In tribute to the efforts of Andy Murray in the Australian Open, I thought I’d take a look back through some of my favourite tennis games. Quite worryingly this list spans some 26 years but begins with a classic.

Tennis (NES)

Although simplistic, allowing only a simple stroke or a lob, I garnered many pleasing hours from this blocky classic as it was how you used these basic controls that mattered. Timing proved crucial; hit the forehand early and your shot would pull left, leave it a little longer and you’d push it wide to the right, allowing for a lot of variation. This was quite a revelation to my young self and the experience was only bettered by a portly plumber sitting in the umpire’s chair.

Mario Tennis (N64)

Another Nintendo entry onto my list but it sits here not just on my behest but also thanks to the three other people I used to live with at Uni. Along with Pro Evo and F-Zero X, this four-player beauty sucked up many an afternoon that should have probably been spent revising or writing up coursework. An array of characters, power-ups, silly sound effects, it had everything to keep us hooked and shouting at the telly. My only complaint was that the colourful court coverings often meant that the ball could be lost from view, like dropping a pound coin on the carpet of a pub last decorated in the Seventies.

Top Spin (Xbox)

Looking back, I have very mixed feeling about this game. Even though I used to play it obsessively I seem to remember hating it by the end of my time with it, the problem being that I became too good. As conceited as that sounds, my doubles partner and I edged up to being ranked 8th in the world, an achievement wrought from sheer effort and teamwork. Sadly in our closing weeks we encountered far too many glitchers and standbyers for the fun to continue and my last loving memory of it is swearing loudly down the headset and shutting off the Xbox in a huff as we were cheated for the final time.

Wii Sports (Wii)

Returning back to the Nintendo platform and we find possibly my favourite tennis game on any platform. If anything, this portion of Wii Sports must have shifted millions of consoles on its own for it exhibits just the same properties that Tennis did back in the early Eighties. For those that wanted to do no more than take part they could swing the racket and see their on-screen Mii mimic their actions and thwack the ball back gracefully across the net. Those who probed deeper discovered with a twist of their wrist or a flick of their hand that they could pull off slices, top-spin, lobs and a great deal more that turned a seeming tech demo into something wondrous.

Pong (and all its clones)

Some time ago I may have baulked at putting this on a list of favourite tennis games, calling the decision too clichéd and cheesey. A couple of years ago, however, I went to an exhibition entitled Game On where dozens and dozens of arcade cabinets and old systems were on display and playable. Having played through things I had only ever touched via Mame I became incredibly sentimental and touched by the entire thing; each time I stood at a new cabinet I felt waves of heritage sweep over me. Asteroids and Missile Command were among my favourites but having gotten to grips with a Pong machine I found something delightful about its basic nature as it almost embodied a time where gameplay had to win out over graphics.

Regular readers may have twigged that we here at 7outof10 towers are very partial to a bit of Rock Band. Most of the time I can’t sing its praises high enough; for its colour-coded music brings joy to all, has introduced me to a great range of bands, and has even inspired me to learn the drums proper. Some may argue that the final point is not a good one as a drum kit now takes up a large percentage of my front room, but I think only my wife falls into that camp.

Over the weekend I was introduced to The Beatles edition of Rock Band, and my was it an education. No matter how many Beatles tracks you think you know the game does an excellent job of throwing in tracks from throughout your career that many people will be surprised to see. Either because they did not realise that particular track was one of theirs, or because a song that you have never heard before is suddenly streaming down the noteway towards you and you’ve no idea how it is supposed to sound.

At the end of it I felt I had been on a little musical mystery tour, having had my mind expanded and I wanted to find out more. So off I headed to the Marketplace, hoping to see Hey Jude peering back at me. Sadly it was conspicuous by its absence, but the full albums of Rubber Soul, Sgt Pepper and Abbey Road did all sat proudly upon its shelves. And it got me thinking: I’d be far happier parting with my Microsoft points if I could take my music elsewhere.

I’ve downloaded many songs from Rock Band’s music store and a reasonable number have been played once, maybe twice, and then left to mill around with the rest of the RB tracks that litter my harddrive. Some Foo Fighters, No Doubt and Greenday do get some good play time, but the impulse buys out-number them, and I fear that any Beatles downloads I do make would head in the same direction. Especially as you can (understandably) only play them on the Beatles edition of Rock Band.

Imagine, however, if you got the MP3 version of the track with it. In my mind that would certainly give a new lease of life to the music store and those albums that originally looked at little daunting at almost £15 were suddenly a lot more attractive. I’m not saying it would be easy, or indeed feasible, but what if? What if?

Having spent most of their development life producing the quiz game Buzz, you can probably imagine the relief on the production staff’s faces when they were told they were going to create something other than a strong-jawed question master. A situation that should not be underestimated in development terms for, as the old saying goes, a change is as good as a break.

What Relentless Software decided to focus on instead was the quaint village of Little Riddle; an area lost deep in the heart of the English countryside and seemingly dreamt up by a mind that had seen great quantities of both The Railway Children and Midsomer Murders. And, just as in the case of the latter, evil stalks the picturesque lanes for the Mayor has been shot and a killer is on the prowl. The villagers need not fret, however, for you, being a member of the internationally renowned detective agency Blue Toad, just so happen to be holidaying in the village. Unable to keep your professional instincts from interfering with your R&R, you can’t help but stick you nose in and begin investigating this unfortunate case.

What unfolds is a game full of larger than life characters, almost in the same way most Wallace and Gromit episodes are. There’s the snotty doctor, the self-important station master, the American, and several others that all do their best (more impressively still through a single voice actor) to add drama, humour and intrigue to proceedings as you go from location to location within the village questioning all those linked to the crime. The aim appears to be to make Blue Toad as interesting to watch as it is to play.

Once a particular suspect has been interviewed a puzzle is presented to the player. Some vaguely stick with the theme of a murder investigation, helping draw attention to certain aspects of the case, but most are just an excuse to put you in a pub and get you to sort out their mangled pipe work.

The quality of the puzzles does vary but generally improves as your investigation continues. Relentless even include a nice touch in that after every few puzzles/interviews you are given a short quiz to make sure you’ve been paying attention to the facts that you’ve been presented with.

The one negative point I wish to level at Blue Toad is that its puzzles are timed, with medals allocated depending how quickly they are solved. Whilst this may not initially sound problematic you just have to play a couple of their brain teasers to find yourself feeling pressured into making quick decisions. Part of the enjoyment of Professor Layton, to whose audience Blue Toad must be naturally aimed, is that you had the time to mull over the problem at hand and come up with the right answer, unrushed by the man in the tall hat. Here, however, it becomes all to easy to churn through the very meat of the game; taking quick guesses as opposed to considered opinions just to earn a shinier bauble. This may not have been such an issue if, over the course of an hour’s play, I had tackled more than the twelve puzzles that Episode 1 contains.

On the positive side, the game does present you with the option of playing through this who-dunnit with up to four players, passing the pad between puzzles and interviews; but this in itself does not make up for the brevity of the package. It may be episodic but at £6.29 for a single instalment (or £9.99 for two) it doesn’t work out favourably on the pound-per-hour or pound-per-puzzle ratio.

I do believe that price should never be a factor in a review score but value is another matter. Look at what either of Professor Layton’s puzzle-laden adventures offer in comparison and you’ll find greater breadth and depth, so Blue Toad can only be recommended to those who have completed both The Curious Village and Pandorra’s Box and crave yet more mental stimulation.

5/10

Edit: please note that only hours after this was posted we received word that Episode 3 of Blue Toad Murder Files would be offered up for free as of 25th February. For more details check out the Blue Toad website.

So the world and its dog were looking towards San Francisco last night. Steve Jobs once again went on stage and unveiled yet another product that regardless of its quality or functionality would sell simply because of the badge that it was embossed with. Or is that too harsh?

This particular piece of tech is called the iPad, and from $499 you can pick up a wi-fi enabled touch screen that in both looks and function resembles an iPhone/iPod Touch. EA Mobile’s Travis Boatman described it as like “holding an HD display up to your face.” He went on to say “it’s really cool”, no doubt talking about it’s 9.7 inch display, full capacitive multi-touch, 1Ghz A4 chip, 3G options, Bluetooth, accelerometer and compass. Although the final feature on that list has me thinking more of Swiss Army Knives than of Apple.

That’s an awful lot of kit that they’ve included in its 0.5″ thick housing, but for me it’s what it’s missing that is just as important. Just like the iPhone, there is no multitasking, so no browsing the web whilst running app, and also like its phone cousin it does not offer support Flash and can only run programs downloaded from the App Store. Though the most wince-inducing is that you have to buy an adapter to be able to plug a USB device into it; the cheek of you wanting to use your own devices with their product.

The lack of multitasking alone turns me off to the idea, and the exclusion of Flash and limited applications in my closed/UNIX-based Netbook was the whole reason I recently formatted it and put on XP. In my opinion, for the same money (prices range from $499 for wifi and 16GB version to $829 for 3G and 64GB) you could get yourself a very nice netbook that could be capable of quite a bit more.

However the iPad is not for me. Those who are savvy with technology will no doubt already have enough devices for access the internet on strewn about their house that another, no matter what the branding, would be considered a step too far. Where the iPad comes into its own is for those more casual users you simply want a movie viewer, photo album, web browser, basic email client, music app and/or game platform that they can use from the comfort of their sofa. No matter how small you netbook, it’s incapable of “curling up” with such a device thanks to the need to use keyboard and touchpad; the iPad is altogether more conducive to the concept.

Speaking to a good friend of mine, his daughter is already fully aware of how to use an iPhone. Although still under the age of two, the concept of touching, dragging and sliding is now so natural to her that when approaching a television with Media Centre blazing away on its screen she is confused that the icons cannot be moved about in a similar fashion.

We have already glimpsed their vision of the future with the iPhone and the iPad seems to be the next step; for those who a keen in the concept but want it on a scale that is deemed less fiddly. And with the horizon littered with similar concepts of improved tablet PCs and Microsoft’s Courier - also unveiled last night and resembling a touchscreen filofax - Apple once again are attempting to get out ahead of the pack and sell us their vision through smooth lines and sleek interfaces. Although they may have piqued my interest, like so many first iterations of a product it sadly still has too many kinks for me to be truly interested. Roll on version 2.0.

Originally written for www.7outof10.co.uk

Advancement in technology is a wonderful thing. Just a decade ago I was singing the praises of the Digital Versatile Disc and yet there I was on Saturday night, G&T in hand and jaw on the floor, as Fight Club played out in HD glory on my PS3. It had been several years since I’d previously seen David Fincher’s brutal adaptation of Chuck Palahnuk’s novel, but, as clichéd as some may consider the fantasised Tyler Durden, it’s a wonderful yarn to weave. Full of anti-capitalist tendencies, a brow furrowing plot and the assertion that you and I are certainly not special.

And it got me thinking. How would such a story be played out through the medium of video games? Could such a tale be told without removing what made the original so compelling: the sleight of hand, the duplicity of a single character, the depiction of insomnia, the visceral nature of the violence. Contract the majority of studios to do a game adaptation and the most likely result would be a poor Streets of Rage homage lacking any of the film’s unique qualities. Given the anti-materialist tone of said film, I can’t see Tyler being happy with his story resulting in yet more mass produced crap.

Even away from the notorious domain of movie licenses, story driven games are tricky things. Cast you mind back through recent times and consider whether you have played a game with a storyline that could truly be considered good. Great, even. Great, that is, in the sphere of storytelling and not in just games. Far too many rely on derivative tales of revenge and bloodlust with little or no character progression or even consideration for story arc other than to move the player to the next exotic level. Halo, Modern Warfare, Gears of War; all massive selling franchises but with stories little better than a Michael Bay Victoria Secret’s commercial.

Taking Halo as an example, it may have a great deal of lore defined behind the scenes but this is ultimately just the building blocks from which the game’s universe is formed from. The adventures we actually embark upon with Master Chief are, when stripped down, little different to Mario’s original quest to find his Princess: one man striving to save something of value to him, running through mostly linear levels to be met with more supposition on their completion. For Master Chief this is a well lit cutscene depicting the latest twist in the war against the Covenant, whilst in Mario’s case it comes in the form of a Toad professing that he knows nothing of the princess’ whereabouts and suggests looking in another castle.

Although that may seem unfair to some, the story telling within ODST brings Halo 1-3’s (and most FPSs) into starker relief. There you find the same elements of a mystery, a love story and an adventure, but they are then backed up by a group of soldiers each with their own personalities and traits. Not only do they add more depth but these characters’ story arcs are shown through a series of flashbacks revealing that developers can attempt to express stories in less than conventional ways successfully.

However, the most successful story tellers of this generation to my mind are Bioshock and Portal.

Part of Bioshock’s accomplishment is down to the completeness at which Rapture has been realised, allowing anyone treading its subterranean hallways to be full immersed in its dark atmosphere. From the very beginning you are involved in a plot to bring down certain figureheads through a plot of deceit that has apparently been many, many years in the offing. But it’s not just that makes Bioshock standout as it is the amount of optional story that can be found through audio diaries that really starts building up certain characters.

Speaking at GDC, Bioshock’s Ken Levine detailed how their team build up characters ahead of time to make them feel more imposing, a more integral part of the world. Discussing the importance of using storytelling to make up for the deficiencies of game characters, “When we finally meet [deranged doctor] Steinman, he’s just an A.I. with a machine gun and a medical mask, but players have been set up to invest emotion in the guy. At the end of the day these digital actors are not Brando.”

Portal’s storytelling is also subtle. Although constructed like a common or garden puzzler with stark levels and a seemingly predictable path, it soon breaks off into something very surprising. With a homicidal computer attempting to control proceedings and the story of others played out through graffiti in hidden nooks, it has a tale to tell if people are willing to invest time in to seeking it out but equally does not burden those who just want to play with reams of text or cutscenes. A policy continued with the Left 4 Dead series.

No matter how much subtlety developer’s can include, the medium itself falls shy of the many expectations heaped upon it. Despite the progression in processors and the raw power available in comparison to at the start of the video game revolution, we still cannot hide that video games are not in the whole treading their own unique narrative path. Rather they are following in the footsteps of others, namely Hollywood.

—–

Yesterday we spoke of the influence Hollywood had on storytelling in videogames. It is an influence that has brought about an abundance of immersion shattering cutscenes and quick time events (QTE). Developers have strived so hard to produce dramatic set pieces aimed at thrilling the player visually, and yet at the same time these scripted dramas can’t help but mock them.

Stood before you is the character you have been guiding for the past dozen hours, dodging falling masonry and firing a rocket launcher into the underbelly of an escaping helicopter, and yet you are no longer in control; the game is playing itself to a conclusion. The culmination of your adventure has been played out without you, or, and possibly even more heinously, has been played out whilst asking you to occasionally press a random button to keep proceedings flowing; the game intimating that you couldn’t have possibly have done that on your own.

For the most part, videogame storytelling has aped film because during videogame’s growth it has been the standard in visual storytelling, but it is now time for videogames to evolve past that and stand on their own. Whereas films themselves are a single interpretation and vision of a storyline, namely that of the director, games must cope with many players all trying to do different things and so must seek their own way of expressing such narratives. Speaking to CVG last March, Square Enix producer Yoshinori Yamagishi commented that “in film, the creator has control over how he gives the story to the viewer - it’s easier to control the emotions and feelings expected from the viewer.” Hence why when something important needs to be said the safe option is to head into a cutscene so that the player does not miss it, misinterpret it, or ruin the atmosphere by standing on a desk and attempting to stab you boss whilst he tells you of your next deeply important mission, ala Assassin’s Creed.

Some developers already understand this as an error. David Cage, creator of Heavy Rain, compared this standard approach to that of adult films. In an interview with Gamasutra he said of Uncharted, “it gives you a bit of story, then action, then a bit of story, then action - like porn movies, when you think about it.” Not one to speak without actions to backup his comments, his work with Fahrenheit and the forthcoming Heavy Rain attempt to challenge preconceptions about stories in games and make it a core focus for a player.

Though well received, Fahrenheit was something of a mixed bag. Its closing chapters left a lot to be desired and could be sadly likened to a poor episode of the X-Files. The opening scenes, however, captured players’ imagination with their ability to shape a sizeable part of the early story. Waking from a trance in a restaurant’s filthy men’s room, you found your hands convered with blood and a stranger lying dead at your feet. How do you respond? Should you run before anyone comes in? Maybe attempt to clean up the crime and pretend nothing happened? Or would you prefer to turn yourself in? Many things are possible and with it the replayability as you sought to experience the consequences of each possible avenue of choice, almost like the classic Choose Your Own Adventure books of the 80s.

With the imminent Heavy Rain marked as Fahrenheit’s spiritual successor, Cage’s work looks set to continue. But is this the future? Whilst the web of storytelling maybe an intriguing prospect, how game-like can it be? Fahrenheit descended into little more than pattern matching and QTEs by its finale; will Heavy Rain be any different? And are any other titles going to follow suit if it does?

In a recent talk at Game City, David Braben compared the current state of the videogame industry to that of 1930s Hollywood. More specifically, declaring that the likes of Activision and EA are the equivalent to the then MGM and Warner Brothers: “production units that ensure consistency of quality and professionalism at the expense of pushing the envelope and exploring the broadest potentials of their medium.” No great examination is required to reveal that the larger publishers play it safe to recoup the most for their investment, and this doesn’t just go for styles or genres but for storytelling too.

So as with many interesting developments, the indie scene can be seen to be thriving when it comes to pushing a whole menagerie of envelopes. With comparatively little risk and many projects born out of sheer passion, many bedroom coders throw their all into their games with the hope that it will get a little love in a world dominated by multinational giants.

Although approaching its fifth anniversary, indie game Facade has always struck me as a very clever game with an interesting narrative. The entire premise is that you, invited over to a friend’s apartment, witness the end of their marriage. At least, that is one possible outcome. Thrust through use of a first-person view directly into the situation you have the power to talk and act in a bid to help salvage your friend’s relationship or, conversely, drive the final wedge between them. Whereas Fahrenheit used actions to branch its tale, Facade uses words. With an impressive comprehension of most things typed you can play through its short runtime attempting a variety of different tacks.

Though technically a polar opposite, Facade also shares something with Modern Warfare 2 and its terrorist scene; both dramas will continue with or without your involvement. Locked into the first-person perspective you are free to walk around, possibly prompting responses from others but never being forced to react yourself. If the general comparison for videogame story telling is cinema, then this approach is more like theatre-in-the-round, where the audience between them can see every angle of the performance before them. With such a production there is no “one perfect angle”, an informality as the actors turn to address each sections of the audience, and almost a sense of the audience itself intruding in what is unfolding.

For the most part, however, the stories that prove most compelling are those that the players make themselves - the metastories. The week after GTA IV was launched, conversations were all too frequently laden with tales of narrow escapes from the police, amazing feats of driving skill, or of how helicopter gunships were flown back from the pub and parked in someone’s front garden. And it doesn’t just have to be sandbox games, anyone can regale you with how they escaped the horde using nothing but a toothpick in Left 4 Dead, manage to do two loop-the-loops in a warthog and land square on an opposing player’s head, or even how they were moments away from death in Tetris before that long thin block appeared and helped them clear the screen. No matter what type of game it is there will a personal tale to tell.

And for now I believe that it is the player’s own experiences that will craft the greatest tales, for I do not believe that gaming has yet had its own Citizen Kane. We do not know what the best way of how to tell a tale because it hasn’t happened. It is an intangible possibility waiting in the wings. Industry names can all talk about why using cinema as a template may not be the best way to present narrative but until we have our own Rosebud moment we will be just like the cinema of the early 1900s: full of gimmicks and novelties to attract the paying public but with very little lasting substance. Back at the turn of the last century they were stunned by images of a moving train, and in a century’s time will Burnout be regarded in much the same way?

In the same talk Braben asked the question of “when did the games industry start?” Was it with Space Wars? With Pong? The NES? The advent of 3D? Whilst there is an industry, I believe the answer is “when we start telling stories in our own unique way”. The answer, is not yet.

During my life I’ve been through several musical phases. In the mid-nineties I enjoyed the guitar-lead refrains of Britpop; at college I strayed into dance, mixing and the superclubs; whilst my uni days brought me swiftly into the domain known as “cheese”; and since drawing a salary, iTunes tells me that “rock” is my most played genre. By a strange quirk of fate, it appears that the Hero brand is also going these exact phases. Except in reverse.

Starting off with the rock of the initial Guitar Hero, it then slipped into the family pleasing pop of Band Hero before rather swiftly morphing into DJ Hero, complete with amply sized peripheral. Does this march through my music tastes mean that my prayers will be answered and an Ocean Colour Scene Hero will soon be brought to market?

Sticking with the now familiar Hero formula, the aim of DJ Hero is to “play” along with the music being piped through your speakers, matching the on screen actions to obtain as high a score as possible. The only difference between this and the original Guitar Hero being that in addition to pressing buttons in time to the beat you must also scratch and fade between tracks at specified points, mixing two tracks together and sending the crowd euphoric in the process.

To achieve such feats, the DJ Hero controller proves a substantial device. To the left side are a series of buttons and knobs corresponding to crossfaders and effects dials, and to the right a movable turntable, slightly smaller than a dinner plate, with a trio of buttons embedded in it. A somewhat large and yet surprisingly lightweight block of plastic, it is just the right size to sit on a person’s lap without impediment.

Whilst feeling your way around this new fangled device, on-screen three glowing lines run towards you, curved slightly as if they were being spun on a giant record and each representing an aspect of the mix you are about to play. Along them stream a series of dots, all corresponding to one of your three buttons on the deck. Tapping them in time to the rhythm will earn you points and the admiration of the gathering turned out to hear you play. Missing them, however, will cause the music to falter and your set to go askew.

This in itself is not a captivating experience. Apart from the red centre track that represents effects, it is hard to say what you are tapping along to. The rhythm may be flowing and you may be matching the beat but I couldn’t comprehend what those actions were comparable to. In Guitar Hero it is plainly obvious that you are strumming out the tune on your virtual guitar but when mashing The Killers in with Rihanna, why am I tapping out the riffs other than to fill the void in gameplay?

However, this is the folly of starting DJ Hero on an easy difficulty setting. Its strongest credentials are held back for those wanting to brave a stiffer challenge and it is here where the wheels of steel are really spun.

Long coloured bars then charge down the glowing tracks at you, representing a scratch, with the tracks themselves then jumping back and forth to indicate the need for a deft touch on the crossfader. The tapping still persists but these two elements begin to raise DJ Hero from being just another rhythm-action cash in. As with the Guitar Hero, I found myself having a much better time when I pushed myself. It is one thing to score an almost perfect percentage on the middling difficulty settings but it wasn’t fulfilling. Until I felt that I was being asked to try and fade or scratch every ounce of the record I never felt truly involved in the experience, swiftly whipping the fader back and forth and furiously scratching in a bid to keep up with the latest mashup.

Though my enjoyment did increase on these more technical sections, my faith in the hardware diminished. True the turntable is smooth and responsive, but the crossfader was too light and inaccurate. There is a notch in the centre to help differentiate its three settings, nevertheless it had a tendency to fly past my intended track and straight onto the one on the opposite side. When staring at the screen and being asked to flick it back and forth at great speed it seems a little disappointing that such a tiny thing that would ultimately have a large impact on the game was overlooked. I have looked up solutions involving sticky tape to limit the amount of travel but the fact that even needs considering is a shame.

As with all other Hero games, your aim in DJ Hero is to march through a career mode, playing gig after gig and unlocking songs as you go. There are multiplayer modes, including hooking up another deck or a guitar to jam along with the mix but both feel a little strange. None of them have the same group togetherness that you find in any of the band games on the market. Whereas grabbing three extra mates and forming an impromptu Foo Fighters tribute act is the basis for a Rock Band party, I can’t see DJ Hero ever evoking the same emotions in me.

DJ Hero is a solid rhythm action game though, and should be given a chance by the naysayers. The wealth of music included (93 songs) is incredible and the execution of the Hero mechanics has evolved just the right amount so that it is both familiar but also unique, set itself aside from its Guitar brethren and playing to strengths of mixing. For me, however, it just lacked the connection that could have made it a great music game; far too often I felt that I had too little involvement with what was going on, standing on the periphery and occasionally poking buttons. Compare this once again to the Guitar Heroes and Rock Bands of the world and with every song you are not only involved from the very first bar until you repeat-til-fade your way to the end, but you are the star and without you none of that would be happening. Those wanting a fresh challenge will find it here but those wanting another music revolution will leave disappointed.

7/10

Welcome back. I trust that everyone had a good Christmas and enjoyable New Year’s.

With the festive season now ebbing away behind us and the tinsel being returned to its place in the loft for another 11 months, it’s time to get back to the serious business of gaming. 2009 was a good year, handing us a length list that you all obviously enjoyed if your Top 10 Games of the Year voting was anything to go by, and with the high calibre of Bayonetta leading the charge into 2010 we’re already off to a flier.

My personal aim this year is to try at least one MMO without Ali twigging and to hunt down Tony Hawk: RIDE in the January sales at a price that won’t make me weep if reports of its mediocrity are actually true.

I also aim to at least try and become competent at Smackdown v Raw between now and next Christmas; every year my cousins get the annual update from Father Christmas and every year they school me with it. It’s not like I’m unfamiliar with how a joypad works but it’s come such a long way (and that’s not necessarily a good thing) since No Mercy on the N64 that it seems more a brawler than a wrestler. Acting like an elderly relative, this contraption thrust into my hands, I spend the first five minutes asking “what does this button do?” before finding myself flat on my back and a three-count being used against me. God they make me feel old.

A few years ago, of all the licenses that could have been signed by a music game, a child’s set of building blocks must have been quite near the bottom of a rather lengthy list. We’ve seen Metallica, The Beatles and even Van Halen all attach their names to the current craze of plastic instruments and yet here we are with the oddity of Lego Rock Band. Cue gags about Bloc Party, Another Brick in the Wall and Block Rockin’ Beats.

A few years ago, however, we didn’t have Lego Star Wars, Batman or Indiana Jones. Each of which has slowly built the Lego brand into more than a Danish ambassador. The Lego world has developed a character all of its own with an unerring knack in distilling film plots into amusing cutscenes. It has taken three franchises and made them into family friendly experiences where prior knowledge is in no way a prerequisite. And it is this identity that EA have coveted in order to take Rock Band to a broader audience.

Traveller’s Tales have done a superb job in taking the traditional Rock Band experience and encasing it in a Lego bricks. Everything from the opening car chase cinematic to the menu’s background has been tweaked to incorporate blocks whilst still keeping the original’s essence. The biggest change, for it is still Rock Band 2 under this veneer, is in the story mode and its outlandish venues. Rather than clubs and stadiums it starts you off busking at the railway station and moves on to zoos, prehistoric caves, pirate ships, haunted mansions and palaces.

The Lego theme isn’t just limited to scenery however, and as you rise to stardom special gigs will become available. Some offer the opportunity to embody the likes of Blur, Queen and Bowie, all perfectly recreated in minifig form. Others will get your band to turn their hand to some rather specialist tasks. Were you aware that the power of rock can be used to banish ghosts, bring down buildings and even defrost explorers who became lost in the Arctic? No?

Although silly, the accompanying videos are packed with all the charm that you expect from the Lego series; the only negative being that you have to watch your stream of notes and not the unfolding shenanigans. Everyone in your band and management team can be seen capering about the stage with each and every one of them customisable. Currently my band has a peg-legged pirate on vocals, a ticket conductor on bass whilst a deep sea diver plays lead guitar on a par with Hendrix himself. As for me, the least said about my giant vegetable drum kit the better.

Despite all that, disappointment creeps in as Lego Rock Band is a twelve-month old product hiding behind a new wardrobe and it shows little sign of progression. Although tuned for accessibility – you can’t fail a song, there’s a super easy move, and drummers can ignore the foot pedal entirely - it still lacks basic features. There’s no option to jump in mid-song, or even mid-tour, and the Thomas brothers will once again have to fight over the drum sticks as the opportunity for two people to play the same instrument remains absent. These omissions are made worse by rival Guitar Hero having addressed them both.

Whether Lego Rock Band is for you will be down to an individual’s position. Those previously put off by the brand’s rocker image should put worries aside and start clearing space for your plastic band now. For Rock Band veterans, it’s a harder sell. Treating it as a bonus song pack will be dictated by personal taste but the clincher should be whether the enticement of having a band made completely out of minifigs can be resisted. Either way, what it does well is add a much needed sense of humour to what is becoming a formulaic experience.

Now do excuse me, I need to go and chase away an octopus from my lead singer’s ship.

8/10

The point-and-click genre is one that I have to limit my exposure to; an overdose can see my mind a little unhinged. It causes me to stare at every day objects wondering how I could combine a roll of sticky tape with my lunchbox and just what the hell I would then use it for.

My last experience was with the Sam & Max and Monkey Island episodes and whilst the humour was as good as it ever has been, I missed the dynamics that came animated sprites in a 2D world. The character that can be encapsulated in a simple animation is far and above that which can be squeezed from Maya. Compare a classic like Discworld to its modern day counterparts and the same level of expression cannot be found - and anyone wishing to differ should try to recreate that dunny scene before disagreeing.

This is one of the many reasons that Machinarium has become an instant favourite. From the very first moment you can see the love that is poured into every inch of its stylised world; against the backdrop of a craterous landscape, tiny robots buzz about whilst in the distance a city looms. The hand-drawn backgrounds that you greet you in each new scene are all exceptional and are packed with subtleties that would no doubt have been lost if a third dimension were added.

The same can be said for the robotic stars themselves. Controlling a small, nameless robot, you send him tottering around in search of his lost robot girlfriend. This story is not conveyed through traditional means, though, rather through thought bubbles playing short cartoon snippets. Considering dialogue is a foundation of similar games, it’s a bold choice but one that fits within the robot world; these metal beings have transcended the need to vocalise thoughts.

However, style alone does not make a game and at its core Machinarium is very traditional where collected items are used and combined to complete puzzles. The path towards your love is continually blocked by locked doors, nefarious characters and the occasional 8ft policeman demanding batteries for their cuddly toy, all of which you have the power to solve given the right mental approach.

The quality bar for these posers is high throughout and most will get your grey matter churning, although none are as obscure as to cause migraines. Cracking one that has been staring you in the face for a period of time is still supremely satisfying but every solution makes sense - you just need to be attentive and thinking in the right plane. Pages are also taken from Professor Layton’s book with a smattering of straight-up logic puzzles offering a break from thinking too abstractly.

Superbly attentive design also keeps frustration to a minimum. This is not to say that brainteasers they set are easy - many will have you scratching your metal head until inspiration dawns - but whether it be limited screen clutter, keeping many puzzles on a single screen or allowing you to stand only in predefined spots, they reduce red herrings to the smallest amount possible. All of which in turn keeps your brain clear to concentrate on the puzzles in hand.

For those who do come a cropper there is always help at hand. Clicking the light bulb permanently ensconced at the top of your screen will, through use of more robot thought bubbles, show you your objective in that particular area. Although not a huge give away it can get you back on track and even prove an utter life saver when staring blankly at a dog trapped on the other side of a canal. A further step-by-step guide is also offered by completing a small Gradius-esque mini-game but both should be used sparingly to gain the most from your adventure.

The trouble with a game like Machinarium is that all of the high points are wrapped up so tightly in brainteasers that if revealed they would ruin it for everyone else. Safe to say, those willing will be met with some of the most cunning and rewarding puzzles to grace the PC in recent times. Much like Portal, it may also not be longest of adventures but any game which leaves you feeling sad when the credits roll is a game worth paying attention to. Pitched just right, it doesn’t pad out the experience for the sake of it and Machinarium leaves you wanting more.

9/10

Originally published on www.7outof10.co.uk

Games, if I may take a moment of your time to state the obvious, are complex items. Most modern titles are the result of many multiple of years’, if not decades’, worth of man-hours. Bioshock didn’t happen overnight; Ocarina of Time wasn’t dropped into Miyamoto’s arms by a passing stork; and the original Metal Gear Solid was definitely no happy accident. Each were carefully and lovingly assembled by a dedicated team who in the hope that they all might sit side by side in harmony and produce something magical as a result.

From inception to release the entire process is about resource management. Early on a small team, maybe skeletal in numbers, will work on a concept aiming to produce a prototype that not only gets across their core concepts but also acts as a showcase that can also be used to pitch their vision to a publisher. This could be the ubiquitous “vertical slice” or a more focused experience targeting just a solitary aspect. Either way, the choices of where their effort should be focused can be crucial. Many games never make it beyond this point, and not just because they are poor ideas; the design may be fixated on one aspect that the publishers simply don’t want or staff are spread so thinly across multiple areas that the overall quality suffers.

Should the concept be “green lit”, then the same issue arises again but on a far broader scale. With the team moving into full production the purse strings are loosened and extra staff are brought on board, either from other internal teams that may have recently shipped or with new hires. From having to initially impress the publishers, the target is to now impress the public and it is imperative that the increase in headcount is used effectively.

However, no matter how many producers and schedulers are involved there will be hiccups along the way. Requirements will change with internal/external influences, technical difficulties will crop up at inopportune moments, and the design has a tendency to evolve over time. One way to continue to meet milestones and stay on target is to cut whole sections of a project. If it’s not utterly integral then right up until the gold discs are pressed then features can hit the cutting room floor to save time in both development and testing. Something I can attest to first-hand.

An experienced team will know exactly what to remove. Having lived with the game since its birth then they will have a pretty good idea as to its strength and which areas need to be addressed. It is at this point that they don’t need a remit handed down from on high stating that no matter what feature X must stay. Or worse still, be added.

Speaking to Giant Bomb a couple of weeks ago, Ex-Midway producer John Vignocchi spoke of being forced to add multiplayer elements into Stranglehold, the 2007 game from John Woo. Claiming it was the “worst part of the game” he admitted that “no one wanted it” and in doing so he struck a chord with a great many people, both developers and gamers. There are countless games that have had multiplayer forced upon them simply because designers or, even worse, management feel that they need to include it. What then usually follows is a mediocre death match rehash that steals resources from the main game and yet adds nothing of value to the package as a whole.

This pandemic has existed for a long time, occasionally spilling over into a delusion that the multiplayer component is so strong that it can stand on its own (see Turok: Rage Wars). It has, however, been exacerbated by the introduction and standardisation of online platforms such as Xbox Live and the PlayStation Network. The comparative ease at which an online mode can be created means that developers feel compelled to do so. The likes of Prey, The Darkness, Haze, Stranglehold and Condemned 2 have all sullied the bandwidth of ISPs everywhere (although probably only briefly) and whilst none of their single-player components could be described as dreadful I doubt that the amount of man-hours invested in what - in most cases - felt like a tacked on multiplayer could not have been better spent elsewhere.

To put this into context, imagine if a good proportion of the Fallout 3 development staff had been taken off the main game to create a competitive shooter. Whilst this may make some salivate, think about which portion of the game’s polish you would sacrifice to obtain that. Would it still have received such glowing reviews across the board if it were compromised in such a way?

A growing trend is that whole separate studios are drafted in to develop a game’s multiplayer, which then could be argued that they are no longer dividing a team’s focus. Ultimately, though, there is still a cheque being written for the that work somewhere in the world.

But it is not just a division of resources. Part of what made Bioshock so incredibly special was the complete and immersive nature of Rapture. You were alone in a world of unhinged maniacs with nothing but the trickle of water and series of dubious syringes for company. Had the team not had the strength to resist the urge to put in an online component then I doubt it would have the same rush when I think back to my time spent under the waves. The sense of solitude would be dashed if, in the very same environment you had just lumbered as a Big Daddy, a pop-up exclaimed that you had just unlocked that map in Team Splicematch. The next time through I would not be able to shake the thought of other players having fought each other where I stood, most probably turning the air blue at the same time.

Of course, all single-player repercussions aside, when multiplayer works as well as it does in Halo or Call of Duty then many things can be forgiven. Those two brands alone have captured what fans what from an online shooter and over several iterations have managed to improve and refine the experience. Every ounce of effort poured in has paid off and they have made a daunting benchmark for any studio wishing to steal bragging rights from Bungie and Infinity Ward. So it begs the question, why would they try?

Returning to the list above, did Prey honestly believe itself better than Halo? Were those at Free Radical really thinking that Haze would actually dethrone Call of Duty? Deep down developers know where their game stands long before Metacritic begins its aggregation and I’m sure if they were being honest they would say “no”. Just because a game features guns it does not mean that is also has to feature multiplayer and it’s a shame that more developers aren’t brave enough to admit this.

The most interesting online modes that have emerged in recent times are those that try a different tact or where serious thought has been put into the strengths of a game: the one-up-manship in Red Faction’s destruction frenzies; the MMO stylings of Borderlands; and the care and attention lavished on Uncharted 2. There are enough shooters in the world that a mediocre and unloved multiplayer bolt-on should no longer be tolerated; and if we never see a co-op as lacklustre as Fable II’s again, we’ll be making progress.