There is a gulf between understanding what a videogame is meant to evoke in its players, and intuiting what a player experience is like. The former is something that can be read in nearly any Wikipedia article; the latter is difficult to experience without having first-hand play time and knowledge in games.
An empty, vacant soundscape resolves to the sound of rushing air. The camera starts on a tight angle along the side of an old military plane. It follows the line of an airplane’s body, as though flying in its slipstream. As the camera draws back, the view quickly dips down through the empty space where the tail of the plane would be. We discover that the old shell of this military bomber is sunken into the dirt. Unpaved road slides into view, which the camera follows until a bright red sports car rips across the frame.
At some point, I stopped playing games just for myself. It can be hard not to in games. Even with a relatively quiet media landscape years ago, with just occasional […]
According to completely sound advice, a good way to make anything compact and meaningful is to make sure everything has a purpose. Good writing employs every character, moment, and scene […]
Are relationships better for the struggles?
Somehow, I return to the five or so play experiences I can pick up, loop a few times, and then put down.
It feels like there’s a strict script one must follow: Games are played “right” when done right, and anything less efficient or less appropriately critical is missing the point. Only like good games, consume them voraciously, and leverage every bit of criticism you have against those that fail to meet appropriate standards.
Clients sit and talk to me about their lives, and I make mild observations or comments as I see fit. Amidst our chatter, I mix drinks.
It’s all glitzy neon and flashing lights, people in suits and waistcoats mill around the streets barking advertisements for their stores and inviting businessmen into the bars to drink with well-dressed women. The finest sushi is paired with an array of booze. Bars offer karaoke machines to every patron, each booth its own private singing club. The streets of Kamurocho are packed with pedestrians, flitting to and fro in the city of glitz and light, and Kiryu is punching a man halfway to death in an alleyway.
Written for Haywire Magazine. Los Santos looks magnificent from the top of Mount Chiliad. The sun sets over the ocean, orange ripples reaching inward toward silhouetted towers dotted with unfocused […]