How a poor camera and awkward controls can be totally RAD

Robot Alchemic Drive (Gigantic Drive in its native Japan), an overlooked Sandlot gem from early in the PlayStation 2’s lifespan, puts players in control of a giant robot controller.  You read that correctly: the player is not given control of a giant robot ,but instead given control of the one who controls a giant robot.  For adequate enough reasons in a videogame, Earth is under attack by giant biomechanical aliens and naturally the only defense against them is a big ol' mecha.  Since this is a Japanese game, the only people with command of a giant robot are three high schoolers.

The melodramatic story is more or less an excuse to justify the gameplay.  Once past the wrapper that is the game's narrative, the player is presented with the inner sweetness that is a gameplay experience unlike anything else (except of course for other Sandlot games involving robots). The crux of this gameplay relies heavily on one of gaming's essential yet oftentimes under-appreciated aspects: controls.  What the game does splendidly is convey that you are in command of a space-age robot with incredible destructive capabilities  This is done by having the Meganite, what the mechs are called, operate via remote control, and wouldn't you know it--that controller is a PS2 DualShock.

QWOP would've been a lot more fun with giant robots

An argument can be made that the best controls are those that do not remain in the consious thoughts of the player and seem to fade away. Yet Robot Alchemic Drive flies in the face of that line of thinking.  At no point did I forget that I was holding a controller. Maybe this can be attributed to its simulator-esque approach. The best way to translate how this control of a controller controls (the Xzibitness of that phrases is not lost on me) a giant robot is that it is a 1:1 scale controller that forgoes the standard macro-like inputs found in most games. Direct control of the limbs are given to the player in a combination of different inputs. The legs are bound to the shoulder buttons with R1/L1 stepping forward and R2/L2 doing the reverse; walking is then an alternating series of R1 and L1 presses which undermines the now common assumption that tilting a stick directs your character in that direction.  The arms are under the dominion of the analog sticks, and different stick motions result in different punches/attacks.  This understandably cumbersome control scheme is partnered with equally lumbering iron giants that, while incredibly responsive to player input, still move without an ounce of grace, making it a game very different from Z.O.E.  This might not be much of an issue in a Final Destination no-items match, but when you are trading blows with a kaiju in the middle of a populated urban center each misstep is another pricey insurance claim and potentially more lives lost. Which makes the player think carefully about each movement as well as plan one step ahead, as the consequences weigh heavily on the conscience of an ally of justice.

Survival Horror: An Elusive Genre

[Note from Jake: Just in time for Halloween, I introduce the newest addition to my staff, Adam Frost!]

It's 1999, and I'm in 3rd grade. I have invited a couple of my best friends to my house for a sleepover. It's late. We turn off all the lights, insert the Resident Evil 2 cartridge (blowing on it first, to make sure it works) and fire up the N64. Let the pants-shitting commence.

Everyone has these memories, be it a scary game, a horror film, or even a scary book or story. For me, this is when my affinity for survival horror games began. There are few things more exhilarating than exploring a well-crafted world, adrenalin pumping, knowing that something terrifying may be waiting for you around every corner.

With the release of Resident Evil 6 many reviewers (who hadn't already done so) are lamenting the death of this once-great horror series that seems to have lost its way.  Indeed, starting with Resident Evil 5 or perhaps even with RE4, the trend has been one of moving away from horror towards action.  With this in mind, now is as good a time as any to discuss what makes a good survival horror game, and why it seems that so many games get it wrong.  To do this, I will use the examples of Resident Evil 4 and Dead Space.

The most important component to any good survival horror game is atmosphere. Through the use of sound, music, and setting, a good survival horror game lets the player know that they are in a dangerous, terrifying, and even hopeless environment. Be it a creepy village in the middle of rural Spain (RE4), or the abandoned wreckage of the spaceship Ishimura (Dead Space), the setting of a horror game can make or break its scariness.  In the case of Dead Space, the setting is arguably one of the more terrifying aspects of the game. Trapped on a massive abandoned spacecraft light years away from potential rescue, the player knows that there is little hope for survival. On the other hand, walking around in broad daylight under the hot African sun in RE5 does not create a sense of terror or mystery for the player.

Sound is another important aspect in creating a good horror atmosphere. The right sounds can send chills down the player's spine as they explore the game world. In RE4, the creepy whispers and shouts of los Illuminados, a cult of mind-control-parasite-infested Spaniards, let the player know that an enemy can and will cause you to soil yourself at any moment (spoiled only if the players know Spanish).

The Importance of the High Score

[Note by Jake: This is my first step towards expanding A Capital Wasteland to multiple writers. Introducing Jordan Parker!]

What is better than the high score?

The pursuit of the high score.

Good, but I can do better.

I applaud anyone who has run through a Call of Duty campaign on the Veteran difficulty.  For the non-initiated, the tag-line for this extreme difficulty reads: You will not survive. The tag-line is 100% accurate, and almost to a fault. Anyone who has done a Veteran run in any Call of Duty game will tell you that there are certain areas that you end up dying, reading a famous quote and respawning, over and over again. 

My personal favorite from Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2:

“In war; truth is the first casualty”
-Aeschylus

This cycle of game overs and respawns continues as you push up through the hail of enemy gunfire to trigger the next checkpoint, only to be maimed again and again as you trudge through the endless corridor of combatants.  There is no style in a Veteran run in Call of Duty. There is no glory in a Veteran run of a COD game.  There is nothing about it that will make you replay that last level. The only thing you feel when “Checkpoint Reached.” appears is relief, and you are thankful that you will not have to do that again.

Finally...

If Call of Duty was a test, there would be no right answers, the teacher would merely ask you to fill in all the blanks and give you full credit for finishing. The only way to further your experience is to play through the game on a harder difficulty. A game like Call of Duty doesn't ask you to correct your wrong answers and get better at the game; it doesn't encourage you to discover strategies for getting past tricky parts  It just lets you respawn until you manage to trigger the next checkpoint. Here's the rub: after you've beaten the game on the hardest offering, what else can you do?