I was reading a WoW related article, and I came across WoW Detox as a result.

It then got me thinking about this post that I wrote while I was overseas and didn’t publish for some reason. I think it was because it needed more work to make it more coherant, but I’m putting it up now after reading some of the stories on WoW Detox.

Seriously, read some of the stories…shit is just plain scary. Blizzard must have hired former Aristocrat employees, or something.
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I just finished reading Watchmen the other week. (Sorry, Borders.) It was a dark and poetic piece of work. Kinda depressing, as well. For a graphic novel, it was actually a compelling piece of fiction that I would be happy to recommend to people who appreciate meaningful work with the obligatory plot twists.

That’s probably why I’m pretty excited about the upcoming movie. Judging from the trailer, it looks like it’s staying faithful to the original plot, which can only be a good thing. The track record with comic book / game film adaptations hasn’t been great, though, so all I can do is hope they don’t fuck it up.

Keeping in line with the marketing juggernaut, there’s also going to be a Watchmen game…which doesn’t really push my buttons. Even if it serves as a prequel to the game, I have a sick feeling in my stomach that it’s going to be like practically every other movie video game out there - a generic beat-em-up.

But I’d love to be proven wrong…

In an opinion article that has triggered some heated responses, games designer Adam Maxwell has argued the points of hiring games designers over writers.

After reading through the article, I was initially shocked, even a little nauseated. Games don’t need writers? So, games writers are essentially dead weights to game development teams in terms of hiring costs and overall skill sets? And, instead of hiring experienced writers, we should hire more games designers in the hopes that one of them happens to write novellas and radio plays in their spare time?

I immediately wondered what recreational drugs he had access to, and whether or not I was also able to procure said drugs.

But then I had a think about it, and from a business perspective, it makes a little more sense. I think his mindset is in the early stages of the design phase, where ideas need to be collated and processed. Ultimately, as he says, the design forms the basis of the game and dictates the objectives of the person playing it. For it to be a truly spectacular hit, expectations need to be exceeded and limitations redefined in the finalised design. Designers need to dust off lessons learned and try to fabricate new ones in the process.

A writer, in the meantime, needs to think up some memorable characters, an unusual or engrossing setting, and a plot that affords plenty of (inter)action. The beauty of this is that it doesn’t necessarily have to be unique. Think how many assassin / agent / hitman style plots we’ve got out there. Think about how many space operas we have, or mercenaries, or fantasy worlds that draw on historical influences in eastern and western cultures. And not to mention that the addition of giant norgs will hold the gamer’s attention if all else fails.

I think what people are reacting to in the article is the title. It sounds like he’s saying that “writers have no place in games, ever, and that they should just leave plots, dialogue and the rest of the dressing to games designers, because they’re in the best position to make those decisions since they’re doing the actual game and all; plus writing is a piss easy job so we may as well cut out the middleman”.
I believe it’s more like “writers are nice to have and they can really bring a game to life by giving purpose and sense to a player’s actions in the game world, as well as holding a gamer’s attention, but in the grand scheme of things a game’s design is a few rungs higher up the ladder, and as a result more emphasis should be placed on hiring quality games designers over a legion of bushy-tailed writers”.

That’s what I wanted to see, anyway. If Adam was actually leaning more towards the former comment, then he either has a serious grudge against his early years in the industry, or I have a reason to feel sorry for the poor bastard.

You know that article on sequels I was meant to write?

Well, someone beat me to it, so you can take a look at that instead.

Unfortunately I wasn’t all that satisfied with what I had written so far…and I was pretty sceptical about putting it up in the first place. It looked like it was just stating the (painfully) obvious. Cliff was saying that we should love and respect sequels, and definitely give them a fighting chance. I, on the other hand, would say that everyone would want a second chance to make a strong first impression. Unfortunately, the games industry ain’t so forgiving, and neither are its customers.

I don’t think sequels are chances to right wrongs, but they’re more of a chance to expand on what has already been proven to be successful. Unless you insist on making terrible game movie sequels.

As mentioned earlier, I tapped this one out while poking around upstairs for ideas. It could probably do with a better title, but it’s the Internet and freedom of information is all the rage at the moment.

If you want to read up on what I think are critical elements in horror games, hit the previous link or mosey on over to the articles page.

Expect to see more reviews coming up as well…

This was an article that I had to drum up for a Uni assignment. It’s about the state of the Australian Game Development industry as I saw it (after a little bit of research). I was given a word limit, as well as a time limit, so the article is so-so, and extremely short, but there are some interesting facts I wanted to show. See if you can spot the media bias

I decided that the most logical place to put it afterwards would be here, so here it is.

I’ll post up the interviews I did as well - there are some interesting responses there.

The tears fell fast, and freely. She barely blinked and already there were shiny streaks on her face, diamonds in her eyes. She was motionless, as if caught in headlights, unsure of what to do, where to run, what to say. Her open lips were trembling. She reminded me how cold it was outside.

It’s always easy to say the things that are on your mind, but it’s near impossible to say the things that you truly mean. We all have closets that look better placed in graveyards, at the best of times. Not only that - sometimes you know what you want to say, but it falls short in the back of your throat. Like a word that is on the tip of your tongue, but you just can’t seem to push it out.

I managed to say what I wanted to say in the end, and look where it got me. Stranded in some woman’s house in the middle of winter, with tears streaking down her beautiful face, staining her dark tutleneck, arms wrapped around her body protectively. She was tense. She was a spring. She knew Tae Kwon Do. She was ready to fly-kick me back home, with any luck.

I lowered my eyes and cleared my throat as quietly as I could, wanting to preserve the moment, savouring the silence between us. It was a guilty pleasure of mine - enjoying moments where there was no conversation, just silent understanding. She still didn’t move, eyes piercing, cutting into me, trying to figure me out. Not many people manage to do so. We all have closets.

As a testament to my lack of courage, I left the apartment and closed the door behind me, instead of waiting to hear her reply. I stood outside for a long time, feeling a cold northerly bite savagely into my skin. I savoured the cold, focusing on the drop in my body temperature rather than on the steady rise of regret in the pit of my stomach. I wondered when her husband was coming home.

Some things are better left unsaid.