Category: Spooky

Dead Island

I’ve recently been spending large chunks of my weekends on Dead Island, and I’ve got pretty mixed feelings about it. For the tl;dr crowd: I like it, and I’m pretty sure that if you like Fallout 3 you’ll find much to enjoy here.

The big thing about Dead Island is that I don’t play first-person shooters very often, but Techland somehow managed to take the handful of recent FPSs that I have played and mash them all together. I haven’t played enough of Fallout 3 (about 25 hours?), and I haven’t seen any more than the cover of New Vegas, but they were quite clearly the base inspiration for Dead Island. It’s an FPS set in a big open(ish) world, where you have to scrounge stuff from everywhere to survive.

Missions are doled out one at a time to further the story, but you can strike out on your own and do as you please (this is how I spent my time with Fallout 3). Along the way, you’ll likely meet up with some people who will give you sidequests. Some will just be crazy and try to kill you. I only encountered only a single homicidal human in the first third of the game, but they become a little more common as you go along.

Like Fallout, your weapons will decay with use and become useless. Well, mostly useless. You can still beat zombies with your blunted cleaver, but it does barely any damage and any special effects (like fire or electricity) are lost. You can repair them for a fee, upgrade them for a few more bucks, and modify weapons to give them special traits once you have the proper blueprints and parts. Armor does not exist though, which is good and bad. Good because you don’t have to constantly stop to repair or find replacements; bad because a handful of zombies can tear your fleshy hide apart right quick.

Where Dead Island really departs from its cousins is in weapon selection. The first area of Dead Island provides melee weapons almost exclusively. It’s great, visceral fun, but in the first dozen or so hours I spent with it, I’d only held two revolvers and about forty bullets. Fallout 3 was fun for me because I could skulk around the landscape with a hunting rifle and pop any enemies before they had a chance. Yeah, ammo was a little more scare than I liked, but at least it was there. Games that force stealth are no fun, but when it’s an option, that’s how I usually play it. It also provided a survival scenario that I could take at my own pace. If I wanted to avoid the mutants, I hike the long way around the mountain or take the shortcut through the cave. Here, the world feels much less open and you rarely have the option to go around zombies. You’re always the hunted, and rarely get to play the hunter.

The big difference between Fallout 3 and Dead Island where maps are concerned is that in Fallout, you have one gigantic map with all sorts of tunnels and buildings to explore. Dead Island is divided into several large areas with no such “dungeons” to find. I definitely would have liked at least a couple segregated areas. There is the hotel and a couple small apartments that take you to separate maps, but those barely count. We’ll have to see what later areas bring. The majority of the buildings are just textured cubes too. A good portion of the cabanas in the resort area have proper interiors, but once you hit the town map you’ll start wondering if all those doors are just painted on.

The game is a lot like Fallout 3, but it’s also coloured with shades of Borderlands and Left 4 Dead. Like those two, Dead Island is intended to be played cooperatively online with other people. The game wouldn’t even let me start at first because it’s set by default to online co-op and I don’t have a gold subscription to Xbox Live. I haven’t spent enough time with Left 4 Dead or its sequel to pass judgement on just how similar Dead Island is to them, but I hear that the “special” zombies on Banoi island bear more than just a passing resemblance to those in Valve’s games.

Borderlands though, I have played quite a bit more of. While it’s not quite as much an influence on Dead Island as Fallout, you can’t ignore the signs. For one, weapons in Dead Island are colour-coded. Yes, it’s a thing in other games too, but the only other one I’ve played that does that is Borderlands. The major difference being that I didn’t see a second-tier weapon for hours in Dead Island, whereas I picked one up on my third or fourth quest in Borderlands.

Another similarity is that random pickups respawn in both of these games. It takes away from the survival aspect (which wasn’t a part of Borderlands anyway), but I feel like it adds to the gameplay. Yes, the aspect of running around with no bullets is thrilling for a little while, but I find that when I run out of weapons, a game that centers around killing is considerably less fun. The old-style Resident Evils play that feature properly: they limit your ammo, but enemies never respawn, so it’s almost a like a puzzle where you have to figure out where your ammo is best spent. If weapons weren’t strewn about so liberally in Dead Island, you’d run out in no time and be stuck running away or punching zombies to death. To give you an idea of how useless punching is in Dead Island, they give you the achievement for killing while unarmed after just 25 zombies.

From the start of the game, you get to choose from four characters, each which his or her own strengths and skill trees. Just like Borderlands. Did the characters in Left 4 Dead have any differences that weren’t cosmetic? While this is key to building a balanced team, the fact of the matter is that I’ll never play this game with others. So I really wouldn’t mind if there were a “single-player” character, who could choose from the entire pool of skills. Also I’m not a fan of the “skill pipe” system, where you have to pump points into unrelated skills to get to the one you want. What I’m saying here is that they should have copied Fallout’s skill system too. I’m cool with prerequisites for advanced skills, but those prerequisites should make sense, and not just be arbitrarily placed along a line. Why to I need to get the “medkits are more effective” skill before I can buy the “less likely to be noticed” skill? Healing and stealth are two totally different fields.

Anyway, I’m coming off too negative. I really like Dead Island, though I fear it will end up sitting incomplete along with Fallout 3 and Borderlands despite that. The thing that ties them all together is that they’re all so huge and open, that I get an initial rush of excitement, with the exploring and the screwing around, but then burn out before I can even make it halfway through the story. Yeah, there’s something I never thought I’d lament: games being too long and having too much content. 16-year-old Ryan would be so sad if he knew that he’d grow up into a man that had trouble finishing games that surpass a 15-hour requirement.

Dead Island has a few good things about it that weren’t key traits of other games though, and while I’d love to talk about those, there’s one thing that really bugs me about the game. I mean really boils my turnip. I usually don’t care if games with high NPC/enemy populations re-use character models/sprites. A few of my favourite games don’t even bother to recolour clothing, never mind create unique NPCs. But Dead Island really takes the cake; on the resort map, there are literally two female NPC character models: the standard one, and the one that’s a little chubbier. Female zombies are the same, but discoloured and with bits missing. Yes, their heads and bikini patterns change, but they’ve still all got one of two bodies. Oh yes, and every single female (outside of the two playable females) in the game is wearing a bikini until you get back into the hotel. It is ridiculous. Sex appeal is great; I have no problem with bikini babes. This is overkill though. The sexism line has been long since crossed. There are at least a dozen generic male character models. Would it have hurt to put some short shorts on at least one of the female models? Come on, Techland. Have a little class. The good news is that once you leave the resort there are properly clothed ladies, but I had played over ten hours before I got to that point.

So after all this complaining, what do I like about Dead Island? One thing that sticks out in my mind is the “thug” zombie. Thugs are a good foot taller than your average walking dead, and they can knock you flat with a single hook or headbutt. They are dangerous, and you learn that quickly. Encountering a thug is terrifying because you know that you’re going to be facing something that can kill you with little effort. Compounding this effect is the fact that thugs emit the most blood-curdling roar in the history of video games. It chills me to my bone, and instantly makes me stop cold in my tracks to assess my surroundings. The only thing that keeps thugs from being a total nightmare is that they move at about half the speed of a normal zombie. Still, the tension blows through the roof whenever a thug howls, and I find taking them down incredibly satisfying.

The best way to stop a thug, of course, is to remove his arms. Severing enemies’ body parts has been one of my secret favourite things to do in video games for years. I played the first level of Turok 2 over and over, never caring to progress in the game, just happy to play with the different weapons and see how they tore the monsters apart. Dead Island definitely strikes the right chords in this regard. Once you get your first cleaver or machete, you’ll never want to go back to pipes and wrenches. Blunt weapons can be used to break zombie bones (which is hilarious in its own way) and smash in their heads like so many pumpkins. Bladed weapons, logically, will completely remove the offender’s limbs. Sometimes you’ll swing at the right time when a zombie charges you, which will sever his head in one swing and put the game into slow motion to watch his head pop up while his body keep running past you. It’s quite awesome, but takes more than a little luck to pull off regularly.

Outside of thugs though, removing limbs isn’t strictly necessary, as by the time you’ve got that second arm off, that zombie’s probably re-dead anyway. Decapitation, of course, is always your best bet. They’re zombies! And they’re scary! A lone zombie isn’t much trouble; you’re equipped with a kick move that almost guarantees knocking a ghoul down, and once they’re down, they’re meat. Though as I noted before, a bunch of zombies can easily tear you a new one. I don’t know how many times now I was poking around and got mobbed by a group of four or five zombies. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but they hit hard and flail around pretty quickly. Especially the “infected” class of zombies, who are Dead Island’s version of the Hollywood zombie. Not that classifying the fast ones as “infected” makes a lick of sense. Aren’t all of them infected? Isn’t that the problem?

Anyway, I’m getting totally off-track here. My point there was that zombies are scary. Especially since they level up with you. You life bar gets bigger with each level-up, but it’s really moot because zombie arm/claw/bite/whatever strength increases at about the same pace. Infected class zombies (they move faster and hit harder) are even more lethal because if they get you, they usually get in three or four hits at a time. If you’re up against two or more infected, there’s a good chance you’re going to die. Regular zombies (“Walkers”) are considerably less dangerous, even in large groups. They have one advantage: they’re clever enough to get the drop on you. Walkers are the only zombies whose howls blend in with the ambient noises floating on the air, and they also like to play possum. I figured obsessing over tearing apart corpses to make sure they don’t get me when my back is turned was going to be a habit exclusive to Dead Space. I was wrong.

I’m sure there are other good things about Dead Island aside from zombies. There really probably are. It’s just, they’re all done better in other games. Most of them in a single game! That doesn’t mean it’s not worth playing though! If you can get over the slightly janky combat system, dependably buggy graphics, and vicious difficulty spike, you’ll have a grand old time on Banoi. Might even be better with friends. I’ll never know. I’m excluded from that world because I’m a dinosaur and prefer local multiplayer.

Let’s Play Minecraft – Day Five

The rattling of bones and wailing of zombies was too much for me to sleep through. The night wasn’t passing quickly, curled up in the corner wishing for sleep. My body had been put through so much in the last few days that I couldn’t grasp why it wouldn’t jump at the chance to shut down for a while. Guess my mind has been through just as much, and it didn’t want to shut off for fear of what might happen if I let my guard down.

I wandered outside slowly, hoping not to draw the attention of any attackers. There were a couple zombies standing on the southern end of Hope. Just standing. Once in a while one would emit a groan, but they didn’t notice me. I hoped to keep it that way.

A silent creeper was bobbing around in the water just past the ledge south of my hut. It did see me, and I knew that I wouldn’t be safe with it prowling around. The thing was too stupid to take the long road around the island’s edge, but I didn’t want to find out if it would learn better. As it bounced up and down in the water, desperately rubbing against the rock face, I swung my sword at its head. The creeper fell backwards and hissing started. As the monster jumped at the rock again, it exploded with tremendous force. I was thrown back several feet, and while my ears were still ringing I managed to roll onto my side, expecting to see the zombies bearing down on me.

There was no such danger. Apparently zombies aren’t too interested in exploding creepers? They continued to stare out at the ocean. Maybe they were longing for home too?

The creeper’s blast left a huge, jagged hole where there was once a sharp corner of rock. If I had been any closer, I might not have been so lucky as to walk away with all my bits intact.

I spent the twilight hours digging away at rock half hoping I could put something useful together with the bits of cobblestone, half hoping there was something of value hidden below Hope’s bland surface. No such luck. On my way back to the hut after my little excavation, I saw the strangest thing; on the far end of the island, I swore I could see a ghastly pair of eyes floating about. One of the zombies had gotten bored and paraded into the water, but there was still another figure there. Its body was a dark shade, visible only because stars that lined the horizon would blink on and off as the thing moved around.

Hiding in my hut seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Every living being in the place had been hostile so far, and I wasn’t going to assume the best for this new creature. I would wait until dawn and try to get a better idea of what the thing was.

I did doze off for a little while as I waited for the sun to rise, and was woken by the mournful howls of a zombie. The one that remained by the beach had caught fire, and was shambling around in circles, completely neglecting the water that was no more than two meters away. While the creatures here were fierce, they weren’t very bright.

The zombie melted away into a pile of nothingness and I got my first real glimpse at the new islander. It was a short one though, because almost as soon as the fire that enveloped the zombie extinguished itself, the other thing caught fire and burned to death. The thing could have almost passed as human-esque. The parts were there, head, torso, arms and legs. They were just all… wrong. Its head was massive, probably looked even more so because of its atrophied torso and long, slender limbs. For the short few moments it was in my sight, I felt a deep-rooted fear take over me. I was pretty sure that this was not a friendly creature.

Where the alien had stood I found a small, emerald pearl. If it did anything, I couldn’t figure out how to use it. I suppose it would just go into the pile of junk that I was collecting. Perhaps I’d be able to trade it if I ever found intelligent life that wasn’t out to kill me.

The morning was spent mostly doing the usual. Here, that meant lying about enjoying the sunshine and quiet rustling of the waves against Hope. I did get up and harvest a bit of wheat to fill out my supply of bread. Something a little less plain would have been nice.

In the afternoon, once I’d rested up a little, it was time for launch. My destination was the island not too far off the northwestern side of Hope. The boat worked like a charm. I was a little impressed with myself for managing to construct a boat that didn’t leak at all. Things were good.

Upon arriving at the new island, I started to step out of the boat and slipped as I placed my first foot into the shallow water. My other foot kicked off the boat, and as if friction didn’t exist, it simply shot away across the ocean. It stopped roughly halfway between the new island and Hope, and I did not relish the thought of having to swim out there to retrieve it.

The new island was so featureless that I didn’t even bother naming it. All of that hard work for nothing. I was beginning to wonder if there really was anything to this world besides a few meager islands and endless ocean. This island was flat, shaped like a horseshoe, and had absolutely nothing on it outside of a single yellow flower. I still wonder how it looked so big from Hope.

While swimming out to my boat, I had an even stranger and more frightening experience than everything that had happened up until now. I had just made it, put my hand on the edge of the boat to lift myself in, when suddenly my vision went black. I could still, feel, and my hand was now empty. Suddenly I saw a huge flash of white, and then I was sinking. My vision returned, and I hurriedly grasped at the sky that seemed so far above me. The air above had never tasted so good. While I was glad to not have drowned, I worried about both my blackout and the fact that my boat had vanished completely. I paddled in a circle, but it was nowhere to be seen.

If this ordeal ever ended, I pledged to myself, I would never swim again.

Making it back to the beach of Hope was tiring, and rain had begun pouring down. Though I was more concerned about what had just happened to me. Was I losing it? Was my diet of bread and bread not enough to sustain me? Maybe it was just a symptom of my combined physical overexertion and lack of sleep. If I blacked out while I was under attack by one of the many monsters lurking about these isles, I’d be done for. I dragged myself inside, finding that I was considerably less hopeful for survival than I was that morning.

It’s just a box

SPOOOOKY!

Tim Horton’s has had many themed timbit boxes over the years, but I’m going to go ahead and say this one is the best. It’s just so adorable! The ghost’s mouth is strawberry jam! I don’t know if they’ve used it before, as I don’t usually take note of this kind of thing, but I just couldn’t resist taking a picture of this one. Also I am reading The Forever War by Joe Haldeman, and it is so great. I don’t do much reading these days (which really is a shame), so you know I’ve got something special if I find it worth mentioning. So good.

Wow, it’s been quite some time since I’ve blogged about anything Tim Horton’s, hasn’t it? Reading those old posts from when I used to work there really takes me back…

Creeping me out

I’m not sure what it is about this door decoration that give me the jibblies, but it sure does. It might have something to do with the fact that it looks similar to a robo-robin from Dragon Quest. Or maybe it’s because the head isn’t really attached to the body. Probably a little bit of both, come to think of it.

Catherine

It's mature!

Catherine is yet another game about duality. Yeah, there are lots of those. Ikaruga might be the most obvious and easiest example (Breath of Fire IV being the least obvious but most noteworthy). It’s not a terribly original idea for a video game anymore, and really, it wasn’t even an original concept in general by the time video games came around. I’m not a literature enthusiast, so I can’t name any examples, but I’m certain that traditional authors beat the idea into the ground long ago. Catherine however, uses it to great effect and unlike Ikaruga, does so a little more subtly. And by “subtly” I mean it’s not a core gameplay mechanic.

This duality becomes apparent if you notice the game’s logo, which is a yin-yang-esque seal that features Catherine and Katherine, the game’s two… I’m really not sure the best way to describe them. They play many roles in the game, which change depending on how you play it. They aren’t really the leading ladies and I’m even a little hesitant to call them secondary characters, because there are very few situations in which you can interact with them directly. Actually, I think the best description for the K/Catherines is “plot devices.”

The story of Catherine is a week in the life of Vincent Brooks, a man wavering under pressure to marry his longtime girlfriend (Katherine), who ends up spending a night with another woman (Catherine). The game follows Vincent for each of the seven days in this week, and possibly farther. I’ve only achieved one ending so far (of… three, maybe?), and it extended the story into nine days.

Over the course of this week+, Vincent goes through a lot, but the focus is on whether he longs more for the stability of a life of order, or the excitement of freedom. In the game, you are asked to make many decisions. The bulk of them are how you make Vincent react to the problems of the people around him, and only influence what ends up happening to those characters. There are a handful of questions asked to the player specifically though, which will shape how Vincent approaches his own problems. Every one of these choices, and even some other actions (like replying to text messages) affect a small meter that pops up and lets you know which way you’re headed. The NPC choices will tip the meter a little, depending on the answer you choose, but mandatory story choices will sometimes knock that thing a good quarter of the length of the whole bar.

The difference between this meter and the morality meter in countless other games (Mass Effect, Fable, etc) is that it not, in fact, a measure of how good or bad Vincent is. Though you can easily get the wrong idea, due to the fact that one side is blue (and is topped with a cherub) and the other is red (and adorned with a tiny devil child). This meter actually represents whether Vincent values freedom or order more, which is pretty morally ambiguous. Maybe Vince wants to live a life of freedom, not falling to the pressures of society to settle down and live his life the way he’s told to. But this doesn’t necessarily make him evil. It’s not even the <i>wrong</i> way to live. On the other hand, what makes “order” so inherently good? If you think about it even a little, it could easily be spun either way.

Therein lies the more subtle duality of the game. I mean, it’s not actually subtle because the game’s gonna be beating you over the head with that meter, but the point is that Vincent has a choice to make, which will affect what kind of person he ends up being. The subtlety is that little events are influenced by the meter here and there, but none of it makes a huge difference until late in the game, when Vincent finally has to confront his demons, whatever they may end up being.

The gameplay itself shows another kind of duality, but not within the mechanics themselves, but rather the separation of game mechanics. The game takes place over the course of a week, and you get to take control of the more interesting points of every day within that week. Each day is split into two separate play types. During the game’s “daytime” phase, which usually takes place between 8PM to 1AM, you get to watch the majority of story events unfold, and then get to hang out at Vincent’s favourite bar, The Stray Sheep. Sheep are actually a secondary theme in the game, but that’s someone else’s article. In the bar, you saunter around, talking to the various patrons and staff. About half of them are dealing with their own mid-life crisis, and you can listen to their stories and encourage them to face their problems. The other people about are generally around for entertainment purposes, generally giving cryptic hints about events to come, or cracking wise about Vincent’s predicament.

Other bar-time activities include texting the K/Catherines, visiting the washroom, changing the music via a jukebox, having drink, and playing an arcade game. Once in a while, Catherine will send a seductive photo with a text message, and Vincent won’t look at it unless he’s in the privacy of the washroom. That about all it’s there for. Also, you can have him wash his face, which will trigger a short event that will likely make you jump the first time it happens. A new music track for the jukebox is unlocked with each achievement you earn, which is great because achievements are almost never accompanied by a tangible reward. And sitting down to have a drink will (obviously) increase Vincent’s alcohol meter, which will cause him to move faster at “nighttime.” Also, when you finish a drink, the game will show you a little trivia about whatever you just polished off. It’s an odd feature, but I found it compelling and proceeded to get Vince stone drunk every night so I could hear as many as possible.

The daytime segments are cool, and do a great job of moving the story forward and building the characters, but they’re more than a little slow. That’s where nighttime comes into play. The other big dilemma Vincent is facing is that every night he gets trapped in a nightmare where he must climb a tower of blocks or else be brutally murdered. Not a huge issue normally, but due to a mysterious string of young men found to have died in their sleep, it seems quite likely that if Vincent dies in the dream, he dies for real. This is where the game does a complete 180, ripping you out of the safety of the bar and literally forces you to think on your feet or die.

The nightmare sequences’ “Levels” are made up of between one and six themed floors of crumbling block towers. They’re more like block walls, really, but the point is the same: you need to manipulate the blocks in the tower/wall to make a way to the top. On easy mode there are only a handful of really tricky parts in the second half of the game, but even on normal, you’re looking at some rather clever puzzles as early as the second night. Those puzzles are only half the problem too, because the tower below you is crumbling away pretty quickly. Having to think about a puzzle might lose you the high score, but if you really can’t figure it out, you’re dead. And of course, classic video game staples like bad guys and trap blocks are there to make life that much harder for you. Unlike the relaxed atmosphere of the bar, you really get a sense that in the nightmares, the game wants you to die.

Other notes here are that you’re scored on your speed and how many coins you pick up, and are given a trophy at the end of each night. They’re mostly irrelevant, but unlock new stages in an extra game mode if you earn them on normal or hard difficulty. The last floor of each stage is also a boss “fight,” where instead of racing against falling blocks, there’s a giant monster clawing at you heels. Occasionally they will change the properties of random blocks or shoot lighting bolts or razor blades at you. These floors are usually the most frantic, and far and away the most fun in the game.

Generally, Catherine (the game, not the character) is more than happy to keep the bar and nightmare sequences completely segregated. Though as always, there are exceptions. I’d mentioned that there is an arcade game in the bar, should you feel like whiling away your time on a game within a game. The really fun part is that Rapunzel is a tiny reproduction of the main game’s nightmare stage gameplay. Instead of the walls being hundreds of blocks high, they’re only maybe a dozen. At least, for the first few stages. There is no time limit in Rapunzel, but you do only get a certain amount of moves per stage, putting the focus on solving puzzles. These puzzles are much more devious than those in the main game too, as I’ve only managed to get to stage eight out of 64 (Maybe. There’s an achievement for beating stage 64, anyway. I assume it’s the end). It gets even deeper when Vincent receives a taunting text message that says that Rapunzel also has multiple endings. When has that ever happened before in the history of video games?

The nightmare stages also give you a change for a little reprieve in between floors. There, you’re treated to a nice little sanctuary, where every other man suffering from the nightmare stands waiting to challenge the next floor. These men all look like sheep in the dream world (which ends up being tied into the story), and some of them will have defining traits like ties or hair. These ones are people you can interact with in the bar, and will open up to you even more here, since to them, you’re the one who looks like an anonymous sheep. You can continue to encourage them to keep climbing here, and some will even share climbing techniques with you. Until late in the game there’s a merchant sheep here too, who will sell you items that can give you a small edge. But buying items costs points, and is therefore a bad idea if you want to earn gold trophies. Besides, items can be found while climbing the towers themselves, and the game (on easy mode at least) is pretty good about doling out items when they’ll be most useful.

The way Catherine draws its parallels is a fairly unique one in that it shows you two options, but then proceeds to blur the distinction between the two. Katherine and Catherine, freedom and order, the bar and the nightmare. While it goes out of its way to make it seem like there’s a proper and improper way to go about playing the game, that’s just to mislead you; it’s really all gray area. Just because you want Vince to hook up with Catherine doesn’t mean you need to be a complete ass to Katherine. But you can. Don’t like the puzzle stages and want to get back to the story? Choose easy mode and look up speed run videos on YouTube. Don’t like the slower bar sequences? Skip them. Or just play Rapunzel. The game is about growing up and taking responsibility. Or maybe it’s not, because the game is really about choices. (Actually, maybe it really is because I’ve only played through as a solid seeker of order.) The point is that Catherine wants to show you that there’s always a choice. It wants you to know that for every choice you make, there’s another you didn’t. For every yin there’s a yang. For every Katherine, there’s a Catherine.

Really, really fat

It’s potluck day at work. I’ve already eaten enough perogies and veggies that I’m surprised my co-workers don’t have to roll me around. I’m trying to lose weight for the wedding, and going back for more would be very counter-productive to that cause.

But there is a cheesecake in the lunch room.

It beckons me. I can hear it calling; its sweet, gooey voice echoing in my mind.

I don’t know how much longer I can resist…

Itchy. Tasty.

Earthbound

Do you like Earthbound? If you answered no, it’s because you haven’t played it.

It seems that the big thing about Earthbound is that everybody loves it for different reasons, and more often than not, they’re all little personal things. I’ve read a host of Earthbound-related stuff this week, and I recommend checking out at least Talking Tyrant Loki‘s take on it. It’s the shortest of the three links I’m posting here, and probably the easiest to swallow. Another one from a website I’ve never read before called Critical Distance gives you a sort of play-by-play of a handful of other people’s EB-related musings. The last, an absolutely mammoth review by Tim Rogers really digs into the game. It’s a long read, and it’s incredibly deep. If you don’t want to experience Earthbound after reading this, nothing will sway you.

Me, I think the thing that draws me most to Earthbound is the music. Ever since the first time I played it, the Onett theme has stuck with me. I whistle it pretty consistently, and usually when I go for a walk on a quiet day (sans iPod) I find the Twoson theme playing in my head.

More than anything, the little scene you get when waking up in a hotel and the accompanying melody are permanently ingrained on my soul. Most people miss it because you wake up and leave the room to get back to the quest, but there’s a piece of music that plays after the “good morning” melody that I’m sure is exclusive to the room after waking. Once you leave the room, it switches back to regular ol’ hotel music. I think. It’s been almost a year since I played the game, so the details are a little fuzzy.

The point is, that that one tiny moment -those ten second between when the screen fades after talking to the hotel clerk and leaving your room- makes me feel an overwhelming sense of serenity. In other RPGs, waking up after a hotel stay produces a chime and then it’s back to business. Earthbound perfectly captures that one feeling that we all get occasionally in the morning, when you wake up and everything feels absolutely perfect for a few fleeting seconds.

The little melody. The music that comes afterwards. The chirping of the birds in the background. This minor instance that is a throwaway moment in any other game has had a deeper and more lasting impact on me than any other element of any game that I can think of. You may read this, having never played the game, and think I’m nuts. Maybe you have played it, but didn’t get the same sensation. But this affected me. I can’t even describe how it works in my head. Anytime I stay at a hotel in real life, this scene invariably invades my mind.

There’s a scene in the game where you stay in a haunted hotel, and the whole process is similar, but twisted. That was when I truly realized that things were really amiss, despite the fact that the town was overrun with zombies and smelly trash can ghosts. It was emotionally distressing, to say the least.

All that, and I haven’t even gotten around to the Sound Stone Melody (called “Smiles and Tears,” apparently). This is the first song that I can remember which evoked a strong emotional response in me, and remains one of two songs and the only instrumental piece that has ever brought tears to my eyes on the merits of the music alone, the other being Queen’s “Save Me.” But while the latter brought about its response through a genuine expression of despair and loneliness, the Sound Stone Melody has a more ineffable quality to it. I don’t know how it manages to grip my consciousness so tightly, but it does. It’s one of my favourite pieces of music, and it really is beautiful.

The main quest of Earthbound is to assemble the pieces of this melody. Yes, it’s to help defeat an evil alien, but that’s besides the point. You travel the world, to these sacred places that really aren’t so extraordinary on their own. At each one, you acquire the next few bars of the tune. Once you’ve assembled them all and listen to the entire piece, you cannot help but be overcome by a wave of nostalgia, remembering all of these places, and everything you experienced on the way there. Maybe it was just a silly quest in a silly video game, but now it’s a part of you too, and that melody will bring all those feelings and memories back every time you listen to it. I used to sit on the Sound Stone screen and listen to the melody -even when incomplete- over and over, because it brought with it the absolute strangest feeling I’d ever experienced. It was like the greatest happiness and the deepest sorrow wrapped into one short, simple melody.

So yeah, Earthbound is pretty deep. I recommend playing immersing yourself in it as soon as possible. And don’t just get to the end. Walk around. Explore the world. Let it and all of its little details wash into you. Though given that everyone who writes about Earthbound in this way played it in their developmental years and is now waxing nostalgic about it, I’m not sure if an adult could properly appreciate the game. All I can say for sure is that I played plenty of video games in my youth, and none of them evoke that same warm feeling in my chest that Earthbound does.