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Oxenfree is as good as they say, “they” being practically everyone who’s reviewed it so far, but it frustrated the hell out of me. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. I’m here to argue that my frustration played a huge part in making my experience with the game enjoyable, an integral part of it, even.
See, I’m a perfectionist, a one-hundred percenter, if you will. I finished Dragon Age: Inquisition‘s campaign months ago, but I’m still going back to it to find those last few stray mosaic pieces and venture through the labyrinthine Deep Roads. I stopped at nothing until I found and shot down every damn dangly skull necklace in 2013’s Tomb Raider. I don’t know why I have this quirk. Perfectionists are usually equated with adjectives like “neat” or “tidy” or “anal retentive,” but in most areas of my life I can more accurately be described as “scatterbrained.” My desk is cluttered with books and probably important neglected documents that should be filed away somewhere. My bed hasn’t been made since I moved out of my parents house and forsook all expectations of my adulthood.
My frustration with Oxenfree didn’t lie in its collectibles, though, all of which I found easily, with minimal excess time spent happily scouring the island while listening to the trippy soundtrack. As I picked up Maggie Adler’s letters and tuned my radio to anomalies at rock piles, I contentedly thought to myself that this extra bit of effort was allowing Alex and Jonas to spend more time together, perhaps bonding in that way people bond when they don’t always have to talk, when simply being in each other’s presence is enough. Therein lies my frustration with Oxenfree—in Alex’s relationships, particularly with Jonas, and the way they culminate in the end. After everything I thought I had been building toward, the ending completely caught me off guard.
Continue reading “Playing Oxenfree as a Perfectionist”
I decided to check out Dark Places after loving Gone Girl and ended up loving it even more.
While I really enjoyed Gone Girl, I didn’t connect with its main characters the way I connected with Libby in Dark Places. Flynn’s characters are always deeply flawed, sometimes unlikable, which isn’t a bad thing and in fact is often what makes them interesting, but Gone Girl‘s Nick and Amy feel far removed from anyone I know in real life. Libby is not only easier to relate to, but her growth and development throughout the book are insanely well done.
In the beginning, she’s depressed and stagnant. She has floated through life aimlessly since she was seven, when her mother and two sisters were brutally murdered by an unknown killer who may or may not have been her older brother. For the most part, she’s avoided thinking about it, but as the story progresses and she begins to examine that night more closely, she finally finds purpose in unraveling the mystery behind the killings.
I adored her relationship with Lyle, which serves as the catalyst for piecing the remains of her life back together after being shattered by her family’s deaths. (I recently learned that he’s going to be played by Nicholas Hoult in the upcoming movie adaption, which I think is a spot-on casting choice.) I like that their relationship remains platonic and open to interpretation. What Libby needs above all else is a friend, and Lyle provides that for her at a time when she’s desperate for it.
Bottom line: Dark Places is as dark and morbid as you’d expect from a Gillian Flynn novel but with ten times more heart.
Kentucky Route Zero is simply gorgeous. Its art style caught me at first glance, and its abstract story kept me buried after delving into it, but the whole thing is just so gorgeous it nearly moves me to tears.
Created by two-man studio Cardboard Computer, Kentucky Route Zero is a “magical realist adventure game” that uses geometric shapes, soft lighting, and eerie music to create a nighttime otherworld. You play mostly as beleaguered truck driver Conway, who makes deliveries for an antique store and is having trouble finding the last address on his route. The further down the road you go, the more you realize the address is probably only a metaphor for the end of Conway’s journey, the actual destination of which is much more complicated.
In fact, everything you encounter in the game could be a metaphor and is open to interpretation. It’s up to you to piece together the bits of story you pick up as you go along, while circumstances can easily twist and change at any moment. To get wherever it is he’s going, Conway travels a strange underground highway known as Route Zero, where all he encounters is filled with mystery and tinged with Americana.
Continue reading “Initial Thoughts on Kentucky Route Zero: Acts I and II”
If you’ve never played any of the Animal Crossing games before, I’ll attempt to explain them for you:
They’re made by Nintendo and have become an integral part of the company’s image. Not quite on the same level as Mario, but close.
You start out with an adorable character that represents you and looks something like this:
Your character then moves into a town, which looks something like this:
…but of course bigger and full of houses, shops, a river, a beach, bugs and fish you can catch, trees you can shake that will sometimes reward you with money or punish you by sending a swarm of bees after you, random holes you can fall into if you’re not careful, etc. You can name both your character and your town whatever you want. My character is always my real-life nickname, Lys, and my town is always Mirage.
You also have fellow villagers, which are all adorable animals that speak gibberish and ask you to do random tasks for them because they are so adorable why would you refuse?
Continue reading “Now Bob Will Always Be My Neighbor”
Point-and-click adventures were the bread and butter of my earliest gaming experiences. I spent plenty of time killing zombies in Resident Evil and breaking boxes in Crash Bandicoot, but I’ve always been a lover of stories first and foremost, and adventure games are all about a good narrative. You could almost get away with calling them interactive novels if it weren’t for the fact that those are completely different things. Wadjet Eye Games’ Blackwell series is one of the more compelling stories I’ve run across in an adventure game, taking me back to my childhood days while tapping into the unavoidable existentialism of my adult life.
The Blackwell Bundle comprises four separate games: The Blackwell Legacy, Blackwell Unbound, The Blackwell Convergence, and The Blackwell Deception. They’re short on their own, but when played one after the other they feel like a full game, and it’s well worth it for the $14.99 price tag.
The overarching story’s main protagonist is Rosa Blackwell, who you take control of in all but Blackwell Unbound. Rosa is a writer living in New York City who discovers she’s also a Medium. She’s a kickass character, sharp and driven and brimming with sarcasm. She could be anyone at first glance, but she has a well of depth under the surface that’s impressive considering the modest length of these games.
Continue reading “Blackwell: A Captivating Adventure”
Video games are increasingly tailored to keep players coming back for more, and not just when it comes to multiplayer. Single player games offer multiple campaigns, varying endings, or dynamic plots that adjust to your choices as you play. While those features make for an interesting experience, they won’t matter if the in-game world doesn’t take hold of us and refuse to let go. Since we’re human beings with limbic systems that give us those pesky things called feelings, a good atmosphere is vital to us—sometimes all it takes to make us want to stay in a game, even after we’ve explored every inch of its world.
A combination of things can add up to a good atmosphere, but ultimately it’s what initially pulls you into a game’s world. It answers the question of whether or not you want to explore what you’re seeing, and it’s absolutely crucial to that oft-cited feature that’s imperative for most of us: immersion. The feeling I get from being in a game will determine how absorbed I am by it and how much I’ll want to stay that way.
Merriam-Webster defines atmosphere as follows:
a : the overall aesthetic effect of a work of art
b : an intriguing or singular tone, effect, or appeal
Taking the definition into account, it’s important to note that atmosphere is also somewhat subjective. Different aesthetics will appeal to different people, so for that reason, this list is a personal one. Below are a few games that kept me lost in their “overall aesthetic” along with my attempts to figure out why.
Continue reading “My Top 5 Atmospheric Video Games”
There are two things a book can possess that are guaranteed to pull me in:
1. A first-person narrative with a believable voice.
Vera Dietz is the best YA main character I’ve met in a while. She might just be my all-time favorite. She’s independent and sharp and complicated and a genuinely good person. She loses perspective and makes some bad decisions, mostly involving vodka, but underneath it all is a teenage girl who’s dealing with some heavy stuff and trying her best to keep going in spite of it. Her best friend Charlie is dead, and she’s left to cope with her complicated feelings for him, which often seesaw between love and hate, and the secrets she holds about his death.
Plus, she loves animals, she listens to Sam Cooke and Al Green, and she shops for back-to-school clothes at Goodwill. Those little details serve her character so well and make her even more real.
2. Little quirks thrown in that help set the book apart from others I’ve read.
There are several of these:
- Vera’s vocabulary words
- Ken Dietz’ flow charts
- Different character perspectives
- Chapter titles that will make you LOL
- Zen quotes
- Charlie’s napkin writings
All of these details add spice to the story, enhancing an already rich and engaging book.
Other things I loved:
- Ken Dietz, Vera’s father. He’s dealing with some complex emotions too, trying to raise a grieving teenage daughter on his own, and you get to explore his thoughts and struggles in chapters written from his perspective. The way his relationship with Vera develops throughout the book is realistic and super sweet, putting him right up there with Keith Mars in the pantheon of awesome single dads.
- Alternating past and present tense. The book switches between present events and flashbacks that serve as clues to Vera and Charlie’s complicated relationship and everything that led to his death. It seems like it could get confusing, but it never does. Everything flows together so well.
- A satisfying ending, despite some loose ends. Things that need to be dealt with are dealt with appropriately, and some details are left open to interpretation, but it leaves you contemplating them rather than feeling annoyed that they’re not resolved. It’s like we are Vera and Ken and the town. Sometimes we don’t have the answers to everything, so we’re left wondering about them instead, imagining how they could have been or how we wish they were. That’s real life, and that’s Please Ignore Vera Dietz.
Bottom line: A.S. King effortlessly combines quirk and realism into a gut-wrenching story about dealing with loss.