Am I the only one who finds Penny Arcade's seeming influence inexplicable? The problem with Penny Arcade strips is that most of them aren't even comprehensible -- much less funny -- without a dozen paragraphs of supplementary commentary.
I love VI and VII dearly. But the last three Final Fantasy games that I've played -- VIII, IX, and X -- were all disappointing. I've considered the possibility that the franchise is not what has changed; rather, I lost the ability to enjoy the Final Fantasy formula some time between VII and VIII. I explored this possibility recently by replaying VII. To my surprise, I discovered that it's as good as I remembered it to be. This would seem to be a contrarian position, as it has become fashionable to say that VII was overrated. Although I have much less patience now than I did 10 years ago for the tedious conventions of the RPG genre, e.g., random battles, needlessly long battle animations, VII is still breathtaking.
To my mind, what distinguishes VI and VII from subsequent Final Fantasy games is soul. Whereas the passion with which VI and VII were developed is palpable, recent Final Fantasy games ring hollow. They feel less like products of the creative process and more like mechanical constructions built on an assembly line.
That said, I concede that this distinction may be merely a product of my imagination. I concede further that even though I have a fresh impression of VII from having replayed it recently, my opinion of it may be inextricably influenced by nostalgia.
When I play a game in single-player mode, I expect my opponents to behave realistically within the context of the game world. Enemy characters should exhibit the instinct for self-preservation (unless they're jihadists) and should employ tactics that would be sensible in real life. I can't suspend my disbelief if an enemy trooper is bunny-hopping. The problem with putting a human player in character is that there's no way to force him to act as though he has only one life to lose; even if he does have only one life per round, that's a poor approximation of the consequences of dying in reality.
One problem is that the characters and the actors playing them have grown so familiar with the Stargate universe as to rob the show of any sense of wonder or jeopardy. They've also grown too familiar with each other. Did anyone else notice during season eight that the cast started replacing dialogue with knowing glances? It's hard to stay interested in a show when its characters are disaffected and weary. Daniel Jackson, in particular, has transformed from a bright-eyed, humanitarian idealist into a snide, jaded, and wholly unlikeable jackass.
Another major problem is that the writers insist on injecting the show with unfunny humor. Compare early and later seasons in this regard. O'Neill admonishing Daniel not to speak metaphorically because it isn't fair to Teal'c: funny. Carter cheerily humming the Stargate theme in the SGC elevator: unfunny and cringe-inducing. I also don't understand why levity is regularly inserted at inappropriate times. It's hard to appreciate the gravity of a fictional situation when not even the characters in the situation take it seriously.
I'm aware that Lucasarts advanced the deadline. But everything I've read about the matter indicates that the deadline was reduced from about 14 months to 12; I've seen nothing to suggest that Obsidian originally believed that it could develop through spring. If you have proof of that alleged fact, I'll revise my opinion.
Assuming that the deadline was reduced by two or three months, neither of us can say for certain whether the game would have been properly finished with that extra time, but I submit that the storyline was too complex even under the original timetable. For example, Darth Sion and Darth Nihilous were both grossly underdeveloped, and I'm loathe to accept that an extra two months would've fixed that problem. And Avellone himself has said that he realized while developing the story that he had a tight schedule. Trying to tell a considerably more sophisticated story than that of KOTOR I in that time frame was a mistake.
I also think that it's funny that you tell me to get a clue in the same breath that you make the conclusory assertion that KOTOR II's failings are "simply" not Obsidian's fault and speculate that unused assets were "obviously" left in the game on purpose.
"Everyone" is just a euphemism for non-gamers. As a gamer, I find the "games for non-gamers" movement offensive. I don't believe that the gaming community should be insular, and I welcome the expansion of the video game consumer base, but I don't think that expansion should be achieved by purposefully developing a console and games for non-gamers.
"Nintendo transcends the console wars!"
This bit of propaganda rationalizes the limited graphical capabilities of the Wii. But the problem with the argument that gameplay matters and graphics do not is that the two are related. Graphical advancement matters because greater graphical capabilities enable new forms of gameplay. Take, for example, open-roaming games, which were not feasible prior to the PlayStation 2/Xbox era. Compare Grand Theft Auto I and Grand Theft Auto III. The graphical limitations of the PlayStation 1 acted as a constraint on the gameplay of the former, which was presented in a cumbersome and unsatisfying top-down two-dimensional format. The advent of the following generation enabled the GTA series developers to realize the goal of allowing players to roam about an expansive city in three dimensions.
I would wager that the power of the PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 will foster more development in gameplay than will the Wii's motion-sensitive controls.
To salvage its credibility and reputation, perhaps? To my knowledge, Obsidian never even acknowledged that KOTOR II was released in a broken and unfinished state. And I question whether Obsidian is as blameless as its defenders insist. The developers knew that they were working under significant time constraints, and yet they chose to tell an overly ambitious plot that they should have known could not be implemented in time.
If Obsidian is too proud or too clueless to admit its mistakes, then I have serious doubts about whether Obsidian can learn from them, and for that reason I intend never play another Obsidian-developed game.
While we're in the process of distributing blame, let's not forget about the alarmist parents to whom paternalistic legislation caters and whose irrational fears opportunistic politicians prey on.
Slashdot Mirror
Am I the only one who finds Penny Arcade's seeming influence inexplicable? The problem with Penny Arcade strips is that most of them aren't even comprehensible -- much less funny -- without a dozen paragraphs of supplementary commentary.
I love VI and VII dearly. But the last three Final Fantasy games that I've played -- VIII, IX, and X -- were all disappointing. I've considered the possibility that the franchise is not what has changed; rather, I lost the ability to enjoy the Final Fantasy formula some time between VII and VIII. I explored this possibility recently by replaying VII. To my surprise, I discovered that it's as good as I remembered it to be. This would seem to be a contrarian position, as it has become fashionable to say that VII was overrated. Although I have much less patience now than I did 10 years ago for the tedious conventions of the RPG genre, e.g., random battles, needlessly long battle animations, VII is still breathtaking.
To my mind, what distinguishes VI and VII from subsequent Final Fantasy games is soul. Whereas the passion with which VI and VII were developed is palpable, recent Final Fantasy games ring hollow. They feel less like products of the creative process and more like mechanical constructions built on an assembly line.
That said, I concede that this distinction may be merely a product of my imagination. I concede further that even though I have a fresh impression of VII from having replayed it recently, my opinion of it may be inextricably influenced by nostalgia.
When I play a game in single-player mode, I expect my opponents to behave realistically within the context of the game world. Enemy characters should exhibit the instinct for self-preservation (unless they're jihadists) and should employ tactics that would be sensible in real life. I can't suspend my disbelief if an enemy trooper is bunny-hopping. The problem with putting a human player in character is that there's no way to force him to act as though he has only one life to lose; even if he does have only one life per round, that's a poor approximation of the consequences of dying in reality.
One problem is that the characters and the actors playing them have grown so familiar with the Stargate universe as to rob the show of any sense of wonder or jeopardy. They've also grown too familiar with each other. Did anyone else notice during season eight that the cast started replacing dialogue with knowing glances? It's hard to stay interested in a show when its characters are disaffected and weary. Daniel Jackson, in particular, has transformed from a bright-eyed, humanitarian idealist into a snide, jaded, and wholly unlikeable jackass.
Another major problem is that the writers insist on injecting the show with unfunny humor. Compare early and later seasons in this regard. O'Neill admonishing Daniel not to speak metaphorically because it isn't fair to Teal'c: funny. Carter cheerily humming the Stargate theme in the SGC elevator: unfunny and cringe-inducing. I also don't understand why levity is regularly inserted at inappropriate times. It's hard to appreciate the gravity of a fictional situation when not even the characters in the situation take it seriously.
I'm aware that Lucasarts advanced the deadline. But everything I've read about the matter indicates that the deadline was reduced from about 14 months to 12; I've seen nothing to suggest that Obsidian originally believed that it could develop through spring. If you have proof of that alleged fact, I'll revise my opinion.
Assuming that the deadline was reduced by two or three months, neither of us can say for certain whether the game would have been properly finished with that extra time, but I submit that the storyline was too complex even under the original timetable. For example, Darth Sion and Darth Nihilous were both grossly underdeveloped, and I'm loathe to accept that an extra two months would've fixed that problem. And Avellone himself has said that he realized while developing the story that he had a tight schedule. Trying to tell a considerably more sophisticated story than that of KOTOR I in that time frame was a mistake.
I also think that it's funny that you tell me to get a clue in the same breath that you make the conclusory assertion that KOTOR II's failings are "simply" not Obsidian's fault and speculate that unused assets were "obviously" left in the game on purpose.
"Games for everyone!"
"Everyone" is just a euphemism for non-gamers. As a gamer, I find the "games for non-gamers" movement offensive. I don't believe that the gaming community should be insular, and I welcome the expansion of the video game consumer base, but I don't think that expansion should be achieved by purposefully developing a console and games for non-gamers.
"Nintendo transcends the console wars!"
This bit of propaganda rationalizes the limited graphical capabilities of the Wii. But the problem with the argument that gameplay matters and graphics do not is that the two are related. Graphical advancement matters because greater graphical capabilities enable new forms of gameplay. Take, for example, open-roaming games, which were not feasible prior to the PlayStation 2/Xbox era. Compare Grand Theft Auto I and Grand Theft Auto III. The graphical limitations of the PlayStation 1 acted as a constraint on the gameplay of the former, which was presented in a cumbersome and unsatisfying top-down two-dimensional format. The advent of the following generation enabled the GTA series developers to realize the goal of allowing players to roam about an expansive city in three dimensions.
I would wager that the power of the PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 will foster more development in gameplay than will the Wii's motion-sensitive controls.
why should you the developer pay out of pocket?
To salvage its credibility and reputation, perhaps? To my knowledge, Obsidian never even acknowledged that KOTOR II was released in a broken and unfinished state. And I question whether Obsidian is as blameless as its defenders insist. The developers knew that they were working under significant time constraints, and yet they chose to tell an overly ambitious plot that they should have known could not be implemented in time.
If Obsidian is too proud or too clueless to admit its mistakes, then I have serious doubts about whether Obsidian can learn from them, and for that reason I intend never play another Obsidian-developed game.
While we're in the process of distributing blame, let's not forget about the alarmist parents to whom paternalistic legislation caters and whose irrational fears opportunistic politicians prey on.