No Gods, No Masters

The first few days were dedicated to GTA IV in an attempt to catch up on the Grand Theft Auto series with what I thought would now be a relatively well-specced machine (hah! silly me!). While I’m enjoying the usual GTA aspects of storytelling, car-jacking, parody, and violence — I can’t say I’m really being drawn into the story. Prior to Vice City and San Andreas, I’d agree with you in declaring that storyline wasn’t particularly crucial in the GTA franchise; it’s all about working for the highest bidder, being morally ambivalent, and blowing up as much shit as possible before the army fries your ass with stinger missile.

While the whole stinger missile thing remains true, the lengths that the GTA writers have gone to with both Vice City and San Andreas show a dedication to the art of story-telling. Regardless of the situations that you found yourself in as the protagonist of either game, it wasn’t a far stretch to stay empathetic. GTA IV, however, is an entirely different kettle of Eastern European fish.

As much as I wanted to empathise with Niko Bellic, the storyline wouldn’t allow it. Every time I felt some sympathy for him and wanted to play the reformed military man trying to make good, I’d end up in some cut scene or another agreeing to murder some poor sap if the price was right. Don’t get me wrong, there are three or four chances in the game to make a moral decision — let someone go, or slaughter one person over another — but the majority of the time I just got pushed into Niko’s murderous, completely unjustifiable lifestyle.

What is the fucking fun in that?

Sure, the Grand Theft Auto series is (and all video-gaming youth in general are) associated with immoral, violent acts by our marvellously well-researched media, but GTA IV makes all of their points for them. It could be a gloriously well-written character in a story of rebellion against a system that turned him into a monster… but, well, it just turns into a well-written story of a monster doing what he does best: killing people.

Granted, I’m only half way through GTA IV and I could be proven entirely wrong, but from what I’ve gotten so far through about 40 hours of gameplay isn’t making me feel any better.

On a more inspiring note, Batman: Arkham Asylum is everything that a game should be.

When I first started playing B:AA, I wasn’t very impressed; I wanted a game that would make me feel like Batman in every regard. I wanted to feel invisible, invincible, powerful, and heroic. It didn’t take very long for the game to deliver: the stealth and combat dynamics kicked in… and I felt like Batman. Batman with a mouse and a keyboard, but Batman none-the-less.

Written by Paul Dini and voiced by the original cast of the animated series (including the brilliant Kevin Conroy and the amazingly proficient Mark Hamill), the B:AA story is great from the very first word. The voice acting, as you’d expect from veteran actors, is superb. The graphics are fantastic and the moody textures of Arkham Asylum invoke exactly the right feeling. The sounds effects are equally fantastic and make the experience all the more immersive.

So… what about the gameplay, you ask? Usually, if a game is awesome in the production aspects, it’s lacking in the gameplay. Not Batman: Arkham Asylum. The ease with which you can grapple from location to location, firing quick-fire batarangs to knock down enemies, and then gliding down into their midst like the true Dark Knight is inspiring. Hammering together combos and counters is equally as easy, alternating between left and right mouse clicks and shift/ctrl patterns. Once you get to grips with the very basic controls, you’ll feel like the great Batman himself as you swoop down, take out a startled enemy, and then vanish back into the shadow to listen to the poor sod’s surprised comrades trembling in fear…

The only fault that I’ve found with B:AA is the very rare moments when the camera angle is shunted from over-the-shoulder third person to some other third person shot for no particular reason. It jars you out of your flow and in my case led to a very swift death. A single re-load of the last quick save and you’re prepared for it, but without any prior warning, it does suck to have your third person view totally screwed with (no spoilers intended, but enjoy your encounter with Killer Croc).

I’m only half way through… but wow. This is what video games are meant to be like. Enjoy the official trailer!

Caveman: Ugh, grr, argh.
Stone Age: Me go bang bang.
Classical: Let us kill this feral beast with our swords and clubs!
Renaissance: I exercise my will to drive this club through the pursuing mammoth’s skull.
Modern Man: I’ll belt that big furry elephant in the head if it comes near me.
Gen Y: OMG ur pwned mr elepahnt, soz!!!11

You can’t tell me that this is a good thing.

I was just explaining what I want at my funeral and for some reason it was met with indignation.

What’s wrong with this:

1. People gather at a predestined location (a reclaimed church would be nice)
2. Everyone takes their seats in front of the stage
3. The stage has two golden stripper poles on either side, with habit-clad women standing silently waiting
4.

5. The habits come off and strippers hit the poles!
6. Fire explodes from the stage! BOOM! WOOF!
7. From the stage, a crucifix slowly rises with my dead body strapped to it!
8. The MC comes out and welcomes everyone to my funeral.
9. Everyone hits the bar and snacks and gets a little bit hammered for another half hour of songs.
10. Everyone takes their seat again and watches my prepared video presentation…

Then you can all go home and go back to your lives

What’s wrong with THAT?

The decision to quit a handful of harmful stimulants and drugs at precisely the same time may seem crazy to some people, but there is method to the madness: only a single period of withdrawal.

Of course, that withdrawal period is infinitely more painful, but in the long run it should be worth it. Right?

No caffeine, no nicotine, no alcohol. No more bitter sweet, as Ed K might say. Only headaches, anxiety, exhaustion, irritability, and paranoia. At least I haven’t had the hershey squirts; thank Darwin for small miracles.

The urge to, literally, punch someone’s face into their delicious, mushy cranial cavity is still fairly constant, but in a week or so I hope to be faster, stronger, and more attractive to both sexes. Smelling less like a bar room toilet is also a goal.