Showing posts with label quake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quake. Show all posts

17/10/2017

THE CREATURES OF QUAKE

What with it being October and all, I was thinking about what games I’d most like to play to keep the Halloween mood going in between writing articles for this year’s Spooktacular. There were a lot of obvious candidates that sprang to mind: Blood, Night Slashers, Bloodborne, perhaps an attempt to complete Resident Evil 7 on “Madhouse” difficulty… and while I’m sure I will play those games over the next couple of weeks, I also thought of id Software’s all-time classic PC shooter Quake, because why not? It seems more than Halloween-y enough to me. Dark, labyrinthine stages dripping with oppressive atmosphere, a sinister soundtrack, and monsters. Horrible, twisted creatures, plus dogs and fish. Evil fish, mind. So I played a bit of Quake and then thought hey, I want to write about these monsters, so here they are: the hideous creatures of Quake!

Grunt


(images from the Quake wiki)

Okay, so we’re not off to the most hideous of starts with the Grunt, one of Quake's least exciting enemies. It’s… a guy with a gun. He’ll shoot at you with his gun if he sees you. The most interesting things about the Grunts are that they look very similar to the player character (presumably they were your monster-fighting predecessors who were reanimated upon death) and that their leg armour has ventilation holes. Makes sense to me, nobody wants sweaty thighs to strike during the heat of battle.


Closer examination seems to confirm that the Grunts had something done to them post-mortem, and their chests seem to have been opened up and then stapled shut again at some point. It’s a little hard to tell, though. I’m looking at the chest area and I can’t tell what’s supposed to be flesh and what’s body armour. The blood implies that there’s meat under those staples, but there’s definitely some armour on the midriff because that’s not what abdominal muscles look like unless you fall asleep face-down on top of a novelty cookie cutter. Whatever armour the grunt is wearing is a little too small for them, too. It’s riding up over their gut just enough for you to see their belly button. Crop-tops aren’t usually a look you see on undead murder-troops from a hell dimension, so full points to id Software for pioneering new fashion trends.

Enforcer


The Enforcer is also a soldier with a gun. A higher-ranking soldier, and as is befitting their rank the Enforcers carry laser guns that are actually easier to avoid than the Grunt’s non-laser weaponry. On the plus side, they do get a sweet new helmet for full-face protection, and their faces being only partially visible through the darkened glass is an effect that I still think looks really cool to this day. That might be because it reminds me of the Super Naturals toyline. If you didn’t think the young VGJunk would be extremely into action figures with a ghostly hologram gimmick and a main villain called “Skull,” then I can only assume this is your first time reading the site.
As well as having laser guns, the Enforcers are the only enemies in Quake that can talk. Using intelligible English words, I mean. The other monsters might be talking to each other, I suppose, but I don’t understand the guttural tongue of the elder things. The Enforcers have actual digitised speech clips, though, and they say things like “you there!” and “freeze!” What they don’t say is “shoot to kill!” although for a long time I thought they did.  I distinctly remembered playing Quake as a teenager and hearing the bad guys shout “shoot to kill!” but I was wrong. It isn’t in Quake. I began to doubt everything. A deep existential malaise crept into my soul as I pondered the fallibility of memory. Then, a couple of years ago I found out I was thinking of a “total conversion” for Quake called Malice where some enemies do, in fact, say “shoot to kill!” Thank you for reading my anti-climactic anecdote.

Rottweiler


Testing the theory that all dogs are good dogs to the absolute limit are these Rottweilers. Infected with a frenzied bloodlust, these dogs will charge at you and try to bite you to death but they make authentic whimpering noises when you shoot them, so I still feel bad about killing them even though they’re trying to use my windpipe as a squeaky toy. Thanks, id.
You might think that with them just being regular dogs, the Rottweilers aren’t that interesting, but honestly I think they’re one of the most upsetting of Quake’s monsters to fight. Partly that’s because of the aforementioned whimpering, but mostly it’s because they move really quickly but don’t look quite right while they’re running around. They don’t have as many animation frames as it seems like they should have, so they kind of twitch and float towards you in a manner that works surprisingly well with Quake’s semi-Lovecraftian setting. They’ve got a Hounds of Tindalos kinda vibe, and it’s a shame you only see the Rottweilers in a few stages.

Zombie


Now here’s a classic Halloween monster amongst Quake’s menageries of horrors: the good old zombie. It’s about what you’d expect from a zombie, really. A reanimated corpse with a lust for human flesh, its decayed body has rotted away so severely that its external genitalia have fallen off. Thank god for small mercies, no-one needed to see the zombie’s decomposing wang flopping around while it attacks the player. Halloween’s supposed to be spooky, not traumatic.
Being a zombie, these creatures can only be defeated through complete dismemberment. There’s a missed opportunity here, because you can (usually) only achieve that by using explosives to blow them into tiny chunks, but the hero of Quake comes equipped with an axe. There definitely should have been a way to hack the zombie to bits with the axe, even if it’s just to give the axe something to do.
As for attacking, the zombies rip out disgusting lumps of their own rancid flesh and throw it at you. I can only hope this zombie attack method makes its way into the next series of The Walking Dead, turning the show into the undead equivalent of a custard pie fight.

Rotfish


Ah yes, the Rotfish, so named because it is red and it was first discovered by a German naturalist. Of course not, it’s just a manky, rotting fish. Quake has underwater areas and there has to be something down there that’s trying to kill you, no matter how ineffectually. They couldn’t just have an angry fish, of course, so we get the Rotfish instead. It’s definitely the least of Quake’s monsters.

Scrag


Now we’re talking. The Scrag is a truly bizarre looking creature, a flying, acid-spitting monstrosity that’s part snake, part man and a terrible piano player. “Teeth for arms” isn’t a monster design you see very often, but I think it’s one with a lot of potential. The Scrag certainly proves it can be creepy as all get-out.
As well as being a great monster design, the Scrags are also proper bastards. Every time I play Quake, every god-damned time I’m playing through levels I’ve beaten dozens of times, I always manage to get ambushed by these floating arseholes. They hide in the darkened corners at the top of rooms and shoot at you before you can spot them, or they teleport in from whatever the Scrag equivalent of a green room is before puking their acidic bile all over you. Sometimes they’ll be zipping around, dodging your bullets, while at others they’ll fly right into your face, seemingly with the sole purpose of getting right in your bloody way. It’s difficult not to imagine them saying “hey, what are ya doin’, huh? Fighting monsters? Huh? Huh?” while you’re trying to shoot the other monsters that are blasting you with lightning or grenades. To make matters worse, when you do shoot them they make a noise that sounds a hell of a lot like someone saying “nah.” Don’t you “nah” me, you little shit, get back here so I can shoot you with my nail gun.
Also, the Scrags are referred to as “wizards” within the game’s files. I wish I didn’t know this, because it means I want to fight Scrags that wear wizard’s hats and somehow carry a wand in their stubby little horn-arms and such creatures don’t exist.

Ogre


One of Quake’s most iconic and plentiful monsters are the Ogres. Can I just take a moment to say how disappointed I am that the memeification of Shrek means that can no longer see the word “ogre” without thinking of the big green lump? And that as a result every time I play Quake I’m half-expecting one of these things to shout “get out of my swamp!” at me as it tries to eviscerate me with its chainsaw? If there was any justice in the world, these would be the most famous ogres, because they’re pretty great. They’ve got a chainsaw (for chopping) and a grenade launcher (for making you panic when you hear the “ting ting ting” sound of a grenade unexpectedly landing nearby.) Chainsaw and grenade launcher is a truly great videogame weapon combinations, if you ask me.
The Ogres themselves look like bouncers that once turned Pinhead away from Hell’s trendiest club, with teeth like a sack of old pennies and pale, angular head that makes me think “here’s what Kryten would have looked like if Red Dwarf was a horror rather than a comedy.” The Ogre’s appearance does raise one significant question, though: who makes their dungarees? Does each Ogre fashion their clothes from the flayed skin of their victims, or is there an Ogre Dungaree Emporium out there? If there is, I can’t help but imagine it as being very similar to the place that I had to go and get my free school uniforms from when I was a (poor) child. Wherever they come from, these outfits have a cute little Quake symbol on the chest. You know, just to make sure you know the snarling, chainsaw-wielding psychopath works for the bad guys.

Knight


Some of Quake’s stages have a medieval theme, and what could be a more appropriate foe to encounter amongst the ruined castle of these levels than a sword-swinging knight? If you thought Dark Souls was the first game to hide relentless killer knights around corners and behind secret walls, then think again.
Appearance-wise, there’s not much to say about the knight. They’re wearing plate armour, their swords are drenched in blood, their bright red shoulderpads are actually reflective so they can safely  embark on late-night bicycle rides. Their only method of attack is to rush towards the player and try to introduce their sword to your internal organs. While grunting, of course. There’s a lot of grunting in Quake. Sadly for the knights, there’s little a sword can do to protect against a double-barrelled shotgun, despite what your Japanese animes might tell you.

Death Knight


Hang on, Death Knight? Then what was the other knight? Maiming Knight? Over-Exuberant Playtime Knight? Okay, fine, the Death Knight. He’s like the other Knight, except bigger, tougher, and with a ranged attack that must surely cause much envious muttering amongst the lesser Knights. The Death Knight’s ranged attack consists of a spread of small fireballs, complete with trailing particle effects, and when I was a kid seeing this move in action blew my mind. I mean, I was already reeling from my first exposure to Quake, on a friend’s (dad’s) PC that ran it perfectly – the scope, the atmosphere, the three dimensions! I think the Death Knight’s amazing-looking fireball shot was the thing that tipped me over the edge, though, especially because the pattern of the projectiles is reminiscent of a pentagram and I was enough of a closet goth to really appreciate that.
With the ability to attack from any distance and some pulverising sword attacks, the Death Knight is clearly a cut (pun intended) above the regular Knight. It is a shame, then, that the Death Knight’s helmet looks so much like an upturned bucket.

Fiend


Witness, and tremble at the terrifying and very pointy visage of… the Fiend! They’re my favourite enemies in Quake and, come to think of it, one of my favourite enemies in any videogame. Why? I think it might be down to their sheer simplicity. They’re a creature formed from teeth, spikes and the pure concept of rage, and their only purpose is to do you harm with their their arm claws or their face-spikes or their cloven hooves. You might be thinking “running towards the player and trying to kill them” is a common theme amongst many Quake monsters, and you’re right – but the Fiend is different because it’s so good at it. The dogs are weak, the Knights are easy targets, but the Fiend? The fiends jumps, it sprints, it uses its powerful hind legs to launch itself across the goddamn map with the sole aim of furious stabbing. Not only can it survive a good few shotgun blasts to the face and rip you to shreds in moments, but the Fiend is particularly effective as a panic generator. You might be having a perfectly manageable battle with a group of monsters but then a Fiend appears and all your plans go out the window as you struggle to kill the lightning-fast slaughter demon that’s bounding towards you like a rambunctious puppy. Well, a puppy built out of kitchen knives and rusty nails, anyway.
The one saving grace of the Fiend is that they are deeply, irredeemably thick. Just the dumbest monsters out there, and you can use this to your advantage in a couple of ways. You can lure them into jumping down pits or into pools of water too deep for them to leap out of. Then you can stand at the edge of the pit and laugh at them, but it’s the nervous laughter that comes from the niggling fear that the Fiend might jump out of the pit. Or, you can try to get the other enemies to shoot the Fiend, and if that happens the Fiend might turn around and kill your opponents for you. There are few things more satisfying that seeing a furious living buzzsaw change allegiances, albeit temporarily.

Spawn


From my favourite monster to my most hated, in the form of the Spawn. A rare and mysterious monster, the Spawn only shows up a couple of times during Quake. For this we should be grateful, because they’re a right pain in the arse. Like the Fiend, they move at high speeds and attempt to slap the player about, which is annoying by itself because they’re much smaller and harder to see than the Fiends. However, they also detonate in a highly damaging explosion when you kill them. Not cool, Spawn. In a way they feel more like environmental hazards than fully-realised monsters, and dying to a spawn gives the same feeling as falling into a spike-pit you should have avoided. Like I say, they’re not my favourite, but I must give id Software credit for creating a convincingly gooey, blobby monster when the 3D graphics technology of the time mean that gooey, blobby monsters were the hardest kind of creature to create.

Vore


I tell you what, I’m real glad I’m getting all these images from one source because the idea of having to do a Google Image search for “vore” is not one I was looking forward to.
Anyway, this is the Vore. You first encounter it as a boss of sorts, before it becomes more of a regular enemy later in the game. I say “regular,” it’s still a challenge whenever you face it. You might think it’s spider-legged lower body would make it one of the game’s quicker monsters, but it isn’t. It’s one of the slowest, and that’s the only break you get when fighting a Vore because they have tons of health and they fire highly damaging homing projectiles. “Homing” does quite describe just how tenacious these projectiles are, actually. If you can't get them to hit a wall and explode, they will track you wherever you go like the spiky purple orb equivalent of a Liam Neeson action movie. A tricky creature to fight, but one that’s different enough from the other monsters in the game to be fun to fight.
Even though I’ve seen the Vore thousands of times over the years, it’s only now that I’m noticing that it has quite a lot of the Scrag about it. They share the same sickly grey skin tone, and the “inside” of the Vore’s legs looks a lot like the Scrag’s tail. Maybe Vores are the evolved forms of the  Scrags. They have more legs, better magic powers and crucially aren’t horrible sneaky bastards that always manage to get the drop on me.

Shambler


I described the Ogre as Quake’s “iconic” monster, but I suppose that title should by rights belong to the Shambler. The toughest non-boss creature in the game, the Shambler is a hulking brute of a demon with a winning smile and a shaggy white coat of fur. No, really, apparently the Shambler is supposed to be furry. I’m not sure how I feel about that, I think it’s a lot creepier if the Shambler has no fur and the skin texture of a condom filled with wallpaper paste.
With a lot of health and some extremely deadly attack, the Shamblers are the most dangerous monsters that you’re going to regularly encounter while playing Quake. In one of my all-time favourite videogame dick moves, the Shamblers also take reduced damage from explosives. Just when you though you could put that rocket launcher you collected to good use, here comes a Shambler to ignore your explosives and punch you to death. I used to think that the reduced explosive damage was to make the Shambler even harder to beat, but now I think it was a much sneakier design decision – it’s so shooting it from around a corner with the grenade launcher is ineffective. You see, one of the Shambler’s attacks is a lightning beam, which works in a very specific way: if the Shambler can see you when it fires the beam, it always hits you. By making round-the-corner grenades a poor combat option, you’re forced to step in the Shambler’s (lack of) eye line to fight it. Now that’s a vicious bit of design.
If you don’t like the sound of getting electrocuted, there’s a way to stop the Shambler from using that attack. Unfortunately, that method is to get really close to the Shambler, so swings and roundabouts. Once you’re all up in the Shambler’s face, it’ll try to clobber you, but if you’re quick you can move backwards and out of range while also not being zapped. This leads to a method of fighting the Shambler often called the “Shambler dance,” where you duck in and out of the Shambler’s reach and if you don’t think fighting this dark, gory game’s most powerful monster by waltzing with the bloody thing is the greatest thing ever then I think you should re-evaluate your life.

Cthon


Quake also features a couple of “proper” boss monsters, and I’ve got to be honest, they’ve never been as interesting to me as the regular creatures. I think that’s partly because the boss battles are more like puzzles than anything else, and that takes you out of the high-speed, secret-hunting, run-n-gun action that makes Quake so great.
That said, I do like Cthon’s design. It’s so close to being a standard lava monster but its face being a features stone slab bisected by a glowing fissure turns it into something unsettlingly different. Sometimes a small change is all you need to mix up a common monster type, you know? It’s just a shame you fight Cthon by standing on buttons rather than by blasting it with a six-barrelled nail gun.

Shub-Niggurath


The final boss of the game is where Quake’s H. P. Lovecraft influence shines the strongest, with a battle against Lovecraft’s own Elder God Shub-Niggurath. It was a bold decision (although I suspect one born from time and budget constraints) to have Quake’s final boss be an immobile, abstract entity that does little to fight the player besides summoning regular enemies for you to wade through. I’ve said before that I quite like it when a game’s final boss isn’t as powerful as their troops, because leaders are rarely the ones that do the actual fighting, you know? That’s true for Shub-Niggurath, and if you are (understandably) disappointed by Quake’s lack of a “real” climactic fight then just try to think of it as an interactive cutscene, I guess.
Just like Cthon, I think Shub-Niggurath’s design is good. I certainly appreciate the eerieness of it being a fleshy tree stump that’s constantly bleeding, and it’s very much in keeping with descriptions from the original Cthulhu Mythos stories. As an extra flourish, if you take a look at the shape of Shub-Niggurath you’ll realise that it’s the same shape as the Quake logo. I had a little lightbulb moment when I figured that out, let me tell you.

Those are the horrific denizens of the world of Quake, and I love pretty much all of them. If you didn’t also love them, and especially if you’ve never played Quake, then I hope you’ve got at least a little affection for them after reading this. Okay, maybe except the Spawn. Nobody loves the Spawn, except particularly sadistic creators of new Quake levels.

15/09/2016

VGJUNK'S FAVOURITE GAMES

A very straightforward topic for today’s article: I’m going to write about some of my all-time favourite videogames. I get asked what my favourites are every now and then, and frankly right now I could do with some unalloyed positivity in my life, so here we are. No considered judgements or critical analyses in this one, folks, just the games I’ll take with me when I finally snap and head off to live in the woods. They’ve got electricity and broadband internet in the woods these days, right?

Silent Hill 2 (PS2, Konami, 2001)


In the admittedly very unlikely scenario that I was ordered, possibly at gunpoint, to rank all my favourite games, I would struggle from number two downwards to get them into any kind of order. However, for my number one slot there can be no other choice: it’d be Konami’s classic spook-em-up Silent Hill 2 every time and probably for all time. There are a lot of games I like, but there’s yet to be another that feels so perfectly me, like it was designed solely to provide the exact experience I wanted. What makes Silent Hill 2 so great? It might sound facetious but the answer is everything. It’s a game of rare depth and even rarer nuance, one of the very few video games from a major developer that tackles some truly heavy themes – suicide, euthanasia, child abuse – and handles them in a manner that’s heartbreakingly tragic and impressively non-exploitative.  Every aspect of its design, the characters, the graphics, the music and sound work, is pitch-perfect, creating the only videogame (well, apart from Soft and Cuddly) that’s managed to inspire a lasting feeling of dread in me. It’s assembled with such precision, craft and subtlety that every little detail of the game feels purposeful and redolent with meaning. On top of that, in Pyramid Head Silent Hill 2 produced one of the greatest monsters in any medium. A haunting mixture of the human and the abstract, Pyramid Head is unlike so many monsters in that it has a purpose beyond simple slaughter. It’s got something to teach you, and the idea that you might even be better off for knowing what that something is makes for a creature that’s more unsettling than any other.
As an aside, while there are plenty of reasons to dislike the Silent Hill movies (because they’re not very good, mostly,) the one thing that really annoys me about them is Pyramid Head’s redesign. By replacing the featureless geometry of the original’s “helmet” with a spiky, overly-fussy lump of metal, so much of what makes Pyramid Head unnerving is lost, and the movie version becomes yet another mindless murder machine with a head like a rejected trap design from a later movie in the Saw series.
Obviously every game on this list has earned its place in some part because of personal tastes that others might disagree with, but in Silent Hill 2's case I’d argue that there's not another game out there with such a consistent and expertly-crafted mood of melancholic horror, and as tiresome as the “are games art?” debate is I’d put forth Silent Hill 2 as the premier example of “yes, they bloody well can be.” Maybe one day Konami will reveal that their business decisions over the last few years have all been part of an elaborate hoax and they’re actually going to start making good games again, but until then I don’t think Silent Hill 2 is going to be topped.

Resident Evil 2 (PS1, Capcom, 1998)


While I was thinking about the games that would appear on this list, I realised that a lot of them would be standing in as a representative for their entire series, and nowhere is that more true than with Resident Evil 2. Picking a favourite entry from a franshise that has given me such consistent pleasure over the years was a difficult task, with the original Resident Evil, the Remake and Resident Evil 4 all making good cases for being the finest example of zombie-slaying, evil-pharmaceutical-company-fighting action available. I had to go with Resident Evil 2 in the end, though. If nothing else, the truck driver in the game’s intro who says “Dat guy’s a maniac! Why’d he bite me?!” would be enough to push me over the edge.
When I was finally lucky enough to get a Playstation and the original Resident Evil, it’s fair to say I became somewhat obsessed with it. It’s another game that feels as though it was made just for me, a B-movie in polygonal form with highly-trained police officers fighting against the undead, giant sharks and their own incompetence when it comes to spotting that their boss is the shiftiest man alive. I’m sure that somewhere in a dark corner of a wardrobe at my mother’s house there are still a few notebooks filled with terrible drawings of Jill fighting giant spiders and Wesker getting impaled by the ultimate bio-weapon, put it that way. So, when RE2 was announced, I was obviously very excited, but the excitement was tinged with trepidation – what if it wasn’t as good as the original? What if Capcom cocked it up somehow? Then RE2 arrived, and it was the exact opposite of disappointment. Is there an English word for “the exact opposite of disappointment”? I don’t think there is, so I propose we start using “Resident Evil 2” in those situations. “I opened a letter from the Inland Revenue, and it was a surprise tax refund! What a real Resident Evil 2 of a thing to happen!”
Anyway, RE2 takes the basic structure of the original and cranks everything up. Better graphics, a bigger world to explore, more puzzles and weapons, two playable characters with separate but intertwining storylines and more insanity. A good level of bonkers-ness, and the starting point for the series’ trip into the sheer madness of the later games. It’s the ideal sequel, in a way: everything you loved before, but more. A police station / art museum run by a mad taxidermist. The added tension of the relentless, Terminator-like “Mr. X” Tyrant. The introduction of series mainstays Leon and Claire. It’s all wonderful, and a rare example of a game where I can’t think of a single bad thing to say about it. Some people might complain about the voice acting, but without wanting to sound too harsh those people are wrong.

Final Fantasy Tactics (PS1, Squaresoft, 1998)


In hindsight, it was a bold move on Square’s part to follow up the incredible success of Final Fantasy VII with a sprite-based strategy game that eschewed the semi-futuristic aesthetic of FFVII and the upcoming FFVIII in favour of a traditional fantasy setting, but I’ll always be grateful that they did. I’ve played almost all of the Final Fantasy series, enjoyed most of them and outright loved a few, but Final Fantasy Tactics is always the one I return to time and again.
FFT is a three-pronged attack on my pleasure centres. First are the game’s mechanics. I always love a Job system, and FFT offers my favourite of the lot, allowing for a wide variety of customisation options for your characters. It’s not a game particularly concerned with balance, either, and there’s a huge array of completely game-breaking teams you can assemble. Want a character that shouts at themselves so much that they turn into The Flash and can run around the battlefield murdering everyone before the enemies can react? You can do that. I’m fond of giving people guns with a skill that prevents enemy movement, presumably by shooting them in the kneecaps. Or what about the only time I’ve ever enjoyed mathematics, but using the Calculator job class to pick targets based on god-damn prime numbers? I find being rewarded for figuring the intricacies of a game's systems t be very rewarding, and FFT offers that in spades.
Then there’s the story – it does descend into completely bananas “ancient evil gods” territory at the end, but which for the most part is an intriguing tale of political machinations, religious indoctrination and the unfair treatment of the poor by the ruling classes. Finally there’s the presentation, which is adorable. Tiny sprites absolutely packed with character and battlefield in a pleasingly chunky polygonal style, with possibly the best soundtrack in the series to boot. Add in all the secrets and hidden characters, including Final Fantasy VII’s Cloud being more useless then that time he was in a vegetative state, and you’d got a game that I can replay more than probably any other.

OutRun (Arcade, Sega, 1986)


I’ve already written a long and florid love-letter to Sega’s arcade racer, so I’ll keep this brief. OutRun is a game where you drive a car as far as you can, and it is perfect. At once completely relaxed and utterly precise, OutRun is about as close as you can get to driving down a beachside highway in a Ferrari without arranging a test-drive under false pretences. In fact it’s better than the real thing, because this way you can avoid human company, all while enjoying some of the best music ever to come out of an arcade cabinet. If you have a 3DS, I cannot recommend the 3D port of OutRun enough. Buy it, then play OutRun while sitting on a sunny beach. Now that’s living the dream.

OutRun 2006: Coast to Coast (PS2, Sumo Digital / Sega, 2006)


I had to split the OutRun series into two entries, because OutRun 2006 is such a different beast that its arcade forefather. It’s got all of the original’s atmosphere, though - the same sun-kissed beaches and winding mountain roads that serve as a playground for the sheer fun of driving, the same sense of escapism and the wonderful soundtrack. In my opinion, it’s also the single best example of a retro game being updated and enhanced for a modern (well, at the time,) console. The addition of drifting and the Heart Attack challenge mode keep things fresh, but without sacrificing the atmosphere that made OutRun such a joy to play. OutRun 2006 is one of those games that feel almost pure, somehow, and the simple act of playing the game is so much fun that even if it didn’t look and sound great it’d still be one of my favourite. You could be controlling a shopping trolley in a Tesco car-park and OutRun 2006’s game engine would still make it exciting as you pulled off a sick power-slide around a pensioner trying to reverse her Nissan Micra into a disabled bay.

Bloodborne (PS4, From Software, 2015)


There’s a stereotype about fans of From Software’s Souls games, and it’s that they’ll take the slightest opportunity to bang on at length about how it’s the greatest series of games ever created, and I’m here to tell you that such people do exist. I know because I’m one of them. Okay, so maybe I’m not quite that bad, and I can rein myself in when I see eyes glazing over, but the Souls games really are a phenomenal body of work. Any of them, Demon’s Souls and Dark Souls 1 – 3, could have made it on to this list but just edging them out for the position of my most cherished is Bloodborne - the one that sits most on the outside of that happy little group.
From’s blood-based Gothic masterpiece follows the template set by the rest of the series but goes off on its own unique tangent, the “medieval” fantasy setting replaced by a quasi-Victorian world of  mutated beasts and madmen, which is precisely the kind of universe that I long to soak myself in like a nice hot bath. The combat is the real star of the show: where one of the pleasure of the Dark Souls games is the wide variety of viable character builds, Bloodborne almost forces the player in operating as a nimble, aggressive, melee fighter. That might sound like a regressive step, but the combat is so finely-honed and responsive that playing the game that way is just so damn fun. A big part of this is down to the “regain” mechanic – when you take damage, there’s a short window where you can restore some of your lost health by slashing tasty, healing blood out of your opponents, encouraging you to get right up in their business. Couple that with the ability to parry enemy attacks not by pushing them aside with a shield, as in Dark Souls, but by shooting them in the face, and Bloodborne offers a masterclass in risk-reward gameplay.
Also exceptional is the world that the action inhabits. Personally I think it’s the best use of Lovecraftian horror that’s ever appeared in a videogame, a universe beset by madness-inducing star-gods and strange cults that worship monstrous blood. Reaching the point in the game where you gain enough wisdom to see what’s really going on in the city of Yharnam is a moment that will stay with me for a long time. It’s a beautiful game to look at, as well. Exquisitely hideous monsters roam the dark places of the world, and the architecture alone is worth the price of admission. Plus, and this is the criteria by which I judge all Dark Souls games, it has a fine array of goofy hats to wear, including a bucket with one eyehole cut out of it and a giant golden traffic cone.

Quake (PC, id Software, 1996)


Don’t get me wrong, Doom is amazing and I love it dearly but Quake is just that little bit more special to me. I can remember the first time I ever saw it, visiting a friend who had just installed the shareware version on his dad’s then brand-new Windows ‘95 machine. It was full 3D, man! And faster than a cheetah on a rollercoaster to boot! It blew my mind, and because there was no chance of me getting a computer powerful enough to run it at the time, I made damn sure I found out which of my other friends owned Quake, too.
I think I’ve said this before, but given how many alterations and compromises Quake went through during its development, from vast and complex RPG to Doom But Moreso and Brown, it’s amazing that it turned out as great as it did. Many people will tell you that Quake’s legacy is its huge part in the rise of online multiplayer, which is true, but I’ve never been much interested in that. Instead I preferred the world of offline play, the dank castles and Satanic ziggurats, the intense satisfaction of nailing an Ogre from around the corner with the bouncing projectiles of the grenade launcher. The inclusion of jumping and swimming leads to ever-more fiendishly hidden secrets, the atmosphere is so oppressive you could mistake it for the North Korea government and the action is never less than full-on heavy metal carnage, served completely without irony or pretence.

F-Zero GX (Amusement Vision / Sega / Nintendo, 2003)


The ultimate speed crazy dream extravaganza, a game so relentlessly, maniacally fast that all other racing games feel sluggish by comparison, and home to the most bizarre cast of characters this side of The Lesser Key of Solomon, F-Zero GX must surely be the result of Nintendo looking at their previous entries in the F-Zero series and saying “yes, but what if it was more? More of all of it?” And so we were blessed with F-Zero GX, the racing game to surpass all others so long as you’re not bothered about driving actual cars. It’s not a game that messes around: if you want to be good at F-Zero GX, it demands dedication and practise, but although it’s harsh it’s always fair. Okay, outside of the Story mode, anyway. That mode isn’t fair. On the higher difficulties, it’s actually a test the developers included to secretly gather data on just how much rage-fuelled punishment a GameCube controller can take. Other than that, though, F-Zero GX offers a racing experience focussed down to laser-like intensity that provides countless endorphin hits when you blast over the finish line just as your vehicle’s about to explode or as you deftly jink left and right to avoid the holes in the track. Sometimes you’ll get it wrong and fall off the track or have your racer explode, but in my experience it really is a game where practise makes perfect and one of the things I love most about F-Zero GX is that every time I play it I can feel myself getting better at it in tiny increments. Not enough to ever beat Story Mode on the top difficulty, but still.

Castlevania: Symphony of the Night (PS1, Konami, 1997)


I’ll be honest, when Symphony of the Night was first released I wasn’t that familiar with the Castlevania series. I’d played Super Castlevania IV and a little of the NES games, but it’s not like nowadays where I’ve played through them all multiple times, so as well as everything else I can praise Symphony of the Night for getting me into the rest of the series in a deeper way. Not that it requires any knowledge of the franchise to enjoy, because SotN takes the themes of the series and spins them into its own unique adventure. The half-vampire son of Dracula, fighting his way through a castle filled with all manner of monsters, spooks and reimagined characters from The Wizard of Oz? I’d have been sold on that no matter the license.
A game densely packed with secrets and obscure flourishes, (as I’ve written about before,) SotN marries the joy of exploring Dracula’s vast lair with tight controls and a wide range of weapons, equipment and special moves, each enemy you defeat bringing you closer to becoming an unstoppable death-dealing instrument of justice with fabulous hair. You can still find new things after dozens of playthroughs, the voice acting reaches a level of “so bad it’s good” that it transforms into the stuff of legend and Michiru Yamane’s soundtrack is utterly sublime. It’s a game that fair sings with quality, crafted with real passion, and is absolutely as much fun to play now as it was then.

Guitar Hero: Rocks the 80s (PS2, Harmonix, 2007)


Now that the series has been crushed beneath the weight of over-familiarity and a glut of spin-offs and expansions, it’s hard to remember that Guitar Hero was a genuine phenomenon. There are very few games I’ve ever seen – Tetris and early Wii stuff being other notable examples - that had such an effect when it came to getting people who didn’t play videogames interested. Everyone wanted to play Guitar Hero, regardless of whether they’d touched a videogame or a guitar before in their lives. The reasons for Guitar Hero’s appeal are obvious: everyone loves music, it’s simple to learn but difficult to master and despite knowing on a fundamental level that playing along on a chunky plastic guitar isn’t cool, it feels cool when you’re ripping through a Megadeth solo.
The Guitar Hero games hit at a perfect time for me personally, too. I was at university when they first appeared, and I have many fond memories of extremely well-lubricated pre-night-out Guitar Hero sessions. It also works as a good warning system for alcohol consumption: when you become unable to bash out a sloppy rendition of “18 and Life,” it’s probably time to switch to water. All the early Guitar Hero games are favourites of mine. I really enjoy Rock Band too, but there’s something about it that wasn’t quite as appealing as Guitar Hero. As sense that it wanted to be “cool,” maybe, a quality that Guitar Hero most definitely didn’t possess. So, why did I pick Rocks the 80s? Because it’s the one with “Holy Diver” in it, that’s why.

That's quite a selection of games, huh? However, I forgot to stop, and I've got another bunch of favourites to discuss. With that in mind, here's Part 2!

05/10/2011

VGJUNK'S 2011 MUSICAL HALLOWEEN PLAYLIST PART 1

Musical terror can come in many forms. A lonely church organ. John Carpenter-style synthesiser hooks. Cats. However, here at VGJUNK we're only interested in macabre music of the videogame variety, so here's the first part of VGJUNK's 2011 Musical Hallowe'en Playlist!
If you want last year's playlist, it's in three parts here, here and here.

Pirate Ghosts Appear, Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door, Gamecube.



A Mario game, you say? Yes, everyone's favourite plumber might not be the first thing you associate with spooky music but there are some instances when Nintendo veer away from the usual joviality of the Mushroom Kingdom and slap their mascot in a slightly more PG-rated situation. Okay, so that's pushing it a bit, but this track from the Gamecube RPG certainly has the Hallowe'en spirit in buckets. It's called "Pirate Ghosts Appear" for chrissakes, what did you expect? I don't care what day of the year it is, be it the middle of summer or Christmas goddamn Eve, but if you're in a situation where the wandering spirits of ancient buccaneers appear, you drop whatever you were doing and make it Hallowe'en.

The Last Mariachi, Silent Hill 4: The Room, PS2



Akira Yamaoka and Hallowe'en go together like a kittens that need drowning and a sack with a rock in it, so it's only right that he appears here with the title screen music from Silent Hill 4: What Were They Thinking With Those Burping Nurses. It's called "The Last Mariachi", and it certainly has a mariachi feel to it (even though it's much more of a flamenco thing really). If you're thinking, hey, mariaichi is super-fun-time-happy-music, you haven't heard it played on an out-of-tune guitar and accompanied by the ceaseless howling of some interdimensional void. It's creepy in a way that's different from Yamaoka's usual (although no less excellent) methods of clanging metal and industrial noises, and I think I'd go so far as to say it's my favourite thing about Silent Hill 4.

Damnation, Quake, P.C.



Every year or so, I re-install the original Quake and play through it, and every time I do it moves higher and higher up my internal list of "best games ever". Given the amount of changes, revisions and compromises that id Software made when creating it, it seems nothing short of miraculous that it came out so well, but there you go. The setting, the enemies, the level design, everything about is extremely well crafted, and the music is no exception. No hokey ghost train tunes here, just unsettling, ambient tracks designed to put you on edge while you pray there isn't a Shambler waiting around the corner. I've got issues with Shamblers, man. They don't shamble, they fucking run.
Oh, and, Quake's music was composed by Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails fame, which is why the in-game boxes of ammo for the nail gun have the NIN logo on them. So, if this freaks you out then you know who to blame.

Old Chateau, Pokemon Diamond/Pearl/Platinum, NDS



After that bit of sonic punishment, let's head back over to the cheerful cartoon spookiness of Nintendo, this time with Junichi Masuda's haunted-house theme from Pokemon D/P/P. It's very much in the spirit of the season, even if it's more the Hallowe'en of It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown rather than Friday the 13th. That's the joy of Hallowe'en right there - horror and cutesiness jammed together to form a mangled fun abomination.

Happy Happy is Blue, Earthbound, SNES



Speaking of combinations of cute and disturbing, here's Earthbound! Seemingly a jolly cartoon romp about the adventures of a psychic boy who likes hitting things with baseball bats, it's got enough dark undertones and sinister edges to put Twin Peaks to shame. I'm sure most gamers are familiar with the story of how game creator Shigesato Itoi was traumatised as a child by accidentally witnessing a rape scene in a movie, the dialogue from said scene ending up in Earthbound during the final battle - this kind of thing is going mean your game ends up with some odd flavours to it.
Now, most people would have suggested the genuinely unsettling final battle music for a Hallowe'en playlist, and I agree that the musical theme for what might well be an abortion metaphor is sufficiently creepy, but I personally get rather perturbed by cults. Brainwashing, undying loyalty-inspiring pseudo-religious cults. Brr. So, here's the theme of Happy Happyism, Earthbound's very own crazy cult of Ku Klux Klan lookalikes. It's a disturbingly disjointed melange of wonky organ hits, ticking percussion and carnival whimsy, and it perfectly fits the creepy mood of Happy Happy Village and its blue nutjobs.

Right, that's your lot for part one. Go and listen to them while standing on a windswept, moonlit clifftop or something. Okay, maybe not that Quake one: I think it's be a little too tempting to take the quick route down to the beach. Part two to follow... at some point! WhooOOoo!

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