Give it away Now: Spoilers in Video Games

Naturally, this post contains SPOILERS about several popular games and movies. However, most of them are from properties at least ten-years-old (aside from the Batman: Arkham City plot point that inspired this article), so there’s a good chance you’ll be alright if you read this.


Last week, on Friday, September 30, Kotaku published a preview on Batman: Arkham City, a recap of author Kirk Hamilton’s experience with a build he was playing at PAX. Upon release, the article was met with cries of dissent and barely-stifled indignation. The reason: the article’s headline and accompanying graphic revealed that, during the first act of Batman: Arkham City, the Joker dies.

Sifting through the comments, one can easily pick out a common thread between them: there should have been more warning, the twist shouldn’t have been so obvious to people who may not have wanted to read it, etc. The developers were cool with Hamilton writing about the event, so it’s not as though he was out of line regarding what he should or shouldn’t have said, but Arkham City fans appeared to think differently, at least in regards to how the article was titled.

This post isn't a complaint about Kotaku's decision-making in publishing, nor is it meant to put Kirk Hamilton on blast for his Arkham City article (which, incidentally, is a well-written and informative preview focused largely on the game's play mechanics). Instead, I want to take a larger look at spoilers and their place in the gaming press.

PARTY FOUL!

If you follow the gaming press, there's a good chance you come across many small spoilers every day. Every preview on The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword, every review of Resistance 3, every editorial about the latter half of Rage contains potential spoilers, spoilers of where you'll visit and what you'll do when you get there. More often than not, these are minor, relatively harmless spoilers that won't upset any but die-hard dry-runners (I remember hearing a Game Informer podcast where an editor reminisced about some readers complaining when they mentioned that you would get missiles in an upcoming Metroid game. Come on).

Different, though, are major spoilers about certain, plot-crucial moments. More often than not, they're warned about ahead of time, but sometimes, like in the God of War 3 episode of G4's Feedback, they can come out unexpectedly. There’s a joked-about “Spoiler Statute of Limitations” that says revealing twists for older games is fine (e.g. “Aerith dies at the end of disc one” isn’t a party foul anymore anymore), but discussing major story elements of games that are new are off-limits (particularly, games that haven’t come out yet).

Oddly, some story elements first considered spoilers end up perfectly acceptable to talk about as the series goes on. When Assassin's Creed first released in 2007, several publications ended up bending over backwards to avoid discussing the Desmond portions of the game, instead conveying that the title was a period piece, and not set in the near future. Now, Desmond's role in the series well-known, and is an often-discussed aspect of the series.

Back in 2007, everyone pretended that this was a historical fiction series. Now, it's generally accepted that Assassin's Creed is straight-up sci-fi.

Why do folks get so worked up about spoilers? For me, it denies me the opportunity to discover the material for myself, and to react to it within the context of the game/movie/whatever. Granted some spoilers don’t phase me too badly (“No, I am your father”), because these moments are often integrated into the public narrative of the piece (is there anyone who doesn’t, at least partially, think of The Sixth Sense as “the movie about where Bruce Willis is dead”). New games/movies/etc. don’t have the opportunity to establish their identity yet, and certain big moments, when taken out of context, can detract from both the individual moment’s impact, and the impact in the larger context of the experience (e.g. the nuke scene from Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare, or the scene in Andrew Ryan’s office in BioShock).

Games still function even if the story is spoiled, though. Even if I were to find out what happens at the end of Dark Souls before finishing the game, I can still enjoy the title as a journey, having fun with the combat and world-building, and taking in the game as an experience. Perhaps this is why the gaming press is less concerned with spoilers: at the end of the day, games are meant to be played. Compare this to movie press: the average film-goer attends movies on the basis of their narratives (compared to, say, the sound design or the cinematography), so it behooves critics to reveal as little about the fine details of the film's plot as they can (less, in fact, than many trailers). A video game, on the other hand, lives and dies by the strength of its gameplay, and ancillary plot details won't steal the fun from solid game design. Some games suffer more than others by having their story spoiled (I would personally punch anyone who ruins the ending of Alan Wake for me), but the actual gameplay itself often compensates for a less-compelling narrative.

Even if I knew how the story ended, I could still enjoy the gameplay.

Part of why I think this Batman story has been so harshly attacked is because video games so often lack quality, spoiler-worthy narratives. Some game stories are as predictable as the sunrise: Mario will always rescue Peach, the Pokemon trainer will always defeat the Elite Four, and that plucky girl you met up with at the start of your quest is probably a princess in disguise. Batman is an unusually character-driven property, and Arkham Asylum provided an involving story that well-utilized nearly every character involved. Fans were likely hoping for similar involvement in the story, and became agitated at the apparent flippancy with which a perhaps-major story point was revealed.

For me, it ultimately comes down to choice. Sometimes, I don't mind when I find out crucial details of a game's plot in advance, especially if I don't plan on playing through it, or I'm not particularly invested in the game's story (e.g. Gears of War 3). However, there are other times where I'll go to absurd lengths to protect myself from dreaded "thpoilerth;" when Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows first released, I spent most of the two days it took me to finish the book in my room, cut off from communication in case my friend's manager at Pizza Hut stole his phone and texted me a list of which characters died (something my friend warned me he would do and, in fact, did).

My point being: spoilers are far less offensive when I choose for them to be spoiled. If I choose to go on Wikipedia and read about the plot of a game I don’t have time to play, I am willing to incur any penalties or cheapenings that happen if I do decide to play it. However, if someone on the street were to walk up to me back in 1997 and blurt out that Sheik is actually Zelda in disguise, I’d be more than a little ticked off. I should be able to choose if I want a major plot point revealed to me ahead of time, and not a moment before.

On the other hand, I think I would have preferred to know that I wouldn’t be playing as Snake the whole time.

[Originally appeared on VGTribune.com, October 7, 2011]

Oh, Oh, It's Magic -- Magic: The Gathering: Duel of the Planeswalker 2012

I've been a fan of collectable card games for over ten years, ever since I bought my first booster pack of Pokémon TCG cards. I'm not sure if it's my latent Montanan predilection for gambling, or because my affection for board games has never truly gone away, but collectable card games have always scratched a gaming itch I can't find anywhere else. Unfortunately, CCGs require two things I, for the most part, lack: an involved community with whom I can play my cards, and a large chunk of disposable income for accumulating new cards.

Fortunately, Stainless Games has me covered with their series of Magic: The Gathering games of Xbox Live Arcade. With their two Magic titles, Duel of the Planeswalkers and Duel of the Planeswalkers 2012, Stainless provides a refined Magic experience, eschewing the deck-building that can be intimidating for some (i.e. me) in favor of pre-built, balanced decks, while still allowing for a degree of customization, and retaining the series’ deep rule set and satisfying gameplay.

I cut my teeth into the original Duel of the Planeswalkers back in 2009. The turn-based, strategic combat helped ease my mind when I was stressed, and it even helped me through a post-hangover New Year’s Day. My excitement turned palpable when Stainless announced a follow-up title, Duel of the Planeswalkers 2012, earlier this year; it eventually released on June 15, 2011. I held off buying it at the time because I was playing through DotP’s third DLC pack, and didn’t want to overwhelm myself. When it finally showed up on the Xbox Live Deal of the Week for half price earlier this week, though, it was unavoidable: I purchased it immediately, and have been loving it ever since.

Yeah, they're just cards, but use your imagination, and it looks like this.

The most immediately-noticeable thing about Duel of the Planeswalkers 2012 is the updated UI. Stainless has cleaned up a good deal of the mess from the original Planeswalkers, streamlining the HUD that shows your cards, life, and what phase of your turn you’re in. Stainless has also made the proceedings go back faster; Plainswalker 2012 has far shorter loading times than the first title, and on a whole, the game seems to clip by faster than its predecessor.

The new cards look exceptional as well, highly detailed for your zooming pleasure (let’s face it, half the fun of magic is checking out the awesome artwork on the cards). The decks from Duel of the Planeswalkers have been heavily overhauled for their appearance in Planeswalkers 2012, largely keeping the same theme, but adding new cards to the mix. Stainless has also added a few new, more unique decks, like a Black/Blue/White artifact deck, or a Blue/White Creature Deck.

Of course, graphical polish and new cards aren’t the only things Planeswalkers 2012 has to offer. The game’s single player campaign has been given a dose of player choice, allowing gamers to occasionally choose between two different deck types to play against, or offering a host of puzzle-like one-on-one challenges. In addition to the main campaign, there’s a revenge campaign, which simply re-orders the AI opponents, and a new Archenemy campaign, which pits three players against one super powered one. It’s neither the deepest nor the most original single player game, but it’s a step-up from the previous iteration.

Clashing art. Go with it, alright?

I haven’t had time to check out the multiplayer yet, but my enthusiasm for online Duel of the Planeswalkers died after one-too-many folks who bailed on my game when it looked like they wouldn’t win. Bummer.

For gamers who like collectable card games, now is a great time to pick up a digital iteration of the best one out there, and for 400 Microsoft Points ($5), it’s an absolute steal.

Gold and Silver! Silver and Gold! (c) Yukon Cornelius -- Pokémon Gold and Silver -- The Pokémon Retrospective

After playing the ever loving crap out of Blue, getting my paparazzi on in Snap, and owning fools in Stadium, I discovered that Nintendo was hard at work on a Game Boy continuation of the Pokémon franchise. The bullet point list of improvements was incredible: 100 more Pokémon, a day and night cycle, eight new Gyms, and the entire region from the first game available for unlock after joining the Pokémon League. For a series that, to me, was not in need of major renovations, Nintendo came out swinging with a laundry list of upgrades.

Pokémon Silver takes place in the Johto region, a western province based on the Kansai region of Japan, and it’s full of new sights to see. Like the first game, the player is a young boy setting out on an adventure to become the world’s greatest Pokémon trainer, with only the shirt on your back and the Pokéballs at your belt. Along the way, players will travel to new cities (all named for different species of plants), battle new trainers, and capture all sorts of new Pokémon.

New town, same ol' Pokémon Center.

The biggest change to Pokémon Silver comes in the form of an internal clock, which tracks the time of day. The environment changes depending on what time it is (if the game is played at night, the areas will become darker), and gameplay is affected by the time as well. Certain Pokémon only come out at night or in the morning, and several moves are more effective when used during a particular time of day.

While they do add a fair bit of gameplay variety, I was never too chuffed with the day/night cycle. It took the deep, fantasy world which I loved and tied it too strongly to the real world, and gave it a “game-y” edge to boot. Not to mention it was now impossible to try to find wild Pokémon; I wasn’t sure if certain creatures were rare, would only come out during the evening, or both. This probably could have been helped if I had bought a strategy guide, but catching ‘em all still seemed like far too daunting a task.

Though it added depth, I didn't care much for the addition of night.

Of course, more was brought to the table than just the clock. After players beat the Elite Four, they could take a bullet train to the Kanto region, where the first game took place. From there, players could journey back through old haunts and re-challenge the likes of Brock, Sabrina, Giovanni, and other old Gym Leaders.

I was super excited for this feature, but it turned out to be slightly less than advertised. When I finally reached Kanto, it had been waaayyyyy downsized from the way it was in Blue. I understand that it would have taken far too much memory to include such a huge map into an already enormous game, but I was still slightly disappointed. That said, I enjoyed grinding through 16 Badges was way more than I did grinding through eight, so the Johto/Kanto split was ultimately a good thing.

You hop on the metro to get to another region. Did I mention this game was made in Japan?

The last major shakeup was the Pokégear, a set of gadgets at the player’s disposal that functioned as a watch, map, radio, and cell phone. The cell phone part is the real kicker—players could now save the phone numbers of other trainers and call them for rematches, helping earn extra experience points.

Gold also took advantage of the Game Boy Color’s IR port with a feature called Mystery Gift. Once a day, players with two copies of Gold or Silver could Mystery Gift each other and receive a special, randomized item; the item could be something as simple as a Potion or as fabulous as a Rare Candy. Sadly, since I didn’t know anyone with a copy of either Gold or Silver, I never got to use this feature (I was now in 8^th grade, and Pokémon was now for Pokélosers).

There was also the usual assortment of new TMs (devices that taught Pokémon different moves), health items (Pokémon could now hold items called Berries, which restored HP or cured status ailments in battle), and Pokémon techniques to try out, making for a fresh experience overall.

Folks like this old bloke helpfully explain the new mechanics like berries, which is right nice of them.

My favorite additions to Silver, though, were the fixes to my minor complaints from the last one. Pokémon Box full? Someone will call you and swap it! Need to level a weak Pokémon so it can evolve? Have it hold the Experience Share! Hoping the Pokémon you’re trying to catch won’t dodge the Ultra Ball you’re throwing at it? IT WON’T NOW! If nothing else, Silver was a polishing experience that made me realize how much room for improvement the first game had.

Unfortunately, I think the Pokémon franchise suffers a bit from the law of diminished returns, and while I enjoyed the crap out of my time with Silver, it wasn’t quite as memorable as Blue. Though I had a good time travelling around, I wasn’t able to remember very many of the city names (I think the original’s decision to name each town after a different color was a solid one). I also found myself falling back on old, G-1 ‘mons instead of trying the new, fancy ones introduced in Silver.

There were a few cool-looking monsters I adopted, but I mostly stuck to what I was familiar with.

Still, as a follow-up to the wildly popular original, Silver was about as ambitious as you could hope for, and succeeded in many places the original didn’t. It also helped keep the Pokéstoke going in my heart, letting me know that this series wasn’t just a fad. It wasn’t the revelation that Blue was, but it was a damn fine game, and sometimes that’s all I need.

When I'm Sixty-Four -- Pokémon Snap and Pokémon Stadium -- The Pokémon Retrospective (2/7)

As a Pokéfan who loved his Nintendo 64, I was absolutely jacked at the thought of what Nintendo could do to my new favorite series on their 64-bit wonder console. Nintendo knew how to manage their franchises, and they eventually released four Pokémon titles on the N64 (two of which we’ll talk about today). Though both weren’t quite what I imagined, they were still fun in their own right, and hold a worth place in my library to this day.

When rumors of Pokémon migrating to home consoles first reached my ears in 1999, I imagined a full-on adventure, exploring the polygonal countryside and visiting expansive, 3D cities. In short, I wanted something like The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, but with Charizard in lieu of the Master Sword.

Several months later, I remember seeing screenshots of a fully 3D Meowth and Pidgey in my issues of Nintendo Power. My mind raced with the possibilities, and, after pursuing every scrap of knowledge I could about the game, I found out that Pokémon’s debut on my favorite console would be…

A photography game? What?

Pokémon Snap

Yes, dear readers, the first Pokémon title to reach the comforts of the couch was a game where you shoot pictures of Pokémon instead of battling them. Sounds like the perfect recipe for lame sauce, right? You would be bubble-burstingly wrong, and I had a great time with Snap back in the day.

The game stars a young boy named Todd (you may have seen him on the TV show), who is exceptionally good at photographing Pokémon in their natural habitat. Todd is invited by Professor Oak to a small island to take pictures of the Pokémon that live there. On the island, he will travel through six different environments, discovering new Pokémon and doing his darndest to get them to say “cheese.”

Creativity and quick thinking can result in some fun and high-scoring pictures.

Pokémon Snap is basically an on-rails shooter. You travel along a predetermined path, taking pictures of whatever Pokémon you can before reaching a predetermined endpoint. You also have different items to lure Pokémon in from of your lens; food attracts the different ‘mons to where it’s dropped, while Pester Balls drive Pokémon away from where they’re thrown.

The real draw of Snap is its in-depth scoring system. After you get through with a level, you choose which pictures you want Professor Oak to evaluate. Oak scores the picture based on a whole host of criteria: how big the Pokémon is, what sort of pose it’s striking, if the picture is centered, and how many of the certain ‘mon is in the picture. Even though there are only six courses to go through, a heap of replay value comes from going through the stages and attempting to get better and better scoring pictures.

Snap's scoring system is surprisingly robust, and I put away many hours perfecting my high scores.

Of course, it is called Pokémon Snap, and the actual creatures themselves look great. The art style carried over to 3D really well, with the cool monsters looking totally sweet, and the cute monsters looking absolutely adorable. The environments are basic, but project a strong sense of place that makes up for their lack of graphical fidelity.

The only real complaint I have with Snap (apart from only having six environments) is that the game only has 61 different Pokémon. 61. That’s 89 less than there should be. I imagine that the developers ran out of memory to include more environments and all 150 different ‘mons, but it’s still slightly disappointing all the same.

Side note: you could pick your favorite pictures and take your cartridge to Blockbuster Video, where you could print out stickers of the pictures you took at a special station. The feature was a bit frivolous, but fun all the same; we were more of a Hastings family growing up, but I did manage to convince my parents to visit Blockbuster once in order to get my stickers. I frankly don’t remember what I did with them, but the novelty was fun.

The only thing more hilarious than the notion of a kid actually using this, is the kid who actually used it.

Snap was a fun diversion, but the real meat was coming, and faster than I suspected. As usual, Nintendo Power gave me forewarning about the game, and it sounded awesome: this new game allowed for battles between all 150 Pokémon in full 3D.

Of course, it would basically be only battles, but was beside the point.

Pokémon Stadium

Released in February 2000 to much fanfare, Pokémon Stadium let players battle in 3D for the first time. Pokémon Stadium is as true to its name as it could possibly be—instead of an epic, sprawling quest of travelling and filling Pokédex pages, you battle trainers in a stadium. It sounds barebones, and it is in some ways, but Stadium offers a surprising amount of options for a game that with an almost tunnel vision-focus on combat.

Players have two major options to choose from when the first enter Pokémon Stadium. The first is the Stadium itself, where players can compete in four different cups, each with its own rules and restrictions. The cups include the Pika Cup (for Pokémon levels 15 – 20), the Petit Cup (levels 25 – 30, with an additional weight limitation), the Poké Cup (levels 50 – 55), and the Prime Cup (up to level 100; all opponents’ Pokémon are level 100). Each cup consists of eight three-on-three battles, with players choosing which out of their six to send into the fray. In addition, the Poké and Prime cups have four different divisions, each named after a different kind of Pokéball (Pokéball, Great Ball, Ultra Ball, and Master Ball), giving the Stadium mode further legs.

For the first time, players could experience the thrill of victory and agony of defeat in three dimensions of goodness.

The other option is the Gym Leader Castle, where players can challenge Gym Leaders and collect badges, similar to the Game Boy games. In each Gym, players must first defeat three trainers before ultimately challenging the Gym Leader him or herself. This mode has a bit more of a narrative thrust than the Stadium mode, and the different Gyms all look varied and dramatic. Gym Leader Castle is also tough as nails, and took me a rather long time to work through.

This actually goes for the rest of the modes in Stadium as well. Unlike Blue, the trainers in Stadium don’t have any bullcrap, sissy moves like Harden or Tackle. No, they are out for Pokéblood, and will fight you to the very last. Fortunately, the results never feel cheap, and the computer never seems to swing in the AI’s favor; this helps the game feel less like a grind, and asks players to think strategically about their moves.

Stadium is far from a cakewalk, but the feeling of progression is incredible.

The main draw to Stadium is the ability to import Pokémon from a player’s copy of Red and Blue. This is done with the use of the Transfer Pak, an accessory that plugs into the bottom of the N64 controller. Players can insert their copy of Red or Blue into the Transfer Pak and see their team brought to life in full 3D, adding a point of pride to the competition. Players can also play the Game Boy game on their TV sets in an area called the Game Boy Tower (it’s about as straight-forward as it sounds).

With this little accessory, I could see hundreds of hours of my life represented onscreen. It was effing sweet.

There are a few extra modes as well. Players can rent Pokémon and engage in Free Battle, and players with two Transfer Paks and their own copies of Pokémon Red or Blue can enter an Event Battle, which allows for things like custom rule sets. The Gallery option allows Pokémon to be photographed, which can then be printed at the Blockbuster stations mentioned above. Lastly, the Kids Club has a series of nine Mario Party-style mini-games, ranging from watching Rattata race over hurdles on a running track, to a Lickitung version of Hungry Hungry Hippos.

While not quite what I was expecting, I ate up Stadium, and have many fond memories playing it (even writing about it makes me want to go fire it up right now). However, it’s not a game for those unfamiliar with the franchise. The adventure elements that helped make the game popular are absent, and the difficulty curve is steep and craggy. Still, for the already-converted, it is a hell of a good time, and, as Nintendo Power wrote in their review, “it’s super effective.”

The Ones I Missed

There were two other Pokémon games released for the Nintendo 64 that I didn’t buy; by the time they came out, I was thigh-deep in Nintendo Gamecube stuff, and didn’t have time to fiddle faddle with outdated technology. The first was Pokémon Stadium 2, which was similar to the first Pokémon Stadium, but allowed for players to use their copies of Pokémon Gold and Silver (which we’ll cover next time). Stadium 2 also included more cup types, Gym Leaders, mini-games, and a Pokémon Academy where players could bone up on battle strategies. Basic, but adequate for a sequel to Stadium.

The other was an odd, very late-in-the-game title called Hey You, Pikachu. Hey You was comparable to the Dreamcast game Seaman: players used a microphone peripheral to talk to Pikachu in order to cultivate a friendship with it. Unlike Seaman, which featured a sarcastic Leonard Nemoy as the titular pet, Hey You, Pikachu featured, well, everyone’s favorite yellow electric mouse in all of his red-cheeked, er, glory. I can’t even begin to tell you how this game was played, and it sold rather poorly, if I remember correctly.

Concluding Thoughts

It’s easy to kvetch and whine about the lack of a full-length Pokémon RPG for the N64, but a home console version of the game would be missing the point. Pokémon was, at heart, a social game, and the draw of trading and battling friends would have been incredibly stunted if kept confined to the living room. In fact, the only way to effectively duplicate the Pokémon experience on a home console would be to make it a World of Warcraft-style MMORPG, which the Nintendo 64 would not have been capable of. Come to think of it, though, that’s not such a bad idea…

Next up: Gold and Silver

In The Beginning -- Pokémon Red and Blue -- The Pokemon Retrospective (1/7)

I don’t remember the exact moment I was compelled to rush out to the store and buy my copy of Pokémon Blue, but I imagine the scenario went something like this. As a borderline-religious reader of Nintendo Power magazine, I was constantly (and I mean constantly) bombarded with previews and sneak peeks and inside looks at this new franchise coming stateside. A franchise that reached frothing levels of popularity in Japan, and now threatened to ensnare North American gamers everywhere.

This sounded like a right treat for me; it had all of the adventuresome thrills of a Super Nintendo epic, but could fit in my ‘ittle bitty Game Boy. Like so many other times in life, though, I was waiting for just the right reason to rap me on the head, tell me to quit procrastinating, and get my mom to take me to Target and buy it. The reason finally came in the form of Nintendo Power issue 111—bundled into the back was a mini-magazine called “Pokémon Power,” a six-part walkthrough spread out over six issues. “Pokémon Power” had in-game area maps, item and trainer placements, and details on all eight Gym Leaders as only Nintendo Power could bring it to me (can I have my money now, guys?).

This little bugger was invaluable in getting my addiction started.

The combination of the media blitz, supplemental magazine goodies, and a powerful ten-year-old’s imagination finally won out, and I settled on Pokémon Blue (and would continue to buy the “alternate version” for every iteration after that). Dear readers, if I can’t remember the exact circumstance that lead me to buy Pokémon, I will remember, until my dying day, the thrill of standing in my kitchen, commanding my Charmander to victory over Brock’s Onyx, earning me my first Gym Badge. The taste of victory was sweet, the smell of adventure musky, and before I knew it, I was a Pokémaniac.

To get an idea of why Andrew from 1998 fell head-over-heels for this little 8-bit wonder, please allow me to repeat myself a bit. First of all, Pokémon Blue is absolutely ENORMOUS. Far from the small-sized Game Boy adventures I was used to, and large even compared to many SNES games at the time, Pokémon Blue was a game that could occupy much—MUCH—of my time. At an age when new games were scarce, and I had to milk every fresh cartridge I had to the very last, Pokémon Blue’s longevity was heaven-sent.

Blue was also bursting with imaginative possibilities. The Game Boy was not a graphical powerhouse by any means, but this added to Blue’s appeal by letting me fill in the details with my mind. The game’s graphics showed only part of the scenery’s look, but I loved picturing how the game “really” looked, and imagining going through it with my trusty team. Far from stunting my imagination, Pokémon Blue acted as a catalyst for many adventures I would have in the years to come.

Lastly, I think Blue was my first epic quest. In the days before Chrono Trigger and Final Fantasy VII opened my eyes to sprawling worlds and myriad journeys, Pokémon Blue gave me a massive countryside and told me, “Go get ‘em, tiger.” I felt important, like I could conquer everything. I was destined for greatness. I was gonna catch ‘em all.

Adventure is out there!

As a sidenote, Red and Blue was a veritable Wild West for what was possible with was possible to accomplish in a video game. Rumors abounded with what you could find and do: “Hey, if you go back to the S.S. Anne at the exact right time, you can ride it to the Orange Islands!” “Dude, go back to the spot where you found Mewtwo, then use the Pokéflute and Moonstone, and you can catch Mew!” “Aw man, when you catch all 150 Pokémon, go talk to Professor Oak, and he’ll take you to a new town where you can buy Rare Candies!” In the days before internet walkthroughs, these sorts of discussions happened all the time, and Pokémon was an especially popular target for them.

There was a good reason for all of the rumors and homespun remedies, though. The early Pokémon games were glitchy as hell. Exploits for duplicating items, finding certain Pokémon in places you weren’t supposed to, and even a new game-breaking glitch-émon were both possible and public knowledge, leading us to wonder what else was out there.

What the deuce is that?!

Blue is my favorite Pokémon game to date, but oh lordy, they did not make it easy on us back then. Pokémon Blue was the Isla de Muerta of video games, nigh unplayable except to those who already knew how to play it. The game certainly didn’t explain how the mechanics work, and the few tutorials that were there acted more like theoretical guidelines. It was pretty damn sink-or-swim, and I often wonder if I would have liked it was much if it wasn’t for my beloved Nintendo Power.

Blue would see its many kinks ironed out in later iterations, but I’m going to name off a few of my favorites. First and foremost, future installments would allow Pokémon not in battle to collect Experience Points through an item called Experience Share; this would allow weak Pokémon to level quickly while stronger ‘mons did the battling for them. In Blue, this feature was ABSENT. I won’t go into the finer details of why this was a pain in the ass, but it basically made leveling weak Pokémon incredibly time-consuming.

There are several other niggling complaints I have with the game, my favorite being the system that stores Pokémon after you’ve caught them. Pokémon are stored in boxes, and each box can hold 20 Pokémon. Well and good, but the game doesn’t do a good job of telling the player how many are in each box at a time. This leads to the inevitable encounter with an über rare Pokémon, only to find that game won’t allow it to be caught because the box is full, and there’s a half-hour hike to the nearest Pokémon Center if you want to do anything about it.

Great. Just great.

These complaints are just peanuts, though, considering how well the game comes together. The franchise was set in motion, and Red and Blue sparked a worldwide phenomenon. Though many, arguably superior versions would follow them, Red and Blue will always be the ones that started everything, and there will always be a special place in my heart for Blue.

Countdown to Black and White -- The Pokemon Retrospective

After four years, two rereleases, and an announcement of a new handheld, it’s finally happened. A new Pokémon game has ascended from on high to claim the hearts and minds of America’s youth, and the wallets and credit cards of their parents. Forgoing the precious metal naming scheme of the previous two installments, Pokémon Black and White have been released, promising new ‘mons to collect (the total count is now 649), new cities and countryside to explore, and new Gym Badges to earn. Dear readers, I’m effing excited.

I’ve long been a fan of the Pokémon series, with my fandom running 12 years strong now. It’s combination of strong play mechanics and nostalgic charm has made the franchise my title of choice when gaming on the go.

I’ve said for a while (and will continue to say until I croak-émon) that Pokémon is the perfect portable game. Quite a big statement to make, but hear me out. Pokémon’s pace is slow and methodical, making it easy to continue playing after being interrupted (say, when you to need to hastily stow the Game Boy in order to avoid being caught with it). In the portable space, the ability to quickly pick up and put down your game is a lifesaver. Moreover, Pokémon lets players save the game anywhere, meaning that I can fire up the game, play it for ten minutes, and turn it off without worry that I’m wasting my time or spinning my wheels.

Pokémon also strikes the perfect balance of easy to learn and hard to master. Everyone knows how rock-paper-scissors works, and those same mechanics carry over to the Pokémon series; one type is generally weak against some other type, and part of the strategy is deciding which Pokémon types to build your team with. Hardcore trainers can cut their teeth on building the best team ever, while neophytes and children can learn the simple mechanics.

Lastly is the trading aspect, and this is where Pokémon goes from being a regular RPG to being something truly special. Pokémon’s biggest appeal is its community features. Back when I was in 6^th grade, there was a whole group of kids who would meet at recess with their Game Boys and respective copies of Pokémon. Kids who had one version would trade for the creatures that were in the other (and vice versa), and everyone wanted to battle. Without the ability to interact with others, Pokémon may well have fallen by the wayside.

The icing on the cake is that Pokémon, from a marketing standpoint, is absolutely brilliant. With two separate versions available to purchase, kids will get their friends to buy the one they don’t have. Then they play with their friends, and the franchise spreads. Hell, its slogan is a bloody CALL TO ACTION. If the game itself wasn’t so fun, I’d say this franchise was borderline evil.

My history with Pokémon is long and involved, and I aim to further it with Pokémon Black and White. I’ll need a bit of time, though, to dive in and formulate my opinions. Therefore, while you folks wait with bated breath for me to tell you whether or not Black and White is the best thing since sliced Pokébread, I’ll be doing a daily recourse of my experiences with this franchise, counting down (or up?) to next Wednesday, when I’ll give my weekly report card. It will be far from all-encompassing (I’ve missed a few games), but you’ll be able to walk the path of an original Pokémaniac (you should be so lucky). For those not interested, well, there’s still Our Feature Presentation and Blu-Balled to fall back on.