Prince of Persia (360) Review

If everyone has a dirty little secret, then mine is I didn't play the Sands of Time trilogy. The Prince of Persia franchise rose to fame during the last console generation, where its slick platforming and inventive time-control mechanics earned it a reputation as the pinnacle example of its genre. With the trilogy completed, Ubisoft have opted for a fresh start with their latest installment, ditching the characters and settings of the previous games in favor of a brand new Prince and a brand new world to explore. What Ubisoft have achieved with Prince of Persia is nothing short of outstanding; A remarkable game in its own right, that lays the foundation for future greatness, but falls just shy of legendary status itself.

The game begins with the luckless Prince, caught in a sandstorm in the desert. He's lost his donkey, Farah, and the king's ransome in stolen gold she was carrying on her back. More to the point, he's hopelessly lost. So when he comes across a beautiful princess named Elika, it's no surprise he decides to follow her. Unknowingly, the Prince walks right into the middle of a war between Elika's people, the Ahura, and the all-powerful God of Darkness, Ahriman. Now unwittingly involved, the Prince joins forces with Elika in order to free the four lands of Persia from the hands of Ahriman's corrupted soldiers... and hopefully, walk away from this alive.

Let's get right down to it: PoP is beautiful. The world has a calming, watercolor look to it that is difficult to describe, but absolutely stunning in motion. The draw distance is amazing, with hills stretching on for miles in all directions. The character models are spot-on and the animation quality is amazing, with almost no clipping or choppy animations in sight. The game simply "flows", and half the fun comes from watching the world unfold around you.

The gameplay itself is a refreshing change of pace for the genre. Controlling Prince across complex platforming sections is very much like playing an extended quick-time event; The Prince automatically runs up, down and along various surfaces as he runs into them, and interacts with environmental obstacles - such as grip rings and cracks in the wall - via single-button inputs. Pressing the correct buttons with appropriate timing creates some very acrobatic sequences that are truly a sight to behold.

The obvious downside to this style of gameplay is a perceived lack of direct control. Jumps are largely automated and so you don't often have to aim them yourself, for example. It can often feel like you are merely offering Prince suggestions, and for some this disconnect between player and avatar might be off-putting. Personally, I find it allows me to focus more on the game's stunning visual presentation and the Prince's graceful, acrobatic movements, creating a more cinematic experience than any other game to date.

While the game might be accused of hand-holding during platforming segments, world exploration is far more open-ended. As you progress through the game, you collect orbs called Light Seeds, which can be used to activate the four types of "Power Plates" scattered across the land. Power Plates are color-coded, and each allow Prince to travel to areas previously inaccessible. The order in which you activate the Power Plates is entirely up to you, giving you the freedom of tackling the game's various lands in whichever order you please.

Elika, the Prince's beautiful sidekick, adds her own level of complexity to the gameplay. Not only can Elika chime in during combo attacks with her own magical spells, she can also save Prince from dying when he misses perilous jumps. Elika is very chatty, and her interactions with Prince are one of the highlights of the game. The two characters are very well-written, and their growth over the course of the game - both individually and as a team - is one of the biggest writing triumphs of this generation.

Like the rest of the game, the combat in Prince of Persia focuses on flow. You have four basic commands at your disposal: Jump, Grab, Sword, and Elika. String them together in almost any order you wish, and Prince will execute unique, elaborate combo attacks. The combat is not particularly difficult to do well at, however there is a degree of skill that separates new players from pros. It's all about visual clues: If Prince is far away from the enemy, Jump in close before using your Sword. If your attack knocks the enemy too far back, activate a long-range Elika attack. Respond to changing battle conditions quickly enough and you can string together combos that seem to go on forever. The game is unrivalled at providing a satisfying, cinematic combat experience.

Despite my praise so far, Prince of Persia isn't perfect. While it is certainly worth a purchase, its few flaws are too disappointing to ignore.

For starters, the brilliant combat mechanics are criminally underused. So rare are actual enemies that finding them is often an unexpected surprise. There's just not enough stuff to hit, and that's a damn shame considering how fun the fights can be.

A more pressing concern is the game's lack of difficulty. Like many platformers, obstacles move in such a fashion that a well-timed initial leap will allow you to rush between them all without getting hit. While this works for most platformers, it only serves to make Prince of Persia significantly easier, due to how automatic the platforming has become. As soon as you realize how neatly everything fits together, playing the game becomes as simple as tapping buttons in time to the cues, something so simple you only need to be half-awake to do it.

In the end, the lack of combat opportunities and overall low difficulty shouldn't turn anyone away from the game. Prince of Persia is as much about enjoying the ride as it about reaching the destination, and when the ride is this good you can hardly blame it for that. While I would have liked a little less automation, it is not such a significant problem that it dampens my enthusiasm for what Ubisoft have created. The game flirts constantly with perfection but ultimately only teases; The best game of this generation is hiding in this package and I can only hope the inevitable sequel brings it out. In the meantime, you'd have to be crazy not to check this out.

A must-buy.

Sonic Unleashed (360) Review

Oh right, there's this blog thing I update sometimes.

There are three parts to Sonic Unleashed. The first is the daytime gameplay, in which Sonic blasts madly around beautiful locales at frightening speeds. That part is good. The second is the nighttime gameplay, in which Sonic inexplicably turns into a large, lumbering "Werehog" that plays like God of War, but without any of the fun. The third is pure hatred, manifested in video game form. That's right, folks, SEGA hates you, and Sonic Unleashed is proof.

Sonic Unleashed is a difficult game to review, as many of its problems have little to do with the quality of the product. At the very least, it is not a bad game. In fact, parts of it - such as nearly every daytime Sonic level - are rather good, and a definite step forward for this ailing franchise. Come nighttime, however, and Sonic transforms into the Werehog. And it's... boring. Not bad, just relentlessly dull. It masquerades as a deep brawler, but the combat is too shallow for any of the elaborate combos to matter. The platforming here is generally solid, but the levels are entirely linear and frankly, it's just too slow, especially when sandwhiched between the exhilarating speeds of the daytime stages.

Sonic Unleashed contributes to the evolution of the franchise by giving Sonic some new toys to play with. The Quick Step, activated by pressing LB or RB, lets Sonic sidestep to the left or right without losing any forward momentum. Sidestepping around enemies and obstacles while scampering down a straightaway is highly satisfying, and really feels like a move that should have been in 3D Sonics from the start. The Sonic Drift is another new move that allows Sonic to drift around tight turns without reducing his pace, and again it makes traversing the stages a lot more fun than it has been in the past.

Despite improvements to the controls, and a noticeable increase in the quality of stage design, the daytime stages frequently stumble over problems from the past. The 3D sections may be fun and visually appealing, but grow shallow quickly; They are a test of twitch reflexes and stage memorization more so than they are tests of platforming skill. The 2D sections are far too brief and are similarly as simple. Gone are the days when momentum was the cornerstone of the Sonic experience, instead replaced by a Boost move so overpowered it almost feels like cheating. Boost power is so easy to accumulate, and using it makes Sonic so hard to kill, that almost all the game's obstacles - bar the ever present bottomless pits - become trivial.

That isn't to say the daytime stages are bad, by any means. They are the highlight of this product and the best Sonic has been since his Genesis days. But the flaws SEGA have been grappling with for a decade are still there, and causing problems where there really is no excuse. A more concentrated effort on ironing out these niggling problems would improve the game tenfold.

And that, sadly, is where my generally positive attitude ends. There's a dark side to Sonic Unleashed, and it comes in the form of devious level design. This is the kind of level design that punishes you for not being psychic enough to know that there was an insta-death pit right around that corner that you couldn't see, or an enemy that pops up in a certain place and drowns you without any chance of escape.
The game takes route-memorization and trial-and-error gameplay to its absolute extreme, making half the levels absolutely impossible to beat without prior knowledge of where all of the obstacles are. I'm all for more difficult games, but I much prefer real difficulty, where deaths are my own fault, not just the result of Sonic Team being dicks.

I suppose it's somewhat testament to the quality of the daytime stages that I kept coming back for more, despite the game giving my testicles a kick at every given opportunity. Consider this review your one warning: The game gets unfairly and intolerably unforgiving in the final hour and a half. When you do finally see the ending, the wave of relief - "It's finally over!" - is indescribable. The game will have repeatedly wronged and mistreated you. It will have forced you to sit through more than an hour of the least enjoyable gaming moments of this generation. It will have sacrificed your firstborn child to appease its pagan God. But at the end of the day, at least half of the game is still undeniably fun, and it is unlikely that these horrible experiences will keep you away for long.

Whether or not you should buy Sonic Unleashed depends entirely on what sort of person you are. If you're patient enough to sit through the uninspired and dull werehog stages, and to put up with the unfair design of the last few levels, then you'll find that there's a lot to like about the rest of the experience. However, if you don't have the time to waste playing a poor imitation of God of War, nor the healthy heart required to survive the game's more punishing segments, then there's little reason to bother with this at all; The daytime stages take up too little of your total playing time to be worth the price of admission.

World of Goo Review

Few games have captured my heart with the same ease that indie developer 2D Boy's World of Goo has done. While only a 43mb WiiWare game, it surprisingly trumps many of Nintendo's big-name titles in terms of soul, and provides a gameplay experience that is tight, refined, and easy to pick up yet difficult to master. While only a glorified physics simulator at heart, World of Goo is such an enjoyable ride that it should find its way into any Wii-owner's library.

The premise of the game is simple: Connect goo balls to each other to build towering, wobbly structures in an attempt to reach each level's exit pipe. Goo balls connect to each other via flimsy strands of goo, acquiring their strength through sheer numbers as the player adds more and more goo balls to their structure. As vertical towers get higher, they begin to sway back and forth, threatening to topple, while horizontal bridges begin to sag the further they have to stretch. Each level in the game requires you to build a different type of structure to reach the pipe, with varying terrain and obstacles for you to take into account. The game is anything but predictable.

Throughout the game, you're introduced to several different types of goo. The standard black goo connect to other goo balls with two strands, and can't be removed from a structure once put into place. Green goo balls connect via three strands (making them very stable), and can be unattached at your preference. Balloon goo balls float, and can be used to hold up sagging bridges. Spiky goo balls can attach to any surface and will never let go. There are even giant Beauty goo balls which are too big to fit into the exit pipe, and often need to be crushed into smaller pieces before you can pass the level.

As mentioned before, levels themselves are remarkably varied. Early levels simply have you build a tower or a bridge of varying length in order to get to the pipe, but things get much more imaginative later on. One level has you using Balloon goos to carry a small goo structure through the air, over the top of a windmill that will carve up any goo structure it comes into contact with. Another level has you building a chain of black goos over the top of three terrain obstacles, then rolling a Beauty goo along it, into the grinder at the end of the chain. Another level has you building a tall tower that you then have to topple, slinky-style, from one island to the next. Reaching the pipe is never easy, and more often than not, the way in which you're supposed to go about completing your objective is not entirely obvious.

You also have to take into consideration that a certain number of goo balls have to be free (ie. not used in your structure) in order to escape through the pipe at the end, which means if you use all your goo just getting to the pipe, you won't actually beat the level. Occasionally the game provides you with jet-black goo balls, useless little bastards who can't be connected to any structures at all, their sole purpose being to make sure you've got something left over once you reach the pipe.

The game's story is perhaps its most charming aspect. In each level, you'll see little wooden signs, each of them written by a mysterious person calling himself "The Sign Painter". These signs tell most of the game's story and set the scene for each level. The Sign Painter is often cheeky in his writings; In one level, he tells us about his rock-hard abs and details his cardio routine (unbelievably, this is also a clue as to how to beat the level). In another, he tells the player that the level is impossible, and that you may as well give up, since nobody will know ("- But the Sign Painter will know.").

Any aspects of the story not described by the Sign Painter are instead told through Flash-like cutscenes. It is through these cutscenes that you are introduced to the World of Goo Corporation, an evil corporation that manufactures products out of goo balls for use by humans. The goo balls, who only want to follow their natural instincts and climb higher and higher into the sky, take action against the World of Goo Corporation and slowly attempt to bring it down from the inside. The game's story is simple and is told through comical means, but the innocence of the goo balls is unmistakable and the epic nature of their quest is not easily forgotten. For all its charm and wackiness, the game's story is remarkably well-told and poignant.

The game features very little in the way of music, utilizing many of the same tracks for each level in the game. Thankfully, the music is very well done and awfully catchy, with none of the tracks ever starting to grate. This may have something to do with the fact that the game is fairly short - five hours at most - but I'm not going to knock it for that. With Nintendo enforcing rather obscene size-constraints on WiiWare titles, I'll take what I can get.

In terms of complaints, there really isn't much to say. Aside from being a bit shorter than it deserves to be, there's nothing wrong with the game at a visual, audio or gameplay level. Early on in the game I did notice that the suction of the exit pipe could be cheaply manipulated to make unstable structures remain upright, and I was more than ready to complain about it in my review, however the game had the cheek to build an entire level around that manipulation, titling the level "It's not a bug, it's a feature!". How could I complain about it after that?

The bottom line is that World of Goo is an amazing experience. The physics-based gameplay is remarkably fun and implemented in an innovative way, the game is long enough to justify a purchase but not too long it overstays its welcome (think Portal), and the presentation is absolutely top notch. Of course, the game isn't exactly action-packed and if that's what you're into, the strategy-centric experience offered here might not appeal to you. But if all you're looking for in your WiiWare is an immensely enjoyable time-sink, then World of Goo is most definitely worth a purchase.

The DS-why?

Satoru Iwata, the head honcho over at Nintendo, is an undeniably greedy bastard. Either that, or a master businessman. Maybe both? Who knows. Either way, I'm left scratching my head at the DS-i.

Does anyone really want a camera or an mp3 player on their DS? I mean, really? When virtually every portable electronic device these days can play music, browse the web, do your laundry and walk the dog, it seems somewhat irrelevant to slap some superfluous features on a current-gen unit and call it a new product. Not for Nintendo, though; Their ability to turn even the most pointless upgrades into money-printing licenses is absolutely absurd, and the DS-i is by far the most devious product they've come up with in very a long time.

The GBA SP presented itself as a viable alternative to the standard GBA because it looked sleeker and had its own backlight. The Lite took over the mantle of the original DS because - you guessed it - it looks sleeker and has a better backlight. In both cases, nobody was alienated; Owners of the standard GBA/DS were not to miss out on anything, because despite the different shapes and features, the capabilities of each console were identical.

The DS-i does many of the same things, such as backwards/forwards compatibility, with the newer model justifying its own existence with a few new features. Most standard and Lite owners won't feel alienated, because DS-i exclusive games don't appear to be Nintendo's main focus. But at the same time, that exclusive DSWare Channel and future games potentially only working on a DS-i are certainly things that will have many current DS owners pondering yet another purchase.

And that's the key difference between the i and the Lite, or the SP and Micro before that. The Lite and SP provided a more refined version of the product, but were still the same product. You'd upgrade if you could, but it wasn't mandatory. The DS-i is, for all intents and purposes, the same console (which prevents the alienation of people who aren't going to upgrade), but at the same time offers things gamers will actually want that can't be done on the older version of the hardware. Nintendo have essentially split this generation in two - the "old" DS and the "new" DS - and expect you to pay for the same system twice. Should you choose not to, you'll be in the same boat you'd be in if you didn't upgrade from a PS2 to a PS3, or from a Gamecube to a Wii.

The mp3 and camera functionality are simply included to placate gamers, to give them some way to justify the purchase of their new DS-i console. "But, it also has a camera, and plays music! I'm not just buying it because it has it's own Shop that is theoretically not impossible to implement via firmware upgrades to the console I already own!"

The DS-i is easily my least-anticipated event of next year. No doubt it will sell like hot cakes, but does it deserve it? Does Nintendo deserve it? I really don't think so.

What's wrong with Sonic the Hedgehog?

A short introduction:

As a long-time video game enthusiast, it never seemed likely that I would eventually "grow out" of the hobby that I love. This blog's sole purpose is to provide an outlet for my musings about this world in which I am so firmly entrenched, this form of entertainment that supercedes all others (when you're not playing something shit, anyway). Most importantly, this blog is a place for me to write about something I care about, and while you're here, you'll damn well care about it too.

To start things off with a bang, I'll be taking an in-depth look at my most cherished childhood mascot, Sonic the Hedgehog, and why the little mite is having such a rough time of it lately.



Sonic the Hedgehog 2 was the first video game I ever played, at the tender age of three. At my cousin's house one Christmas, I was introduced to the latest and greatest addition to the family - a Sega Genesis - and the wonders that little box could produce. My cousin and I decided that together, we could have the game beaten before the end of the night.

Of course, I was horrifically bad at it. Being punished for running straight into enemies was a gameplay nuance I had trouble understanding, and so the phrase "Here, let me show you how to do it" was uttered with frequency by my teammate. Unfortunately for me, his idea of "showing me how to play" involved him playing the entire level while I watched, giving me the controller at the start of the next and letting this sorry process repeat itself ad infinitum. At the end of the night, as the final credits rolled, he was left with the feeling of satisfaction that comes with a game overcome; I was left with a hunger for that feeling myself.

Jump forward ten years and you'll find me in my living room, playing my freshly-bought Sonic Heroes. My competency (and general motor skills) had drastically increased, and I now looked forward to facing and - eventually - overcoming this challenge on my own. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, I once again found myself watching the game being played by someone else, someone far more capable and clinical than I could ever hope to be. But who? The controller was in my hands, and there was no one else in the room. What could possibly be stopping me from playing this game by my own power?

In short: The game itself.

Sonic games degenerated into mere spectacles somewhere around Sonic Adventure 2, but the process had started as early as the first installment of the Adventure series. Gameplay elements had been dubiously tossed aside in favor of scripted set-pieces, non-interactive sequences and dynamic camera angles. By the time Sonic Heroes came about, looking cool and fast was the only thing the series was about, and the dramatic downward spiral Sonic finds himself in today is a direct result of this misguided attitude.

The source of the problem comes from an almost universal misunderstanding of what makes a Sonic game. Ask almost anyone what the original Genesis titles were all about, and the answer you'll most likely get is "Speed". Sega's much-touted "blast-processing" and the general hype of the originals certainly allude to this answer, but the shocking truth is that it is almost completely incorrect. Sonic games were never "about" speed, although they certainly had it in spades. The speed was just a by-product of the core gameplay dynamic that made the original Sonic games among the best of their era: Momentum.

It was the momentum-based physics of the original games that made them so unique. The entire world was made to take advantage of Sonic's momentum, with speed being the visual reward for gathering and mainting that commodity. You can't "see" momentum like you can see speed, and so it was the obvious focus of the many marketing campaigns, but anyone who feels that speed was the focus - as modern-day Sonic Team do - is wholeheartedly missing the point.

To compare and contrast the two schools of thought - "Momentum-based" and "Speed-based" - we need look no farther than the iconic loop-de-loops that litter Sonic's world. In the Genesis games, the loops presented the player with an obstacle. If you apprached a loop with too little momentum, you would not be able to propel yourself all the way through. You would need to retreat, gather momentum elsewhere, and then approach the loop again. A failed attempt at passing through a loop would result in the penalty of losing any gathered momentum, while successfully overcoming a loop would reward you with both a visual treat and even more momentum than you had before.

In 3D Sonic games, loops are set-pieces that look cool. Their purpose is to give the player something pretty to look at, not to challenge them. At the base of almost every loop you will find dash-pads, which provide you with "free" momentum did you not already have enough to get through. The camera will switch to a perspective that shows the entire loop in all its glory, as opposed to one that is practical for playing the game. In many cases, Sonic's position on the loop will be locked to dead-center, so he cannot deviate from the specificed route, crash into a wall half-way up, and thereby ruin the spectacle.

Loops are just an isolated case and not the root of the problem - scripted loops would not ruin an otherwise solid game - but the attitude that makes modern-day loops what they are permeates through every aspect of the modern franchise and corrupts it completely. Compare the Metal Sonic race in Sonic CD to the whale-chase in Sonic Adventure, or Sonic 2's Wing Fortress Zone with the rail-infested Ark levels of Sonic Adventure 2. In virtually every aspect of the game, the shift in attitude from "let's make it fun to play" to "let's make it fun to watch" is obvious, and the series is suffering as a result.

Look at the good old Spin Dash as opposed to the new-fangled "Rush Meter" introduced in Sonic Rush. Both serve roughly the same purpose - to provide you with free momentum - but function in such radically different ways that it seems they have no business being in the same game together. The Spin Dash was a trade-off, a calculated risk. In order to execute it, you'd first need to forfeit any gathered momentum by coming to a complete stop. You'd then need to hold one button and tap another until you had revved up to the desired extent. Once moving, you would experience an initial burst of speed much greater than Sonic's standard movement, but would quickly become subject to the will of the environment around you. With Sonic curled into a ball and his strong little legs tucked neatly away, you were at the mercy of your surrounds. An upward slope would eat up your momentum quickly, while a downward one would provide you with so much speed that Sonic would disappear off-screen. Without coming to a complete stop (and giving up momentum), Sonic couldn't leave his curled up state and start running again, leaving you with little choice but to ride it out, come whatever may. You gave up control for some free momentum, and it was almost never better than gaining the required momentum naturally.

The boost in Sonic Rush is another story entirely. You tap a button - whether you're standing still or moving - and gain an instant and immense increase in speed. You remain in an upright position, so Sonic is still completely in control, and if you ever want to quickly stop, you can simply boost in the other direction. You sacrifice nothing and gain a lot, thereby making every environmental obstacle completely pointless. The Rush games actually containing loops is a complete joke; They're not much of a spectacle in 2D any more, and as terrain objects, they serve no purpose. The boost means you will literally never have to stop.

Speed is now what weighs the series down as opposed to what elevates it above the rest. Sonic's stunts look better at high speeds - they always have - and so everything that actively lowered your speed has been brushed to the wayside. The whole idea of momentum has been scrapped entirely; Sonic goes from a slow jog to breaking the sound barrier within an instant, terrain no longer impedes you, and should you ever find yourself travelling at a comfrotable pace you can bet the developers didn't intend you to. Speed is now receiving so much focus that the very thing that is supposed to generate it - momentum - no longer even exists.

Look at any trailer for the upcoming Sonic Unleashed and you'll see this issue out in full force. Does Sonic ever stop? Maybe. But if he does, it obviously isn't worth showing, right? The werehog sections might slow Sonic down, but making him go slower is not the solution to the problem. If the werehog sections don't utilize momentum - as it appears they don't - then they may as well be scrapped, because if Sonic is going slow because the game forces him to (à la Sonic Labyrinth) and not because the player isn't playing well enough, then the concept is stupid.



Imagine one of the traditional Mario games for the SNES, but with Sonic's name and face on the cover instead of Mario's. Imagine running through the Mushroom Kingdom, but faster. Does this sound particularly fun to you? More to the point: Does this sound like any one of the classic Sonic games to you? It seems that Sonic has been so heavily typecast as "a faster Mario" that everyone has forgotten what made him so great in the first place. A strange phenomenon indeed, when you consider that even a brief comparison of how the two games played will show that they were always worlds apart.

There are, of course, other problems that currently burden this series that have nothing to do with a fixation on speed. The Adventure series, Heroes, Shadow and Sonic '06 all suffer from serious design flaws that go well beyond simply having the wrong attitude. Glitches, bugs, poor level design; You name it, these games have it. Which is why, to some extent, Sonic Unleashed looks like a very tentative step in the right direction. At the very least, everything seems well-designed, the controls appear solid, the level design intuitive and the ideas implemented properly. If Sonic Unleashed manages to fix all these things, then we'll be getting a fun game. A fun game that comes nowhere close to recapturing the essence of what Sonic is all about, but a fun game nonetheless. In reality, these design problems need fixing before a change in attitude will make any difference at all - good intentions don't make a good game - but if Unleashed pulls this off, then the platform is laid for Sonic's return to form.

The sad truth? That platform will be ignored. The Rush games fixed a lot of the problems with the Advance series and garnered modest success because of it, yet the series is simply sticking with what it knows rather than heading down the road of improvement. Rush 2 was just as much about holding Right and the boost button as the original was, and I fear that any success with Unleashed will see Sonic Team stick with it until forever. This is the very definition of a double-edged sword: They may very well fix the series to the point of playability, but should they do so, they'll have no reason to take the risk of changing the series' direction.

Sonic is not about speed. At least, he shouldn't be. And until the folks at Sonic team realize that we want a fun platformer and not a glorified series of quicktime events, don't ever expect the series to rebound. All the talk of "back to his roots" and "recapturing the glory days" that invariably accompanies each new Sonic game is complete rubbish; We're a long way off from 1991, and the immediate future is anything but bright.