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.