Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Skate 3 & Demon's Souls

Skate 3 Review (5/31/10) - While I don't expect to revisit Skate 3 much at all, I thoroughly enjoyed my time with it. The fluid progression of your skater through the fictional Port Carverton is pretty damn zen, rolling along without a care in the world, grinding the rim of a wall here, ollieying (ollying? ölluéying?) over a dumpster there, and so on, and so on. Also my character looks and dresses cooler than I can ever hope/afford to. Also tattoo removal is cheaper and easier and faster and less laser-requiring than in real life. I must admit, my character wears his ink well.

"Groundhobbit Day" (5/26/10) - I finished playing through Demon's Souls this past week, logging nearly 50 hours of play time. That's quite something, considering I tweeted the following after my first several hours effectively butting my head into the stout wall of stage 1's Boletaria Castle: "Five and a half hours invested in Demon's Souls thus far. And by invested, I mean raked into a pile and burned." My friend Michael offered some consoling words in response—something to the effect of "Become one with the pain. You'll end up falling in love with the game...or shoot yourself in the face." He was right, and thankfully it was the former. Demon's Souls reminded me that even the gaming equivalent of a dismal, argumentative honeymoon can segue into a lifetime of wedded bliss.

I've tried to pivot into a handful of new games since tying a bow on Demon's Souls. They're really good games, critically acclaimed, top of their Metacritic class—Batman Arkham Asylum, Mass Effect 2, etc. But I'm having a hard time bonding with these new suitors. I miss the atmosphere of Demon's Souls. I miss how alive I felt while playing it, which seems grossly counterintuitive given how much of my early experience of the game involved dangling limp from my enemies' piercing arsenal. I even miss the soothing, unplaceable accent of the Nexus Lady who assured me at least a billion times over the course of those ~50 hours "that the world might be mended, that the world might be mended." She's still cooing that morsel of dialogue ad nauseam in the back of my brain somewhere. I miss my +8 Claymore blade, its heft, the way it felt part of my arm, the command I felt over its brutal swish.

I'll move on eventually. I'll fall in love with a new game. But I don't want to.

Not just yet.

1 comment:

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