintendo’s launch in North America is debated as some retailers sold it earlier than others. While some sources note an August 23rd launch, others note August 19th or even earlier depending on where in the country they were.

Let me be clear: Metroid is my absolute favorite video game series of all time. While I realize it’s quite common for longtime gamers to identify with a particular Nintendo franchise, I’ve always felt that Metroid was something special. The isolation, the atmosphere, the sense of progression; everything about the franchise reaches out to me.

That being said, I realize that the franchise has fallen on some hard times. The release of Metroid Prime 3 was practically ignored by Nintendo and its PR teams, Trilogy is almost impossible to find in stores and even harder to get for a decent price, and Other M was such a disappointment (both in terms of quality and in sales) that many a fan’s faith in Nintendo’s ability to handle the franchise has been shaken.

That’s why I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands. Below, I’ve compiled a list of the top four things that I believe should be done with the next entry in the Metroid franchise.

Note: these are just this writer’s opinions. Currently, Nintendo has announced no plans regarding a new Metroid title.

1) Where my Chozo at?

For those unfamiliar with Metroid lore, the Chozo were the ancient race of avian aliens that raised series protagonist Samus Aran and gifted her with her iconic Power Suit. According to Metroid Prime, they were nearly wiped out by an alien incursion before disappearing.

We’ve seen next to nothing of the Chozo, save for ruins and artifacts of their forgotten civilization. With their heavy connections to Samus’ history and equipment, their involvement in a future title would be a fantastic look into the fiction. Other M had the right idea in showing us Samus’ backstory, but chillin’ with the space marines wasn’t exactly the part of the lore fans wanted to explore. An encounter with the Chozo would give us more insight (much more interesting insight, anyway) into the Metroid universe than we’ve ever seen before.

2) Break out the graph paper, bring it back to 2D.

I love the Prime games. In point of fact, I hold the not-so-popular opinion that the first Prime is the best Metroid game period. That’s right, better than Super Metroid. Now that that’s out of the way, I would love to see a new sidescrolling entry. The idea of beautifully hand-drawn sprites and 2D gameplay has recently come back into vogue in gaming. Imagine a true follow-up to Super Metroid with the full weight of the top artists of the day and the processing power of the Wii or the Wii U.

It certainly wouldn’t be the first modern, flat-perspective Metroid game in history, with both Zero Mission and Fusion being made for the GBA, but it would be the first one in quite a while. And now in a post-price drop world, the 3DS with its lack of core content, 3D capability and high processing power seems like the perfect test bed for Nintendo to drop a new Metroid.

3) A moment of silence, if you please.

Part of what makes Metroid Metroid is the sense of isolation. While a silent protagonist definitely requires some unique storytelling methods, it’s just too damn hard to feel alone and independent when you’ve got half a dozen dude-bros giving each other the thumbs up every five seconds (see Other M).

That’s not to say that Samus shouldn’t be able to express herself. There really is no good reason for her not to be able to talk and, as long as she’s well-written, I would love the opportunity to take a look into her psyche. However, I’m just not that interested in 20 minute cutscenes in a Metroid game.

Keep it entertaining, keep it concise and keep Samus separated from the rest of the civilized galaxy. Have her facing the unknown terrors of the dark alone and unaided, and we should be golden.

4) Let’s get progressive!

Along with the sense of isolation, Metroid really depends on its sense of progression. The ability to tackle previously unassailable obstacles or handle old obstacles in new ways is the reason any Metroid fan worth their salt comes back time and again.

Over the years, developers have run out of legitimate excuses to strip Samus of her powers at the beginning of each game. Other M tried to alleviate this with an implausible and downright insulting story explanation while Prime 3 just started her off with most of her abilities from the get-go. Neither of these sat well with me. While the last thing people seem to be clamoring for from core Nintendo franchises is more traditionalism, this is one thing that I would be okay with seeing brought back.

I find it hard to believe that there isn’t some developer out there willing to give this issue the proper time and care it deserves. Maybe an Ubisoft, with their long track record of explaining gameplay conceits through the story could lend a hand? Honestly, I’d be okay with anything that didn’t keep me from using the Power Bomb until after I’ve beaten the game!

"Oh Other M, will I ever run out of complaints about you?"

5) Start loving Metroid again, Nintendo.

This isn’t really so much a suggestion as it is a criticism of Nintendo’s handling of the franchise. Metroid has never been as widely appealing as other Nintendo stalwarts like Zelda or Mario. With the darker aesthetic and vastly different style of play from just about anything on the market, Metroid is certainly the black sheep of the Nintendo family. This seems to have given Nintendo the idea that they should leave the franchise out in the cold. You can hardly blow your nose without spraying a new Mario or Zelda, while Metroid games feel few and far between in comparison.

On top of that, Nintendo seems to ignore those few games that do come out. It’s the 25th anniversary of the franchise for god’s sake! This is supposed to be a celebration! With nary a peep from the Big N on this most auspicious occasion (compounded with their practical disavowing of the last three games), can it be assumed that they just don’t care about the franchise anymore?

Metroid helped to define a whole new class of adventure game while redefining what a protagonist in a game could be. It shouldn’t fall entirely to fans to celebrate this fantastic series. Nintendo should recognize that there are fans that want more Metroid and more awareness for the franchise.

It is a hard thing for me to admit, but the original Metroid is a tough game to go back to. While the graphics and controls hold up well, its insane difficulty and incredibly tedious health replenishment make it a frustrating ride. But I’m not here to focus on the few bad things. I want to talk about the things it did amazingly right.

The 8-bit era was a time when many developers were unsure how to make games for the home market. Looking through the NES library, you’ll find a huge selection of the games, particularly the early ones, are ports of arcade classics. The quarter munching arcade mentality was so ingrained in developers that even some of the best entries on the NES still have that feeling that they are after your allowance.

Let’s look at what set Metroid apart from the pack.

A Connected World

Many gamers enjoy that sense of being transported to another place and time. An entire different reality through the medium of gaming. I know as a kid that grew up with a lot of health problems, this was a huge draw for me. I couldn’t go running around outside without being sternly warned not to “overdo it”, but I could run around Zebes blasting the crap out of some alien monsters to my hearts content.

The gaming landscape was dominated by level based games. Most followed the familiar Super Mario Bros. progression of a few levels in a themed world, then a boss, followed by a new set of themed levels. Metroid did one better by making a cohesive world.

"This is the whole map. Click to see it in detail."

When you start, Samus is dropped in the middle left of the map. Following the instincts you’ve gained from other games of the era and going from left to right will barely get you anywhere in Metroid. The first move that actually helps you make any kind of real progress is moving to the left. Even this minor detail is a big change from the norms of the time. It was a smart move on the part of the game’s developers, since it really makes you realize that this is a game that is going to force you to think about things a little differently.

If you click the map linked above and take a look at the starting location, it is very interesting to note that Mother Brain is almost directly on top of you right from the outset, unbeknownst to Samus (or you, the player). Even if you knew exactly where Mother Brain was, you have no way to get into her lair without first defeating her minibosses. This requires a lot of exploration before it can be accomplished.

Just getting from one side of the room to another is not going to be enough. Metroid’s layout forces you to venture forth in every direction. It requires you to scour all corners of Zebes for power-ups and the hidden lairs of Kraid, Ridley and finally, Mother Brain.

A Sense of Progression

Character progression was still a rare thing. RPG’s gave you stat bonuses from fighting monsters and new loot. Zelda had its set of items and hearts you could collect. But Samus’s new power-ups really made you feel empowered. You start with almost no health and a gun that only shoots about two feet in front of your face. Even the most basic of enemies could kill you in just a few hits.

"Giant birds make the best boots."

Your exploits lead you to a gun that can fire the entire screen. The ability to jump twice as high. Missiles used for previously locked doors. Even an ice beam that then allowed you to freeze enemies and use them as platforms to reach new areas.

By the end of Metroid, you feel like a badass. You are still a badass that can get said ass handed to them if you stop paying attention to what you are doing, but still.

All About the Atmosphere

Playing right into what was previously said about Zebes being one connected map is its cohesive atmosphere. You are utterly alone. The soundtrack plays well into this with its creepy ambiance. The creatures are strange and the few that are recognizable (like the bee creatures) are huge, ugly and twisted versions of the familiar. The titular Metroids only appear at the end of the game, and are like nothing you will have encountered before. They don’t follow a pattern, they are out for blood and it’s yours they are after.

The giant Chozo statues that hold the power-ups meant for Samus further play into the alien atmosphere. Clearly they are there to help Samus, but who built them and why? Many of these question were answered in subsequent entries in the series, but back then nothing in-game explained any of it.

Throughout the game, the background is a very stark black. This further plays into the feelings of isolation, but it also helps tie the different areas together. You don’t suddenly get to a part with a radically different feel. Even though the other aspects of an area may shift, you always have the feeling of being in the same big, lonely, monster-filled cavern.

So it had a few flaws. The important thing is Nintendo tried to do something interesting and different. They even made their main character female, something that is sadly still rare in the gaming landscape today. All the elements came together to make something that blew my then 7 year old mind.

Amazingly, Metroid: Zero Mission was able to take that original game, iron out the kinks and make it playable for a modern audience. I highly recommend tracking it down and playing that version instead.

The music intensifies as all other sound becomes a damp whisper. A single gunshot is fired and a beloved character slowly falls to the ground while their comrades yell out in shock. What an emotional scene! Or at least, it would be if it weren’t for the fact that the character in question already received about a thousand bullet wounds earlier in a gameplay segment.

This is a problem that plagues many gaming narratives. Story is often governed by a very different set of rules than gameplay, resulting in some very awkward and even comical moments in what should be distressing scenes. Because of the interactive nature of games, it’s difficult to avoid these pitfalls. Yet, some games manage to handle it a cut above the rest.

Permanent character death by player action is one way to drive the point home. Of course, not all games can support this variable approach to storytelling, but the ones that do have proved quite effective.

Consider the suicide mission found in Mass Effect 2. Every party member’s life hangs in the balance. A single wrong decision on your part means you have to watch them die. To make things even more panic-inducing, that means you won’t just miss them in the final portion of the game, but also its save-importing sequel, Mass Effect 3. The fact that it can happen to anybody and that it’s your own fault gives it a sense of weight not commonly found in the medium.

But permanent death (or “permadeath“) is controversial. Even Fire Emblem, a series known for its consistent use of this idea for over 20 years finally added the option to turn it off for the first time ever in its Japan-only remake of the series’ Super Famicom debut last year. This decision was not made lightly, however, as an Iwata Asks column revealed it involved four months of heated debate between Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.

Giving the option to remove the feature may have made the game more accessible to beginners, but there’s a reason project manager Masahiro Higuchi stated, “…this would make the game cease to be Fire Emblem.” It’s about more than losing a playable character and a few lines of disposable dialogue.

My own experience in 2005′s Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance showed me that permadeath can change the entire tone of a mission. By keeping Jill (a defected soldier from the enemy side) alive, you’ll eventually come in contact with an enemy general named Shiharam who just so happens to be Jill’s father. Had Jill not been alive and kicking, I wouldn’t have witnessed her emotional turmoil at the situation or the danger of her father convincing her to rejoin the opposing army (yes, that can actually happen if you’re not careful). So the death of Jill, or any Fire Emblem character for that matter, carries not only the weight of losing their personality and strategic advantages, but also potentially missing out on a far more personal context to certain scenarios.

I’m not saying that scripted deaths are never the answer. In fact, the threat of character death by player action can actually enhance the effect of a scripted death. It may sound crazy, but stay with me.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt as down after a scripted death as I have after one featured in SEGA’s tactical gem, Valkyria Chronicles. Don’t worry, I won’t spoil the details. VC’s handling of death was so effective because of the way the game trained my brain beforehand through the aforementioned use of permadeath.

Much like Fire Emblem, every single one of your soldiers in Valkyria Chronicles is a unique character with their own personality, appearance, abilities, and backstory rather than the empty shells you’ll often find in games like Final Fantasy Tactics. As you use a character, their bio will gradually fill in allowing you to get to know them. And to really tug at your heart strings, the game makes excellent use of its visual style if a character dies. With their last breath they say their final words as the watercolor is removed from the scene, leaving only the pencil sketch of their now lifeless body behind.

It’s enough to make you want to save every last soldier in your squad. This teaches you two things: Death is a constant danger and by playing well you can keep all your troops from dying. But the latter is a total lie. At some point the game will remind you that this is a war and not everybody is coming home. This reminder comes in the form of a scripted death that turns your former feeling of control into a sense of powerlessness.

The fragile mortality of your soldiers up to this point makes the scripted event feel all to real. The only difference is that this time, like many things in life, it can’t be prevented. It was at this point I had to stop playing for the night. I needed some time.

Another powerful portrayal of death is found in letting the player control a character’s final moments. While probably not the first game to do it, the earliest example of this I can recall is Final Fantasy VII‘s PSP prequel, Crisis Core. By having the player actually interact with a completely hopeless situation, it portrayed death in a far more effective way than any cutscene could have hoped to. Since then, I’ve still only played a small handful of games that used this method including Naruto SUNS 2 and Halo: Reach (though neither executed it nearly as well).

Games have the ability to approach death in ways that simply aren’t possibly in other mediums. While the examples that take full advantage of this are few and far between, it’s my sincere hope that this will be something that helps set gaming’s narrative capabilities apart in the years to come.

We are in that time of year which traditionally gives gamers a break. A break from the seemingly endless stream of high-profile, triple-A titles from the industry’s biggest publishers. Many use this time to catch up on their backlogs, like our friends over at SideQuesting. Others, whom I can only guess are younger gamers with a lot of free time on their hands, don’t really know what to play during this slow period. Maybe they use this time to get even better at [insert popular FPS here]?

It has given me a chance to take a step back and reflect on my habits as a gamer and how they relate to the industry as a whole. Video games have become increasingly disposable as entertainment. As soon as you finish one title (or more often than not, before you even get a chance to really dig into the game you just purchased), there are ten more waiting on the shelves vying for your hard earned cash.

Media coverage is all around us as citizens of the internet. The big gaming blogs generally can’t linger on any one title because they work in a medium that is only rewarded when things are kept fresh on their home page. That isn’t a dig at what they do, it is just the nature of the beast. Core gamers are more than happy to jump from game to game every week. I find this odd considering the cost of new games has been in the $35 to $60 range this entire console generation, and those price points are driven even higher with special editions.

One of our own Contributing Editors, Michelle, recently wrote an article for Pioneer Project with the title, “Play What You Feel Like“. Those five simple words really struck a chord with me personally.

What I love about video games has absolutely nothing to do with the next iteration of Popular Annual Franchise. Trying to play every high profile game, even for a single platform, is nearly impossible for your average gamer. I’ll leave that to the big outlets that get review copies of every game and have enough staff to adequately cover them.

Really, what I want out of my games are fun experiences. The kind of things that you excitedly told your friends about on the playground in elementary school. I have been fortunate enough to have that experience on occasion in my adult life while playing through Fallout 3 and New Vegas around the same time as a few of my co-workers, but it is increasingly rare.

It is one of the core reasons I started up my “Tales from the Backlog” series. There are so many great games that I’ve never had a chance to finish that I’m increasingly having trouble justifying new purchases.

The other side of the coin is that, as a gamer, there can be an incredible draw to be in on the new releases. Listening to gaming podcasts and reading my favorite blogs does start up that new game itch from time to time. But I have found the best way around that is to just be patient. These days, it doesn’t take long before that $60 game becomes a $40 game. I’m not talking about used sales either. There is a surprising trend with modern games of sudden and drastic price drops. I can only assume this is directly related to the disposability that has become synonymous with the industry.

This may sound like the rantings of a crotchety old man, but I bring it up because it makes me worry about the game industry as a whole. Video games are my favorite form of entertainment, and I want to see them improving and innovating throughout my lifetime. What I see more and more is a churning out of yearly franchises and quick cash-ins.

When a game is finished, it is more and more common to hear about studio closures and mass layoffs, even when a game ends up with long tail success. Anything below a review score of 8 or equivalent is seen as a failure, which is incredibly silly. Some of the games you hear people talk about for years aren’t perfect games. They are the ones that tried to do something different. How often do you hear anyone discuss a Madden game that isn’t the most currently released version?

It is sad to see this console generation treated as disposable by such a large segment of gamers. It makes me wonder; will kids playing games now remember the games of today as fondly as my generation does of the 8 and 16-bit eras? Are there going to be those as passionate about preserving the history of today’s games as say, the guys over at The Museum of Art and Digital Entertainment?

I certainly hope so. I am sure for developers, disposability is the farthest thing from their minds when designing games. I can only imagine that this development is heartbreaking for them.

If you read the site frequently or are a long time listener of our podcast, you’ve probably picked up on the fact that most of the staff here really likes the Monster Hunter series. With each new iteration, the games see a lot of refinement. Having spent over 100 hours with the currently Japan-only Monster Hunter Portable 3rd, I can honestly say it’s really hard to go back to Monster Hunter Tri, a game we collectively decided to call the #3 best game of 2010.

That said, when spending hundreds of hours with the same game, you still run the risk of things going a bit stale. While I’m still having a great time with Portable 3rd, I can’t help but think what the future of Monster Hunter might bring. Call it wishful thinking, but here are some of my ideas on how the series could continue to improve.

Seamless Environments

Monster Hunter maps are traditionally divided into smaller areas connected by load times. What if the entire map was seamless? Of course, this would probably require the game to be on an HD console to be able to load such large areas. Imagine it, though. You look up in the distance and can actually see the tiny silhouette of a Rathalos roosting on top of a mountain, miles away. Finally, the binoculars item would really come in handy!

The minimap would still have numbers marking different areas for easy communication between teammates, but the areas would now transition gradually. Would this make paint balls useless? Hardly! Monster Hunter maps are known for their detail, elevation changes, and cavernous sections. While the ability to see monsters in the distance would give you an edge on tracking, it would still be easy to lose track of an unpainted monster, especially if it was far away.

Guilds and Comprehensive Online

Online is a bit hit or miss for the series. The PSP games require the PS3′s adhoc party or other more complicated means to play online with other hunters. Tri was a big step in the right direction, letting players meet online with relative ease. It wasn’t without its drawbacks, though.

For the most part, people are surprisingly friendly online. However, you’ll occasionally run into a griefer. These players take pleasure in screwing up other players, and Tri had no method in place for reporting them. This should be fixed.

Friend lists are nice, but how about a full-on Guild System? This way you could meet up with “friends of friends” easily when you needed extra hunters. You’d also have the added personal touch of belonging to a Guild with a custom name (The Minegarde Maulers, anyone?) and even an emblem. How cool would it be to have you’re very own, hand-drawn guild emblem featured prominently on your armor?

Seasons

Map variety is important to Monster Hunter to help eliminate repetition. Making tons of new maps takes a lot of resources, especially since each one is so incredibly detailed. The day and night versions help stretch the numbers already, but seasons could help even further. A season system based on actual game time could easily become a nuisance, but if it was handled just like time of day, where every mission is simply assigned a season, it could work.

Custom Quest Builder

Building custom quests would take a lot of checks and balances in order to not break the game. For one, you would only be able to use monsters that you’ve already defeated previously. Secondly, all rewards and quest fees would have to be determined dynamically based on what you made the quest consist of. This would avoid people being able to exploit things by setting high rewards for easy quests. The hunter rank required to take on the mission should also be generated dynamically.

You’d likely also have to limit which maps certain large monsters can appear in. Letting you fight an ice monster in a volcano might be a little too weird. If you can complete the quest yourself (or with friends), you could then be approved to post it online for others to enjoy.

Advanced Dynamic Scaling

One really interesting aspect of Monter Hunter is how you can encounter varying sizes of the same creature. In current games, the entire model is scaled up or down ever so slightly to increase the sense of variety. I’d like to see that taken one step further.

What if select parts were scaled independent of the model? Imagine seeing a Barioth whose tusks were longer than normal. The larger size could also increase the drop rate of that specific carve. This extra level of dynamic scaling could be hard to pull off, but it would be a fantastic addition, increasing both the variety and sense of realism to the already very immersive ecosystem.

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These are just some of the ideas I believe could push the series further. What do you think? Do you have some ideas of your own you’d like to see Capcom implement? Let us know in the comments!