Snes is the Best: Imagination in the Super Nintendo

Not too long ago Chrono Trigger was released on the Nintendo DS under the auspices of exposing the classic Snes game to a new generation of gamers. Upon its announced release, game composer Yasunori Mitsuda declared “Finally!...It's still a very deep, very high-quality game even when you play it today. I'm very interested in seeing what kids today think about it when they play it." Its interesting to me that the marketed focus is on providing this classic gaming experience to a new generation of youth. I remember growing up on Chrono Trigger and pretty much spending an entire summer replaying it, trying to get my characters to level 99. I know I’m not the only one. Until this Nintendo DS rerelease, Chrono Trigger was quite rare to find on cartridge, sometimes selling for $200 on eBay, and I retain the notion that console games just aren’t the same when played on an emulator on the computer (you need the couch, tv, controller, and save limitations that only the console offers for maximum chill/fun factor.) However, the DS Chrono Trigger is not the Chrono Trigger of our fathers. Its portable, on (two) small screen(s), the menus are altered, there are added dungeons, new features – oh, yeah – and a new “more accurate” English translation of the original Japanese text.

Recently I have somewhat jokingly discussed with several people as to why the Super Nintendo is the best system of all time. The discussions rarely encountered any empirical evidence to back this up, but maybe there’s something to the claim. Its possible that I’m just displaying symptoms of nostalgia, since the SNES played an integral role in my childhood – however, I think that is too easy of an explanation. I think the “more accurate” translation of Chrono Trigger indicates to a gap that separates today’s systems (I’m looking at you PS3) and the consoles of our youth.



To expand on this, I’m going to draw on my all-time favourite game, Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past. Released on the Snes in 1992, A Link to the Past has since been adapted to the Game Boy Advance in similar fashion to Chrono Trigger. The game features new dungeons, new features, and a “more accurate” English translation. I noticed this myself as I played the GBA version of the game, as certain text sequences in the game made a hell of a lot more sense than they did when I was a child. Specifically, there is a point when a towns-person refers to the town elder as “Oh, that old guy?” instead of “Oh, the grandpa?”

So maybe this retranslation is a narrative restoration, but why is it that so many English-speaking kids loved that game when many of its plot points barely made any sense? I remember playing many games as a kid, getting confused by the incomplete back-story and thinking I was playing a sequel to a game I had never heard of. I still loved the games though. Even now I’m replaying Illusion of Gaia for the first time since Corey and I beat it in my basement in grade 5, and it barely makes narrative sense.

And this is kind of why I think the Snes is the best. Its limitations as a system force the gamer to employ a great deal of imagination to fully engage with the games. With the insane hardware capabilities today, very little is left to imagination. Solid Snake looks like Solid Snake. Super Mario looks like…a comatose pedophile?



This concept is best illustrated by comparing (or rather contrasting) official game artwork with character sprites from the game. Seeing the variance between what the characters are supposed to look like and what they are represented as indicates to the degree of imagination employed when playing the game. Same goes with bad translations. When games are translated badly, young players may cope with impossibly ambiguous plots with imagination and makeshift narrative connections.

Games today seem to indicate clearly to the gamer exactly what they are capable within the virtual realm. Most games contain some kind of go-to character who is constantly on-hand to provide hints and advice, and to teach gamers exactly what they can and cannot do. When I got stuck in a game back in the day I would spend hours punching walls, slicing pots, and talking to every villager, because I wasn’t quite sure what my character was capable of, and what the game world had to offer. You read the game manual and pretty much thrown into the fray left to your own devices. Now Navi just tells you the answer to the puzzle before you even have a chance to figure it out yourself.

Now one may argue: If limitation is what makes the Snes so good, then what about more limited systems like the Nes?

I think its simply that the Snes has a perfect balance between limitation and capability that is enough to spur the imaginations of the gamer but not fully satisfy the mimesis of the virtual world. That might be a cheap answer…but I pretty much stopped paying attention to this essay as soon as I turned my Snes on.

In Film as Art Rudolf Arnheim essentially argues that cinema's status as an artform depends on its properties that distance it from the real world. I think this notion is pertinent to the Snes. The artistry of the Snes lies in its distance from realistic representation. While the Nes, Atari and other previous systems may seem by this logic more artistic, I somehow think they are less engaging than the Snes.

Meta-Fiction in the Controls of Metal Gear Solid 2

With the semester’s essays completed, I spent a good part of the past week playing through Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty (I’ve heard good things of the series in general and wanted to see for myself). I’ll have to admit that it took me a long time to become even remotely comfortable with games controls (I’ve never been a fan of the PS controller) and even now I’m not entirely sold on them. At points I found that one of the main challenges presented to me were navigating with these controls. In reflection of my previous blog entry, I tried to figure out why I found these controls so difficult and frustrating.



Last time I wrote about how the first-person shooter genre succeeds in putting the player within the subjective perceptual realm of the in-game character. MGS2 is primarily in third-person, however it offers the option of assuming a subjective first-person mode for investigating environments, and shooting from a vantage point behind the character’s gun.

What struck me instantly was the distinction between these two modes. The third-person view distances the player from the character, while the first-person view provides a very subjective look into the character’s experience providing extra ambient effects such as wind, breath and heart-beat noises. Several segments of the game offer the use of an in-game directional microphone that is used in the first-person mode. When using the directional microphone, the player can only hear what the microphone is pointing at, and if the player isn’t careful, they can miss out on important plot points if they do not point the microphone at specific events.

The third-person mode is seen from a fixed or preset camera position. This is unlike many Nintendo brand games that I’m used to (with the free-roving retro-posited, or player- controlled camera). An example of my preference can be seen here in Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. This game uses a system in which the camera is easily situated behind the character, at the player’s control. The game also has an optional first-person mode for environmental investigation and arrow-shooting. Since the camera is usually situated behind the character Link, the player shares directional continuity with the character. In the same sense as the first-person shooter, the player becomes more immersed in the character’s physical functions.
MGS2 offers no control over camera angles. The camera has fixed positions and movements that are only affected by character movement. Because of this, the player never becomes immersed in the character, instead assuming the position of an omniscient puppet-master. In Zelda, control directions are always relative to the camera position, so you press up to move Link up, and press down to move Link down. In MGS2, you have no control over the camera but the control directions always stay the same, so you may have to press up on the control stick if you want to move Snake or Raiden down. I immediately saw this as negative, however I did not understand the complete implications of this control scheme until I beat the game. I would argue that the control scheme in MGS2 is a means of meta-fiction which meshes well with many of its narrative elements.



While MGS2 is by no means the first video game meta-fiction (most games address the player when teaching game rules and control functions), it effectively utilizes the video game control functions as a means of further expressing certain plot themes. From this point on I will be spoiling crucial plot surprises from the game.

Metal Gear Solid 2 develops a theme in which the main character Raiden must face questions surrounding the basic truths of his existence (offering a parallel between “real world” military training and “VR” training). Throughout the course of the game, Raiden learns that the woman he loves is a spy gathering information on him, that his commanding officer (whom he corresponded with only over transceiver) was only an AI digital representation, and that his entire life was manipulated by an international organization in an attempt in forming him into a perfect soldier. Raiden’s body is also filled with nano-machines that come to betray his sensory perception. In short, Raiden’s entire life has always been under the control of forces outside of his own. It is my belief that the game’s control scheme purposefully distances the player from the in-game character as a means of indicating the player as a controller of Raiden’s life-actions. Several sequences in the game help to back up this theory. For example, Raiden’s commanding officer Colonel Campbell radio’s Raiden shouting "Raiden, turn the game console off rightnow! ... Don't worry, it's a game! It's a game just like usual. You'll ruinyour eyes playing so close to the TV." This reference to the construct of the game suggests the canon’s willingness to include the player as a recognized controller of the in-game character’s events.



So while I found the game’s controls disruptive, I think more immersive controls would have minimized the distance between the player and the character, thus eliminating this meta-fictitious element of the game’s narrative.

"Subjectivity of the First-Person Shooter" By Adam Slight

Lately I have rekindled my passion for N64’s Goldeneye 007, and since the semester is finally winding down I’m able to find more time to play, both the single player missions as well as some riveting multiplayer matches with James Leclaire. I haven’t appreciated Goldeneye 007 this much since 1997 when the game was released (that was more than 10 years ago!). I recall the attention surrounding the game and its close imitation of the 1995 film Goldeneye. I even re-viewed the film recently and notice precise similarities between spatial layouts of sets/levels, replicated gadgets, and close character details (I recall noticing the Alec Trevelyan character in the game wearing a gold ring on his “finger”).

Playing the game this morning (the facility level) I began to apply to Goldeneye 007 some ideas that I have previously explored. As you may or may not know, I have an escalating interest in the application of cinema (and in extension, video games) to various conceptions of “real life experience” a la Andre Bazin’s “Myth of Total Cinema”. In short, I’m close to comfortable stating that I don’t think Total Cinema (cinema as an attempt at an all-encompassing recreation of reality) is a myth at all. Without getting too divergent on this topic, I’d like to skip ahead a little.

The first person shooter genre is in my eyes a very important step on the path to Total Cinema. As the name implies, in the FPS the player is the “first person” to experience what the in-game character experiences. Alternatively, second-person implies a player address, like in text- based adventures (“You find yourself at a fork in the road. Do you turn right, or left?”), while the third-person perspective suggests the player as an omniscient controller of a visibly “other” character.

First-Person

Second-Person

Third-Person

Implicitly, the first-person perspective places the player within the in-game character. As I mentioned in my colloquium presentation on video-game sound experimentation, the first-person shooter allows the player a subjective experience parallel to the in-game character. If one wishes, they may refer to Bordwell and Thompson’s "Film Art" and their discussion on Perceptual and Mental Subjectivity in traditional cinema. Perceptual subjectivity is simple; the film gives “access to what characters see and hear”. A good example of this is the Point of View shot – the shot that first-person shooter permanently assumes. While in cinema, mental subjectivity is the use of stylistic devices to provide insight to what characters think, FPS’ often simply provide perceptual subjectivity to allow players to assume their own desired mental state. Obviously this is not always the case. In Goldeneye 007 for example, coloured bars appear at the sides of the screen upon character injury (a possible visual cue for “panic”). Similarly, N64’s Perfect Dark applies a trippy, blurred slo-mo effect when Joanna Dark gets punched or sedated.

In my colloquium presentation, I focused mostly on sonic subjectivity in the FPS. Using Call of Duty 3, I indicated to several examples where in-game sound is presented to the player using surround sound technology, subjective to the character's own experience. Environmental and diegetic sounds are heard in subjectivity to the direction that the character is facing, in effect to the acoustics and conditions of the setting. The best example I can present is the “ringing ears” effect, when all sounds are deafened by a constant ringing when a grenade explodes near the character.

While I may seem enthusiastic about the FPS’ subjectivity, there are some problems that I considered while playing Goldeneye 007 this morning. There are many limitations that have yet to be overcome by the FPS’ genre. Most of these limitations are based on player perspective. While it is interesting to consider the physical relationship that the player has with the character (the player physically exerts energy and muscle to push controller buttons in order to “physically” move the in-game character through virtual space) this process is still very crude. Here is a list of limitations that I immediately notice:

- The in-game character lacks peripheral vision. This may extend to the wide-screen cinema which arguably imitates a person’s field of vision. I noticed this as I was swiftly moving around a corner in The Facility, and was unable to quickly check a blind-spot for enemies (much like checking a blind-spot while driving)

- A player’s eyes are indefinitely disconnected from the character’s. Instead of forcing a relationship between gamers’ eyes and character eyes, the game creates a contract between gamer and game which encourages the gamer to assume and inspect the character’s presented field of vision. This problem introduces many other problems such as the quality of the gamers’ eyes, the difference between player depth of field and character’s depth of field etc.

- While recent developments in dual-analogue controls have rendered the character’s legs independent of the character’s waist (players can now move in one direction but pivot/point in a separate direction), independence of the character’s neck has yet to be brought into mainstream consideration. The character’s eyes are inherently connected to the direction that he/she is pointing their weapon. I have seen variations of temporary solutions to this, most of which assume a temporary third-person perspective. This unfortunately removes a level of subjectivity from the mix. I have also seen flight simulators which detach the eyes from the weapon, allowing the player to look from side-to-side within the cockpit.


While normally a first-person shooter, Quantum of Solace also uses a third-person cover system in order to detach the character's eyes from his gun

If anyone can think of other problems with the first-person perspective, or examples that overcome some of these problems, please let me know.

Wall-E: Semiotics and Junk...

While I’ve grown up with Pixar since Toy Story hit theaters, it wasn’t until The Incredibles that I began to discover the rich detail, preparation and thought that differentiates Pixar animated films with other subordinate computer animated productions. It was this affection for Pixar that prompted me to see Wall-E as soon as I could when it was released this summer, despite the fact that I had to go see it alone on a Friday night while my little sister was on a date elsewhere in the theater. After seeing it, a repeat viewing was in order.

Since, I have been attempting to organize precisely what it was that I wanted to say about the film. The ideas were present since my first screening, however I could not find the words to articulate them. It wasn’t until I revisited semiotic theory for the purposes of several assignments in an experimental film class that I’m taking did I figure out what it was I wanted to say. Wall-E is gushing with semiotic theory.

For some time in the past I worried, as our world has become more and more dependent on text due to digital technology. Films are stored on DVD or Blu-Ray and can only be seen on its respective player while Books are only readable with knowledge of language. The reason this worries me is due to an irrational expectation of apocalypse. A sentimentality towards culture leads me to fear that it will become inaccessible.

Wall-E uses the events of an apocalypse to explore semiotics precisely in this way. Since Wall-E is an ignorant a post-apocalyptic product, he is able to live in our world out of human context. Wall-E’s obsession with the tape of Hey Dolly! and the inclusion of an Ipod in his pile of trinkets draws attention to the relationship with medium that our culture has. Wall-E separates the signs of our world from their referents—which is a root of the comedy in the film. Wall-E’s ignorance of what a bra is makes the audience laugh. He puts a bra on his eyes! Wall-E!. The film deconstructs the signs of our world to their units of figurative secondary articulation (smallest possible units of no inherent meaning) and re-constructs them differently. For example, a garbage lid becomes a hat for Wall-E.

This process also attempts to make a statement about universality. Despite Wall-E’s ability to view our symbols without referent, some things such as love seem to be iconic or universal. Wall-E is able to recognize through imitation that his feelings for Eve coincide with the feelings felt by the characters in the tape of Hey Dolly! through the act of holding hands.

Stripped of the signs that the audience are accustomed to, the humans in Wall-E add another dimension of de-contextualization. The most striking instance of this is demonstrated by the captain of The Axiom. As he learns to walk (a first for his species for several centuries), the iconic theme of 2001: A Space Odyssey is heard, mirroring the scene when apes learn to use tools. This simple association demonstrates how something that we consider trivial (walking) is monumental for humanity during this time.

I feel I have merely scratched the surface of Wall-E’s semiotic content. I may feel compelled to explore this topic more when the film reaches DVD and I watch it over and over and over.

Barbara Gamble's "Natural Affinities"

For the past year and a half I've had the privilege to work with Ottawa painter Barbara Gamble for her upcoming gallery exhibition Natural Affinities opening October 10th at the Canadian Museum of Nature. The exhibition runs until January 4th and is located on the third floor of the musuem.

Gamble's exhibition concerns itself with the vulnerable botanical species in the surrounding Ottawa area. Her methods include a layering of oil paints with wax on various canvass, metal and wood surfaces. The exhibit also includes a collection of books by 19th Century pioneer Catherine Parr Traill containing a variety of pressed plants.

My contribution to the show is a 40 second video piece focusing on a rare species of orchid found in the Ottawa area. I accompanied Gamble and several biologists to a top secret preservation site and gathered footage of the orchid. The idea of the video is to provide a visual record of the habitat of the orchid and to offer an otherwise unseen angle of the tiny flower.

I encourage anyone who wants to see some amazing paintings (and possibly my video) to check out the Canadian Museum of Nature when they have a chance.

Here is the museum's page on the exhibit: http://nature.ca/exhibits/exs/gamble/index_e.cfm

"The Dark Knight Review" or "The Friday Night I'll Never Get Back" by Adam Slight

As many have known in the past, when Batman Begins came out I was one of the few people in the world who didn’t like it. For the longest time I fought an exhaustive crusade defending my tastes and position from Batman zealots and radicals. After the dust had settled the trailer for The Dark Knight hit the screens. The funny thing about trailers is that they are designed to make movies very appealing. I thought, “This is nice, The Dark Knight looks a lot better than Batman Begins”. With that thought in mind I decided to revisit Batman Begins with an open mind after all these years in hopes that I could find it in myself to enjoy the movie. Upon reviewing Batman Begins I was able to set aside my previous hatred and enjoy the film as a flawed, but above-average superhero film. I’d put Batman Begins, Spiderman 1&2 and X-2 on the top of the superhero movie food-chain.

So with this new open-mindedness towards the Batman reboot franchise I was growing quite excited for The Dark Knight. The film was treated to astronomical reviews and Heath Ledger’s performance has been heavily decorated for the past few months. I had been assured that this was the movie to see. Last Friday evening I saw The Dark Knight and to put it frankly I wish I could have my Friday evening back.

While I’m normally not a fan of reviews or writing reviews, I feel it is important for me to state why I disliked The Dark Knight so much, as I am up against a world of crazies. I am often accused of having a bias against The Dark Knight, or even a closed mind. If The Dark Knight was really such a masterpiece I think it would be very difficult for me to sustain a closed mind, especially considering the positive expectations I’ve had since the beginning. I tried to like this movie, and trying wasn’t enough.

So here is my review:

The Dark Knight essentially has two songs in the soundtrack: “This Part Is Very Sad” and “This Part is Very Exciting”. The film uses these two songs to instill emotions into the audience, emotions that the film otherwise doesn’t have. A moving soundtrack is a cheap trick that films with no emotional dynamics use to manipulate the audience’s heart-strings. In the case of The Dark Knight, music was used to compensate for the stale, emotionless dialogue being uttered by a predominantly stiff actors. I’m not just saying this. Watch Batman Begins, or re-watch The Dark Knight and actually look for this stuff. Its like being at a funeral for three hours.

One thing I’ll credit the movie for is the set and character design. Aesthetically everything -looked- cool: The Joker’s make-up, Batman’s costume, the towering skyline of Gotham. Unfortunately this rich set-design was wasted with extremely uninspired and bland cinematography. I can honestly say that I can’t remember half of what happened in that movie because so much happened in the same places, and the monotonous dialogue and cinematography gave me nothing memorable to distinguish scenes from each other. Remember, this is the movie whose first hour includes an almost completely unnecessary legal tirade involving a global chase for some accountant guy that really amounts to nothing. After an hour of legal banter in offices I felt like I could pass the bar exam. This hour of office chatter represents a fraction of the copious amounts of filler hot-air packed into this movie. And why do they have this filler in there, when the last hour of the movie is like a bad case of diarrhea: Its all over the place, and it just won’t stop. Ultimately the length of this movie made me feel like it was a long day at work and I just wanted it out of there.

I think the reason why a lot of people didn’t really get bothered by this was Heath Ledger. I’m not going to bash him too much. He was definitely an enjoyable entity in the movie however I’d only say his acting was above average. The thing is, when one or two critics start a chain reaction before long everyone is walking into the movie expecting to see the best performance of the decade. How bad does it look professionally when a critic decides to give a negative review when 90% of the industry is drinking Ledger’s clown piss from a golden chalice? With those kinds of expectations, the late Mr. Ledger has most of the audience eating out of his cold dead hands. He could go up on screen and fart the entire movie and people would love it. I thought he was great, but I don’t think it’s worth digging up his grave to stick an Oscar into his coffin.

Now for the biggest crime of them all: These Batman films simply love to latch onto certain themes and ironies and beat them to a living pulp. Like Batman Begins: OK! We know the theme of this movie is fear! Stop driving it into my skull. The Dark Knight was so obvious about the fact that yes, this movie is about moral ambiguity. We get it thank you. Additionally, The Dark Knight loves to play up the irony card. OMG – the villains are torturing their victims the way they were tortured! How clever! Oh look, its happening again and again and again…this is so dramatic! Repetition is a device this movie thrives on. Is this really the deep writing that critics are all crapping their pants over?

In the end the dramatic scenes were bland and emotionless and far too plentiful and the fighting scenes gave me seizures. This ocean of mediocrity dwarfs the few moments that I thought were actually cool, beautiful and intelligent. Its hard to see past all the clown make-up, but there you’ll see the cold and calculated gears of a movie designed for the sole purpose of tricking the audience into thinking the movie is a masterpiece.

Why do I think this and 99% of the world thinks the opposite? This is a battle I need to fight one inch at a time. If you haven't watched it yet, or plan on watching it again...please try to remember this review!