March 2004 Archives

 

Here there be Tetris.


After reading Boris's review of Puzzle Pirates, I decided to give it a go. I was all set to not like it; how much fun can a bunch of Tetris clones be? And I hate all those stupid PopCap cheapo website games anyway. But Boris made it sound interesting, and the trial period is free, so avast me hardies. (Hearties? Harties? Heardies?)

But it's pretty damn cool. I think it fills a huge void in online computer gaming: online multiplayer that isn't filled with teen shitheads. Who's going to grief on Puzzle Pirates... it's just people playing Tetris for cryin' out loud.

It's pretty high-concept, given the boring, solo precedent for online puzzle games. Instead of just setting up a bunch of dopey games and connecting them with chat lobbies, Puzzle Pirates has the puzzles act as parts of a larger game. A bunch of players are all positioned at different puzzles on the ship (and visually, it is an actual ship with separate duty stations, so the immersion factor is complete.) Crew members in the Sailing game make the ship move, fast if they're doing well. The Carpentry game repairs ongoing wear and tear plus damage from incoming cannonball hits. If the damage goes beyond the ability of the carper, water starts rising in the Bilge Pumping game, which also slows down the ship if it isn't cleared up.

And yes, there's chat. It's done both in word balloons (for pirates in your immediate physicality) and in the usual lobby format, for pirates in your crew or for broadcasting to friends out in who-knows-where.

Even though its been years since my MUSHing days, all the old text chat conventions came back to me instantly. All the emotes and abbreviations, the ability to hold a conversation in a window with 12 other people, the fast fingers for a quickly typed joke. Although I'm less interested in the social aspect now than I was during my time at TinyCWRU, it's fun to interact with people who share a common goal (winning) and aren't constantly screaming FAGOT HOW U LIEK IT.

I sail with the Vermilion Volitans, a crew I just happened to stumble on one night while in the Emerald Archipelago, because they have a generous pay scale for unemployed pirates. I gravitated towards the Bilging game because it plays like Pokemon Puzzle League (or any other Panel de Pon variant) and after a night of bilging for the Volitans, the Captain offered me an official crew position.

It was adorable. I had just finished bilging down in the hold, and he walked over, stood in front me, little hands on little hips, and gave me a red bandanna to signify I'm now part of his crew. I put it on my little round head.

Last night the Volitans' upper guard pooled their resources and bought a new ship (which I think brings our total to four.) It is gigantic, with like 20 duty stations, quarters for the captain and queen... and even a bunk area below decks for swabs like me. (Unlike The Sims, there is no sleeping animation. The beds are just for show.) In that room is a non-ship-related game, the Drinking Game, where you try to match colors in rows of tankards and goblets. This game is normally found in the pubs on the inhabited islands. So after a hour or so of pillaging on the high seas, we all played a round of Drinking down in the crews' quarters.

Like Boris mentioned, there comes a point where you're playing just for the sake of it... since your character doesn't level-up like in MMORPGs. Sail, Swordfight, Buy Stuff, Sail, Swordfight, Buy Stuff. Since this is a subscription service, the developers are promising ongoing world events and other new features. (Coming soon is the ability to blockade an island, yarrrr.) That will help keep me interested, so we'll see what happens.

 

Game Review / Puzzle Pirates (Windows)



Puzzle games, like Tetris, are addictive right up until the point where it dawns on you that there�s no point to getting any better. Once you�ve satisfied the learning curve, without any reason to keep pushing that boulder uphill, the desire to do it fades. Puzzle Pirates attempts to put several reasons why you should continue � fame, fortunate, and the excuse to say �Arrr, me buckos!� when swordfighting against other players.

The Plot: There isn�t a plot. And the setting is a little loosely defined as well � you�re a lego person pirate, sailing Midnight Ocean in search of booty in the company of other like-minded swabbies. The ocean is full of islands, some colonized, some not, and profit can be had from moving commodities from foraging uncolonized lands and putting into port around a colony that will buy them. If, that is, you can defend your hold from other pirates, player and nonplayer alike.

You start out as a rag clad swabbie (or swabbette; the game does not prejudice itself against she buccaneers) on a desert island, picked up by an NPP (non-player pirate) ship. Your generic pirate tour guide makes you play the bilging game to earn your passage to a nearby colonized island, where you�re left with a handful of pieces o� eight and an active harbor town with ships coming in and shops hawking their wares. What you do from there is your choice.

Essentially, the game isn�t something you accomplish, it�s something you do. Which, given that it�s a subscriber fee game, that makes sense. You don�t beat the game, you treadmill at the game. In order to keep the treadmill spinning, there is plenty to keep you occupied (and announced plans to add more variety of things to keep you busy). You don�t have to play all of the games if you don�t want to, and you can choose how much involvement you want to have with the major activities of the game � but, the deeper you choose to involve yourself, the more that infective hook sinks into you. Which leads me nicely into�


The Gameplay:
Simple interface. Your little piratey dude (who can be chosen from a small selection of skin tones and hair styles) can visit clothiers, distillers, iron mongers and the dock simply by clicking on the shop�s door, or, faster, on the shop�s name on the island map. You can be social with other pirates through tells, or waltz into a circle of pirates and talk or emote at them. And while all of these are important activities, more important is getting yer scurvy hide onto a ship and working.

The notice board lists both navy (NPP) and player crews looking for jobbers to hire on for temporary work. Once aboard a ship, there are several duty stations to do, each of them fires up a minigame. Your performance at the minigame affects the success of the crew that you�re with � which is why the minigames actually mean something more than a learning curve. Bilging, which is in my opinion, a dreadful chore, is a matter of swapping tiles to make matches. Boring, but the puzzle approximates the dullness of operating a bilge pump, I suppose. If nobody bilges, the ship takes on water, and slows down (they don�t, however, sink � there are no real risks to your pirate�s life and limb). Carpentry both slows down leaks (thus making the bilging lighter work) and repairs damage sustained from cannon fire. Sailing provides speed to the ship, obviously. Gunnery loads the cannons to be shot in tactical combat. Finally, navigating (which only officers can do, so you�ll have to sign on and impress a crew in order to do that job) increases the efficiency of sailors, speeding up the ship even more.

With all players working together at a good efficiency, the ships really zip. Which is good if you want to turn a profit, because player owned ships don�t pay you for your time spent in the puzzle � they pay you out of profits taken from piracy. So, with enough wind at your sails, there�s always the option to engage nearby ships and plunder them � Midnight ocean is full of player and nonplayer ships, and they�re out to plunder you, too. Once ships approach each other, a tactical combat breaks out (again, something only the officer gets to play) where ships use movement tokens generated by sailors and position themselves to take shots at each other. Once a ship has been sufficiently softened up, the captain can steer the ships on a collision course, allowing the crews to board and engage in swordfighting.

(Incidently, being damaged by cannon fire or clumsy battle navigating really effects the ship � not only are you taking on bilge until the carpenters can repair the damage, but your swordfighting window may be partially filled by unbreakable junk blocks � a performance penalty for the crew of a shot-ridden ship. Again, a good example of how interconnected the puzzles are).

Swordfighting is a blast, typically. Colored sword tiles drop in pairs from the top, and the idea is to make either blocks (2x2, 3x4, etc) of colored tiles, or at least strings of like-colored tiles. Less commonly (maybe 1/20 tiles), a �breaker� will drop � these tiles are colored like the tiles, and if connected to its matching tile, destroys every tile of that color that is connected. For every two single tile you break, a white block falls on your foe. If you break a block, then a sword of matching dimensions (like a 2x5 block turns into a vertically falling 2x5 sword) drops on your hapless foe. The swords turn into white blocks, the white blocks eventually turn into colored tiles � and the color of those tiles depends on the sword you�re wielding. All swords have their own unique drop pattern, and careful study of those swords before you purchase one is critical to long term success of your crew. To make matters more interesting, you can �team up� against other pirates � you can swap who you�re fighting against, and if more than one of you are ganging up on a rival pirate, your drops can really pound somebody silly. It�s a lot of fun when it works out, especially if you engineer a double or triple combo (which multiplies the amount of litter you dump all over your foes).

Once the fight is resolved, the winning crew robs a significant portion of the loot from the enemy�s hold. And then you return to the seas to hunt for more. The novelty of the experience is how puzzle playing, typically a solitary time sink, turns into a really cleverly constructed multiplayer effort. The success of everybody depends on your individual successes. Which makes signing on with a crew on a permanent basis a hazardous decision for the time-crunched � the more you work with a crew, the more you like them, and the more you want to share in their success.

Addictive altruism aside, you get sweet, sweet PoE (pieces of eight) as a cut from the booty, and this can be used to either buy swords (an essential for good swordfighting, as the foil you start with is a miserable weapon) or clothing. Clothing has no actual use in the game, but it�s amusing to play dress me up with clothing, and it gives your lego pirate a little bit of personal flaire. Player preferences range from dignified pirate chic (all white uniforms, purple with yellow trim uniforms, etc) down to completely ridiculous get ups. My current outfit, on my white skinned, red haired pirate, is flame red shoes, yellow pants, and a red/white striped shirt with a yellow vest. In short, I�m the pirate what looks like Ronald McDonald. Later down the road, you can invest in your own vessels and buy and operate shops, although the price range for those activities is insanely out of reach for your average, �I�m just here to have a good time and play the game� pirate.

The problem, unfortunately, is that once the learning curve is over, the fun starts fading into a treadmill. Affording a vessel is fine, and swords are certainly pricey, but those are really the only things you can reasonably manage to spend your PoE on. The economy is more or less limited to clothing expenditures, which isn�t too inaccurate when you consider your average teenager, but you have no ability to influence the economy other than ferrying goods (either foraged off of uncolonized islands or bought from marketplaces on colonized islands) or being a laborer at a shop. That, and clothing really nets you nothing of game-play value; we�re not talking armor here, just fancy duds so that your avatar gains notice. I sent an e-mail to the developers, and they are aware of the problems (there�s �the list� of things to do, and among that is to fix the economy), so buyer beware � this is a very fun, but unfinished product. If you like diversions, then by all means enjoy the game, but the sense of accomplishment you get from your subscription to this massively multiplayer game may be less than what you get from a MMRPG, where your character builds in ability as you progress, not just in bankroll.


The Aesthetics: The game is simple, graphically � it�s a puzzle game, and too much glitz and glamour would distract you. All pirates are cutesy and lego-like, you only have a few expressions (none of which I think you can actually choose to wear; puzzle pirates walk about with a blissful, Prozac inspired smile on their face; you only show other expressions when being rated at your performance at a job, or when you win/lose a duel. Sound effects are important, but tastefully muted; a bosun�s whistle alerts you if you�ve been ordered or challenged, cannon shots boom and crash, and puzzle activities make notification sounds. Largely, the experience is easy on the eyes and ears, but not so impressive that you�d ever lose focus of the activity station you�re jobbing at (I do kind of find myself enjoying the orchestra hit you get when you sail effectively, especially if you string a bunch of combos together � it sounds like a symphony).


Final Thoughts:
It�s worth a try, considering it�s free to do so. You can�t buy really fancy duds if you�re a greenie (i.e., a non paying pirate), but subscribing is just $20/3 months. Since I�m (as of writing) less than a month into my 3 month subscription, I can�t adequately say whether or not the interconnectivity of puzzles is addictive enough to string out for 3 months worth of play.. but it�s a damn good improvement on Pop-Cap�s �Move the shiny object! Now, buy this game so you can play more shiny object movement� business model.

Arrrrr, it also be an opportunity ta spit shine yer Piratese, ye scurvy lubber! Whar else can ye be getting� away with sayin� ahoy matey? Thar be a touch o� culture ta the players; �tis customary ta be sayin� ahoy instead o� hello when ye be greetin� a matey or be jobbin� a vessel, doncha know? Avast, even th� swearin�, which pirates be known to do, harrr, has a bit o� humor to it � ye say scupper and barnacle when ye really mean ta be sayin� words what makes the planks curl. Th� language be optional, but if ye be a natural ham, thar be plenty o� opportunity ta be goofin� around.






 

See, I can flutter better than you thought.


I finished Fatal Frame 2: Crimson Butterfly last Saturday night. In the interests of keeping this spoiler-free, I won't say much about the game's ending... except that it was horrifying.

You can definitely feel the ending coming on; your final walk takes you through an underground tunnel where you get jumped by high-level ghosts every couple feet. Then you have to confront the Kusabi himself, a spectre even more gigantic than the mega-corrupted Kirie of the first Fatal Frame. If you haven't finished the game yet, I wouldn't call the Kusabi's appearance a surprise. He's the massive nasty roaming in the Great Hall of Kurosawa House back in the middle of the game. When I met him back there, I ran.

I played through on Normal mode (got the "good" ending) and had quite a bit of film left. I would even guess that I defeated 80% of the game's ghosts on the cheap, infinite film. I'm sure this did nothing for my overall score and rating (E) since it made the fights last longer, but I felt like I was playing smart and saving the really powerful film for the end of the game. Apparantly I over-saved.

One very nice feature is that after you beat the game, that final cinema is selectable off the bonus menu. So you can watch the painful, affecting movie again and again and again. Brrrrr. Many game endings will move me to tears, but it's usually from a combined sense of accomplishment, the satisfied relief of success, and the farewall to characters whose destiny I personally controlled. (If you're not a gamer, try to imagine your favorite dramatic movie... but with your complete and total interaction.) Crimson Butterfly, however, shocks your very soul with loss. This emotion builds during the entire game, augmented by fear, cemented by hope of escape, and then it unravels in a beautiful and terrible finale.

Plus it features a kickass j-pop tune over the credit roll, "Chou" by Tsukiko Amano. It's subtitled when it plays in the game, and the lyrics are completely and creepily appropriate.

Burned on, Burned on,
The inerasable scars left by the palms of my hands.
Sever a rift in the red-stained clouds with my torn hands,
See, I can flutter better than you thought.

That, folks, is freaking cathartic. The song almost makes everything okay... until the brief epilogue. I immediately took to the internet to find the song, and found links to it on an excellent Fatal Frame fansite, Beyond the Camera's Lens. (You can buy the "Chou" CD single at gamemusic.com. Apple hasn't integrated j-pop or game soundtracks into iTunes yet, sadly.) Beyond the Camera's Lens is undergoing a site re-design at the moment, so some of the content is missing and/or hidden. Nevertheless, it is well worth a visit for both Fatal Frame fans and newbies. The timeline of events in both games is especially interesting, particularly the connections between the two storylines.

I sort of doubt I'll do a full game review of Crimson Butterfly. Structurally, it's so similar to the first game that my points would likely be redundant. The sequel loses something of its shock value if you've played the first one - yes, again there's more abandoned buildings and hideous ancient rituals and victimized girls and a camera that vaporizes ghosts with exorcismal film. But it makes up for that by providing a darker, deeper story... and the twins angle works to keep you mentally connected with the characters, since you play one twin and are constantly helping/searching for the other, weaker one. It's easy to empathize with that.

The biggest part of Fatal Frame 1 - Kirie's story - is a story of youth and love crossed with family and tradition. Kirie is a girl who fell in love against her family's wishes... and needs, as it turns out. Miku, your character, acts as more of an explorer, uncovering the secrets of Himuro Mansion while searching for her missing brother. In Fatal Frame 2, the lead characters are more deeply involved in the story... your twin, Mayu, tends to become possessed (or at least manipulated) by the ghosts of All God's Village, and you end up following her as their story is slowly revealed. It's clear from very early on that Mio and Mayu have some kind of connection to previous twins of the village, and that their fates are entwined with the mistakes of the past.

Boy, what a game. This is the one great strength of the PS2: fringe concepts that could only be made viable because the system is already so popular. How would you classify this one? Camera-Based Survival Horror? In racks with cookie-cutter shooters and barely-upgraded sports games, it's great to be able to pluck gems like this. Crimson Butterfly is exactly why I'm proud to be a gamer.

 

Finding a bolo tie.


A couple of weeks ago, Mike announced that he wanted a bolo tie. Initially I was skeptical. He lives in Maryland after all, hardly a bolo tie sort of state. And this is the year 2004, hardly a bolo tie sort of year. But we're still into Doomtown, the Wild West / Horror card game that doesn't even have an official website for me to link to, so I'm ready to help. I'm a sucker for immersion.

Although Mike had to confess that his interest in getting a bolo tie wasn't due to any kind of desire to play cowboy dress-up at this year's Doomtown Tournament, he's mainly looking to make his daily grind of playing career dress-up a little easier. A bolo tie, despite the name, does not tie at all. It merely hangs and holds a brooch. At this point I envision Mike like the dad from "Cheaper by the Dozen," timing himself doing buttons up or down to decide which path gets him out the door fastest and away from his screeching kids. Except Mike, being a teacher, is actually heading to the screeching kids.

Here's where I come in: I know of a genuine Western/country wear shop. There's been one down the street from my grandparents' house for years. I have vague memories of being in there once, perhaps age five, looking at a bin of sewn leather wallets.

Can you get bolo ties anywhere other than a Western wear shop? Honestly, my offered solution appears so convenient that we don't even bother to think of any alternate plans. Appears.

The place is called Cape Horn Western Wear, so we drive out to it. Or where I thought it was... it's nowhere to be seen. We are in the "Cape Horn" area of York, PA; every other sign proves that. The store is not where I remembered it.

I pull into a Giant and consult the Hiptop. Yay, the store does still exist. Whitepages.com gives me the address and phone number. I gamely try an online map, but the lack of notable street names has us zig-zagging aimlessly. Mike passes the time clicking through songs on the iPod.

We hit the "square" of Red Lion. And believe me, you'd only know it as the square if you're from the area. Sigh. Driving past the sidewalks where I used to roller skate with my grandmother - She'd walk, I'd skate. And not the same grandmother as mentioned previously - I pull into the parking lot of the small town pharmacy where I would have bought comics had I been born a generation earlier. Back to the Hiptop: this time to use as a phone.

I tell the Cape Horn Western Wear lady that we're at the square in Red Lion. She knows exactly where I mean; no doubt she's from the area. Turns out we're only a mile or so away from their new location. Which is no longer in Cape Horn, grumble grumble, but I guess that brand name was too good to lose.

I don't imagine Mike and I are the kind of folks that usually go into country western stores. On the ride down, I noted that it would probably take the clerks .00001 of a second to come to the conclusion that we're gay... I'm in a Hawaiian shirt and he's wearing sandals. Although who knows, maybe they get a lot of hipster doofuses like us who wander in just to buy crazy crap for the sake of it.

As soon as we enter the store, I'm struck by the overwhelming scent of cow. Compassionate vegetarianism isn't exactly compatico with cowboy style.

Surrounded by the modernized glitz of the Wild West, I start thinking about buying an outfit. Sure, Mike's just a lazy tie-tier, but maybe I'll cosplay my ass into this year's tournament. But the allure gets to him too; while I'm paging through the rack of sale shirts, Mike shows up with a Stetson he likes and goes to ask the lady how to determine his hat size. We could be the fanciest cowpokes around this Origins. We find a badass silk vest and gray undershirt combo that strikes me as something a spellslinging huckster might wear... but the $60 tag gives me pause. And anyway, I'd rather have Rhonda around when I'm buying clothes, to make sure I'm getting the right size and all that. I send her an IM to ask what I wear (Hiptop Use #3 for the day), but all the shirts seem to use a sizing notation more complicated than the S-M-L system I'm accustomed to. I think they even include the neck size.

There is a rack of bolo ties, the only noticeable differences among them being the shape of the gaudy metal clip holding the ends together. Feathers, bucking broncos, animal totems, that blue/green rock that always shows up in Native American motifs. The clerk even gives Mike a catalog of potential bolo ties, many of which would be perfect for Doomtown: Texas Ranger sheriff stars and such. I have a momentary pang of conscience when it occurs to me that the tie itself might be made of leather straps, but the clerk assures me they're probably nylon. We both pick out one. Mine has a steer skull and feathers over a lariat, reminding me of the Gift of the Thunderbird card.

Mike passes on the Stetson, but is happy to now know his hat size.

 

iCcessories


I've seen a lot of techo-savvy weblogs adding "Listening To:" squibs to their pages, usually pulling the latest tracks played out of iTunes or whatever iTunes equivalent people choose to run. Seemed like a neat idea, but I never put much thought into how I could pull it off. The trick, you see, is to make it as automatic as possible, because who wants to hand-code "I was listening to the Pet Shop Boys" everytime they update.

There's a fine edge where I fall off in my understanding of programming, and most of the iTunes-to-HTML scripts seemed to be on the far side. But I figured I'd give it another go last night. I started here, which led me to here and then finally to here. (On an unrelated note, I also started out here and ended up here.)

What I learned (aside from how to dress up as Final Fantasy characters) is that you can exploit Movable Type's Trackback functions to get data from Point A (your home machine) to Point B (the front page of fourhman.com.) I've never played with the Trackback junk before, largely because I only have the faintest notion of what it is. But between the offered AppleScript from one site and the scripting tutorial from another, I was able to set myself up with a script that grabs the Top 5 tracks and the Last 5 tracks from iTunes and dumps them here.

Some of the more interesting scripts added in pictures of the albums and links to buy them on Amazon, but that's a bit more than I'm willing to chew right now. My script seems a little off. I've caught it grabbing the wrong songs a couple times, but overall it's been okay. Also, since it forwards the data to fourhman.com in a specially-coded URL, it can't handle Japanese characters. Probably not a huge deal for anybody else, but I have several CDs that are partially named in Japanese. I've always loved that OSX and the iPod display text in proper Japanese characters without me having to force/ask it do to so, so that bugs me a bit.

I've been thinking of another site redesign lately, so we'll see if my iTunes stuff sticks around. Most weblogs seem to embrace the minimalist gray-and-white look, which fourhman.com most certainly does not. I don't know if I'll go that route (seems easy enough...) but I think I could use something a tad hipper looking.

Other iNews: bought a Belkin FM Transmitter for the iPod. Works fine. Strikes me as staticky, but that could just be because I'm working with poor to average quality radios.

And, given how much I complained about it, I would be negligent if I didn't bring up my new SightFlex. It's a segmented metal cable designed to support and position the iSight. Holy jumping cats, it's about time. That little dandy solves half of the problems I have with the thing (the other half being software related.)

To celebrate, here is my Miniature Gallery of Modern iSight Art.



The Slinky


The Question Mark


The Sunflower


The Thinker


The Charlie Brown Christmas Tree

 

It's just a flesh wound.


Action figures + game = Something I almost certainly will buy. Although nobody seems to know how to do it well. A couple Origins ago, I was really psyched to demo Z-G, a tactical combat game with robot figures and a zingy anime style. The demo did not enthrall me: the robots were too loose to pose (or even stand once weighed down with their ridiculous oversized weapons), the combat system involved matching color stripes on cards, and there was this whole complicated range-measuring thing that instantly annoyed me.

Then came WizKids' Shadowrun game, which basically applied a x4 growth hormone to their own Mage Knight style of clicky base games. The action figures here were classically unposable and just about immaterial to the game itself. The only aspect they added was the ability to hold different weapons and gear, which would then give varying abilities and effects. Yawn.

Now there's Xevoz, a shudderingly ugly name for an entirely new brand... although the toys themselves are spawned from Hasbro's existing Stikfas line.

I like Stikfas. Although I own exactly none of them. I see them at TRU all the time, glaringly obvious in their white sealed boxes. I know nobody is buying them, certainly not at TRU anyway. What kid is going to reach for the unpainted solid black buildable fireman figure in the generic looking package? Stikfas figures are aimed squarely at adult collectors, particularly the customizing crowd (which is why Stikfas exist, to be hand-built, hand-painted, and hand-posed.) I do respect their stark white, almost Apple-like design. But I doubt it's bringing in the dough. The component pieces still come on plastic trees, for chrissake.

Enter Xevoz, a fusing of the Stikfas design aesthetic with the incomprehensible backstory of Lego's Bionicle, topped with a simple die-rolling game.

Who figured Bionicle would hit, by the way? Lego had several pre-Bionicle test brands - ThrowBots and the like - but going whole hog into this dense fantasy world was such a risk. Could have been a huge embarrassment. As soon as you saw the original marketing stuff, you knew this had the potential to die hard, because they were taking it so damn seriously. Have to hand it to them, they didn't do a shitty job on it. Lego must have sent somebody into the mountains for a month to formulate the Bionicle backstory, full of tribal warfare, ancient prophecies, unpronounceable nouns, and the strange amalgam of sci-fi cool and medieval storytelling. Although the toys themselves bother me to no end; they're comprised of about forty pieces, all specialized shapes and pre-formed hulls. They lack the build-it-yourself imaginative quality of the classic Lego stuff.

But Bionicle did hit, and Xevoz is aping it like crazy. The world of Xevoz is also filled with tribes and war and storyline and design-via-icon. Xevoz can't even be bothered to settle on one genre either. Back in my day, you had Young Male Power Fantasy toy lines that pretty much kept to one species/genre. The Sectaurs were insects. The Thundercats were cats. Transformers were robots. G.I. Joes were soldiers. The Food Fighters were food. Masters of the Universe were wrestlers with randomized heads. The initial line of Xevoz "kits" - they call them kits since you get to build them yourself, Stikfas style - includes a soldier, a pirate skeleton, a cat-man, a robot, a bug, a ninja, and some kind of elemental fire creature. And each one represents an entire faction of like species on the world of Xevoz.

Is that the world's name? I don't know. Probably.

Just like Bionicle, they are taking this super-seriously. Custom fonts and TMs abound. I glossed over all the character bios and fact sheets; I'm more interested in the game. Like I said, it's die-based. You build your own die (called a BATTLE HELIX (TM) ) that represents some of the key parts used in the construction of your figure. The die is fairly ingenious... it is made of six long, three-sided wedges held together by rubberized endcaps. Oh, excuse me, the wedges are called POWER GLYPHS (TM). If you mix and match pieces from the various kits, you get to use the accompanying wedges in your custom die. Each wedge has a number on it that shows how strong the attack is... two numbers actually, you have to call your attack before you roll it, and you have to live by whichever half you chose.

Your figure is your life meter. As you take damage, you have to disassemble your guy bit by bit. The last man standing is the winner... although it's usually the last leg standing. Most games we've played have ended with a groin+legs battling a single foot+shin. Hilarious.

That's the rules for the basic version of the game, which is the rules included with each single figure kit. The BATTLE TERRAIN 2-PACK kit adds in a simple gameboard and the appropriately advanced rules. The board has two sides (although they made it so the sides weirdly unfold like a book, not just flip over) and each side is tailored to give one species benefits. +1 to your roll and such. If the current board doesn't match your figure type, you better win some rolls and maneuver your ass over to a warp space so you can take the battle to your home turf.

I wouldn't even try to play the version without the game board. Being able to add to your roll and control the board adds a bit of much-needed strategy. And without those pluses, any roll of 1 would be completely useless, since it would always be beaten or tied and thus have no damage effects.

I like that the game is so modular. Future toys might have more powerful wedges, new abilities, new boards. So there is the potential to develop a real, adult game out of this. If Hasbro doesn't do it, maybe I will. If they are following the Bionicle model, they should have the next year's worth of toys planned out so they can hit the ground running should Xevoz be a hit. Hopefully it's not a planned obsolesence like Rumble Robots.

But the best part is the figures. They are completely badass. The clean, matte-finish design gives them that slick retro style. And they pose like nothing else. One of the great benefits to the ball-and-socket Stikfas is the incredible level of poseability... and the Xevoz line takes that and runs with it. I loves me my Marvel Legends figures, but any kind of cool pose aside from Prototype Model #1 means exposing bad paint apps, pin joints, and mismatched thigh halves. Xevoz has none of that, you just have to accept the stylized form.

OK, maybe this is all explained in the Xevoz Handbook, but why does the insect come with an extra head shaped like a light bulb? Or the cat-man's bonus boxing glove hands? Somebody at the design factory must have slipped in some silliness when the stern and grim story people weren't looking.


L-R: bug, ninja, cat, skeleton


L-R: bug with light bulb head, ninja in scuba gear, cat with boxing gloves, skeleton with tentacle hand

 

Tongue-tied.


This month's issue of OPM has a demo of Lifeline. I've been tracking that game for a while now, because I adore the concept. Rio - your regular ol' hot video game heroine - is stranded inside an wrecked space station. You're also stuck there, but locked in the security command center, with camera-eye views of everywhere she happens to be. So the game revolves around you actually telling her (via the PS2 headset) where to go and what to do. You're supposed to work together - you instructing, she following - to get her out alive. And I assume there's some kind of Resident Evil / Disaster Report plot conspiracy behind it all; there always is.

"Run." "Shoot!" "Go to the table." "Look under the sink." Almost like an old King's Quest game, just with your voice instead of typing.

With a game that runs on voice recognition, it's pretty obvious where it will live or die: how well it reads your voice. And guess what, it's spotty! At least, the demo was... and every review so far has been rather cruel about it.

When it works, it's amazing. It can feel like a real conversation with a real person. "Drink the wine." And she says "No, I don't feel like drinking anything right now. Let's check out something else."

Other times she's just not paying attention. "Read the report." "OK. I'll go to the hallway." It looks like you could spend hours just fighting the voice-recog system. What's worse, she necessarily has to play extremely stupid for the game to include you... why should I have to tell another human being to "Dodge!" the incoming attack of a nasty space slug? And if you tell her to "Walk," she walks in endless circles until you tell her what to do next.

That really breaks the illusion, and that's what is going to kill this game. I'd prefer one of two solutions: either I do less (instruct less) so she looks less stupid, or I get some kind of kickass remote control robot so I can handle the fighting myself.

Once I told her to look at something, and she ate a healing capsule instead. Gah!

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