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#am i literally late to the game and do i only have an hour playtime still...yes....BUT SHES SO HOT
faarkas · 1 year
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STAR WARS JEDI: FALLEN ORDER SECOND SISTER
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shnowbilicat · 3 years
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Why Overwatch 2 will be just fine
Before we begin I wanna say that all of this are my own perspectives and thoughts, so take it with a grain of salt ... but tbh yall should sit down and chill until the game drops, kay? Kay.
Soo, there was another OW2 livestream not so long ago and people started freaking out and boycotting the devs. Why? 5v5 and there will be only one tank now.
I'm hearing left and right how much of a problem this will be and I can't stop getting annoyed about the fact that people really are SO upset that there will be no 'off tank' in their games and how the devs 'refuse to balance their game' instead and how there will be smurfing and- you get the point.
Maybe it's just me, maybe I'm not into the 'meta' cuz my competitive rank is a 'metal' one, OR MAYBE I'm just this guy who says 'it just game, why u have to be mad??'.
I personally really look forward to OW2, mostly for the PvE part of the game as it sounds so massive and seeing how much they've done with the very first mission they've shown us and the fact that we can level up our heroes and equip unique abilities just makes me giggle and excited about the final release and future events and updates!
So many cutscenes, so many new animations and skins, so many new maps to play X33
And 5v5?? I'm looking forward to that too!
No, for real, one tank does not make or break anything for me, mostly for one single tiny reason alone.
A Tank is still a Tank.
I dunno if you ever played other games where there are Tank, DPS and Healing roles, like LoL, Dota, heck even Pokémon and Fire Emblem.
Tank roles have one single purpose; be the literal meat shield for their team.
I dunno about you, but I've never played a Tank in my life that wasn't completely about taking the attention from my squishies and jump in to protect them. And according to my ranking I'm a Tank main, sure my highest Rank is Platinium, but just because I don't grind my way up like any other madmen.
Tanks are SUPPOSED to be in the front lines taking the damage, making a way through the crowd, mess up the other team's formation. I also believe I'm not the end all be all for my squishies, I trust in them that they can protect themselves when I go in for a kill, which they can with their several abilities like a sleeping dart, climbing walls or building up a wall to hide behind.
Here we have Pro Tank players freaking out and complaining that 'they lack a tank' that there won't be any strategy involved cuz they are missing another meat shield that has their back etc. etc.
Again, I'm just a noob playing my Quickplay and Arcade games for lootboxes ... but god am I sick and tired of hearing these excuses from one trick pro players who have been stuck in their metas and comps.
SURE they are up there for a reason, but the fact of the matter is that I don't care if you do not want a 'dive comp' if I wanna play D.Va to get myself a 6 stack Ult kill, kay??
I don't care if we have a Zarya and Roady, they gonna wreck our enemy team and I'm gonna pump up their asses with as much healing as they want, kay???
The standarts OW pro players have been setting time and time again has muddied the waters of normal play. Because of them Symmetra and Bastion have been thrown into the corner of the back room and will never be seen in normal play because 'they ain't meta'.
Bro, I've been a Bastion main since Comp Season 3 and I've been wrecking my games left and right whenever I play him. I do not need your meta to succed, I don't need a Mercy pocket or a Rein shield because people like the pros set the standart that Bastion is ONLY useful when these criteria are met.
Not only that, BECAUSE of their standarts I forced myself into being able to switch to any roles with heroes that do just as much good as my Bastion. And that was actually a very good thing! Now I'm a solid Gold-Plat rank player that can play pretty much every hero in Mystery Heroes.
... and then I see our current pros. Who are scared shitless that their off tank players gonna play ... DPS?? Or Healing?? Like, weren't you guys moaning about one tricks? About people not being able to switch?
You ... you do know how OW started, right? OW was a game the devs SPECIFICALLY made to be open gameplay, they WANTED people to switch to heroes and experiment with new combos.
But lately we had buffs, nerfs, change in ques and all you can do is complain about it.
YOU put the standart 2-2-2 because people started to go tank-healers only, or Genji-healing only, or some shit because that was OP.
YOU were the ones forcing in a role que system because other people could not or refused to switch their roles.
YOU forced the devs to rework ALL HEROES to your standarts. Granted, here you got the devs to make Symmetra interesting to play, Bastion and Torb more viable and Brig to be more fair ... for you, because I cannot play Brig to safe my life, she's such a squishy and I die the second the round starts.
If you cannot handle what pro players dished out years ago, then please do me the favor and stay with your Rein-Zayra combo for the rest of eternity thxx
And we haven't talked about the OW2 hero reworks and new maps with more things to hide behind yet! Making each Tank more viable and more enjoyable to play. And guess what? THEY AIN'T DONE YET! I've seen alot of players moarn that the game will be SO unfair ... but we haven't seen anything yet. Espacially since they haven't told us any DPS or Healing ability changes either.
'But BUT 3 years of development!!!' so?? 3 years could mean anything. Not to mention that the EXACT SAME DEVS are working on OW2 are ALSO STILL working on OW 1 at the same time. And it's a pandemic. Sure they are a huge team, but they have a huge goal; aka THE STORY MODE WITH HUNDRETS OF HOURS OF PLAYTIME AND ANIMATED CUTSCENES.
They still have a long ass way to go, so chill out and give em some time. There are over 30 heroes they have to rework, remodel, give a part in the Story. Multiple new Maps to work, maybe even rework, test and make sure everything is as polished as possible for the general player base; which ain't the pros btw.
So, with pretty much mostly everything said, what's my final stand?
I would say to everybody worrying that the game won't be good; trust me, it'll be just fine.
If you don't enjoy the 5v5, there will still be Arcade and Story to keep ya company, like, I've been playing Quickplay and Arcade 99% of the time, you gonna be fine fam.
And if you're a pro player who JUST CANNOT handle 5v5 without their off tank puppy jumping after them then here's a tip:
Don't play Overwatch 2.
Nobody will force you to it, Overwatch will still exist with it's 6v6 2 tanks, 2 DPS, 2 healing boringness and it's frozen metas and comps and the same ass people in the Top 100 you play against each and every day with tiny buffs and nerfs every other day.
Meanwhile me and my squad will enjoy more shenanigans in OW2.
I'll gladly play momma Orisa and keep my friends save and sound, while also hooking every evil doer who dares come close to em ewe
Overwatch 2 is for us, the players who play the game like the devs intended; play the heroes you want, no matter if you lose or fail and have to pick yourself up again to grow and become stronger.
Overwatch 2 will be just fine.
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c-is-for-circinate · 3 years
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Okay, so I’ve got way more reactions to P5 Strikers for a longer post later, but I want to keep playing, so I’m recording some thoughts and predictions after the first boss (and all the cutscenes thereafter) before they get derailed or confirmed by later events.
This is going to be a story about cycles of violence, I suspect.  On the whole, I really liked how the game handled that with Alice: what happened to her was terrible and traumatic, and in no way excuses what she did in return.  And Ann was still desperate to save her.  I’m hoping we see more of that: understanding and also condemning, all folded in together.
Oh!!!  And as I’m writing this, I’m thinking about how that ties in thematically with what I suspect may be the deal with jails and monarchs.  See, palaces, we know from Yaldabaoth, were jails in their own sense--prisoners kept in isolation from the general population of Mementos and the Prison of Regression, shunted over into their own private little pocket dimensions where they could rule whatever they wanted.  (And I have some more complex thoughts thoughts about the specific ways that system enables further violence by rewarding bad behavior, in terms of Yaldie’s motives and also reflections of the real world, but that’s another post for another day.)  This, on the other hand, feels far more like the entire jail system is just big sprawling pocket remnants of that universal prison complex with all the wardens gone.  Now individual shadows have clawed their way up to becoming monarchs over their own pockets, but being queen of your own jail still makes you in jail.  The monarchs of these places, I suspect, will all be prisoners of their own pasts and the violence that taught them to turn to violence, which is a thematically cool way to do this and I like it.
Actually, framing it that way is making the whole concept of a cycle-of-violence P5 game grow on me.  One of the things I honestly liked about the original P5 was that, with one notable exception, we never once gave a shit about the tragic backstories of the villains we took down.  Sure, we’d learn a bit about them when we stole the Treasures, sometimes, but it didn’t really matter--because the important thing about each antagonist was the harm they are doing now, not forgiving them because of the harm done to them in the past.  So I had a little bit of concern that this seeming reversal of that trend might veer off into too much sympathy for the aggressors, bur I’m thinking (I’m hoping) that what we’re actually getting is a look at how systematic violence can turn victims into further oppressors.  And given that P5 was always a game about systematic violence, this ends up feeling like a natural progression rather than undercutting the original concept.  Heck yes.
Speaking of systems of violence: yep, I am using social justice lingo when talking about this game, and no I do not think I am projecting or reading too far into it, because damn is P5S not remotely fucking around with how it feels about cops.  Like, Zenkichi Hasegawa aside (and oh boy do I have thoughts on him), dear god do I love Haru sweet smile ‘Sorry, we just despise the police, is all!’ Okumura.  Meanwhile, our hordes of faceless trash mob enemies are literally vaguely police-shaped Shadows in riot gear.  We spent a major battle blowing up cop cars. Like.  Persona 5 said prison abolition, to the tune of spending our entire game trying to break out of our metaphorical Velvet Room prison and boss-battling our final endgame through the cognitive prison of all society.  P5 Strikers apparently said, ‘you know, we were too subtle last time, and also Fuck The Police.’
Okay and actually let’s talk about ol’ Zenkichi there (hell yes, team, you go right ahead calling this adult authority figure by his given name with no honorifics even in the original Japanese, I support you).  My hope at this point is that we get his development as a parallel to the same things we’re seeing in these jail monarchs: as part of a cycle of violence.  He’s clearly got some backstory if we’re meant to care about him this much, and it led him to this place of becoming a cop out of a desire to help or to hurt or whatever, but the road he followed brought him to this role of an authority figure with no issue manipulating, using, threatening, and borderline abusing his power over teenagers.  (I say ‘borderline’ because he hasn’t moved beyond threats yet, but it’s pretty clear he wouldn’t mind doing so if necessary--we saw him beat up a drunk, so yep.) Which, can we talk about the parallels between that scene and Akira’s original confrontation with Shido?  Drunk man harassing a woman, drunk man ends up on the ground.  Except: Akira was alone on a dark street with only the three of them there, and Hasegawa’s surrounded by people who could intervene, help, or even side against him in court if anyone cared what they had to say.  Except the drunk office-worker is clearly unimportant and unthreatening, while Shido was forceful in pride and anger even while drunk.  Except Shido’s victim was terrified, while Ann is mostly just disgusted, surrounded by friends, in very little actual danger. And Akira never touched him, never pushed him, just took one step up to try and help.  Zenkichi Hasegawa provoked a mostly-harmless drunk into attacking him for the excuse to punch him unconscious on purpose. Akira’s Shido flashback was framed in every way to show us the ways our protagonist was powerless.  Zenkichi’s scene parallels it to show us a dozen different ways this man is powerful and unafraid to use it--not just against those he deems unworthy, but also, if he so chooses, over those he saves. I am really enjoying this guy as a character.  Every single time the PTs have no use for his shit, I cheer.  Him being unbalanced by the metaverse is glorious, and please let Morgana continue to freak him out by existing and Haru continue to freak him out with sweet, pleasant smiles while talking about how she’s very sorry, it’s simply that all cops are bastards, for the rest of the game. (Additional note: @errant-light and I have been watching and talking about a whole bunch of Fullmetal Alchemist lately, and apparently Hasegawa’s Japanese VA is also Roy Mustang.  Which has just been a delightful detail re: this guy’s manipulative bastardry, because in some ways I am pretty sure the mass-murdering war criminal version of this character is the better person.)
Alice as a really obvious parallel to Kamoshida is interesting, I think.  Even to the point of being a king and queen ruling a castle--and don’t think I didn’t see that “Birdcage of Lust” label!  I don’t love having a pretty young social media influencer as our sin of lust (but even that’s complicated, because Alice was pretty clearly caged and abused for daring to feel lust in the first place, NOT for preying on people, except that then she did get predatory and it’s all a little thorny and not especially kink-positive).  I do have a lot of feelings about Shujin as this place where Kamoshida abused and preyed on people with total abandon, while Alice was demonized for daring to even look at boys in the wrong way.  I really wonder if they ever met.  It’s a cool counterpoint, and a really cool counterpoint to Ann, who was likewise a victim of that school and refused to let it turn her into an abuser herself.  (I have a LOT of feelings about Ann right now.) I’m really hoping future jail monarchs continue to mirror palace rulers in interesting ways.  In theory, next up is vanity, and gosh knows there’s plenty to fuck around with in playing against Yusuke’s lonely artistic yearning to be understood.  I’m very excited.
Apparently, the internet says this game takes 35 hours to play.  Me and my 21-hour playtime so far have some Opinions About That.
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entergamingxp · 4 years
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Maneater Review — Watch Out Boy She’ll Chew You Up
May 22, 2020 9:00 AM EST
Maneater is an enjoyable open-world romp that is just a bit too straightforward and contains more than a handful of bugs and performance issues.
The notion that sharks gobble up hundreds or thousands of people around the globe each year has been overblown ever since Jaws released back in 1975. Millions of people worldwide deal with the shark-induced fear that comes from dipping your toes into the ocean purely because of how media has portrayed the sea-faring creatures over the years. In reality, there were less than 75 unprovoked shark attacks around the entire globe in 2019, and of those, only two resulted in actual deaths. Despite real-life not lining up with the fictional world of sharks, for some reason, it’s a fun notion that the seas are filled with human-hungry beasts ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
With this in mind, in steps Maneater, the newest game from Tripwire Interactive that lets you live out all of your wildest shark fantasies. Pitched as an open-world action RPG (which Tripwire has lovingly referred to as a “ShaRkPG”), Maneater has you taking control of a bloodthirsty shark that is out to chomp on everything in sight. The final product, while definitely making for some fun, is a far too by-the-numbers experience that doesn’t do enough to set itself apart from the genre.
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“[Maneater] is a far too by-the-numbers experience that doesn’t do enough to set itself apart from the genre.”
Maneater is presented in the same format as a reality television show, which is a bit odd at first. The game appears as if it were created to air during the Discovery Channel’s upcoming iteration of Shark Week. From here, you’re presented to some of the main characters that will appear throughout the game and the voice of the game’s narrator, portrayed by Chris Parnell, who gives a play-by-play of your own shark’s actions throughout the experience.
Starting as a young bull shark pup, you’ll eventually consume enough humans, fish, and other strange delicacies that will allow you to grow into an enormous elder shark. As you grow, your overall stats will increase as will your ability to jump higher out of the water and stay on land for more extended periods. Everything that you consume will allow you to gain more power throughout Maneater, and continuing to grow in size makes for a fun, albeit simple, gameplay loop.
While increasing your overall shark’s level will help you gain more strength at a baseline level, Maneater is full of a handful of other RPG systems that allow you to tailor-make your creature’s play style. Your shark has a variety of different slots in which you can attach various abilities, which will then be available to upgrade to increase your cursory stats while giving you other bonuses. Some of these abilities work in conjunction with one another, too, giving you additional passive boosts if you equip abilities of the same ilk. For instance, if you give your shark multiple abilities of the Bone variety, your overall resistance to damage will increase at a set ratio.
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Despite having all the simple fixings to make for a fleshed-out RPG, Maneater‘s role-playing aspects feel pretty baseline. After I found the first few abilities that I really thought stood out amongst the rest, I barely mixed up what I utilized throughout the remainder of the game. While I’m always down for the addition of RPG systems in games considering how much I love the role-playing genre, if what is presented doesn’t end up feeling very thought out or novel, there’s almost no point in even adding these aspects to begin with.
Another part of Maneater that ended up being pretty lackluster dealt with the game’s combat. Playing as a shark, you’d imagine that gnashing at enemies with your teeth would be the primary way you do damage–and yes, you’d be right. Despite being able to also utilize your tail and having the ability to chuck enemies into one another, most combat scenarios will simply just see you mashing the right trigger once you get ahold of your target. Combat in Maneater is the definition of derivative and never really evolves outside of a few late-game boss fights. Once you’ve played about 30 minutes of Maneater, you’ll have experienced just about all there is to do in the realm of combat.
Speaking of boss fights, the battles that appear in Maneater are not fun at all. Much of this is compounded on the fact that the combat isn’t great in the first place, but the situations you’ll be presented with don’t contain any more depth than “Chomp on ship until HP runs out.”
Bland combat also makes the game’s Infamy system a slog to grind through. Essentially, the more people that you eat up in Maneater, the higher your Infamy rank will increase. At set intervals, when your Infamy has reached a certain level, you’ll then be met with specific mercenaries that appear to do away with you. If you want to max out your Infamy rank, you’ll have to snack on all 10 of these specialized bounty hunters that appear, and getting to that point is not very enjoyable at all.
Despite sounding very down on Maneater as a whole, I did generally enjoy my time with the game. The open-world is pretty well stitched together and cohesive outside of some early game environments being worse than those you’ll come across later on. Maneater‘s smaller areas can often make you feel cramped and confused when it comes to getting around, while the larger locales are pretty fun to swim about. I found it enjoyable swimming through the game’s gulf area and going out of my way to attack a sperm whale for no reason.
And while very straightforward, I also really got a kick out of getting 100% completion in the game. Most of the items of interest that you’ll come across in Maneater are simple collectibles like license plates and underwater caches, but finding all of them scratched my collectathon itch. I should make note that I’m always a sucker for open-world style checklist games like this, so your mileage definitely may vary.
As for the actual missions you’re presented with in Maneater, well, like the rest of the game, they get incredibly redundant. Pretty much every section of Maneater has you re-doing the exact same tasks, just within a different environment than before. You’ll have to eat up large groups of common sea dwellers, take on Apex enemy types, and reach a certain completion percentage in the area before then moving on. None of this is necessarily bad, but it also wasn’t gratifying, either. Most of Maneater‘s missions come across as pure busywork.
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“Maneater isn’t a bad game by any means, but it never does anything beyond its simple elevator pitch.”
The one aspect of Maneater that I also can’t go without mentioning comes in the way of general performance. I played on a PS4 Pro and experienced a fair amount of hitching, framerate dropping, and other various issues during my 11-12 hour playtime. Maneater also hard-crashed back to my PS4 dashboard at one point, while in another instance after dying, I respawned at quite literally the opening cutscene of the game for some reason. Fortunately, my actual progress had been saved at the correct point, but I had to completely close the application and reboot the game to get back into my actual save.
Maneater isn’t a bad game by any means, but it never does anything beyond its simple elevator pitch. Compounded with the fact that the launch iteration of the game had more than enough bugs, long loading times, and performance issues than I would have liked, it’s hard to recommend as a must-play by any means. There’s a fun game here at the core of Maneater, but even then, there’s not a whole lot of meat on the bone. For a game all about sharks feasting on their surroundings, Maneater would have been far better if there was a little bit more to chew on.
May 22, 2020 9:00 AM EST
from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/05/maneater-review-watch-out-boy-shell-chew-you-up/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=maneater-review-watch-out-boy-shell-chew-you-up
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crying-over-gaming · 7 years
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Overwatch: From frowning upon a shiny Tracer's butt to an amazingly developed franchise.
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I would like to dedicate my first-born contribution to my deeply personal gaming review blog by highlighting the game that has in the last few months cost me more playtime than I have got sleep time. Yes, Blizzard, I’m looking at you.
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I’ve never been much of a Blizz girl myself. Of course I watched my friends play World of Warcraft back in the year of our lord 2001, when it was still cool (and even we were the “kids who came way too late”). But other than that I never even brushed Blizzard’s merch. That was until May 24th, 2016 when I purchased a product key for Overwatch, following the advice of a trusted friend. I didn’t really expect much. I mean, what new could another online arena shooter possibly bring? Oh boy, was I wrong.
Getting my hands on the gameplay
First of all, I was blown away by the smooth controls. It did take some adjusting, but mainly because I wasn’t very used to playing an online shooter then. I loved (and still do!) all the awesome movement options of the heroes to explore and learn to take an advantage of in combination with or standing against others. In this way, the game offers unbelievable way of development. Initially, I didn’t believe that as Tracer I could ever take down a Roadhog or Reinhard. Now, I still can’t, but I’ve seen others do it, so. The two game modes (objective capture and payload pushing) are both equally satisfying and nerve-wrecking. Teamplay is crucial, and Overwatch is one of those games that reminds you why we as humanity are likely not meant to last much longer. If, at any point down the line, mankind is supposed to push the payload or defend an objective, we’d lose because of all the lonely Genjis and Tracers with their fragile DPS egos all the way on the other side of the damn map. I’m sorry for the salt. This game tho.
To whoever writes for Overwatch: teach me, master.  
Another great thing about Overwatch is the living and thriving lore. It just keeps coming, and it keeps coming good. Being the veteran I am, I’ve seen all the events so far and I was in awe. The summer olympics, awakening the patriotic spirits within us, the Halloween special where we _all_ became a Hanzo main, Winter’s culturally correct snowball fights or the Chinese New Year are all just reminding me of why I love this game so much: it doesn’t lack fantasy and playfulness, and you can tell that the developers listen to their players carefully — in more ways than one, more on that later. It’s all there: the painful topic of family in war portrayed by Ana and Pharah, the weird kinds of friendship such as the one Roadhog and Junkrat share, tackling the celebrity status and using it for greater good like Lucio or D.va does, and the writers aren’t even afraid of diving into such complex and fairly unexplored topics (at least not in this kind of games) such as autism and homosexuality. And they don’t actually just stomp around in its remains. Once again, Blizzard, I applaud you.
The lootbox aka the Bottomless Pit of Despair
Everybody loves getting presents. Even if it’s just extra in-game content that doesn’t alter the gameplay or story in any way. Giving people pretty shiny outfits, voicelines, emotes and spray designs for their favorite characters is such a brilliant idea — not only will people literally pay to get more (regardless of its lottery nature), but for me, getting that last 3K of XP to get one more lootbox before 3AM bedtime has been a thing more than once. You feel like it's for free, but it cost hours of your lifetime that you'll never get back. You're welcome.  The extensive skin, voiceline and emote upgrades add to the character development that further underlines the story.  Although I must say that I’ve cursed emotes several times; especially due to my low life often being cut short by a sudden death from the hand of a slightly confused enemy, who just saw me accidentally dancing a round of can-can instead of spamming our support with yet another “I need healing!”, in case they didn't hear.
Alright. You’ve waited long enough to get a con:
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Here it is.
Also, have I mentioned the character reveals? I've never been involved in anything as exciting as Ana's reveal, and anything as excruciating and anti-climactic as Sombra's one. We have been tested, people. 
Overbutts
All that being said, I think the main reason why I enjoy Overwatch so much is not the polished gameplay, not the colorful graphics, not the constant stream of patches and updates, but the sheer amount of women in it. Relevant, powerful, unique and very well-written women. It’s not hard to understand, really; game developers discovered that girls exist (and they like to play games too!) quite recently. No hard feelings there. But frankly, if you want me to like your game, put some badass girls in there, give them big guns and an actual backstory that doesn’t include unnecessary amounts of heteronormative romance (sorry, it’s the tumblr user in me speaking now), and I’m sold.
Tears cried: 5 out of 5 
P.S.: I'm a Pharah main, thanks for asking. 
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operationrainfall · 4 years
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Title Carrion Developer Phobia Game Studio Publisher Devolver Digital Release Date July 23rd, 2020 Genre Stealth, Horror, Metroidvania Platform PC, PS4, Nintendo Switch, Xbox One Age Rating Mature 17+ – Blood and Gore, Violence Official Website
I like to think of myself as a good person. I preface this review thus because after playing Carrion for a few hours, you start to feel like a sociopath. Gobbling up humans like popcorn chicken and cutting a red swath of destruction across sinister facilities. But just cause I’m generally decent doesn’t mean it’s not fun to be bad sometimes. And playing this reverse horror Metroidvania definitely puts you squarely in the shoes of the monster. Though really, if you think about it, you didn’t ASK to be placed in a vat. So I’m sure those devious humans brought this mayhem upon themselves. Regardless, Carrion is a wholly unique experience, and one of the most noteworthy games I’ve played in a long while.
As you might expect, there’s not much plot in Carrion. The writhing mass of red tentacles and mouths you control doesn’t do much talking, though you do encounter several potential flashbacks. This happens when your character, who I started referring to as Tentacly Joe, inserts himself into strange mechanical devices. The focus shifts to you moving around as an unknown human going about searching for specimens and unlocking facilities. It’s not clear to me whether these are actual flashbacks or some premonition of the future, but they provide the bulk of the narrative. The rest of the time, you rampage Joe through many facilities in your effort to escape.
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The loop of the game goes like this. You search for hive crevices which unlock the portal to the next area. These are eerie openings in the walls of the facility that Joe burrows into. The crevices also double as save points, and heal you. As you progress through each area, you’ll encounter vats identical to the one you first escape from. By interacting with them, you’ll gain a new ability, such as spitting spider webs, turning invisible or using echolocation to identify key locations around you. Once you’ve gotten all you can from the area, you’ll be able to reach the newly opened portal and squeeze through into someplace new. But as you go from point A to point B, you’ll have to deal with a lot of pesky humans first.
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While you might think Joe is totally overpowered in the game, that’s not entirely true. You’re a grotesque entity capable of gobbling up humans to increase your mass and alter your available abilities. The bigger you are, the more you can do, but at the expense of other powers. Small Joe can do things Large cannot, and Medium can do things neither is capable of. You can always dislodge excess mass in murky pink pools to adjust your skill set, often strategically. But none of that changes the fact these humans are more than capable of putting the hurt on you. Your size corresponds to your overall health as well, but they have tons of tricks and traps to cut you to pieces.
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Humans will shoot you with pistols, burn you with flamethrowers and block you with sizzling electric shields. They also have littered the facility with powerful machines, including various drones, gun turrets, explosive devices and more. And as you might expect, the farther you get, the harder the challenges thrown at you become. A great example are the walking mechs piloted by humans and armed with gatling guns that can easily pulp you. Thankfully, as you progress you learn plenty of new tricks to deal with them, though my favorite is Parasitism. It lets Joe extend a tentacle, plunge it into a human host and turn them into a puppet. You can then use that host to activate switches, shoot other humans and even pilot machines. A favorite moment of mine involved using one meat puppet to pilot a mech and proceed to blast everything in the room to shreds, including another mech that was trying to stop me.
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Your primary means of dealing with humans is stealth. They’re smart and react to sounds and sights, so you’ll have to sneak about. Once you get your tentacles on a human, you can smash them against walls to incapacitate them. Once you’ve got them, Joe will automatically drag them towards his hungry mouths and gobble them up, regaining some health. Often you can’t wait that long, since the humans will protect each other. So in the interest of avoiding damage you might have to get extra violent. Joe is very nimble and surprisingly fast, can squeeze into small openings and slither about effortlessly. He’ll automatically cling to walls, so you have a lot of flexibility how you explore. Thankfully that lends itself to the stealth sections. I admit that I really wasn’t expecting this element of the game, but overall I’m a fan. Carrion is a great blend of terror, caution and violence, with puzzle solving to space sections out. Though there’s no distinct bosses I encountered in the game, many rooms are set up as a gauntlet. You’ll always have the means necessary to get past them, but sometimes figuring that out is the biggest hurdle.
Now, I’m a big fan of Metroidvanias, and for the most part Carrion gives me what I expect. The challenge scales nicely and combat keeps expanding based off your skill set. The one surprise for me was the lack of maps. Granted, you can use Joe’s sonar to get a rough feel for your surroundings, but I always prefer a visual key to guide me. And though the lack of a map wasn’t a problem for most of the game, it became one late in the experience. I got to one section called the Armored Warfare Facility, the second to last area of the game. Things were going great, until I decided to meander. Instead of relentlessly proceeding forwards, I meandered to a switch I thought I needed to activate. Instead of helping me, it effectively locked me out of the path I was meant to take. I tried finding an alternate route, only to discover indestructible blast doors had blocked my egress. This after 10 hours or so of playtime. Unfortunately, this meant I wasn’t able to fully beat Carrion, which is really disappointing. I’m always paranoid about getting trapped in any game, and find it’s usually due to poor design. While the rest of the game was quite enjoyable, this definitely prevented it from getting a perfect score from me.
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I’d say Carrion controls pretty well, with some provisos. As you control a constantly moving mass of murderous intent, it stands to reason the controls are a bit slippery. It’s not too hard to kill humans, but often it can be tricky to accurately interact with specific features. These include flipping switches, shooting webs and grabbing a nuclear core in one section. I would imagine the game controls more precisely with a mouse and keyboard, but all things considered it runs pretty great on the Nintendo Switch.
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Visually, Carrion is a treat. It uses pixel art in astonishing ways, and is equal parts glorious and hideous. This is a gory game, and you’ll literally paint the walls red as you play. And though Tentacly Joe is no hero, he’s a very unique looking creature. Likewise, the many humans that you’ll mow down show off a lot of personality, reacting to your intrusion with alarm. The sound effects are no slouch either. You’ll hear lots of screams of distress, both from your prey and Joe when he’s injured. Though there’s not much in the way of actual music, there is a low key ambiance that builds the dread remarkably well.
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Carrion is a game I’ve been looking forward to for a while. And though I am more than a bit disappointed I got stuck, I’m still eager to play through again sometime soon. It’s an absolute steal at $19.99. Warts and all, this is a fascinating and wholly unique game. I’m glad as always that Devolver Digital takes chances on titles like this, and can’t wait to see what’s next from Phobia Game Studio.
Cue the muzak! Joe is coming for dinner.
[easyreview cat1title=”Overall” cat1detail=”” cat1rating=”3.5″]
Review Copy Provided by Publisher
REVIEW: Carrion on Nintendo Switch Title Carrion
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symbianosgames · 7 years
Link
The following blog post, unless otherwise noted, was written by a member of Gamasutra’s community. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the writer and not Gamasutra or its parent company.
In some ways, The Gallery began in 1992. My first experience in virtual reality was that year, with the aptly named Virtuality—an early VR platform steeped in the cheese of late-80s sci-fi design. It wasn’t a good experience, and honestly it left me feeling nauseous, but it was a bubbly and bulky dream for a future that technology simply wasn’t ready for. That’s when the obsession started; one day VR would be just like the movies.
By 2012, I was personally experimenting with approximating 3D vision in a virtual space. There were forums where people were just throwing ideas up against the wall, trying to figure out what hardware we would need to build VR the way we saw it. We developed simulators and collimated displays, all hacked together in our garages. Palmer Luckey was there too, and he had figured out a way to make a headset affordable using off-the-shelf components. He promised to send a few of us the parts to test his new schematic.
But then Palmer got quiet on the forums, and John Carmack’s name started floating around. We knew then that the formula was cracked, and it was time to start taking VR more seriously.
That year, I formed Cloudhead with two colleagues, Christopher Roe and Matt Lyon, with a vision to build a game specifically for virtual reality. We decided early on that, for VR to be the VR we imagined, we would need some sort of hand input as well. There was only one device at the time that we thought might work—a flat-game peripheral called the Razer Hydra, which tracked hand position using a weak magnetic field.
In the spring of 2013, we launched a successful Kickstarter, received our first Rift, and got to work.
Starting with DK1 meant that the development of The Gallery became defined by design iteration.
An early experiment in hybrid locomotion
First came overcoming motion sickness during artificial rotations. We introduced snap turns (“VR Comfort Mode”) as a way to skip the perceptual hiccup of seeing movement while the inner ear doesn’t feel it. The only way to skip it was to literally skip it; skip increments of rotation. (We found our sweet spot to be at 10-degree increments.) We consulted for the Perceptual Psychologist at Oculus, and they ended up including snap turns in their Best Practices guide.
Next was iterating hand interaction systems that just didn’t exist yet. We had to figure out how to manipulate, grab, carry, and use objects in a 3D space with virtual hands in a natural way. As well, we needed constraint systems. If you grab and turn a door handle in VR, for instance, your meat-space (aka real world) hand will move independent of that fixed object in virtual space, creating a cognitive disconnect. We found that we could trick the brain by giving the virtual hand some affordance to stick to the handle, even when the meat-space hand isn’t perfectly in place, and then unsnap it if it moves too far away.
That process repeated with DK2 and positional tracking. Technologies improved, our team grew in size, and every time we were introduced to new hardware capabilities, we had to rethink design fundamentals.
When Valve brought us to a secret summit in 2014, everything changed. The implementation of roomscale was a dramatic shift in design. On the one side, it was a huge wave of relief; tracked hand input and full, volumetric movement was going to be ‘a thing’ with commercial hardware. On the other side, we had to reverse-engineer our entire game and reconstruct its framework to fit roomscale VR. Not only that, but as soon as we crossed the 90fps threshold, perceiving VR became like looking into a true representation of reality. Even if you’re holding up something cartoony, the smoothness of the motion makes your brain think, “Oh, that’s a real thing, it’s just painted to look cartoony.” It also meant that smooth, artificial forward traversal could make people feel ill or uncomfortable because peripheral vection was more easily perceived—an issue that only affected artificial rotation beforehand.
Cloudhead Dan with the V Minus-1 Vive prototype
So, how do we move an entire room through 3D space without artificially pushing it forward? And what happens if the player only has the carpet in front of their TV as their play area? What if they only have the space in front of their desk? What if they have a full living room? All of these questions came before Valve had time to introduce chaperone as the VR standard.
Our solution was an elastic playspace and teleportation system which we called Blink. It began its life as a simple teleport—you point to where you want to go, push a button, and suddenly you’re there. We started adding layers of complexity, one by one. A reticle. A preview of your relative orientation. A preview of where your new boundaries will be. The ability to rotate your projected orientation. The ability to rotate your play volume itself. We wanted players to ideally orient their playspace to take full advantage of however much room they had, so they could comfortably move around in their volume without worrying about boundaries.
Finally, we added a cinematic fade to mask the “blink” between choosing your desired location, and ending up at the new location. Along with some naturally timed footfalls, we created a system where the further you teleport away, the longer the fade to black lasts and the more footfalls you hear. Added together, it created a form of locomotion that fit the world and the flow of the game, allowed full use of the player’s space, and—most importantly—wouldn’t make anyone sick.
The entire time we were building these new systems, and solving each new subsequent problem, we were also trying to ship a game. Valve and HTC had quietly given us access to one of the first Vive devkits with only one stipulation: Make something incredible. What we learned as we built our first roomscale demo was that smaller, more well-considered spaces with a tight narrative loop fit the format. We stepped back into the whole arc of The Gallery’s narrative and started to sculpt it down to be something more intimate.
An early iteration of the beach (Top) and the final beach scene (Bottom) in Call of the Starseed, redesigned for roomscale VR
Despite The Gallery being a fantasy experience at its core, every time we shifted direction, or a new piece of technology came online, we always went back to the beach—the level most grounded in reality. Having that real-world constant helped players better acclimate to the virtual environment, and better learn gameplay interactions without a sensory overload. It also made the transition to fantasy that much more wondrous. We ended up redesigning the beach numerous times before it became the opening level you see in Call of the Starseed. And even after launch, we iterated on the scene again to support Valve’s “Knuckle” controllers last fall.
When we launched Call of the Starseed alongside the HTC Vive in April 2015, we weren’t sure what the response would be. We worked countless long nights to meet that release date, and had to scope down many ideas that we just couldn’t make work in time. We knew that for VR to resonate with people, our experience had to not make them sick. Everyone within that first VR launch period knew that. But we also knew that we had to make our experience good. And, honestly, we didn’t know if it was.
The final sewer layout was fundamentally changed to better suit roomscale VR
At launch, the reviews were polarizing. There were comments that the experience was too short, or that we priced it too high at $29.99. Both were completely valid concerns from the public, but it was difficult for us to contextualize those comments, because every developer in VR had worked so hard and taken so many risks (financial and otherwise) to be there years prior. In the general Steam landscape, players expect that a game X hours long is worth X. It left us in a pickle, because we had to find a price to make a good ROI in a very small VR market. The playtime also varied; for many, Starseed was a 2 to 3-hour experience. But players more acclimated to VR were less likely to stop and touch the roses, and could finish it in half the time.
And then there were reviews that said Call of the Starseed was the first VR experience to make them cry, or the first to completely fill them with wonder. And it kept trickling in like that, with comments going so far as saying Starseed was the best gaming experience they’ve had in their entire life. Admittedly, I’m more jaded than most, but when you get reviews like those it’s hard to really believe them.
Still, they kept coming, and keep coming to this day. People approach us at events and reiterate those same sentiments. Eventually we realized that it was having the impact we really hoped it would—not just The Gallery, but the whole promise of virtual reality. Eliciting that sense of wonder in any medium is difficult, but virtual reality takes that up several notches. VR was enabling The Gallery to feel like a true memory of an event. A real moment in people’s lives.
Four months after launch, Valve and HTC reached out with the tremendous honour of including Call of the Starseed in the second Vive content bundle. By that time, our design motif of making an approachable VR experience that was comfortable and gradual was no longer feeling complex enough for some. That was partly our intention; we designed Starseed for everybody, in the same way that movies are for everybody.
Now, I am a massive, nerdy fan of all the Indiana Jones movies—even the bad ones. So, to me, virtual reality and The Gallery have always been about bringing 80s movies to life. Roomscale VR is about emulating a fantastical sci-fi future, rife with personal Holodecks. It’s about immersion, being taken to new worlds, and eliciting a childlike wonder. All the types of experiences I dreamt of growing up in the 80s, and have been teased with ever since.
With The Gallery, we wanted create that sense of adventure, fantasy, and freedom. To give people the chance to step into those characters and their journeys. People who have always wanted to participate in an adventure, but never could, for whatever reason.
It’s not often that you get to be there at the birth of a new medium, that you get to influence what it can become. That’s the opportunity that all of us understood—from the blood, sweat, and tears of the Cloudhead team, now nearly 20 strong; to the incredible passion of each and every developer and fan who’s been a part of this past year, forging the industry, and creating memorable experiences. Real moments.
VR isn’t just like the movies quite yet. But it’s becoming something much more important.
0 notes
symbianosgames · 7 years
Link
The following blog post, unless otherwise noted, was written by a member of Gamasutra’s community. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the writer and not Gamasutra or its parent company.
In some ways, The Gallery began in 1992. My first experience in virtual reality was that year, with the aptly named Virtuality—an early VR platform steeped in the cheese of late-80s sci-fi design. It wasn’t a good experience, and honestly it left me feeling nauseous, but it was a bubbly and bulky dream for a future that technology simply wasn’t ready for. That’s when the obsession started; one day VR would be just like the movies.
By 2012, I was personally experimenting with approximating 3D vision in a virtual space. There were forums where people were just throwing ideas up against the wall, trying to figure out what hardware we would need to build VR the way we saw it. We developed simulators and collimated displays, all hacked together in our garages. Palmer Luckey was there too, and he had figured out a way to make a headset affordable using off-the-shelf components. He promised to send a few of us the parts to test his new schematic.
But then Palmer got quiet on the forums, and John Carmack’s name started floating around. We knew then that the formula was cracked, and it was time to start taking VR more seriously.
That year, I formed Cloudhead with two colleagues, Christopher Roe and Matt Lyon, with a vision to build a game specifically for virtual reality. We decided early on that, for VR to be the VR we imagined, we would need some sort of hand input as well. There was only one device at the time that we thought might work—a flat-game peripheral called the Razer Hydra, which tracked hand position using a weak magnetic field.
In the spring of 2013, we launched a successful Kickstarter, received our first Rift, and got to work.
Starting with DK1 meant that the development of The Gallery became defined by design iteration.
An early experiment in hybrid locomotion
First came overcoming motion sickness during artificial rotations. We introduced snap turns (“VR Comfort Mode”) as a way to skip the perceptual hiccup of seeing movement while the inner ear doesn’t feel it. The only way to skip it was to literally skip it; skip increments of rotation. (We found our sweet spot to be at 10-degree increments.) We consulted for the Perceptual Psychologist at Oculus, and they ended up including snap turns in their Best Practices guide.
Next was iterating hand interaction systems that just didn’t exist yet. We had to figure out how to manipulate, grab, carry, and use objects in a 3D space with virtual hands in a natural way. As well, we needed constraint systems. If you grab and turn a door handle in VR, for instance, your meat-space (aka real world) hand will move independent of that fixed object in virtual space, creating a cognitive disconnect. We found that we could trick the brain by giving the virtual hand some affordance to stick to the handle, even when the meat-space hand isn’t perfectly in place, and then unsnap it if it moves too far away.
That process repeated with DK2 and positional tracking. Technologies improved, our team grew in size, and every time we were introduced to new hardware capabilities, we had to rethink design fundamentals.
When Valve brought us to a secret summit in 2014, everything changed. The implementation of roomscale was a dramatic shift in design. On the one side, it was a huge wave of relief; tracked hand input and full, volumetric movement was going to be ‘a thing’ with commercial hardware. On the other side, we had to reverse-engineer our entire game and reconstruct its framework to fit roomscale VR. Not only that, but as soon as we crossed the 90fps threshold, perceiving VR became like looking into a true representation of reality. Even if you’re holding up something cartoony, the smoothness of the motion makes your brain think, “Oh, that’s a real thing, it’s just painted to look cartoony.” It also meant that smooth, artificial forward traversal could make people feel ill or uncomfortable because peripheral vection was more easily perceived—an issue that only affected artificial rotation beforehand.
Cloudhead Dan with the V Minus-1 Vive prototype
So, how do we move an entire room through 3D space without artificially pushing it forward? And what happens if the player only has the carpet in front of their TV as their play area? What if they only have the space in front of their desk? What if they have a full living room? All of these questions came before Valve had time to introduce chaperone as the VR standard.
Our solution was an elastic playspace and teleportation system which we called Blink. It began its life as a simple teleport—you point to where you want to go, push a button, and suddenly you’re there. We started adding layers of complexity, one by one. A reticle. A preview of your relative orientation. A preview of where your new boundaries will be. The ability to rotate your projected orientation. The ability to rotate your play volume itself. We wanted players to ideally orient their playspace to take full advantage of however much room they had, so they could comfortably move around in their volume without worrying about boundaries.
Finally, we added a cinematic fade to mask the “blink” between choosing your desired location, and ending up at the new location. Along with some naturally timed footfalls, we created a system where the further you teleport away, the longer the fade to black lasts and the more footfalls you hear. Added together, it created a form of locomotion that fit the world and the flow of the game, allowed full use of the player’s space, and—most importantly—wouldn’t make anyone sick.
The entire time we were building these new systems, and solving each new subsequent problem, we were also trying to ship a game. Valve and HTC had quietly given us access to one of the first Vive devkits with only one stipulation: Make something incredible. What we learned as we built our first roomscale demo was that smaller, more well-considered spaces with a tight narrative loop fit the format. We stepped back into the whole arc of The Gallery’s narrative and started to sculpt it down to be something more intimate.
An early iteration of the beach (Top) and the final beach scene (Bottom) in Call of the Starseed, redesigned for roomscale VR
Despite The Gallery being a fantasy experience at its core, every time we shifted direction, or a new piece of technology came online, we always went back to the beach—the level most grounded in reality. Having that real-world constant helped players better acclimate to the virtual environment, and better learn gameplay interactions without a sensory overload. It also made the transition to fantasy that much more wondrous. We ended up redesigning the beach numerous times before it became the opening level you see in Call of the Starseed. And even after launch, we iterated on the scene again to support Valve’s “Knuckle” controllers last fall.
When we launched Call of the Starseed alongside the HTC Vive in April 2015, we weren’t sure what the response would be. We worked countless long nights to meet that release date, and had to scope down many ideas that we just couldn’t make work in time. We knew that for VR to resonate with people, our experience had to not make them sick. Everyone within that first VR launch period knew that. But we also knew that we had to make our experience good. And, honestly, we didn’t know if it was.
The final sewer layout was fundamentally changed to better suit roomscale VR
At launch, the reviews were polarizing. There were comments that the experience was too short, or that we priced it too high at $29.99. Both were completely valid concerns from the public, but it was difficult for us to contextualize those comments, because every developer in VR had worked so hard and taken so many risks (financial and otherwise) to be there years prior. In the general Steam landscape, players expect that a game X hours long is worth X. It left us in a pickle, because we had to find a price to make a good ROI in a very small VR market. The playtime also varied; for many, Starseed was a 2 to 3-hour experience. But players more acclimated to VR were less likely to stop and touch the roses, and could finish it in half the time.
And then there were reviews that said Call of the Starseed was the first VR experience to make them cry, or the first to completely fill them with wonder. And it kept trickling in like that, with comments going so far as saying Starseed was the best gaming experience they’ve had in their entire life. Admittedly, I’m more jaded than most, but when you get reviews like those it’s hard to really believe them.
Still, they kept coming, and keep coming to this day. People approach us at events and reiterate those same sentiments. Eventually we realized that it was having the impact we really hoped it would—not just The Gallery, but the whole promise of virtual reality. Eliciting that sense of wonder in any medium is difficult, but virtual reality takes that up several notches. VR was enabling The Gallery to feel like a true memory of an event. A real moment in people’s lives.
Four months after launch, Valve and HTC reached out with the tremendous honour of including Call of the Starseed in the second Vive content bundle. By that time, our design motif of making an approachable VR experience that was comfortable and gradual was no longer feeling complex enough for some. That was partly our intention; we designed Starseed for everybody, in the same way that movies are for everybody.
Now, I am a massive, nerdy fan of all the Indiana Jones movies—even the bad ones. So, to me, virtual reality and The Gallery have always been about bringing 80s movies to life. Roomscale VR is about emulating a fantastical sci-fi future, rife with personal Holodecks. It’s about immersion, being taken to new worlds, and eliciting a childlike wonder. All the types of experiences I dreamt of growing up in the 80s, and have been teased with ever since.
With The Gallery, we wanted create that sense of adventure, fantasy, and freedom. To give people the chance to step into those characters and their journeys. People who have always wanted to participate in an adventure, but never could, for whatever reason.
It’s not often that you get to be there at the birth of a new medium, that you get to influence what it can become. That’s the opportunity that all of us understood—from the blood, sweat, and tears of the Cloudhead team, now nearly 20 strong; to the incredible passion of each and every developer and fan who’s been a part of this past year, forging the industry, and creating memorable experiences. Real moments.
VR isn’t just like the movies quite yet. But it’s becoming something much more important.
0 notes