Gwendolyn from Odin Sphere by Vanillaware

It amazes me how a single company can turn an entire genre on its head. Ever since the advent of the PlayStation, 3D gaming has been the goal for most development companies as the staple of AAA titles. In 2007, a small company called Vanillaware turned people’s heads by churning out two stunningly beautiful games in console 2D: Odin Sphere and Grim Grimoire.

What is most distinctive is that the games look and play like moving paintings.  Personally, I think that 2D gaming still retains largely unexplored.  With the rendering capabilities of modern graphics engines, there is still so much room for exploration (and re-exploration) of once long thought dead genres.

While so many developers are seeking “new and innovative” experiences in terms of gameplay, I think that there is still plenty of room to revisit older genres with new insights and new technology.

Odin Sphere revisits the classic 2D sidescrolling “beat-em-up” games.  Grim Grimoire tackles 2D real-time strategy.  Both of these genres have been long considered beaten to death and have given way to huge AAA 3D titles.  But with stunning artwork and solid gameplay, Vanillaware’s small team stakes its claim that there is nothing wrong with the “tried and true” games of the past when given new life.

Another thing to note for Indie Developers is that Odin Sphere was initially started as a 5-man project and maxed out at 14.  By major-company game development standards, this is a tiny team.  Yet, the results are nothing short of breathtaking.

I cannot wait for Vanillaware’s next release later this year: “Muramasa: The Demon Blade.”

Watching my wife play videogames is like stepping into another world.  Firstly, because she is new to gaming, I get to see how I fell in love with the world of computer and video games all over again.  But secondarily, because I get to see gaming from the perspective of a woman.

My son and I love playing games with lots of action and bright graphics.  So when my mother bought “Animal Crossing: City Folk” for our new Wii, I was a bit skeptical especially because my son is so young.  So when his new landlord, Tom Nook, gave him a mortgage and a job in his little town we called “Doggy” I was very doubtful.

Since it was a very generous Christmas for us, I was more inclined to playing games that interested both me and my son and leave Animal Crossing behind with a polite “Thank You” to my mother.  But with a cancelled vacation and while I was hard at work, my wife took up the mantle and started playing Animal Crossing with my son.  She made her own persona and started learning about the town, its inhabitants, and all the things you can do.  After a few days, I was surprised to catch my wife sneaking away precious moments of personal time to play “Animal Crossing” when my son wasn’t watching or asking to play.

The game’s genius lies in its innocence and simplicity.  You spend your days collecting shells, digging up dirt, catching bugs, fishing at the river, and doing all the things that kids do – the things we reminisce about when we are outside rather than sitting in front of a screen.  In turn, the more interesting things you find in your adventures you can either sell to Tom Nook for money, donate to the museum, or keep in your house, which you can decorate with your own personal furnishings.  You talk to the interesting inhabitants and make friends with them, do errands for them, buy them presents, receive presents and just enjoy your time in this cute little world.

Personally, I would never have given this game a second thought, but when I see the delight in my wife’s face when she shows me the little things she’s done – paid off her mortgage, bought or found an interesting piece of furniture, I can’t help but smile and laugh – and even secretly want to make my own character to join in their fun.

What I found most fascinating is that the game works in real time.  One night my wife was telling my son that “We’d better hurry and sell the fish we caught.  Tom Nook’s store closes at 10!”  And you watch the landscape change with the seasons and daylight.  My son just laughed when they discovered that they can actually build snowmen.

On New Year’s Eve, my wife spotted a countdown clock by the Town Hall and received a party popper in the mail.  And throughout the day, everyone in town was wishing each other the best for the New Year – asking about their Resolutions, and generating a sense of expectation for a better year than 2008.

Late that night, with the boys asleep, we cuddled by the couch – tired from my cancelled vacation and the work we both had done.  I had a big smile when instead of turning on the TV to watch the ball drop, my wife flipped on the Wii.  For the last 10 minutes of 2008 and we watched the Countdown clock by the Townhall of the little town of “Doggy.”  When the game struck midnight, fireworks burst into the sky and my wife shot her party popper in delight.  I couldn’t help but laugh and kiss my wife.

It was a great way to start the New Year.

The last Zelda game I played was “The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past” for the old Super Nintendo Entertainment System.  In my mind, to this day it is one of the best videogames of all time.  Sixteen years later, I finally pick up my second Zelda title, “The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess” for the Nintendo Wii.  Filled with trepidation and nostalgia, I set off on my journey with Link.

The game opens slowly, letting you delve into the character of Link through the eyes of the other villagers.  You get to see that he is a good man, well-respected, and beloved by the people and children of his village.  He is a hard worker and a simple person at heart.  The story slowly draws you in and after some settling in, I found myself enjoying the pace – but only after the second time I played the introduction and realized that it’s no Mario Galaxy.

After a slow and meaningful introduction into Link’s character, I was intrigued by the first puzzles it presented to me – how to obtain a slingshot so he can play with the kids.  This wasn’t just a “gather some money” kind of quest.  There were a few problems to solve in the interim:

The shopkeeper won’t sell me anything because she is depressed about her cat.
The cat won’t come home because he’s busy trying to catch a fish in the stream.
The lady who has a fishing rod won’t give it to me because she is preoccupied with a missing baby basket.
The monkey won’t give up the stolen basket because he is beyond my reach.

It took a while to solve the problem that was presented to me.  But through some clever plot device, I was introduced to the idea of using a Hawk to aid me.

Somewhere, an old puzzle-solving voice (long disused by all the twitch-gaming I’ve grown accustomed to) spoke up: “Use hawk on monkey.”

As the story unfolded, I explored my first real dungeon.  And as I started making my way around the dungeon, every room opened up to me like yet another series of puzzles that I needed to solve.  The game slowly but surely showed me a vocabulary with interacting with the world around me.  And as puzzle after puzzle unfolded before me, a familiar sensation of experimentation, discovery and achievement filled my heart as puzzle after puzzle was solved.  But what stopped me was the vocabulary of how I was solving puzzles.

That puzzle-solving voice kept speaking:
“Use lantern on torch.”
“Use boomerang on bomb.”
“Use boomerang on bomb then wall.”
“Stand on spiderweb.  Use latern on spiderweb.”

Each room was a new puzzle and to solve each puzzle I had to understand the proper vocabulary to manipulate the puzzle.  Unlike other videogames where the solution is readily apparent with pushing levels, blocks and crates, I found myself seriously wondering what I was doing wrong to get the dungeon key from its treasure box.  But once the solution clicked in my head, the familiar satisfaction of its realization resounded in my mind.  It reminded me of the old “point and click” adventure games that I loved when I was a child.  The puzzle-solving voice reemerged from its long hiatus from this disused genre.

The games I loved the most were the ones that really made you think.  Games like King’s Quest, Quest for Glory, The Secret of Monkey Island, Loom, and even Yahtzee Croshaw’s Adventure Game Studio stories were among the games I most revered.  For the most part I had wondered why the genre died off with the advent of 3D gaming.

There have been many attempts at reviving the “point and click” adventure genre, and some have been met with acclaim and success, but nothing has sparked the same commanding presence the genre once had in the industry.  Also the genre was never able to overcome it’s resounding flaw: many of the puzzles and solutions were either too obvious or convoluted beyond reasonable logic.  So once “point and click” adventures got replaced with first-person “point and click” headshots, it spelled the end of the adventure game.  Instant gratification replaced long thought processes and solutions.

Or did it?

The challenge that I was met with in the first few hours of Twilight Princess narrative and puzzles made me question that assumption of that gamers always need instant gratification.  The first dungeon presented me with challenging and well thought-out puzzles mixed that almost made me lo0k for an online walkthrough just to get by.   And the story’s pacing was slow, but it was meant for you to get into the pace of a rustic village and get to know the silent yet steadfast character of our hero – something you don’t see much of in many of our FMV-loaded JRPGs of the day.

Twilight Princess revived a hopeful spark in me that the principles of the old adventure games have not been lost but evolved into something new.  I am looking forward to more of this already masterful work and seeing if my hopes are fulfilled by the promise of Zelda – the Twilight Princess.