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Braid
Parents' Disclaimer: Hey wait, this one's rated E (for Everybody). I still make reference to some M (for Mature) rated games. These games aren't for your kids; they're for older gamers, like me. If you wouldn't buy R-rated movies for your youngster, don't buy M-rated games for them either.
Microsoft is having a hell of a summer with its Xbox Live Arcade lineup. Don't get me wrong, I've long respected XBLA titles. In fact, XBLA software has introduced me to several games I was playing this past weekend at GenCon in Indianapolis (and even several I never got around to playing). Still, it's fair to criticize the XBLA platform for being home to way too much shovelware. But there's a veritible renaissance of quality games coming through the Live Arcade this summer that commands a lot of respect and shines a bright light on the viability of small developers publishing smaller, high-quality games. I'll try to touch on at least a few of these in the upcoming days and weeks (especially since I'll be on vacation next week), but today's focus is Braid.
The discussion about games-as-art is one that has a lot of back and forth to it (and ironically it's film pundits that are the staunchest opponents to the notion of games as an art form, despite that they were on the opposite end of the very same argument a century ago), and I'm not really looking to dive into that. I bring it up because if you ever wanted an example to put on a pedastal of a game as art, Braid is it.
The off-hand meme I've been using to describe Braid is "genius-level platforming." If that scares or thrills you even a little, I've done my job. You take control of a generally unassuming character named Tom. Tom is a generally unremarkable guy with one notable exception: he can rewind time (a la Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time). This time ability is capped at the point you entered the challenge room, so you can never get completely stuck. In fact, you can't lose at all -- you can only get temporarily stuck. The platforming execution is very simple. You have goofy looking goombaesque mobs with their naive patrols and you get the slightly more sinister hopping rabits. Either is dispatched by hopping on its head. Your goal: to find the princess.
While everything begins simple enough, but rapidly evolves into a complex experience. The puzzles grow more and more elaborate, forcing you to grapple with objects moving in different directions in time, independent shadow replays of yourself re-enacting what was just rewound, and localized time-slowing. By the time you're well-vested in the gameplay, you realize there is no simple solution to a puzzle, no way to force your way through. You must outsmart the level, you must actually solve the puzzle.
All this puzzle solving leads to more puzzle solving, only in a more literal sense. Progress through a level is measured in terms of pieces of a puzzle acquired. Each room contains a fixed number of pieces and once a world has been fully traversed you can then complete the world by piecing together the puzzle. New worlds are opened up by completing these puzzles.
Why do all this? Why exercise your brain like this and go to all the trouble for a measly video game princess? Well, I won't spoil all the surprise, but this isn't Mario. While you're arranging these puzzles of portraits of Tom's life, you begin to collect pieces of the puzzle of Tom's psychological portrait. Ultimately, the game's tone is more like that of Silent Hill 2 in that the game is about the characters's inner demons (not so much with the horror bits). It's about errors and pennance, about saving Tom more than it is about saving the princess.
Braid is an independently developed platformer that will cost you $15 to purchase, and you should. This price point has been the subject of its own controversey, but since any argument against the developer charging that amount for this game ultimately boils down to "I'm a cheap tart," I'll happily disregard the entire debate out of hand. I will, also, gesture mildly towards Penny Arcade's take on the subject and remind you that they're right. You're a consumer whore (and how!), so cough up the money and support people who do cool things.
Microsoft is having a hell of a summer with its Xbox Live Arcade lineup. Don't get me wrong, I've long respected XBLA titles. In fact, XBLA software has introduced me to several games I was playing this past weekend at GenCon in Indianapolis (and even several I never got around to playing). Still, it's fair to criticize the XBLA platform for being home to way too much shovelware. But there's a veritible renaissance of quality games coming through the Live Arcade this summer that commands a lot of respect and shines a bright light on the viability of small developers publishing smaller, high-quality games. I'll try to touch on at least a few of these in the upcoming days and weeks (especially since I'll be on vacation next week), but today's focus is Braid.
The discussion about games-as-art is one that has a lot of back and forth to it (and ironically it's film pundits that are the staunchest opponents to the notion of games as an art form, despite that they were on the opposite end of the very same argument a century ago), and I'm not really looking to dive into that. I bring it up because if you ever wanted an example to put on a pedastal of a game as art, Braid is it. The off-hand meme I've been using to describe Braid is "genius-level platforming." If that scares or thrills you even a little, I've done my job. You take control of a generally unassuming character named Tom. Tom is a generally unremarkable guy with one notable exception: he can rewind time (a la Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time). This time ability is capped at the point you entered the challenge room, so you can never get completely stuck. In fact, you can't lose at all -- you can only get temporarily stuck. The platforming execution is very simple. You have goofy looking goombaesque mobs with their naive patrols and you get the slightly more sinister hopping rabits. Either is dispatched by hopping on its head. Your goal: to find the princess.
While everything begins simple enough, but rapidly evolves into a complex experience. The puzzles grow more and more elaborate, forcing you to grapple with objects moving in different directions in time, independent shadow replays of yourself re-enacting what was just rewound, and localized time-slowing. By the time you're well-vested in the gameplay, you realize there is no simple solution to a puzzle, no way to force your way through. You must outsmart the level, you must actually solve the puzzle.
All this puzzle solving leads to more puzzle solving, only in a more literal sense. Progress through a level is measured in terms of pieces of a puzzle acquired. Each room contains a fixed number of pieces and once a world has been fully traversed you can then complete the world by piecing together the puzzle. New worlds are opened up by completing these puzzles.
Why do all this? Why exercise your brain like this and go to all the trouble for a measly video game princess? Well, I won't spoil all the surprise, but this isn't Mario. While you're arranging these puzzles of portraits of Tom's life, you begin to collect pieces of the puzzle of Tom's psychological portrait. Ultimately, the game's tone is more like that of Silent Hill 2 in that the game is about the characters's inner demons (not so much with the horror bits). It's about errors and pennance, about saving Tom more than it is about saving the princess.
Braid is an independently developed platformer that will cost you $15 to purchase, and you should. This price point has been the subject of its own controversey, but since any argument against the developer charging that amount for this game ultimately boils down to "I'm a cheap tart," I'll happily disregard the entire debate out of hand. I will, also, gesture mildly towards Penny Arcade's take on the subject and remind you that they're right. You're a consumer whore (and how!), so cough up the money and support people who do cool things.
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