Room 101: 3D Sonic

The transition from 2D to 3D was a logical step for most, allowing developers to expand their visions and to create more dynamic worlds. Nintendo did this effortlessly with their mascot, Mario, while the likes of Rockstar have flourished with the help of this extra dimension. The GTAs are notable benefactors: though they sold well enough before, it was only with the new technology that they became genre-defining - and in turn almost single-handedly created the sandbox genre. Other developers, however, were not so adaptable to this brave new world. In particular, Sonic Adventure on the Dreamcast saw the once untouchable Sega begin to lose their relevance. Over a decade ago it set a rot in motion which is still in need of curing.

It was all so simple back in the 90s. Mario was the undisputed king of platformers with little if any competition. Then Sonic burst onto the scene. Sonic offered a different brand of platformer: lightning-quick, with rollercoaster-like levels, and an infectious Japanese techno beat. Quite simply, the blue hedgehog had a cooler vibe than Mario, and this allowed Sega to dominate the teenage end of the market. As the years passed and Sonic's popularity showed no signs of waning, Sega did not re-invent the wheel for the sequels that followed - they did not need to. But with the release of the Nintendo 64 and its flagship title, Super Mario 64, the gaming world was changing. Nintendo blew people away. This was Mario, no doubt, but this was also the next step in video games. Suddenly Sonic and his flat vistas were no longer enough. Sega had to react with a 3D world of their own. In terms of game develoment, it was arguably their most costly mistake.

This is not to say that Sonic Adventure - the eventual rival to Mario 64's throne - was a bad game. It was decent in its own right, but - and this is the dealbreaker - it was just not Sonic any more. The loop-the-loops were still intact but they were broken up by distinctly un-Sonic features, such as talking and, more to the point, walking. No longer was each level a visceral escape for the senses. So long the perfect foil for Mario's ponderous pace, Sonic had lost his mojo.

The saddest thing about Sonic Adventure is not the title alone, more its effect on the franchise. Since its release, and in spite of ever-loudening calls from Sonic fans, Sega have been reluctant to turn back to 2D. The times they have been willing to go back, they have been successful: the 2D sections of Sonic Unleashed were widely celebrated by fans and journalists alike; it was only the werewolf half of the game, in 3D no less, that proved to be the game's downfall.

As time goes on, maybe Sega will return Sonic to the glory he deserves. But this will take some time, and so it hastens me to cry once more: what if Sonic Adventure had never existed?

Room 101: Halo

These aren't the best of games, these aren't the worst of games. No, the following titles have put a blight upon video games, laying down laws and setting trends that we can never turn back on. Isn't it a shame that shit sells?

Part 1:

Topping my list is Halo and all of its ungainly offspring. Fair's fair, I'll give credit to the first game: while it was as generic as the later titles, at least its single-player campaign was well-made. That, however, is no excuse for its sequels, which have gradually become worse and worse, leading to the mess of Halo 3. Usually you can tell the overall quality of a video game - as with most forms of art - from its opening. Think of Super Mario 64 and the playground of Peach's castle or the atmospheric opening to Metal Gear Solid 2 - they both set stunning foundations for what's to follow. Halo 3, on the other hand, has to have one of the worst opening levels ever made - for a high-profile title anyway. You are plonked down in a jungle and then must lead out men across a confusing, linear path. It all looks the same. The developer, Bungie, knew this. That's why there's an arrow leading in the right direction at every turn. Half-decent games do not resort to this. Either it is clear where you have to go next, or you are provided with a realised world to explore (see Fallout 3 or Bioshock for examples of the latter). Thankfully, Halo 3 does improve, ironically by making the second level like every dark, narrow and gray series of corridors you've ever seen in a sci-fi shooter; and resulting levels stick to this template. By its end, I did not loathe the game (it's average, nothing more), but I was pretty critical of the hype and of its overall effect on the industry.

Only a generation ago, first-person shooters were a welcome genre. They gave you a visceral thrill that's hard to achieve with an an over-the-shoulder perspective. And they were always innovative: GoldenEye for stealth and multiplayer; Half-Life for a compelling story; Metroid Prime for its atmosphere. Now, though, you see a market flooded with legions of by-the-numbers FPSs, eating up the talents of developers forced to make games that will sell. It may be slightly unfair to solely accuse Halo for this disappointing aspect of modern gaming, but there is no doubting its influence. Its continued success - despite its generic and flawed gameplay - has seeped into the heads of the money men and most disappointingly, the minds of gamers. Before, the industry leaders were the Marios and the Sonics of this world. What a shame that Halo is the new bench mark - a game without the character of an italian plumber, or a hedgehog who defies the laws of nature.

We can be thankful then, that Bioshock 2 is around the corner, along with progressive titles like Heavy Rain. The day is coming, the day when Master Chief no longer dictates...

Ashes Cricket 2009: The advert

What a day of cricket. Like most of this series, it came out of nowhere. You could say Stuart Broad's display today had been hinted at at Headingley with his six wicket haul, but no one could have predicted the Aussies' collapse. While I was watching it though, I had a Charlie Brooker-style epiphany: the advert for Ashes Cricket 2009 on the Wii is pathetic.

Now, video game ads don't tend to be great pieces of art. When they try to be, they end up at worst offensive and at best embarassing. Ashes Cricket comes under the latter bracket. In it we witness three lonely-looking men waiting for their team mates at a local cricket club. But where are their teammates? The following scene reveals twenty sweaty, exuberant men playing Ashes Cricket on the Wii, necks craned towards the TV. Why don't they just step outside and pretend they're budding Flintoffs for real, seen as they're all padded up for it? Nope, they'd rather have a session on the Wii. As an avid gamer myself, I wouldn't be so dismissive if the game looked decent - I know only too well that a good translation of a sport can be just as rivetting as the sport itself (witness early PES as an example). But Ashes Cricket? Nah. The character models are positively demonic for starters; lazy photoshops that have been thrown in at the last minute.






I should be grateful. I do see where they're going with it. But from the looks of it, I'd prefer sticking with the lonesome men outside rather than the sweaty morons. Still, it could be worse: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uu8456pVSLI

Time to jump the Microsoft ship?

Last Christmas I decided to sell my Wii. After Super Mario Galaxy and Wii Sports there was little else to offer. Sure there were a few conversions (Resi 4 and Okami) but I didn't want to be left behind playing last-gen titles. Although its first tentative steps were promising, the Wii had finally emerged as a gimmick. I jumped ship to the Xbox 360 within weeks.

I played Fable II and Bioshock. They were stunning games. I was glad of my new console. They pushed the boundaries for storytelling within video games, highlighting the medium's potential to catch up with the likes of film and literature.

Afterwards I sought my next taste of gaming goodness. I kept an eye on E3 and the critical reception of games like Bionic Commando and Resi 5, but found nothing different to what I had played before. As of yet my next must-have has not revealed itself. All the 360 exclusives seem to have given way to a promising array of releases on the PS3, while even Nintendo finally seem to be redressing the balance between their casual and hardcore offerings.

It all seems to lead to this conclusion: in the coming winter I will get itchy feet again. Nintendo lost me last year and likewise, if Microsoft fail to impress, I may become impatient once again. When will I ever be faithful?

Is the trend for an easy ride a bad thing?

Before its mass-market appeal, there was a time when gaming was about a sheer battle of the will. Platformers such as the first Prince of Persia required pixel-perfect leaps, while shooters required the player to memorise the enemies’ attack patterns in order to succeed. Some would argue that beating these games was more a case of attrition than any sense of fun, yet gamers from that era would argue the opposite: the notion of challenge defined their hobby. But with the advent of casual gaming in the late 90s with the PlayStation, through to the recent domination of the Wii, the games world has embraced a wider audience. This audience may not have the time to put in the hours and ‘master’ a game. As a result, developers have recently been criticised for dumbing down their titles, with Nintendo coming under fire in particular. But is this loss of a challenge necessarily a bad thing?

As a gamer growing up in the mid-90s I narrowly missed out on the truly hardcore games such as the original Contra and Jet Set Willy. But I've heard all about the stories of woe. In the original Contra, a cheat cartridge was usually necessary to even complete the first level, while Jet Set was infamous for being impossible to complete. While I missed out on these particular delights, I did experience hardcore gaming through Contra III on the SNES. It was my first tough title, the sort of game you'd happily throw through the window if it wasn't so much damn fun. I refused to play it in single player, and recruited a friend to stick it through. Taking it on as a team meant that the challenge was no longer a chore but an essential part of the gameplay. After playing it for hours every day, our reactions and predictions of the enemies’ attacks greatly improved, along with a sense of achievement. Although we never completed it, it has stayed long in my memory nevertheless.

Recently, though, the popularity of such games has faded. Contra's sequels on the PS2 were met with little enthusiasm, with out of all things, its six hour-long length being criticised. This was despite the fact that a speed playthrough of Contra III would come in at around an hour or two. Clearly gamers want more bang for their buck these days; replaying a stage over and over again is no longer an acceptable form of entertainment. Of course, there are exceptions to this rule. Ninja Gaiden on the Xbox is notorious for its difficulty, while hardcore shooters like Ikaruga are still on the market. This ignores the mainstream, though. In truth, hardcore gaming has become a niche, with today's top sellers providing nothing like the reward and accomplishment that old-school titles provided.

Since the Gamecube generation, Nintendo’s games have been criticised for this very aspect. The Zelda series, traditionally up there with the hardest of Nintendo’s franchises, is a victim of this. Wind Waker received a fair amount of criticism for its short-length and lack of challenge. But the dumbing down of games has also filtered into other areas of the industry. BioShock has no game over screen. Instead of restarting a level, you are placed at the nearest checkpoint with your health almost fully restored, though the damage dealt to your enemies' health remains the same. Another modern title with a similar “safety net” system in place is the latest Prince of Persia. Instead of returning to the start of the level after falling off a ledge, your ally Elika places you straight back on the platform. Great for first-time gamers, you could say, but for anyone looking for more playtime, it's way too forgiving a system.

In previous eras, this lack of challenge would have been seen as a fatal flaw. Compared to today, the release schedule was a barren wasteland, so a game had to last or else players would feel short-changed. Nowadays, however, there are more games than ever: if a title proves to be too much of a challenge, a player is likely to trade it in at a game store to grab another release. Tastes have also changed: while graphics have always been a selling point, a game could rarely be sold on the experience alone a decade ago. It had to have solid and challenging gameplay, and its graphics and sound were merely a backdrop. When you compare titles now, there is ever more of a sway towards the experience over the traditional template of effort and reward. More than ever, video games are now an art form.

To the older, more wily gamer, this absence of a challenge can be disappointing. With the advent of online gaming, though, never has there been a better way or artifically extending a game's length. While the main campaign of a shooter or racing game may be short or too easy, the online modes now provide the true test of your mettle. Mastering a game and stretching yourself is still possible - it just requires a bit of DIY these days.

GTA: Chinatown Wars

Run. Drive. Shoot. Okay, it does GTA a slight disservice but these actions sum up the basic structure of Rockstar's genre-defining series. Through the years it has emerged as a riveting formula, one that reached its peak with the release of GTA IV in 2008. GTA IV saw Rockstar turn away from the cartoon violence of GTA III and its offspring in favour of a grittier, more realistic experience. Although it was met with widespread critical acclaim and mind-boggling sales figures, a minority felt the series had lost its sense of fun. Chinatown Wars, just released on the Nintendo DS, sees Rockstar change artistic direction with a return to an arcade feel. But does it live up to its console counterparts? The answer is a resounding yes.

You play as Huang Lee, a Triad member tasked with delivering his father’s sword to his uncle in Liberty City. Huang's father has just been assassinated but he has no idea of the perpetrators. Arriving by plane, Huang is set upon and dumped into the sea, the sword stolen. The story that follows sees you fight to retrieve the family heirloom and revenge the death of his father. Played out in a series of static, 2D cut-scenes, the story has an interesting cast and plenty of twists in the tale. But while the dialogue retains the humour characteristic of the series, the cut-scenes lack the cinematic ambition of GTA IV. While this is understandable given the limitations of the DS, you may still find yourself rushing through the cut-scenes.

While the story's presentation may be stripped down, the same cannot be the said of the rest of the game. The cel shaded graphics – new to the series – are extremely impressive, with a pleasing variety and colour to Liberty City's districts, plus all the pools of blood and mangled vehicles that you'd expect from a GTA title. The use of an isometric viewpoint is also a first, making the game fall in between 2D and 3D. This grants more immersion than the flatness of the early GTAs, with cars flipping through the air. In fact, the DS’s capabilities are pushed to the very limit in recreating the same Liberty City as in GTA IV (with the notable omission of the Alderney island). Taxis and ambulances career down the street while pedestrians are seen crossing roads and buying hot dogs. All this action is handled with a minimum of fuss with not a loading screen in sight. The only niggle in this area is a jarring frame rate when a cop chase gets particularly heated. This apart, though, the production values are of the same quality as a triple-A Nintendo game and more than hold a candle to the sharp, precise visuals of GTA IV.

Comparisons with the latest GTA are all too easy to make and it may seem unfair to compare the two, given the differences in technology involved. Rockstar has nonetheless done a remarkable job of translating the action onto a handheld. The main missions - although not quite matching the epic scale of GTA IV’s - are full of variety and multiple goals. Almost all of the missions are engaging, meaning you're likely to zip through the twenty-hour storyline. And this is without taking into account the drugs mini-game, which sees you traffic drugs in Liberty City, trying to make a profit by pulling off the right deals. For such a small part of Chinatown Wars, this mini-game is remarkably in-depth; it’s possible to while away hours on this alone.

Other features unique to Chinatown Wars include the use of the stylus and the touch screen. Tapping the PDA box at the top left of the bottom screen allows you to set paths to the next mission, as well as seeking out the best profits in the drugs mini game. The stylus is also used in the missions: one sees you tap the screen in order to escape from a sinking car, while a later mission sees you assembling the sniper rifle by connecting its parts together on the bottom screen. While other titles can make heavy-handed use of the DS, the touch screen is used seamlessly here. Granted, throwing molotovs and grenades by sliding the stylus across the bottom screen can be awkward, but this only constitutes a tiny portion of the gameplay.

Outside of the main storyline, there's a welcome return for the rampage mini-game, and more variety in general than GTA IV. Hidden missions are strung about the city, while the police, ambulance and fire truck missions also return. Whereas GTA IV's core story was more impressive than its predecessors, it had lost a degree of freedom and fun. Since a handheld title has no chance of matching its more powerful counterparts, Rockstar has made a wise decision to strip back the visuals, but chuck in a huge array of features. Chinatown Wars thus never feels inferior to the console versions; it even manages to introduce new ideas to the series. Police chases can be cut short by ramming their squad cars off the road, while if you fail a mission, you no longer have to trek back to its starting point. Every mission can now be replayed in a click of a button, eliminating any previous frustration.

This successful refinement of GTA’s basic template adds to the feeling that Chinatown Wars is more than just a handheld GTA. Taking the main ingredients of GTA IV along with the cartoon feel of GTA III, Rockstar has created a game with the same thrills and guilty joys of its predecessors. Time to move over Mario.

Chrono Trigger

Originally released back in 1995 on the SNES, Chrono Trigger received universal acclaim and was held up as one of the finest games of the generation. But thanks to a criminal decision by Nintendo, it failed to reach UK shores on the SNES, and UK gamers had to wait until Final Fantasy Chronicles's release on the PSone in 2001. Its release on the DS then marks the first chance for Nintendo aficionados to experience the game. After all this time, I guess the first question that needs to be asked is has it aged well? The answer, as you will see, is a fairly surefire yes.

At its core, Chrono Trigger is a JRPG that breaks new ground for the genre. The storyline is a perfect instance of this. You meet a girl called Marle at the Millenial Fair, who is then caught in a time portal, sending her back four hundred years. Since Chrono, your character, is involved in her disappearance, he decides to go back in time to rescue her. This unravels a plot that will determine the future of the universe, moving between time frames from pre-history (65,000,000 BC) to a dystopic future (2300 AD). While the story seems straightforward, the simplicity with which it's told allows it to steer clear of one of JRPGs' biggest faults: over-wordy dialogue. This minimalistic dialogue effortlessly fills out the characters as well as furthering the narrative, while the inclusion of FMV cutscenes included in the PSone version also help immersion. Drawn by the same artist behind the Dragon Ball Z cartoons, they are suitably stylish, adding to the filmic quality of the narrative.

With the exception of these cutscenes, there has been little to no improvement of Chrono Trigger's original, 1995 graphics. But this is no criticism - generally its presentation has held up well over the years. For one, the art direction is inspired, with a mixture of bleak and colourful environments, and a plethora of screen-filling bosses. Only the overworld, which looks a little sparse and basic, shows up its mid-90s roots, but this is only a minor complaint. The presentation is aided by the musical score, which provides a suitable accompaniment to the action. Changes to the story’s mood are reflected by the music, which effortlessly veers between down-key piano accompaniments and bass heavy themes. For a game from the SNES era, its overall atmosphere is excellent.

One of the most praised features of Chrono Trigger back then was its battle system, which remains just as fresh and innovative today. Battles take place in the game’s environments, allowing a smooth transition between combat and exploration. Furthermore, battles tend to be optional, so you can continue to plow through the narrative, instead of the 'level grinding' that drags down the pace of similar RPGs. Besides the battles - which take up approximately half of the gameplay - exploration is a key element of the game. Somewhat unique to its time period, you can pursue a number of diverging paths in Chrono Trigger. You can then see how your actions at the start of the game contribute to a different outcome of the story. These outcomes are depicted in the game’s fourteen unlockable endings, one exclusive to the DS version. Given gaming's current movement towards how choices affect the experience, Chrono Trigger certainly was years ahead of its time.

Overall, this is a faithful conversion of a classic, with little movement away from foundations of the original game. However, there are a few features exclusive to this version. First of all, the battles and the statistics are split between the two screens, giving it an uncluttered design. Secondly, there are a couple of side quests specifically developed for the DS, including two new dungeons. While they are adequate in their own right, they fall short of the standards of the dungeons in the main quest. Lastly, there is a Pokemon-style side quest that sees you training up a monster for battle. Shallow and entirely irrelevant to the main quest, this is the weakest aspect of the game. Although these features do not detract from the whole, they are disappointing: those who have already beaten Chrono Trigger may not find much to attract them to this version.

Saying this, those coming in new to this game will find a lot to admire, and not just due to nostalgia. Much of Chrono Trigger's gameplay puts a lot of modern games to shame, while its design choices are still as fresh today as they were back in 1995. It should be hard to proclaim a game as one of the best of all time but with Chrono Trigger it's a hard claim to resist. Full of touches that make you smile, the sweeping narrative and the cast of likeable characters make it a hard game to put down. Many games can disappoint given the weight of expectation attached to them, but Chrono Trigger manages to surpass these expectations, cementing its place as a must-have title on the DS.

Addiction

Just parted ways with Bioshock. It's only a temporary separation thankfully. God, I can't wait til I can load up that start screen again. The question is, does it make my top-five most addictive games?

5) The GTAs. The stories always hook me in, even though they're usually pretty standard: i.e. gangsta guy kills your bro/father/sister, you seek revenge. Then the gameplay kicks in. I usually complete the main story within a month. This is not nearly long enough.

4) Super Mario Bros 3. Bought at the end of my second year at uni, I was almost twenty years behind on this one. For shame. During a brilliant summer, I ignored the sunshine and the chances of a tan, to lie on my bed with the curtains crossed, utterly fixated. I can't put a finger on what made it so addictive, although procrastinating from exam revision may have played a part.

3) Elite Beat Agents. When I started playing this, I thought the difficulty was too hard, that I would never make it to the next level, let alone have the skills to unlock 'master.' But with time I improved beyond recognition. I unlocked songs. I wanted to get even better. Its learning curve was perfect. I didn't stop playing. But eventually I reached the peak of my powers. I'd levelled off. That was a sad day indeed.

2) Pokemon Blue. This appealed to my competitive nature. I spent months building up a formidable team, maxing out each of my pocket monsters to level 100. I even got my mum to drive thirty miles to a shopping centre so I could get my hands on Mew, the 151st Pokemon. I was a demanding kid and Pokemon does not accept losers.

1) Pro Evolution Soccer. I became addicted to PES thanks to sheer aesthetics. I'd sit in class thinking about which new player I needed to buy to make my Master League team perfect, or the perfect passing move. And I get so competitive with football games that I can't stand losing; to this day I can count on one hand the number of times anyone's beaten me. Yeah, I'm cool. Shame I have all the mobility of a milk float when I play for real. But I'm an excellent PES player and that's all that matters.

Mirror's Edge

Platformers have fallen out of fashion in the last five years. Once the dominant genre, they have fallen behind FPSs and sandbox titles in the popularity stakes. The days of brilliant Sonic games - even licensed games that were actually good - are long gone. Only Mario seems to hold on, aided occasionally by Ratchet and Clank. The arrival of Mirror’s Edge seeks to reinvigorate and redefine the fading genre, mainly by employing a first-person perspective. This viewpoint has rarely been used in platformers before and gives the game a freshness that makes it easy to ignore its numerous flaws.

What immediately strikes you about this game is its clean, modernist graphical style. With a combination of bright blues and reds among a stark white backdrop, you could easily mistake it as IKEA’s vision of the future instead of just a video game. This art style is perfectly in keeping with its setting: a totalitarian future in which people avoid the streets. To combat the unjust power of the government, an underground network of “runners” has been set up to deliver secret information, with your character, Faith, a key player. Her world is throw into despair, though, when she finds her sister over the dead body of the Pope. The subsequent plot sees her trying to clear her sister's name.

Let's be clear: the story is pretty standard fare. It does serve, however, as a decent backdrop for Mirror's Edge major draw: its unique gameplay. Those familiar with the new sport of Parkour will immediately grasp the idea behind Mirror’s Edge, as you will need to rely upon combining jumps, rolls and even wall running to escape the enemies and to progress through each level. Although the main path through the story is very linear, progress can usually be approached in two ways. The pacifist method, of running away from enemies as they try to gun you down, is how it's meant to be played, but you can also go gun-ho by stealing the enemies’ weapons and letting fire. While this is a welcome option to have, the gunplay is loose and unfulfilling compared to say Halo or Gears of War.

Free running is basically the best way to play, as Mirror's Edge excels when reduced to its basics. Running away from enemies - while jumping onto slim ledges at great heights - provides unique thrills and the viewpoint grants a kind of immersion that can be lacking in, for instance, the Prince of Persia series. It also benefits from a greater reliance on set pieces. The best moments come when you are forced into a corner and have to think on your feet: one scenario saw me with a helicopter close in pursuit, with nowhere to go but to scale across a crane, which acted as a bridge between two buildings, and jump to safety on the other side. If you’ve seen the opening of Casino Royale, you can imagine how awe-inspiring this set-piece is.

In spite of its break away from traditional forms, Mirror's Edge is also quite an easy game to pick up and play. While it may take a while to grasp the controls (pressing a shoulder button to jump feels odd at first), the game employs a series of visual hints to guide the player. Objects coloured red have to jumped off or interacted with, so the player is unlikely to get bogged down, not knowing where to go. One associated drawback, though, is that it can feel on-rails at times, with little to no exploration and no pause for breath. It's all about the retro feel, which makes it more exhilarating, but this may frustrate the modern player accustomed to more freedom.

After all the new ideas on offer, it's a shame then that Mirror’s Edge is almost criminally short. Completing the story mode will probably take under a week, and for a game so reliant upon its single-player, this makes you feel short changed. There is a time trial to add to the game’s lifespan, with a leaderboard of the best times, but this option is only likely to interest avid gamers. This lack of value, along with its frustrating combat, means that Mirror’s Edge ultimately fails to deliver on its limitless promise. While it's not for the faint hearted nor those looking for great depth, if you enjoy games that get the blood pumping, you won’t go wrong by taking a running jump straight into Mirror’s Edge.

Throw your books away

People, stand atop your desks! Throw your books aside! Why? Because Dr Souvik Mukerjee, from the School of Arts and Humanities at Nottingham Trent, tells you to. He says that video games can at last be read as literary texts.

To investigate a video game's storytelling potential, this guy analysed a number of genres, from FPSs to adventure games. These ranged from the first Wolfenstien to recent games like Fallout 3. He explored how the deep involvement in a video game narrative might match or even better the narratives of older mediums, such as books and film. He even believes that research into gameplay can help our understanding of narrative across all mediums:

'Though often unfairly dismissed as toys for children, computer games are far more complex than that. Most gamers, adults and children alike, play these games because of the stories they tell. So, whilst many focus on the violence in video games, the narrative potential of these games should also be explored.'

Dr Mukherjee also suggests that some books can even offer a close experience to that of the video game: 'I believe it has always been the case that games can be read and books can be played. For example, the 1969 novel by John Fowles, 'The French Lieutenant’s Woman,' offers multiple endings and therefore prefigures the format of video games.'

Okay, he does sound like a bit of a crackpot, but it's worth pointing out that he's been proven right in the past. The recent announcement of Dante's Inferno backs up his prediction, made many years ago, that 'Dante's Inferno' could be read as a video game. Something to get thinking about ain't it?

Grand Theft Auto: A Love Story

As I'm currently writing a review of Chinatown Wars for my student newspaper, I feel inclined to sketch a quick history of my relationship with the series.

I only had access to the first two GTAs (the 2D ones) around my friends. I used to be a bit of a Nintendo fan boy, you see, and would frown upon the thought of buying a non-Ninty console. But, coming to the end of the N64's life, I needed a DVD player and was drawn in both by the PlayStation 2's DVD capabilities and the outstanding universal reviews of GTA III. This was how it started. While I'd only been attracted to the PS2 for practical reasons, GTA III and PES immediately convinced me there was more to video gaming than Nintendo. Strangely enough, though, San Andreas didn't appeal. I like my games to be small and focussed, so the notion of a game world three times the size of Vice City's daunted me. Besides, with my PES addiction at its peak back then, I couldn't risk another time-consuming, addictive title - my life would have been over. So I stayed out of the way of San Andreas, no matter how much everybody else sang its praises.

When it finally came around to GTA IV, I was all set for another instalment of my favourite anger-venting series. However, I was disappointed to see the new, realistic direction Rockstar had gone in. I decided not to buy it immediately; instead I decided to sample a friend's copy. Getting my hands on the game at last, I was amazed by its photo-realistic graphics, movie-esque storyline, and tight control mechanics. From a technical standpoint, it deserved the acclaim. However, something was missing, something vital: fun. And this is what had drawn me to the series in the first place. The surprises that made me want to explore Liberty City's vast network of roads, alleyways and pathways were no more. Even the story had become serious and a little po-faced. Everything felt too close to reality: the cars had lost their bouncy, arcade feel; the weaponry was out of Call of Duty; and the gameplay seemed bogged down by filler. I like games to offer a degree of escapism, but this GTA felt like a chore compared to the freedom and experimentation I'd enjoyed with the earlier titles.

So when Chinatown Wars was announced, I was initially dismayed to discover Rockstar were basing the game world on GTA IV's. But my fears were unfounded: Rockstar has returned the series to its roots. Sure, the story may not be as complex and well-written as GTA IV's, but everything else is back to how it should be: the violence cartoonish and the side-missions plentiful.

The scale of Chinatown Wars may be smaller than GTA IV, and I doubt it will win many awards (if any), but as a title that restores my confidence in a series, it's up there with the very best.

Control

It's all too easy to overlook the controller when deciding on your next console purchase. At the time, things like price, games catalogue and multimedia capabilities are far more important. But this is a great mistake: while prices can be lowered and more high-quality games can be released, the controller will remain the same. Fine and dandy for well-designed controllers but what happens to the others? When you look at gaming's success stories, along with its failures, a theme starts to emerge: that any console armed with an ugly or unwieldy pad is already fighting a losing battle. The consumer, whether unconsciously or not, is likely to be put off, the sales will fall, the quantity and quality of games will die away, before in the end, it won't turn a profit.

The Super Nintendo had a vast number of high-quality titles, but it also had a controller that was simple in design and pleasing to the eye. Thanks to its introduction of the shoulder button, the SNES pad also provided a generous amount of buttons for developers to work with. In fact, Nintendo perfected the design to such an extent that every controller developed since has been influenced by it, with some shamelessly aping its design. The PSone’s original controller was such an example. The buttons may have changed from numbers to symbols but the layout was almost identical to the Super Nintendo’s. As a result, the design has worked so well that Sony has found little reason to tinker with it over the years. The addition of rumble and dual analogue sticks have merely been icing on the cake.

While simple and aesthetically-pleasing joypad design were part of both consoles’ renown, gaming history is also filled with its fair share of hideous creations. Some have been so bad that they've been credited for poor sales. The original controller for the Xbox was infamous its chunky, awkward design; along with the bulk of the console itself, this was enough to put off consumers completely. Microsoft eventually released a new, smaller design, and this proved a key decision in allowing the Xbox to find its own way in the games market. However, no matter how well-designed a controller may be, its appearance really is the most important question. While the Gamecube's controller's sticks and buttons melded to your hands, it was also incredibly ugly. One of the sticks was a garish yellow, while the face buttons were painted all kinds of colours. It was a horror. Alongside the Dualshock2 and the new, slick Xbox controller, the Gamecube controller looked like a toy, and this may have factored in its dismissal as a kids’ console.

While the design of a controller may prove to be key, there are examples that go against the grain. The Nintendo 64’s controller was a revolution, as it pioneered analogue control and invented rumble (a mainstay of the market to this day). Although it may have looked slightly odd at first, its three-pronged design gave it a balanced appearance, and like the Gamecube's, the pad slid easily into your hand. As we all know, though, the N64 just didn’t perform in terms of sales.

What is clear is that a well-designed or revolutionary controller cannot hold up a console on its own. It contributes to its aesthetics, as well as providing an interface suitable for every genre. A console must also be supported by the right quantity and quality of titles to take advantage of an adept controller. Even so, the most intriguing aspect of the next generation is to what lengths Sony and Microsoft will try to emulate the Wii remote, or whether they will stick to the design perfected by Nintendo with the SNES.

Has Nintendo really sold its soul?

The noteworthy feature of this generation has to be the new userbase Nintendo has generated, counter pointed by the loyal fans it has lost. From initially being seen as a revolution, the Wii is mocked and derided by long-standing gamers (AKA the hardcore). Lately Nintendo has embraced a new media-savvy, market-aware image, but this approach has caused friction. They have been accused of riding the wave of their cash cow, with questions being raised about whether they are the same company who led the golden age of game development back in the early 90s. For me, though, the distance between the Nintendo of today and the Nintendo back then is smaller than has been touted. While Sony and Microsoft often look to develop and promote huge, complex titles, Nintendo have always put accessibility first.

An arcade cabinet of Super Mario Bros was my first gaming experience. I was enraptured within minutes. It was challenging yet easy to pick-up-and-play, with only a D pad and two to operate. As a result of my addiction, my parents bought me a SNES and Super Mario World combination pack for Christmas '94. Like the original, Mario World was accessible yet deceptively complex, and it hooked my father into gaming for the first and last time. Because of our joint play, the console had the honour of a place next to the main TV in our living room. Although Mario World was a long and challenging game - Star Road, in particular, was 'nails' - its simplicity made it easy for non-gamers to fall in love with it.

In fact, when you look at Nintendo’s biggest success pre-Wii, the Game Boy points to another example of how Nintendo have always put an emphasis on accessibility. The original Tetris is an obvious example: a puzzle title with a universal appeal that took years to master. On a more personal note, however, I have always been an unlikely fan of Game and Watch Gallery, an ugly-looking collection of minigames that I'd picked up in a bargain bin in Woolworths back in the mid-90s. With no other incentive other than beating your high score, it had little to interest me until my uncle, a newly-wed in his early thirties, became addicted. He wouldn't leave our house before he beat my score on a coal miner simulation, in which you had to carry coal across multiple levels of a factory.

In the days of 2D gaming then, even the most unlikely players were hooked. But this all changed towards the end of the 90s, during the heyday of the PSone and, to a lesser degree, the N64. The latter is my favourite console of all time, but my dad was reluctant go anywhere near its three-pronged controller. He was put off by the extra buttons and the analogue control. This theme continued throughout the next decade, with my friends and I forced to play my N64 on the 14-inch television in my room. The living room, previously my SNES's domain, was now out of bounds. This relegation saw my hobby become isolated. Now I had to retreat to my bedroom on Christmas Day, for me alone to appreciate such delights as Mario 64 and Ocarina of Time. With the complexity of 3D sacrificing the pick-up-and-play nature of 2D, my hobby had become an independent pursuit rather than a communal activity.

This situation only changed when I bought a Wii back in winter 2007. Now my family were playing games again. Super Mario Galaxy was incomprehensible, but they couldn’t get enough of Wii Sports. At the same time, I had enough of a balance of the hardcore (Galaxy) with the casual (Sports) to keep me interested. I was even more surprised by how quickly my five-year old cousin got good at Wii Sports Boxing - after only a morning's play, he was better than me, an experienced gamer! During this time, my hobby took on a new meaning: it had become public again, cool. Far from Nintendo losing me in its new approach, I felt pride at its new accessibility. This was what gaming was all about - or so I thought.

From being the butt of jokes in the Gamecube era, Nintendo had become a big gun again, generating vast streams of revenue at the same time as attaining critical acclaim for the likes of Mario Galaxy and Metroid Prime: Corruption. Within the space of a year, however, I became frustrated with the Wii. From Galaxy’s release to selling my Wii at the end of 2008, not one game grabbed my attention. Since then, I haven’t regretted it. None of its titles stir my imagination in the same way that a glance at the release schedule of the PS3 or Xbox frequently does. In playing to its new casual audience, Nintendo has sacrificed its original userbase.

Although I feel Nintendo has its heart in the right place, and regard its early years as the template for its current casual focus, I feel it still needs to find the right balance between catering for casual gamers and making deep, lengthy games. Nintendo's new userbase may be supporting it at this point, but there may prove to be a time in which it will have to turn to the fans who stuck by it through the dark days of the N64/Gamecube eras. I only hope that, by that time, Nintendo has not hung those fans completely out to dry.