Novel Gamer Episode Eight - Pilotwings Resort, or "Learning to fly"

This is the eighth episode of the popular online alternative review column "Novel Gamer", part of Game People, which specialises in real world, alternative and artistic reviews. Don't forget that a podcast is also available from the source of this article, here.

This week, awoken by a mysterious message on his computer screen, an invitation leads Geo to a waterside warehouse where he must ask himself: does the Matrix have him? Or is the truth about the other side of the screen far more incredible?

This weeks' Novel Gamer review is based on reactions to a pre-release launch experience of PilotWings and is a preview, than a review based on a full assessment of the game.

...Wake up Geo

That was what the monitor screen said. It's appearance, unbidden, on my display had woken me from my light slumber as I lay on my couch with my DS on my chest. The battery had obviously died some time before. I was so tired when I had been playing I actually had no idea what I had been doing or what progress I may have lost.

At least I thought the text on the screen had appeared. I could picture it, but now the screen was blank. I half remembered that actually that was the beginning of a movie, so maybe it hadn't happened at all?

I stumbled into the kitchen, drew a glass of water, tipped some cereal into a bowl and sat down. The milk looked okay and I'd only bought it a couple of days before, but I still unscrewed the cap and gave the contents a sniff, automatically. Some habits you just get used to.

That day -- more than any other day -- I was strangely aware of my senses. The floor, between the kitchen table and the fridge had a slightly tacky patch. Not actually sticky, but maybe a place where a spill had once happened and been cleaned up, leaving only the faintest of adhesive traces. One end of the room seemed slightly darker, as though perhaps the bulb on that side of the fitting was on its way out. Condensation had formed on the tap spout where the cold water had escaped its confines for the alternative comforts of my glass.

There could be any number of reasons for my heightened feelings on that day. But, the reason I prefer to cling to is because that was the day I was about to have my eyes opened to a new world.

I've always been a gamer. From my earliest memories I recall slipping into an alternative world of adventure and intrigue on the other side of the screen. For me games have always enabled me to lose myself in an alternative reality. Much more than film with its fixed view on the action and its set narrative. The only other route I have ever found as effective for escaping from this world is books. It's not for everyone, but for the confident reader the barrier of the ink on the page melts away and the words and ideas are transported directly into the brain; to fire the imagination and to create a witness eye view on events that are unique to the reader.

The problem with games has been the thing it shares with film: the screen. In spite of its ability to display incredible vistas, gravity-defying moves, heart-breaking empathy and deep intrigue, it is the screen that reminds us we are trapped. Trapped in a world of mundanity, tethered to practicality and shackled to domestic limitation.

The screen gives us window into a world that is more alive and that accepts fewer excuses for what "cannot be done" within the bounds of physical reality.

That day was the day a man came who took the barrier away and enabled me to soar in the skies, as I used to in my childhood dreams.


If I could not be sure that I had seen the cryptic movie pastiche on my monitor I was in little doubt as to the reality of the card that had been pushed through my door.

It was clearly meant to serve as a business- or calling-card; however, it's dimensions were more reminiscent of a playing card. That certainly grabbed my attention. It featured a simple "?" mark.

I turned the card over, half anticipating something from the world of literary cliché: the ace of spades maybe, or the Tarot figure of Death grinning up at me. Instead, the reverse of the card featured a simple typed message: a local address and a time.

Looking at my watch I saw that I had just enough time to get ready and get to this meeting. There could be no question of my not following this invitation. Not only was the "?" mark on the card reminiscent of the prize boxes in Super Mario, but I couldn't help but think that if I had slept any longer I would not have been able to make this appointment; I thought back to those ghostly words on my screen.

I walked down to the docks. The address I had been given was for a waterfront warehouse, next to a small cafe. I decided I had no time for a tea break and headed inside. I was too excited about the wonder of this invitation to delay.

In the centre of the room stood a tall, imposing man in a long, black, leather coat. Beside him on a table was what appeared to be a Nintendo DS.

"Welcome, Geo" the man intoned. "I am glad to meet you. I believe that you are a man with a problem. A problem I hope to solve."

I nodded my head, "you're talking about the games."

"I'm talking about the reality you create for yourself, Geo. You who have always loved the excitement of exploring other worlds and doing things that no person could hope to experience in reality but who always feels like you are kept on the outside. Are you ready to go deeper into the game?"

I frowned, trying to understand. "You're talking about increased immersion?"

He replied, quickly, "I'm talking about reality, Geo. What is real? If real is what you can feel, smell, taste and see, then 'real' is simply electrical signals interpreted by your brain. If you can convince your brain that an image you are seeing is in three dimensions -- 'appears' solid -- then who is to say it is not real?"

He held up his hand dramatically and I could see that he was holding a pair of old-style 3D glasses, with coloured lenses. "You have a choice," he announced, "look through the blue lens and you will see the world as it has always been, flat and dull ... ummm..." he faltered, "and looking a bit blue..."

I raised my eyes to the ceiling. The dramatic mood had been broken.

He continued unabated, "look through the red lens and you'll see, well, exactly the same thing." I think he sensed he was losing me, as he went on, hurriedly, "but if you look through both -- here's the thing -- it also changes nothing! What I am about to show you doesn't require glasses." He threw them over his shoulder and they landed in a puddle of water leaked from somewhere high in the ceiling.

He opened up the machine on the table. "This," he declared, "is the Nintendo 3DS and it will show you a world of which you have only dreamed." He stuck out a hand towards me, palm up, "the card, please."

I reached into my pocket and recovered the calling-card that had been pushed through my door. As I placed the card down on the table, "?" mark facing up, he handed me the 3DS and I focused on the image of the card on the screen. It wasn't like looking through a camera lens. It was like seeing the table in front of me with fresh eyes. A 3D viewport onto the world as it is. Then the 3DS showed me the world as it could be: the card unfurled, revealing a deep recess in the table. A dragon head on a long neck extended out and toward me.


I was reeling, "but this is incredible!" I called out.

"Patience, Geo," he said, raising a hand "I agree this is impressive, but the dragon is only to demonstrate that the world is not necessarily as you see it. Let me show you what you are really here to see; what you really came to do..."

*****

I felt myself soaring high above the ground, floating over the sea and onward, ever toward my target. The clouds parted and I saw the world laid out before me. It was like the world, only at the same time not like it. It wasn't drab, grey and mundane -- this was a world inhabited by living colour as though the sea was trying to be as blue as it could be and the grass exerting itself to be the greenest grass the world had ever seen.

The world was so ... if I had to settle for a word, I'd have to go with 'real'. Not the kind of real I expected. It was not our world reproduced on the screen. If anything it was the reverse. It was as though the world of the games had been made solid and brought into our reality. Before, these places had always seemed like colourful sketches in some framed picture I could never enter. Now they lived and breathed in three dimensions and it was like seeing a cartoon hero come to life.

The flying itself was breathtaking. The ease with which I could soar through floating rings seemed to come naturally to my fingers and I glided over the beautiful island paradise and landed the aircraft gently on the waves exactly as I had been taught.

The dream changed and I found myself hanging in the sky, held aloft by a jetpack. It was a fun variation on the controls required by the plane and I propelled myself forward, through balloons onward towards the goal.


The dream changed once more -- now I was whooshing over the mountaintop, suspended from a hang-glider. The world was so deep and so intense and I wanted to explore every part of it, but I felt myself being pulled away.

I blinked and found myself back in the room with the stranger.

"How was it?" he asked me.

"I feel," I struggled to find the words, "I feel like I've held a world in my hands, a world that I can enter whenever I choose and fly over, under, through and across. I want to explore every inch of that world from my vantage point in the sky. It felt real. It was almost too deep. Sometimes I felt like the gulf of depth was too massive and I wanted it to feel a bit flatter... incredible."

I rubbed at my eyelids, "why do my eyes hurt?"

The figure looked at me poignantly, "because you've never used them before."

I made to pick up the Nintendo 3DS again. I desperately wanted to fly some more.

He stopped me. "That is all you can see for now. It is time for you to return home."

I was incredulous, "but I've just seen the most incredible things! I've seen the world of games as it could be and I'm not sure if I can return to the other side of the screen! I want to spend more time here and see more and fly more..."

He nodded, kindly, "the world you seek is coming soon, Geo. It is only a few short weeks away and you will be able to return to the real side of the screen again. For now, you must spread the word that others may be enlightened."

*****

My alarm clock beeped loudly and I awoke. I could hear the rain lashing against the glass.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and, in doing so, I remembered the adventure with the Nintendo 3DS. I remembered getting my pilot wings and soaring high above the ground.

I looked out of the window and could see blue sky breaking between the grey clouds. I had had the most incredible adventure, journeyed to a colourful world and flown... and then had it taken away before I was ready; before I had had a chance to see it all.

The memory felt like the aftertaste of a sweet dessert in my mouth. In my heart I knew I was desperate to fly again. It had all felt so real to me.

It couldn't have been a dream, could it?

Novel Gamer Episode Three - Epic Mickey, or "Dead Men Beg No Scraps"

What follows is my third Novel Gamer column for Game People. This is also available as a podcast, and there are iTunes and RSS subscriptions available.

To summarise, Novel Gamer is a feature in which I tell a short story, based on my experiences of playing a game. It's a 50/50 hybrid of fiction and critical analysis. Hopefully you'll come away entertained and informed about a game.

It was raining in the city. Raining hard, like the skies were trying to wash the memories from the buildings, the walls, the train yards and the sidewalks.

Five-foot nothing and with a figure that looked like he'd been carved just to make passers-by laugh, Mickey leaned against the window frame of his twelfth-story apartment and looked out to the horizon. Water spattered against the pane, like a warning keeping him inside. Keeping him locked in this house of memories.

There was a rap of knuckles against the peeling wooden door. Mickey looked around. Why couldn't they fix the security intercom? If he was going to face visitors these days he wanted at least five damn minutes to throw water on his face and put the whiskey back in the dresser.

He lurched across the boards to the door and pulled it open before turning away and heading back into the room. He didn't even look to see who was behind the door.

"Is that any way to greet an old flame?" came a dove-song laced voice from the door.

Mickey looked around. He watched as Alexandria swept into the room, the hem of her dress gliding across the boards, like she floated and had no connection with the mundanity of the floor. Her hourglass figure kept the same time as Mickey remembered and the bee-stung lips showed no sign of getting any less swollen, red or losing any sparkle.

He fought down the joy in his chest. They call it the past because it's gone and no broad in a cheap cocktail dress could change that, even if she could make an end of line outfit look like a million dollars.

"You're a real piece of art, Alex," Mickey told her and gave her a roguish grin, "why are you hanging in a place like this?"

She came up to him and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look up and meet her eyes. "Mickey, baby, I came with good news. Abe sent me."

Abe Ewart, though Mickey, my old agent. There was an old saying: when the world ends the only creatures left alive will be the 'roaches. And, Abe Ewart will be queuing up behind them with a fork.

"Well, well," Mickey said, "what does that old second-hand trader want with me? He ain't had reason to call in years."

Alexandria let go of his face and took up his hands, leading him over to the worn couch by the TV. Mickey tried not to think about the last time she'd done that in this apartment. The couch groaned under their weight, as if to say "get off! I'm too old to carry two of you!"

"They're making a movie, Mickey honey! They want you! It's your movie -- your name is all over it!"

Mickey simply stared at her. He hadn't been a star since ... he couldn't even remember when. Plenty of trains had rolled out of this city since those days.

"Are they crazy?" Mickey said, "nobody makes pictures about me anymore. What happen to that Italian kid with the moustache or that limey broad? You know her, the acrobatic girl with the guns?"

The angel shook her head, making her elegantly curled locks dance around her face with joy, "Abe says there a real old-school revival. People are getting interested in the old stories again. Says he wants to make a picture just like the old days. With you. About you. Hell honey you could be a star again!"

Mickey turned his nose up. "I may be a mouse in this town now, but I know a rat when I smell it. If this picture was above board Abe would have come himself. He only needs to send out the pretty if he thinks I'm gonna say no." He turned away from her, trying not to hope.

She simply moved closer to him, "I wanted to come and tell you myself, honey. What? You think I could hear about the best thing to happen to you in years and I didn't want to run straight over and bring you the news?"

He looked around at her, her lip was quivering with emotion -- or with the strain of still trying to play the ingenue after all these years, he thought, a little maliciously.

"Come on, Mickey," she pleaded, her voice running like icy water over a crystal waterfall, "it'll be just like old times. Whaddaya say?"

He felt like the mouse who'd just seen the kitchen door left open, with a pile of cheese waiting -- and even if there were a hundred traps he couldn't see them from here. He couldn't exactly say "no."

"Sure Alex," Mickey said at last, "let's me and you revisit some old times."

*************

It was clear to Mickey as soon as he walked onto the lot how much things had changed since he went away. It was colder, he thought, run by the bean-counters and the lawyers and no place for the little man with a great idea.

Alexandria was hanging on his arm the whole way to Abe Ewart's tiny office. He was sitting behind the desk filling his face with a greasy meat sandwich, dropping bits of lettuce all over the papers on the desk. A stack of dishevelled documents piled high in his in-tray, like a Bonzai Tower of Pisa which he tended daily for the perfect lean.

Abe looked up and greeted Mickey with a broad grin and a wave of platitudes. Mickey felt like he was being verbally dressed up for a party. The question was, was he the long lost son or the fatted calf?

"This is gonna be a great picture," Abe told him, drawing in the air with his hands like a showman, "we've got one of the best creative teams around working on it and they know how to pitch it for the current market."

"The current market?" Mickey parroted, "where do I fit into this?"

Abe slapped him on the shoulder, "it's a reinvention, Mickey-boy! That's what it's all about these days -- looking back to see what was great about the old times and making it fresh, modern! And it's dark..."

Mickey raised his eyes to the ceiling, "dark? Why the hell do we want to make a dark picture? Life is dark enough at times," he looked at Alexandria, and she shifted uncomfortably, "We used to make pictures for laughs, for adventure, for fun to take people away from reality for a few sweet hours."

Abe stood up, shaking his head, "dark is where it's at, these days. Audiences are more sophisticated. They've seen and heard too much of the world to accept a clean-cut hero. These days you can choose to be a hero or a villain in your story -- but whatever you choose you're still the star!"

Those words rang in Mickey's ears. He'd seen the stuff that had come out of this place -- and others like it -- for years since he went away and he'd always wanted a chance to show what a bit of old-school magic could do. He looked straight into Abe's eyes.

"When do we start?"

******************

It was only when Mickey got his hands on the script that he knew something was amiss. It was a great approach -- he had to give that to them at least. But something deep in the core of the story didn't make sense. The spider tracks of words coalesced on the page into meaning, plain enough, but it was the heart that was missing.

His character didn't make sense: he could be both creator and destroyer. He could restore the world around and him and create beauty or he could destroy his surroundings and take the spoils unto himself. But, beyond that it said nothing. It didn't seem to matter whether the things he created were good or evil and his journey seemed to require a balance of both. This wouldn't have mattered, Mickey thought, if balance was the message of the story, but the character seemed to be judged based on his adherence to either side. There seemed to be no reason for the decisions he had to make.

Mickey was also worried about the filming. He'd watched recent releases. It almost frightened him how much of an exact science the shooting seemed to be: perfectly crafted scenes captured by an almost prescient hand, like God himself moulding the Garden of Eden.

Even in the old days, when he was shooting his scene he could feel at least one camera following his every move, every jump, every fall. These cameras seemed to be pointed in all kinds of different directions, like prairie dogs sniffing the air for a scent. Not one of the camera operators seemed to have a clue where the action was and were shooting whatever allowed them the most comfortable position to slouch.

The scenes themselves were challenging enough. Abe used to say in the old days, "you've got to make it look like you're busting your chops when you're doing the action stuff, but that doesn't mean it should be hard to do. No one wants to break a neck making this picture." On this shoot, Mickey had had to make several re-takes of the same scenes over and over. They simply seemed physically beyond his ability to move: as if some malevolent deity had taken a measure of his longest jump and made all the platforms too far by a single inch -- to taunt him; to test his patience for the project.

He tried raising his concerns with Abe. The money-loving agent didn't seem to care. As shooting went on, Abe disappeared on more and more junkets and only reappeared with a pair of bimbos on each arm and a fistful of rings on each hand. At least the pre-release hype seemed to be winning hearts.

Even if mine is empty, thought Mickey.

The last straw came when Mickey finally saw the rough cut of the movie. He was appalled. The lolling cameras showed little of the action and his own futile attempts to clamber over the scenery look liked the helpless falling of a stiff doll down all fifteen stories of his apartment building. The very worst thing, Mickey thought, was how it looked.

The old stuff looked ropey, sure; if you wanted to compare it side-by-side with modern pictures it couldn't compete. But it was of it's time -- and in it's own time it was a thing of beauty and set the standard for everything that came after.

What Mickey saw on the screens was a travesty: the colours were blotchy, his own animated performance rendered sub-par by the careless direction and unmotivated script.

Without a word, Mickey threw his coffee cup to the floor and walked off the set.

Abe came running after him, with a bewildered Alexandria tailing him like a concerned nurse trying to get a wilful patient back into bed.

"What the hell are ya doing, Mickey-boy?" Abe demanded.

Mickey spun round and pointed at the ground, as if marking the line Abe dare not cross, "I'm through with this picture. I'm through with you."

The agents face filled with rage and turned a colour of red that almost made Mickey nostalgic for the old days. "It'll be more than that, Mickey-boy! If you're through with this picture you're through for good! This was your chance to make a big comeback -- not just for you, for everyone that was part of the old days. There's too many new guys making good in this city: Paxar and Drainworks are taking all of our glory. We need to hit them hard and show them what we can do! If you walk away from this you're a dead man!"

Silence hung in the air like a baseball smacked high over third base and everyone was holding their breath, waiting to cheer -- waiting to know who to cheer for.

Mickey shook his head, sadly and spoke. He was fighting to keep his voice from cracking as he looked between Abe and Alexandria. "I'm already a dead man, Abe. Can't you see? Don't you understand?

"What we had was great. It was a beautiful thing -- it really was. We showed the world what we could do and how it should be done." Mickey gulped. "And then I died. I died and the world moved on without me. But they had their memories. They remembered me and the good times I gave them. But this?" he removed a copy of the script from his pocket and slapped it hard with the back of his hand. "This travesty is not how I want to be remembered -- making below average cash-cows for an audience that is used to better. That deserves better."

Mickey turned to walk away, the low falling sun stretching his shadow across the drive and over the buildings of the lot -- his shadow making its mark on the buildings he had helped to make great.

"I'd rather be dead and remembered as a legend than live and be associated with this failure. You want to make something that speaks to modern audiences? Then call it by a name they understand. Call it a Fail. Call it an Epic Fail! Can you do that, Abe? Can you be honest, or are you just taking the Mickey?"

Abe and Alexandria looked at the floor sadly.

Mickey walked away towards the city. The sun was baking the side of his building and he knew where he could find a killer view to watch the world go by. The world he'd helped to shape.

Novel Gamer Episode Two - Monster Hunter Tri

What follows is my second Novel Gamer column for Game People. This is also available as a podcast, and there are iTunes and RSS subscriptions available.

To summarise, Novel Gamer is a feature in which I tell a short story, based on my experiences of playing a game. It's a 50/50 hybrid of fiction and critical analysis. Hopefully you'll come away entertained and informed about a game.

Rupert's Safari: An encounter with Monster Hunter Tri (Wii)

"Mr Fisher, I understand you wish to make a complaint?" even over the telephone, the Travel Rep couldn't hide the exasperation in her voice.

"Yes," Rupert Fisher explained, "I have to say that the whole experience has not lived up to my expectations."

The Rep frowned, "but, from what you are telling me -- and forgive me if I've missed something -- you don't actually want to leave the village?"

"That is correct," Rupert informed her.

"So, you want to complain; the experience is not what you expected; and you want to carry on in the village and keep hunting?"

"Yes."

The Rep covered the handset and allowed herself a long sigh. She returned the mouthpiece to her face.

"Perhaps you could start at the beginning, sir, and explain exactly what is at fault with this experience..."

* * *

Many days before...

Rupert Fisher leaned back and enjoyed the sea breeze as the boat carried him over the waters to the hunting and safari village, in which he would be spending the next leg of his year-out.

The Travel Rep shifted uncomfortably on her seat and tried to complete the rest of the paperwork. Rupert had ignored her vocal concerns. Many times he had been warned by others that this safari was a very basic experience. There was much less hand-holding than on other safari tours that had been sold to his friends. That was what had convinced him that this was a unique opportunity; he also knew that those who loved it came back time and again.

This was a chance to see some wild country, some rare and exotic creatures and to spend some time living out a hunter-gatherer fantasy.

Perfect!

As Rupert stepped onto the jetty of the village of Moga he turned to watch the boat with the Travel Rep jet away at some speed. Whatever this experience was going to be, he was definitely on his own for now.
His greeting was not as he expected. Without even really knowing what future adventures lay in store he had to provide a name and basic details about how he wished to dress and appear for his time in the village.

"Would sir be interested in some facial markings?" came the inquiry from a faceless village administrator, "these arrow shapes across the forehead are very popular."

"Humm, I'm not sure," Rupert wavered, his middle-class sensibilities signalling an instant retreat, "those face paints look like they may have some significant cultural meaning to a particular group of... ahh... maybe ethnic cultures. I don't want to offend anybody... umm."

"Please yourself," the administrator told him, "they're just face paint." The administrator shuffled away. "It doesn't matter anyway. You'll choose all these outfits and markings and then your first set of armour will completely obscure your face and clothing anyhow. Can't see why we bother..." he grumbled as he walked away.

"Armour?" Rupert called after him, "what do we need armour for?" He could hear the sound of chuckling from off down the path.

A little perplexed by this, Rupert entered the village proper and soon became acquainted with the many, many local people it seemed necessary to talk to before he was finally allowed to set out on his first safari; there seemed to be a lot of these people there and their jobs clearly suffered from large areas of overlap. As a management consultant, Rupert could tell at a glance that there were huge parts of the village structure that would benefit from a shake-up and rationalisation.

He stopped himself: he was here to enjoy the quaint backward charms, not to civilise the locals or try and make the experience more logical or efficient.

He set out on his first venture into the nearby woods.

* * *

The landscape was beautiful, as expected. Grand mountains, winding paths and graceful rivers... and he caught his first sight of a creature.

Monsters they called them in the brochure. Not a bit of it! This was a graceful herbivore. I looked like a dinosaur of some kind. There was a big one and two small ones grazing and moving down the valley.

"That is incredible," Rupert whispered to himself. He reached about his person and realised what he'd forgotten. "Damn!" he addressed to the air, "umm I appear to have forgotten my camera. I don't suppose you have one I could use?"

There was a voice that travelled with him as he ventured on the lonely safari although Rupert never saw his guide. "Attack the creature and kill it for points and resources" came the deadpan reply.
"What?" Rupert was surprised, assuming he'd misheard. "No no no you misunderstand. I'm on safari -- I'm here to enjoy the wildlife and scenery."

"Use your knife and kill the creature. This will give you points and items to spend on upgrading your armour and weapons and also resources to help redevelop our village."

"Now see here," the young traveller told the guide, "I know you people are a bit separated from modern culture and are pretty far out of the way; but, I can tell you that the rest of the modern, thinking world has moved away from the petty savagery of safaris for the purposes of hunting for pleasure. We leave only pictures and take only footprints, I think someone said. No that's wrong, sorry! We leave only footprints and take only pictures. Or memories they said, maybe? I forget who. In any case I have to say I feel very uncomfortable about the idea of attacking this family unit of beautiful creatures!"

"The village needs resources. We must rebuild after the earthquake."

Rupert nodded, sympathetically. "I am very concerned about your situation, believe me. My tourist dollars will go along way toward the regeneration of this region!" He changed tack, "look, aren't there any other tasks I can undertake for the village while out here?"

The advice came back, without irony. "You can forage for mushrooms, bugs, stone, iron ore, honey from nests, cut grass and herbs to make potions and gather resources for the village. You will need to make medicines to look after yourself and materials to make clothes and armour. The village will also require some resources."

"Right..." Rupert responded, "I seem to be doing a lot for the village and I seem to be spending a lot of my leisure time grubbing around for random herbs and foliage when I should be on safari for animals and enjoying myself. I assume this is all really necessary?"

The only reply was a thick silence.

Rupert acquiesced. Eventually he did attack some local creatures, once he realised that it was not a joke and that he was really expected to spend his time running around and killing everything in sight. If my girlfriend saw this she'd be horrified, he thought to himself.

* * *

One of the rumours Rupert had heard about this experience was the opportunity to hunt with other visitors. He thought it was about time he tried it for himself.

"It's totally the way to do it," Tilly -- a girl he had met in Sydney airport -- had told him, "it allows you all to take on challenges far too extreme for you to handle alone. Ya, you get a real sense of achieving something big."

Her words rang in his ears as he explored the huge deserted "city" for companions. He hoped it was different. Much of the hunting he had experienced largely involved hitting things indiscriminately until they fell over.

The city was meant to be a hub for meeting other hunters but any attempts at communicating with other people had proved dismal. None of the other people spoke his language. Why haven't they booked me on an English-only resort? he thought to himself, I didn't have this problem in Sharm El-Sheikh. He had even attempted to write notes to attract the other visitors but the system provided for writing to other people was laughably basic and really only suitable for four or five letter communications. Not what he needed.
A thought occurred to him in a flash. He remembered that a friend of his from home was supposed to be out here at the same time!

He gave her a call and, sure enough, she was in the area and up for trying out some of this multi-hunter game she'd heard about.

Zara turned up in good time and they were both keen to work out the best way to communicate with each other while out in the field.

"Oh, are you two friends?" came the voice of one of the game reserve's administrators.
"Yes" Rupert replied. "We've been friends ages."

"But," the administrator pressed, " are you friends in here? You can't talk unless you make friends with each other within this city as well!"

Rupert sighed, "oh all right, then. If we must... hang on what's this?"

The administrator had handed them both a giant fishbowl helmet with a microphone -- for some reason -- right at the top. "This," the administrator explained, "is the Wii Speak. It's what you must use to talk to each other."

"Oh! Really?" Zara sounded disappointed. "But it echoes really badly and I can't hear a word he's saying. Can't I use my Bluetooth headset? I have one, you know?"

"Sorry, miss," the administrator told him, "Wii Speak only. That's the rules."

Rupert and Zara decided to concede the point and headed out into the wilderness for their first joint hunt. Rupert was, understandably, excited about the new strategies this co-op approach would surely offer.
They came out into a clearing and stood before a giant T-Rex-like creature.

"Steven H Spielberg, that's a big monster!" Rupert exclaimed, turning to Zara. "What do we do?" he looked around but she had already gone, charging in to attack.

Rupert followed her into the fray, slashing wildly with his monstrously-oversized sword. The carnage was intense, both assailants regularly hitting each other as well as the beast.

"But, surely," Rupert yelled above the noise of carnage, "this is exactly the same as what I was doing on my own?!"

Zara didn't reply. He looked but she had totally disappeared.

After receiving a sound trashing from the creature he recovered in the main city. He gave Zara a call.
"What happened to you, then?"

"I don't know," she replied, "one moment I was there with you, the next minute I found myself standing back in the city, totally disconnected from you. Couldn't get back in no matter how hard I tried. I say, that's a poor show!"

"That's it!" Rupert exclaimed, "I'm getting on the phone to my Travel Rep right now! This experience has been bad enough without adding service faults to the equation. I shall make a complaint..."

* * *

The Travel Rep was trying to write this all down.

"So Mr Fisher, you are dissatisfied with the experience?"

"Well," Rupert said, "I wouldn't say disappointed. Bewildered and confused, perhaps. The hunting just feels like a continuous grind, the communication is shocking and I seem to spend a lot of my free time running around after the demands of the villagers. And don't even get me started on the locals. I swear I saw the farmer's pig wearing a pink dress..."

"But, do you want to leave and get a refund, Mr Fisher?"

"Well, err," Rupert thought about this carefully. What was he thinking? Was he actually considering persevering with this? "The thing is, you see, it really is a very pretty and large place."

"Yes," agreed the rep.

"And there are always new challenges opening up..."

"Yes."

"And I always get this feeling that, no matter how flawed the experience is, it's about to get better just around the next corner..."

"So?"

Rupert thought carefully about this for a moment.

"I think I'll stay."

The launch article for Game People's Novel Gamer column

What follows is my first Novel Gamer column for Game People. This is also available as a podcast, and there are iTunes and RSS subscriptions available.

To summarise, Novel Gamer is a feature in which I tell a short story, based on my experiences of playing a game. It's a 50/50 hybrid of fiction and critical analysis. Hopefully you'll come away entertained and informed about a game.

Starfox Command DS: An interview with the legendary frontman of the group, Fox McCloud

It was a few days ago my publisher called me up about the chance to interview one of the most iconic and enigmatic figures of the last decade. Clearly this was a great chance to talk to a most influential artist. I was a little surprised when the subject matter of the discussion was a focus on StarFox Command. When compared against such classics as the legendary StarFox 64 (known in the UK as Lylat Wars) how is that we came to be talking about this particular release?

These days, McCloud keeps up a trendy apartment in west London which he uses when he’s in the UK on business. It’s in that part of the city so favoured by the select and which is home to many artists and retired performers – actors of the old school, retired rock-stars and their peers.

McCloud’s rooms had a new-age air to them. Oriental fabrics and incense burners lined the walls, on which sat the framed gold discs of Lylat Wars and StarFox Adventures.

The man himself dispensed with the formalities and insisted I call him Fox. I began by asking him about the group and its impact on the genre. He pushed the glowing end of a stub into a full ashtray and leant forward, his eyes glittering with memories of the old days.

"I keep meaning to give up!" he grinned, "It was a crazy time, man. Ninty just came at us with all this new equipment and said to me and Falco, what can you guys do with it?"

I asked him if he’s referring to Nintendo’s Mode7 chip, which for many households represented their first experience of a moving 3D surface.

"Yeah, yeah, guy, that was it. So we said to the suits, ‘man if you’re gonna give me something that looks like flying, then I wanna fly!’ ha ha ha!"

"So," I pressed, "you feel that the StarFox group was about technical innovation?"

"That was a part of it, sure," Fox leant back, a serious expression now on his face; "but it was about creativity and experimentation. The story and the characters had to be top-notch. That’s why were we excited about Command, man! We’d always been too big and our shows too technically demanding for the little consoles. Finally here was a handheld venue capable of holding a StarFox show – and we were stoked about it I can tell ya."

"What was your reaction to it?"

"I thought the controls were crazy when they first pitched it to me. They showed me how the ship could be flown entirely by drawing the stylus on the screen. The only button used was for firing! I said to the engineers – I admit I was a bit rude in those days – what the … y’know … what the ‘F’ do you think you’re doing? There’s a perfectly functional D-Pad and on the other side you’ve got buttons for Boost, Brake, Shoot and Loop. Use the shoulders for Bomb and Flip! It seemed obvious to me but the tech guys talked about wanting to avoid something they called ‘Metroid Claw’ and got me to try the Stylus control."

"What did you think?"

A big smile crept across McCloud’s face. "It was like experiencing all the material again for the first time! Seriously, with only a bit of practice, the way that ship responded to the slightest touch? It was like leading her by the nose past buildings, down gulleys and through those … those hoops that give you power-ups?" I nodded. "We could never have got that kind of control with a pad, never!"

"And the stylus, of course," I prompted him, "was also used for the strategy sections after which this entry is named."

"That was a gamble," McCloud admits, "y’see with this release we wanted to put the audience in control. The first StarFox was a really linear ride; with Command we wanted to say to the player: ‘here are the bad guys; here’s the world; you choose when and where to fight them’. We gave them a limited number of turns to clean up each area but you should have seen the way these guys flew the missions! There were worlds we thought would take 4 or 5 turns to clear, but some of the real fans figured out how to chain refuel stations and how to draw your fighter’s interception path to catch many squadrons at once: they cleared the map in a couple of turns. Just incredible! Plus you had to use the stylus to scratch away the ‘fog’ that covered the enemies position – most fans figured out the limited tool only allowed small bits of the covered territory to be cleared so they just figured out ways to make it work."

"So really," I asked McCloud, "StarFox Command’s greatest legacy is allowing the player to improvise with the material."

McCloud nodded vigorously at this, "defo! Got it in one. Even with the combat missions it was all about giving the player choice. It was pretty easy to kill the enemy squadron but we filled the area with secondary and tertiary enemies that gave huge bonuses if you clear everyone out. It became less about whether you could clear the level and more about how you beat the level. Doing it with style for maximum points! Not to mention the time bonus strategy!"

I had to admit that I thought I had missed that.

"Aww, that was a great strategy! We set the ship up so that, if you did a barrel-roll while taking fire, then you deflect the enemy shots and gain 2 seconds, right? Well some of the fans figured out that it was a good idea to keep some of the anti-air towers around – that way, if you run short on time you just goad the towers into shooting at you and you can rack up extra seconds! All about personal expression, man; all about it…"

I decided to bring up the issue of Command’s position in the overall series of StarFox releases. I asked if he felt it was a departure for the series.

"People have the wrong idea about StarFox, man," he shook his head at this; he seemed quite sad. "People think of this epic space adventure going on story after story … but they forget. StarFox 64 or Lylat Wars or whatever you want to call it was a remake of the original StarFox. We started again with new technology and new freedom to explore. We never got a shot at the Wii. The GameCube versions mixed it up with ground vehicles and walking sections and the other one was a third-person adventure game. In many ways, StarFox Command is the truest StarFox release to date. It’s like we were looking for the perfect version of space combat with story. Command has its own ambience and flavour. All with full 360-degree control rather than on-rails. It’s the follow-up album the original deserved."

"How do you feel," I asked him, "about the suggestion that it was short?"

"Totally wronged! I mean, we made a choice to make each story thread quite short. Sure, you can play it from start to a finish in a couple of hours. But then we put in nine totally different endings and a branched storyline that gave you all kinda ways to get to them. To see all that Command has to offer, you come back to it again and again. That’s what our fans say: they just keep revisiting it."

I nod. I can see, maybe for the first time, how Command is a forgotten great in StarFox’s history. "Command was also very beautiful."

"Oh yeah," McCloud agreed with this, "we wanted to make it look and sound great on the DS. Corneria City, the deserts, those series of islands in the sea? We were really pleased with the way it looked and sounded. And we introduced internet multiplayer for the first time. That DS Wi-Fi can be a hot ticket if you get it right!"

I thanked Fox McCloud for his time and asked about the upcoming release, a remake of StarFox 64/Lylat Wars for the 3DS.

"I’m looking forward to it. It’s great to see the old material re-mastered on a new format. But I don’t know if it will stick to the original format or not. You see Command gave you a full arena to fly around in, whereas the original StarFox was a fixed flight-path that you moved along. You could position yourself within it, but Command was always where the real freedom was. Away from the tracks…"

I left him sitting amid the trails from the incense candles and presumed that he was returning to ponder the adventures of his past: the mothership-destruction motif that riffs throughout the missions, the characters and their distinctive ships weaving in and out of the storylines and the chance to catch up with old faces.

As I left his rooms and put my thoughts in order I thought about the last time I’d seen StarFox Command. It was on a pre-owned shelf for less than a fiver. It seemed a shame that such a great release – and a landmark for so many reasons – should be so forgotten in the public sphere. But there is a flipside to this story – it does mean that this entry in the StarFox legacy is as easy to pick up and as accessible as it was when it was first released.

And, for such a reasonable price tag, I think I just might revisit it myself.

Time to go public

For a while now, I've been writing articles for Game People. A few of you may have seen me posting links to articles under specific games.

Game People is a games review site with a difference. It offers regulars reviews alongside 'artisan reviews.'

The artisan reviews offer a slightly different perspective on games than the usual literary criticism-style approach. There's the Haiku Gamer - whose reviews take the form of Haiku poetry. There's the Scripted Gamer, who writes and performs a short radio play to review the game. There's also the Musical Gamer, who some of you may know as the wildly successful Rebecca Mayes: Originally from Game People, latterly from The Escapist and recently spreading wings and doing her own thing.

This is about a very different way of looking at games. This is a personal response, an artistic response: a sideways look at a games content in order to judge it by merits beyond those of the "typical" gaming demographic.

Game People's regular reviews also come with a twist. Everyone has a perspective - a unique approach to how they come to the games they play. Whether they are coming from the approach of a parent, a lapsed gamer, a co-op gamer, a techie, a teenager or a board gamer - these are personal and reflective responses to the world of gaming.

How do I fit into this? Well, if everyone has a story then I have several. Sometimes the only way to communicate a point is through parable. Our world is full of stories and synonyms. I write stories, simply put.

Stories which entertain in their own right; stories which represent a personal response to a game's individual character; stories which, if nothing else, provide a break from the usual language we associate with game reviews.

Known henceforce as the Novel Gamer, my tales aim to both tell a story and make a critical point or two about the games themselves. This is complementary creativity - a sideshow to the games' own big top.

I hope you'll come with me and enjoy the journey.

My column goes live on Monday 17th January, with fortnightly stories and podcasts. Get a sneak peak at the first article here.

GameCity5 - Day Three - Kinecting with people

The subject of new Microsoft hardware brings me to the afternoon session, in which Nick Burton (Executive Producer of Technology and Communications) demonstrates Kinect Sports and discusses some of Kinect's potential.

I have to say up-front that huge question marks still hang over the viability of Kinect in my own mind. In spite of Nick's assertion that Kinect can allow for coffee tables obscuring feet and smaller living spaces, by their own admission Rare re-modelled their entire office space from cubicles to open plan in order to make working on Kinect more feasible. The stage used for the presentation was enormous and I wonder how many people live in homes in which the Kinect will work (especially given the casual market Microsoft are targeting with this product).

Nick introduces the Sports package with enthusiasm and it is clear that some considerable though has gone into translating these sports into meaningful actions. Football is distilled into a series of passing choices across the field culminating in a final shot at the goal. Discus seems intuitive and even javelin affords the player a convincing run-up and launch.

What is immediately apparent however is that there are two unexpected and fascinating emergent behaviours created by Kinect's approach. The first nice touch is that, because Kinect is capable of tracking multiple individuals, you have to raise your hand at the beginning of each game to indicate that you wish to take part. This is a lovely child-like form of interaction that will have most people giggling the first time they play.

The second and more important emergent element that comes out of Kinect's continuous tracking is that ALL of your body motion is mapped to the player avatar. It's immediately obvious, now that you see a motion-captured avatar standing next to the AI figures just how different and distinct human movement is. Witnessing a game character slouch, or favour balancing weight on one leg or brushing a spec from clothing is all reproduced by the game system. This leads on to an important emergent behaviour:playing with and showing off through the avatar. All the players who took part in the Kinect demonstration instinctively put their avatars through victory celebrations after scoring, through arms in the air, dancing and air guitaring (no pelvic thrusts though, in spite of the amount of 3rd person shooters that offer this as a victory salute). In fact it became more noticeable when players wanted to make their characters display behaviour at a time when the game didn't seem to want to track their actions. This may lead to developers forcing games to map player movement to avatars at all times.

I did ask Nick Burton about how this very different control system might inform new kinds of game and new interactions within games rather than sports or other more traditional/existing genres. He was fairly reluctant to share many of Rare's prototype ideas, as you can imagine, but he did insist that a lot of crazy suggestions had been put forward and even prototyped. He discussed a kind of alternative reality, because the Kinect camera makes a 3D model of your living space and is more than capable of identifying individual objects like sofas, tables etc and can even render your space with different lighting, as the base lighting can be derived from the image. He talked about ideas like turning the floor of your room to lava, forcing players to climb on an available seat.

He also talked about Kinect "enhanced" features which support traditional gaming more readily. The instinctive tilt of the head when steering a racing game or peering around a corner in an FPS can now be read by Kinect and fed into the game. Combined with voice recognition there is a good potential for Kinect to provide supporting functionality for games, freeing-up the primary controller for main actions.

In summary, Kinect represents a remarkable piece of technology, implemented very simply and transparently. It's undeniable the potential is there for some remarkable changes in gaming, but my personal opinion is that it is in danger of a cautious market and difficult local (environment) conditions which may cause it to fall into the sports and casual market to which the Wii has largely succumbed.

Also, because of the need to keep looking at the screen, actions such as turning or looking around have to be faked, which is counter intuitive.

For me, if you could combine the body tracking of Kinect with a decent VR headset... now there's a killer app! Given that Kinect has a flawless understanding of your position in 3D space, imagine being able to view a 3D immersive scene and reach out to grab an in-game item. In short I still feel that Kinect combined with a fixed screen is a dead end. The workarounds that have to be achieved as a results of needing to keep facing the display screen are obvious with almost every gesture. Combine this with my already negative views on 3D TV (how can it be 3D when the scene is bounded by the frame of the screen?) However it does give clues about a future path to more immersive gameplay. Now I just need to install the Jamiroquai moving floor so I can walk around while remaining still...

After this session, my GameCity became about connecting for real with some people I've only ever met digitally. I met some of the lovely folks from Game People and found a huge amount of common heritage (always nice to meet other people who spent the 90's cherishing the Amiga!) and also got to meet Rebecca Mayes after her marathon 8-hour game creating session with Adam Saltsman. It was nice to be there to see the culmination of their efforts as it happened and witness the unveiling!

All photos courtesy of GameCity with thanks.