Blog Posts from "Caveat Emptor" - Gameriot.com

Working your own agenda: Report on video game minority characters is terribly flawed

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Fri, 31 Jul 2009 18:35:31 -0400

Gamasutra wrote on a story a couple days back about a report from Science Daily that apparently takes a look at how "minorities" are misrepresented in video games today. According to the study, researchers covered the top 150 games in a year across nine platforms and found that the games do not "accurately represent American society." The report fails to mention the specifics of all the games, but does happen to mention a few games that apparently reinforce typical stereotypes, like 50 Cent: Bulletproof, which, according to the study, reinforces the stereotypes attributed to African-Americans. Apparently they failed to realized the game was based off 50 Cent himself, who, by jove, actually does happen to exhibit every typical stereotype attributed to African-Americans. But, you know, that's not his fault; it's definitely the game's fault for portraying what he constantly claims do to in his lyrics.

On top of that the report goes on to mention that in the games that they did poll data for, none of them had any Asian or Hispanic character leads, or that few games even had "noticably Hispanic" supporting role characters. Excuse me, but what the **** is "noticiably Hispanic"? I'm confused here. Wasn't the study trying to point out how video games are apparently reinforcing negative stereotypes for "minorities," nigh on the edge of their seat of just wanting to say that video game developers are racists? And yet the pot calls the kettle black when they pull something like "noticably Hispanic" in their report. As an actual Hispanic with very light skin, I know exactly what they meant when they said "noticably Hispanic;" basically they thought that anyone who didn't have tan skin wasn't a Hispanic character. Because, you know, Hispanics only have tan skin. Oh, and we all have those funny looking mustaches and wear sombreros too.

The cluster**** of a report continues on to mention that since the majority of main characters in video games are white males that other "minorities" cannot accurately relate to the character because "they're really not able to play themselves." What. The. ****? Since when was playing a video game about ethnicity identification? And since when did the color of your skin separate you as a different race? As scientists you would think they know better that there is only one race, and it's called the human race, and we ALL belong to it. As far as identification goes, I have NO trouble playing as Louis in Left 4 Dead or Faith in Mirror's Edge (whoops, guess they just happened to conveniently miss those titles). Why? Because I'm not psychotic enough to believe I'm controlling myself in a video game. I recognize that they are separate characters with their own personalities and I'm more interested on what their tale is than if their skin color and gender matches my own.

To further show you how terrible this report is, they admit to leaving out first-person shooters and games that allowed you to extensively create your own character; they don't say why, they just do. Because, you know, if you had to include games that blow your **** report to hell, then your political agenda would be shot. And I don't know about you, but when is the last time you've played a video game that was even TRYING to aim to "portray American society"? Hell, most of them take place in entirely different universes or centuries into the future. Aside from Grand Theft Auto, which, as I understand, is all about making fun of typical stereotypes, what "popular" games did they choose that they feel like didn't accurately "portray American society"? Was it Mass Effect? Oh boy, I bet it was. Captain Anderson was the only black guy in the game! Even the aliens appeared more often than black people did in that game! Now that's just racist!

You remember when you were younger and used to hold science in high regard because it always seemed to be intelligent? And yet here we have a group of social psychologists get together, selectively choose the data they polled, and then say "Oh, well the minorities playing the game can't identify with the characters that they are playing." Give me a ******* break. The United States has never been more racially adept and open in its entire history; I thought a black president was a dead giveaway to that bit. Denzel Washington is my favorite actor; am I, in any way, incapable of "self-identifying" my "place" in society because I'm not black and 50 when I watch his movies? The logic behind this report is befuddling and absolutely stupid; just as stupid when people call Resident Evil 5 racist because you're killing zombies whose skin color is black. What would they have preferred; putting "noticably Hispanics" in Africa?

Internet Personalities #6

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 17:39:49 -0400

Hot mamasita, we find ourselves here, yet again, for the sixth writeup of Internet Personalities. At this point it would be perpetually pointless for me to point out the purpose of this post, even for posterity's sake, but for the poor people who ponder at my plight, allow me to then put it in a plain proverb: one man's Internet is another boy's 4chan. Or something like that. But yes, if you're still confused, then allow me to iterate for the illiterate; I have taken it upon myself to classify, document, and make known of the common Internet personalities many exhibit on the vast Interwebs. And why, in the name of Zuul, do I take on such a pointless task? Mostly because I'm bored. It's okay though, because so are you, and thus we shall not tarry any further with this pointless talking and will move on instead to the writeup!

Previous writeups:
#1, #2, #3, #4, #5

And that's it for this here sixth writeup! Recognize any Internet idiots? Or worse; maybe you recognize yourself? Share your stories in the comments.

Final Fantasy VII: Voices of the Lifestream Album

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 19:11:18 -0400

In light of what recently happened here, I think we could all use some cheering up. And seriously, what better way to cheer someone up than with something free? Okay, how about something free dealing with Final Fantasy VII? Now that I have your attention, I'd like to aim it at Final Fantasy VII: Voices of the Lifestream, an OverClocked ReMix of music from the titular game itself. Compiled out of free fan-submitted songs, Lifestream covers all of your favorite soundtracks with beautiful remixes in four different albums for a total of 45 songs. And yes, I did say it was free. Their download link of the torrent is currently down, so we're hosting it here: CD1, CD2, CD3, and CD4.

Spore still sucks...but I wish it didn't

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 01:19:39 -0400

While I have made my feelings about Spore quite public, it's still hard to remain angry at a game that you really wanted to love. Even after losing a CD drive to SecuROM, even after the shallow response to the criticism EA was receiving about the game, even after the insulting Creepy and Cute pack...there was still a part of me wishing that EA would find redemption in putting out their whorification plans to release 50 expansion packs, like they do for The Sims. At least in that plan The Sims actually became a better game.

However, nearly a year after its release, Spore is still a shallow game, struggling to stand up on the toothpick stilts its walking on as its publisher throws it into store windows. Instead of trying to improve the game immediately, we found the intellectual property being whorified in a different light. They resold some of the mini games to the DS and *shudder* mobile phones and now they're going to put out console version remakes of some of the other mini games on the Wii as well. On top of that they also plan to release yet another standalone Spore-related game known as Spore Creature Keeper, which is apparently a "kid friendly" version of the Spore Creature stage. Color me confused, but isn't Spore already kid friendly, what with all the squeaky cute noises and Bambi eyes?

To add further insult to injury, EA did eventually put out an expansion pack to Spore after they felt like they had rereleased their mini games well enough. Spore Galactic Adventures came out last month, boasting the Adventure Creator. Essentially what this does is it allows you to creature prop-centered planets and missions for your creature to land on and carry out once in the Space Stage. On paper it sounds like a neat idea--then again, so did Spore at first.

The reality to Spore Galactic Adventures is that it barely comes with any new content. Yeah, sure, editors are "new content," but when you have to create it it's just a smoke screen. Maxis apparently only felt compelled to create 10 different missions for this expansion pack, and when I mean "10 different missions," I really mean "10 different objectives." These objectives involve, "kill x," or "deliver x to y," or "find x." And when we're talking about the scope of the Space Stage, with over 1,000,000 planets...well, you can see where I am going with this. Out of the box Maxis gives you virtually zero to play with and it is then expected of you to spend copious amounts of time just to create one adventure. Of course, when you spend only 1/4th of the time playing the adventure than you did creating it, and then you couple that with the numerous pathing issues, and you're finding that Spore Galactic Adventures tries to hide how shallow Spore is by introducing yet another shallow feature into the mix.

I'm not sure why it's so hard for EA to listen to the major complaints surrounding Spore. It's not rocket science. It shouldn't be too hard to be able to focus on the stuff people want to see happen. Well, apparently it is. Rather than trying to get Spore to live up to the giant shoes it's trying to fill, EA seems more content with wanting to ignore the fact that they are going to have to put in some effort to fix Spore, and when I say "fix Spore," I don't mean, "Add more editors." So allow me to elaborate instead on what should be fixed or give an idea on how to improve this travesty.

Of course many (or all) of my ideas are a dream really. You can't even mod them in the game, considering the limitations to hex editing. Without a proper game editor Spore has essentially been put on life support even by its own modding community, which is so small that it's tough just to find and then even tougher to find quality mods. And with Galactic Adventures and the subsequent whorifying of the intellectual property of Spore, it doesn't look like EA gives a **** either. Apparently they equate their success in sales, so since Spore sold well, that then must mean that nothing is wrong with the game and is why they continue to pretend that it's fine in the state that it is in.

So with that in mind I concede that my ideas, which, in my opinion, would make Spore the kind of game it SHOULD have been, the sort of stuff of legends, might never see the light of day, not even within the mind of a modder. It's sad when you really think about it. Here's this game that is the pinnacle of spurning creativity and its own creators seem devoid of wanting to be even more creative with it or offer more creative options for it. Yes, sure, they're releasing editors, I know. That still doesn't cover up the fact that Spore is still a mind-numbingly boring and shallow game and will likely remain that way.

Gushing about...Chessmaster!?

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 17:38:59 -0400

Say what you will, but chess was the precursor to all common strategy games that we like to enjoy today, and, dagnabbit, I just love chess. Centuries ago chess was a game that was mostly played by royalty, played not in jest, but more as a learning tool to teach strategy. In fact, when it was known as King's Game, it was considered of all men of chivalry to have known how to play chess, for a game between two gentlemen was usually the determining factor between royalty of who had the better strategic mind.

In the later years, chess was still regarded as a game for learned individuals. Benjamin Franklin even details it within his writing, noting that chess wasn't just a simple game, it was a learning tool of logical thinking behind foresight, circumspection, and caution. As such, chess rose in popularity during the 1800s when it became more common for all kinds of people to play what was being known as modernized chess.

Yes, well, now that we are done with the back history to chess, on with the game about it then, shall we? Chessmaster is a series of video games that have been going on since the first Chessmaster game in 1986. Back then the game was much simpler; all you pretty much did was play chess against either the computer or another player. But these days the game has evolved; after all, you're going to have to offer bigger incentives if you want people to play a game they can easily pick up at a hobby store for $5.

Which brings us to Chessmaster 10th Edition. Personally, as someone who has played the previous versions, this is definitely my favorite addition. Aside from being able to do the obvious, the game offers lessons of various kinds; opening moves, the basics, strategy, end game, etc. And what's more is that two sets of lessons are done by two famous chess masters of today--on top of the game's Chessmaster Academy. So even if yu don't know a damn thing about chess, the game can teach you from the basics, to advanced tactics, to even some pro moves for you to use.

Of course teaching you chess is just one of the many things Chessmaster 10th Edition does. The game has a database of over a thousand famous chess games played over the centuries, and, what's more, it contains all of the famous chess minds as computer opponents to play against as well. Plus there's always THE ChessmasterX opponent, if you're feeling masochistic. But aside from the grand masters of old, Chessmaster 10th Edition comes with about over 300 different prerecorded personalities from people Ubisoft recorded and ranked accordingly. Heck, you can even play against kids if you don't feel that confident in yourself.

And if you ever find yourself getting bored at looking at the same chess pieces, you can choose between tons of different chess sets to play with. There are even a couple of animated sets that turn it more into a fantasy game than a chess game. Either way, the real beauty behind chess is that it's not really a game that you have to sit down for hours at end to have to enjoy to play. Have fifteen minutes to kill before you go somewhere but you know that firing up any one of your games will result in you being late? Chess is that perfect game if you're looking for a quick match to kill some free time.

I mean, if you're really interested in the game and want to get better, then Chessmaster 10th Edition is a right-on buy. ChessmasterX even analyzes your games and each individual move, telling you what you did right and wrong, and what it would have done instead of the moves you made. Basically, if you can't learn to play chess with this game, it's because you're just not trying to, and for $10, I don't see what's wrong with at least trying. Well, I mean, of course I don't see what's wrong with trying it, considering that I love the game. <3

O Brave New World - Chapter IX

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 18:51:48 -0400

Previous chapter

I awoke to splashing water upon my face. At first I thought perhaps my companion was tossing water on me to wake up, but when I finally opened my eyes and my senses came to me, I realized what was happening. I was propped up against a vehicle, a rain poncho over me, sitting on the highway in the pouring rain. A flash of lightening and then thunder; it rumbled off into the distance, but it was a precursor to the danger I was in. I was alone.

I staggered to stand, holding onto the car that I was propped up against, and looked around at my surroundings again. The red vehicle that my companion and I were traveling in was nowhere to be seen, nor was my companion. I looked at my feet and found a pistol. I picked it up and checked the clip; nothing. There was, however, one in the chamber. It became quite clear as to what unfolded here before me. There was yet another thing of mine; my pack. But the only thing that was in it was The Complete Works of Shakespeare Revised. I picked up my pack and slung it over my shoulder.

My companion had left me for dead. Finding that I was wounded, he feared that I had contracted what ever had driven these people mad. I could not have blamed him at the time; we did not know that we were yet immune to this sickly disease. It, however, did not stop me from being thoroughly angry; my only weapon was left with a bullet for me to call my last supper.

I looked up above at an overhang road sign that dictated future exits. Detroit was still fifteen miles away. I sighed and leaned against the car, gathering my bearings and contemplating on what to do next. I could not follow the highway without a vehicle, lest I would wish a short life to live, but I also could not traverse across the land, for fear of coming across an urban area and then into the concrete pavement of the city; that would certainly then spell my doom.

I looked behind me across a foliage median and some open green area. It was a gigantic airport—quite possibly the metropolitan airport. I suddenly felt a deep sinking feeling within the pit of my stomach when I realized that I was most likely in an area that was heavily traversed by the damned. If it were not for this weather I would have probably been taken into the shadow myself.

However, what had caught my eye was that, alongside the airport, there were train tracks, and as it can be laid down as a maxim, the train tracks would lead to the main city with the hopes of being far away enough from civilization to not attract enough attention. At least I had hoped. Most cities had planned their structures and transportation systems so that the noisy railroad would not overflow into the city, but there were still plenty of cities whose planners opted out for smaller budgets instead. Either way, it seemed like my only viable hope.

And so I began my trek into Detroit on the tracks. It was a very slow journey. The rain was still pouring, thundering and lightening still crashing about, so I had to make due with low visibility. But as I look back on it I am still thankful for it, as it was probably the reason why the damned were not able to find me so easily. That, or perhaps they took to an animalistic custom to seek shelter in the time of a storm.

Eventually I passed over a highway. I cautiously looked down to find little to no abandoned cars on the roadway. I had the distinct impression that as I moved closer to the city, congestion, in reality, only became lighter, as people attempted to flee from major urban areas as soon as possible. After all, the largest cities were quarantined by the military and martial law was enacted. Or, at least, that was the last I heard of such happenings before the media outlets went off air and, eventually, the power as well, for the most part.

I continued on with my journey. As I had suspected, I went through very secluded areas. Though the highway may have been but 40 yards away, I was still at a distance where it was virtually impossible for me to make out anything on it—which also meant the same likewise for me as well. I passed water treatment plants and factories of the sorts. I saw dozens of huge parking lots full of neatly parked vehicles. It was a rather peaceful entry into the city of Detroit.

Eventually I passed over another highway. This time there were no cars at all upon it. A little ways further I passed under one as well—still no sign of any trouble. I was beginning to think that this was perhaps an even wiser way of coming into the city—that was until I started to come closer to my next crossing, which was across a plain road. I was beginning to enter the congestion of the city and, what was worse, is that the rain was finally beginning to let up. Visibility was starting to become quite clear.

And so was the noise. I could hear my splash-splash-splashing of my shoes in the muddy rock sediment of the tracks. A couple of times I thought I had heard something, almost as if a low growling, and wheeled around with my pistol in hand ready for anything, but nothing was before me. At least, nothing that I could see quite clearly. I chanced my way across the plain road crossing but began to slow to a stop afterwards as I could see clearly that the journey had come to an end. I was finally entering the congestion of the urban city.

I became immediately apparent that I was alone. Left to be alone. Left for the afterlife. I sat down on the tracks and suddenly grabbed my legs and pulled them close to my chest. I was afraid. Shivering from the freezing rain and cold weather. It was hard to believe that it was already noon. It was just this morning that we had dropped out of the sky. The night before we were on the other lakeside of Michigan. But still I had not slept. My hands shook with the pistol I was holding.

I tossed the pistol to my side. I traded it instead for my pack. The rain had finally dissipated; all that was left were cloudy skies. And in the moment of dryness I took out the book. My book. My livelihood. The Complete Works of Shakespeare Revised. It only had a picture of the man, the genius, the muse of ages, on the cover. Its gloss had dulled; it no longer shined. Its edges were losing color and were becoming ragged. It was at least forty-years-old, but it was still my copy. The only copy that I needed. I turned to Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5. It had been one of my favorite plays that she was always in. But this was my favorite scene. I read aloud from line nineteen.

“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”

It was quiet. Only the wind stirred the leaves on the trees. And yet again I was sure that I heard yet another low growling noise, but I did not care any more. My eyes burned into the pages that I had opened. There was nothing but silence. Silence, and yet, still, I was shaking. But I soon realized that it was not I who was shaking, but rather the train tracks themselves.

O Brave New World - Chapter VIII

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 21:51:07 -0400

Previous chapter

Chapter 8

“Do you have a map?”

We had stopped the truck and were sitting still within it, parked on the highway overlooking a large urban area. I told my companion the grave news; the only map I had was one of Illinois. He did not seem bothered by my answer, however, and checked the pockets of his door to find a map. I, instead, opened the glove box. And there it was.

“Well **** on a stick, aren’t we just lucky.”

It was a map of Michigan. I hastily opened it and sprawled it across the dashboard, covering up much of the windshield. My companion focused his attention to the point on the map where Detroit was outlined. On the reverse side was, thankfully, a close up of the urban area around Detroit.

“****. According to this, we’re still at least 40 miles from Detroit. That’s a whole lot of city we still have to drive through, and I’m bettin’ that we’re gonna find a lot of **** on the road.”

We started to hear tiny taps on the hood of our car. Instinctively we both went for our weapons, pulling the map down and our weapons up, but we perceived it as rain a moment later. It was a curious moment. To forget what the sound of rain sounds like within a vehicle. In these days we were surely expecting some darker nature to the matter.

The rain began to pick up. My companion looked at the map again and then out through the windshield. He was contemplating. Contemplating whether it was worth the risk to drive our loud vehicle through an urban area. Contemplating other alternatives. No, he would not choose to go by foot. Even if the radio message said the military would not be there within a few days, it was still not smart at all to risk going by foot in a heavily populated area. And so he folded his half of the map and pushed it towards me and turned the keys. I buckled my seatbelt. So did he.

And so we drove on. Pushed forward through the storm. At first we were just passing by a lot of urban housing, but it was still dangerous enough. Even with the divided highway we were on, many yards away from the urban area, we were still taking a large risk. There could have been hundreds—no, thousands just waiting for us in those neighborhoods. All it would have taken was for the sound of our vehicle to carry to their ears. But alas the rain may have saved us from that, especially as it now began to pour down from the heavens in a heavy deluge. The pounding of the rain on the roof of the car drowned out the motor.

Of course, the trouble to this is that we were losing visibility on a highway that was beginning to clutter up fast. Many more cars were now on the side of the road; some were overturned, others had crashed into the divider. But we drove on. Even though we could not see but fifty feet in front of us, we continued on. My companion began to hum a tune. I was unsure as to what tune it was, but I did not want to ask either. The suspension was refraining me from doing so.

Soon afterwards the urban setting was letting up. It was becoming less congested. We passed a body of water before returning to the congestion, however, and the obstacles on the road only continued to become more frequent. We came to where the highway forked, but we still continued our way on it and not on the state road route. I looked out of my companion’s driver-side window; I could barely make out a small airport in the thick of the rain.

After that it started to become less congested in urban areas, but the traffic picked up. We were now actively dodging vehicles, slowing our speed, coming to some near hits, before we happened upon the worst of it—dead-on stop traffic, full to the brim of the road. My companion slammed on the brakes—too hard, unfortunately, and we water planed into a small car in front of us.

The collision was minor. Our airbags were not deployed and we were not hurt. But the real damage had been done. The car in front of us was now screeching in pain, lights flashing on and off, echoing a noise that carried over the rain. It had awakened from its slumber in pain. It would attract unwanted attention. And soon we heard the uncertainty of doom. The damned were hiding in many of the vehicles and were now climbing out of them.

“God damn car alarm!”

Quickly we went into reverse and then forward again. This time my companion veered off to the right and onto the slope of the highway. Thankfully, with the power of our vehicle, we could easily take on the daunting task of off road driving, but the task seemed small in comparison of trying to outrun the damned. They climbed on top of the hoods and roofs of cars and leapt at ours, missing by inches.

“Get your god damn pistol out and be ready to shoot anything that tries to get in here!”

I quickly dug into my pack and reached in to grab my pistol, and in the process I heard something other than the distinctively clear sound of rain hammering on the roof of our car; something had landed in the bed of our truck. I unlocked the safety and quickly whirled around, just as an arm crashed its away through the back cabin window. I squeezed the trigger and fired a round through the window, hitting the beast square in the head. It quickly stopped wriggling and slumped over into the truck bed, its arm still lodged within the cabin window.

Before I could react further, our car buckled up and then down. I turned around to realize that my companion had quickly gone over a soft divider—we were passing through the bottom of the clover leaf interchange on the roads under the highway. That I knew because I could see from my companion’s driver-side window that the highway was over passing the roads that we were crossing in havoc. But more so I saw it because I distinctly saw something shoot off the highway and over us. And as we crossed the grassy median, I distinctly heard a loud howl and then a loud “thunk” on the roof of our vehicle.

At the time I did not think much of it. I had thought perhaps it were the rain and I could not simply tell it apart from the roaring of the engine as we buckled over another soft divider, but I immediately realized that it was something else altogether when an arm punctured through my passenger-side window and grabbed me by the shirt.

My companion yelled, I screamed in surprise; in both respects, I dropped the pistol in fright. A moment later the thing had climbed down and was now clinging onto the side mirror and was planting its feet on the step bar up to the truck and knocked its head through the window. It howled an ear-piercing screech again, showing off large fangs and a bloody mouth. It griped me harder and I could feel what felt like claws digging into my skin. I fought with the creature, holding its arm and head back with all my might while my companion continued to yell.

“Grab the ******* pistol and shoot that damn thing!”

But I could not. It was finding its balance, screaming at me still, and it was going to reach in and grab me in full with its other arm. But luckily my companion was on my side. I looked out the windshield and saw that we were dangerously close to a road sign—dangerously close on the passenger side. In came in its other arm, claws poised out to go for my throat.

It would not get its prey today, however, and a moment later I felt a hard tug and the car shake as we scraped it against the road sign at a fast speed. My shirt had been ripped in the process. I looked down at my chest. I had been scratched, but the wounds were not deep; I was not bleeding. Another buckling of our vehicle and we were on the highway again, clearing past the obstacles that now became less and less, and sped away from the damned that were running after us on foot.

I, however, did not have time to thank my companion, as I slipped into unconsciousness due to my exhaustion.

O Brave New World - Chapter VII

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 01:23:38 -0400

Previous chapter

Chapter 7

We must have passed a dozen houses alike in size and color. They were farm houses. Peaceful in an otherwise unpeaceful world. We passed a crossroads and I happened to read the sign that told us what road we were on: Michigan Avenue. My companion inquired if I had seen the road sign and asked me what road we were on. I replied in kind with the answer.

“I hate Michigan.”

My companion had much distaste for the state that we were in. State of mind, that is. Though he was a loud and strong man, I could not help but sense that it was really more of a mask, a charade, to hide the true nature to what tortured him. After all, all the world’s a stage and all the men and women are merely players. They have their exits and entrances and one man in his time plays many parts. I knew I was playing my part in the grand scheme of things. It was a part that I was destined to play.

Eventually we came to a fork in the road. We were left with the decision to either turn left or right. After a few moments I argued with my companion to go right, considering going the right way in the worst of times is the right thing to do. There are just too many good things associated with going right. And so right we went.

It was not but a ways down the road until we came to a highway. My companion mumbled something under his breath, probably giving me thanks in a secretive manner, but he would never admit to it today. We turned left this time, heading east as we originally were doing. East, yet again, another good omen of things. The sun always rose from the east.

We continued on the highway for quite some time before a road sign showed us that we were coming upon a city in a matter of miles. We began to slow down, talking to one another about whether or not we wanted to risk driving through the city in broad daylight, when the damned could find their prey the easiest, especially when we were driving in a beast that made such boisterous noise. But we eventually agreed that staying on the highway was our best bet in trying to run into other survivors, or possibly the military.

“Alright, then we’ll drive through Union City. We’re not stopping for a damn thing.”

I fidgeted with the radio as we continued on and the farmland started to disappear. There was nothing on either AM or FM frequencies that we could receive. But my attention diverted from that as soon as we could see clear as day the so-called city. Rather it could be better equated to a rural development of houses. If there were any civic buildings in the town, we did not see them as we sped past. Nor did we see any of the damned on our way as well.

Not but a minute later we returned to farmland country again. My companion laughed at our belief that we would find resistance and began to become more confident in himself. The next settlement, Burlington; we drove right past it in a matter of seconds, being even smaller than Union City. It wasn’t until we continued on afterwards before we were met with our real challenge. We came across Interstate 69, and we were faced with either continuing on the state road that we were on or if we were to get on the highway and make our way either north or south. My companion was compelled on the idea of heading north to make it to Canada; he was sure that the infection had not spread that far, but I argued with him that the entire world was suffering the same fate for the wrongs we had committed.

Our decision, however, was decided for us as I continued to turn the knob on the radio and we heard a distinct crackle and fizzing. Again I turned the tuner to search for the station before the white noise became clearer to what sounded like a person talking, faintly. Another bit of fine tuning and we could clearly hear the broadcast. It was a woman.

“If anyone can hear this, we are holed up in Detroit. We have food and supplies for anyone seeking them. The military will be picking us up in a few days, so make it here as quickly as you can.”

And so we headed on our course now onto the highway north, as signs pointed our way to Detroit. We were not on it for but fifteen minutes before we came across a highway intersection to Interstate 94, which led directly into Detroit, and so we made the connection. It was hard to imagine that the highways remained mostly clear along the way. There was an odd car or two on the side of the road, obviously abandoned and out of gas, so we made no attempts to stop to search and collect supplies, considering we had plenty. The only thing that we were beginning to run short on was gasoline.

We were driving for an hour before we started to get quite close to the city. We could see the rural areas becoming suburban. Things were becoming to look more civilized. The farmland began to disappear. We drove up a hill and stopped at the very top of it and could see what lay before us. The concrete jungle. Before us the skies darkened. The clouds turned black and the gods fought against one another at the sound of large clashes of thunder. There was danger afoot, and we were going to make a beastly path through it.

MMO ideas that have nothing to do with high fantasy

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 19:07:31 -0400

You know, I've always laid it down as a maxim that if developers want to inject WoW into their MMOs so that they can be popular, then they should just get a job at Blizzard. Let's be honest, folks; if a WoW kiddy wants WoW in his MMO, he'll just play WoW. Which becomes all the more baffling when new MMOs come out and, lo and behold, they're high fantasy crap. I mean, seriously. Did Eve just happen to pass every high fantasy MMO developer's mind? So in honor of developers without imaginations, I'd like to offer a few settings that don't include Elves and dragons by picking from a few popular books, games, and movies that could be made into MMOs. All you need to do is think outside the box.

And there you have it. Six MMO ideas that have NOTHING to do with high fantasy. No Elves, no Azeroth, no reguritated environments. Sure, they may not seem all that applicable to be able to be put into a game, but I'm sure if someone just took the time to make it right they would be able to put out an MMO that doesn't have to suffer under the moniker of "WoW clone." Maybe that's the actual reason why new MMOs can't thrive in this MMO market. Then again, how would we know; the only successful MMO that isn't high fantasy is Eve, and they must not be doing too well if--oh, wait, you mean they are doing well?

Honestly, just for once I would really like someone to take an already-existing story from an awesome series, like in some of the ones I mentioned them in this article, and make an MMO that shatters this rediculous craze for high fantasy MMOs. I want the future, the guns, the bullets, the tanks, and the vast emptiness of space. And I know I can't be alone in this feeling. So please, think of your potentially-future customers, developers, and think outside the box when it comes to MMOs.

O Brave New World - Chapter VI

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 01:00:16 -0400

Previous chapter

Chapter 6

There were no birds singing. No crickets chirping. There was only but the sun and the cold air. The cold, chilling air. Blow the winter wind did; so unkind it was. I remember it that day. I remember it well. I echoed our plight in life. Lifeless, unrelenting, fleeting. Here in the field we lay, on broken stalks of corn. They too were cold.

I awoke from my slumber. I could taste the grogginess that this morning had brought us. A short sun on the horizon, creeping its way above us all, to mock us in glory. The damned do not shun from its gaze, but rather welcome it, as it allows them to find their prey more easily. I surveyed our great crash before us.

The winged beast was thoroughly grounded. Its nose was dug deep into the ground, and one of its wings had broken off. Even its tail was slightly bent. It would never see the skies again. Here it would remain in its shallow grave. No smoke, no fire, no explosion; it was by the grace of some unknown force that we survived. Survived again.

My companion was but a couple of feet from me. He was lying on the ground, face up. I rushed to his side, nudging him. He stirred awake as well, moaning and holding his head. Coughing, I helped him up and he too looked around to survey what had befallen us. And as I looked for a second time, we both arrived to the same conclusion.

“Where is that damn pilot?”

I too was bemused by our situation. It would seem that Damien had taken our things—at least our weapons and our food rations. Our bags lay strewn out beside the plane, opened. My companion rushed to them and frantically opened them, searching. I could tell he was stifling his anger for fear of attracting attention to us, but how he thought that would help as we stood beside an iron-winged beast grounded nose-first into the dirt was beyond me.

“That bastard cheated us!”

I did not think it was of the appropriate time to mention to my companion that we had not given him much reason to trust us, given his temper, and given more the light of our situation, for I too was without a weapon to defend myself with. We gathered our packs. My companion surmised that Damien the pilot had left in the general direction where the corn stalk was bent in a fine line, and so we followed the broken path.

It did not take long before we were out of the field and onto open ground. Before us was a tree line. To our right were more trees. But to our left, off in the distance, was a road, and beyond that road was a house with a large tree in front of it. My companion surmised that that is where Damien must have gone to and so we began our trek to the house.

We were cautious, however, in our approach. Without weapons, we had no means to defend ourselves, and so we made our way back into the stalk of corn as we came close to the house. We moved back a little before we could see the road mere inches from the field, and, again, the house once more, but this time to our right. Across the street was yet another field of corn, and on mark, we ran across the street and into that field. Eventually, through the creeping of that field, we were at the edge of the field and mere yards from the house.

My companion told me to wait in the field while he made his way to the house. I watched from a distance as my companion crawled across the grass at the back of the house, inching towards a shed. Once there he entered the shed and a moment later exited with a shovel. I watched as he crept to the back screen porch and quietly opened the door and entered the house.

What happened afterwards I am not sure, for my companion never explained to me what had happened exactly, but what I do know is that my companion came out of the porch door holding our weapons and walking with gusto. After fetching and rearming me, he led me back into the home. Inside we found Damien, laying on the floor, with one of the damned toppled over him. Both were dead. Lifeless. There were claw and bite marks on Damien, but there too was a large, red mark across his forehead, like as if he was struck with something.

I pressed my companion at the time, but he did not explain to me in full what had happened. He only repeated that he had found him dead in the state that he was in already and that we should take what we needed. We found our supplies easily, and took Damien’s supplies and his pistol as well. There was little of use in the house. Canned foods, non-perishable, but nothing that we already didn’t have and we couldn’t take as we were full on supplies. We did, however, find a keychain with a pair of keys on it.

Inside the garage we found our rhino, our beast that would traverse the ground at great speeds. It was red and had large husks. Its feet were ridged and caked with mud. Atop it were round eyes, jutting out like as if they were an insect’s eyes. And in the back was its pouch. It truly was a beast to behold.

“Heh, and to think I used to hate Ford.”

I was slow on what my companion was saying, but understood that we both wanted to use the vehicle as transportation. Discreetness be damned; none could stop us in this behemoth of two-hundred-and-fifty. We would ride through the damned as if they were mere obstacles to be knocked down.

My companion inserted the key into the lock and, for a moment, did not open the door in anticipation. A second later he turned the key and the doors unlocked. He punched my shoulder in joy and we both put our sacks in the back seats. I mounted the beast in the passenger seat as my companion slipped into the seat to hold the reigns. Doors closed and locked, my companion turned the key in the ignition. The beast began to roar. It was alive.

“Haha! No zombie is safe from Chicago Ted!”

And with that he threw the gear in reverse and slammed onto the acceleration. Out we flew through the garage door, breaking it like butter upon bread, heading out onto the street before coming to a stop. He threw it into drive and away we went on our speedish adventures. Where we were going we did not know, and what adventures would await us we could not say, but there was yet a feeling within my gut above the elation of joy that something was coming, and it would soon manifest itself before us.

Internet Personalities #4

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 00:40:11 -0400

Here we are, once again, on the fringe of bad taste and madness with Internet Personalities, the write up where I analyze the Interwebs and the kooky personalities that are commonly used on forums and games alike. In the past three write ups I've been looking at gamers for the most part, but now it's time to look in on the true retches of forum humanity. Though I like to pose the question no one has actually ever asked me, I will still pose it regardless; why do I take on the dubiously degenerate path of analyzing the dummies? Mostly because there's nothing good on tv. So on with fourth writeup we go!

Previous writeups:
#1
#2
#3

And there we have it, folks, writeup number four. Well, I hope were you thoroughly entertained with a few forum personalities here, because there are a boatload more to come in future writeups. So, see yourself here? Or maybe see someone else? Share your stories in the comments!

O Brave New World - Chapter V

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 23:17:58 -0400

Previous Chapter

There were a few moments of silence as the plane climbed in the darkness. I peered out from the back to see some wayward lights upon the ground, but I had little hope that it had meant the remainders of civilization were still surviving in full. Rather that the living is wasting the candlelight in the dark of night.

“Nice little plane you’ve got here. Cessna, right?” My companion’s tone was monotonous.

“It’s a Cessna 400.”

“It’s a fast little bastard.”

“Not fast enough to take off before you tried to kill me.”

“Tried? Padre, I could’ve killed you. I chose not to on the account that neither one of us know how to fly.”

“That’s rather comforting.”

“Yeah? I hope you are ****in’ uncomfortable, on the account that you tried to leave our ***** back there!”

Silence. Nothing but the soothing humming sound of the motor could be heard.

“I wasn’t sure who you were.”

“We were kickin’, I think that’s more than a prayer can go on when it comes to spotting decent folk!”

That’s not what I meant! You know how many crazies have tried to take my plane from me? Or what they’ve offered me? Last time I landed they were coming at me like a horde! It was hard to tell who was a goner and who was still decent.”

Silence again.

“Where you comin’ from, padre?”

“Saguenay.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s in Quebec.”

“Far from here?”

“About 800 miles.”

“So then the real question then, padre, is how much fuel does this thing here have left?”

This time the silence was uncomfortable.

“I said—”

“I heard what you said.”

A beat.

“This is the fuel gauge.” He pointed to a small meter that was pointing to the far left end.

“Well **** on a stick. Should we prepare for a crash landing?”

A sudden tingle crept down my neck at my companion’s words. It was a sensation that was weighing which death was worse—being berated by the mob or becoming a crater. Death frightened me the most in general, so I could not make up my mind.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to join me.”

“Yeah, well I guess I made the mistake of thinking you were a competent pilot!”

“Corbleu, I was flying to Sault Saint Marie to visit my mother!”

An awkward silence.

“And why do you keep calling me this ‘padre’?”

“Because you are old enough to be my pops.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothin’. Fine, before we find our shallow graves, would you like to enlighten us all on what your name is?”

“My name is Damien Francois-Marie Bedeau.”

“Let’s stick with Damien.”

“What is yours?”

“You already know my name. It’s Chicago Ted.”

“Oh c’mon, that is not your real name.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Matty, real names aren’t much use these days.”

“My name is not ‘Matty.’ Now you are just mocking me.”

“Don’t get so touchy on me, Jason Bourne, just try and land us before the engine—”

Gives away. And it was starting to give away. Sputtering and chopping up, it was running on fumes. The only thing that was perhaps on our side was the beginning of the new day, giving us just enough light to see the ground below. Nothing but farmland.

“Praise Michigan’s agricultural department, we’ve got plenty of runway here!”

“Non! If I land in these crops then I will never get this plane back in the air!”

“We won’t be flying anywhere if we are ****in’ pancakes, Matty! Just land the goddamn thing before we lose—”

Total control. And we did. The engine died off and the propeller came to a stop.

“We are a dead stick!”

It was unclear to me at the time what I was feeling in that elated moment of our fastidious decent. Was it excitement? Was it fear? It was on that night that I assayed our plot within our lives. But I knew the answer even amongst the yells and screams of my companion and the plane’s pilot, and so I closed my eyes, expecting to never open them once again in this lifetime.

But fate is certainly a cruel monster in these troubled times as the plane evened out and we careened across golden wheat fields with a force that would shake the worlds around us until we came to a safe and intact rest. No, fate, on this new day, would not grant us our wishes to leave to the afterlife in peace. We were fated to live. Or perhaps we were fated to die a thousand deaths before we could truly be laid to rest.

“I…*******…hate…Michigan…”

It was the last thing I remember my companion expressing before he passed out and I too followed shortly into the familiar world of darkness.

O Brave New World - Chapter IV

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 21:42:07 -0400

Previous Chapter

Of course, as you know that I write about the past here and now, you obviously then know that we of course survived that stint in Michigan. But here do I now confess that it was perhaps our darkest moment together as companions, as survivors, in this brave new world. As we stood tall waiting for what we thought was the inevitable, listening intently to the moans off in the distance, another thing came to us. Like at first the buzzing of a fly quickly passing your ear, we came to hear another sound over the ambience of death—it was the sound of propellers.

Of course, in the dead of night, we did not know for sure where the airplane was coming from, or if it was touching down at all, but once my companion’s legs began to carry him to the other end of the runway, away from the moan of death, then all my legs could do were follow his in kind. And, sure enough, as if we were to cheat death today, we caught sight of the outline of a small airplane touching down at the far end of the runway we were running to.

My companion yelled to it, firing rounds off in the air, screaming at the top of the lungs. I did not share his enthusiasm in attracting attention, as the mob of the damned’s screams grew louder and louder. But the airplane did land, and it did slow and was heading toward us, and then did I chance again a glance behind us to see in the outline of the great fire where the airliner exploded the mass of darkness beckoning to us, and quickly they shifted their attention from the fire to my screaming companion. It was at that time that the small airplane’s propeller began to speed up once again and picked up speed.

“You sonofa*****, don’t leave us here!”

My companion came to a quick stop as he raised his rifle and steadied his aim. A moment later he fired directly into the cockpit of the airplane, missing the pilot by what had to be mere inches. It was with his second shot that I realized he was not missing, but he was firing warning shots, nigh taunting the pilot that he could easily kill him. The plane slowed again and the cockpit door opened. We hastened our way towards it, while my companion kept his rifle aimed on the pilot the entire way, despite that the cries behind us were growing closer. I did not dare look back lest I would be stunned where I stood.

I climbed into the cockpit first. It was a small plane, with only one seat beside the pilot and two seats behind the front seats. Upon one was a bag, so I immediately sat in the one next to it. Then in climbed my companion in the front passenger seat next to the pilot, but with there being little room to move about, my companion had to stow his rifle away from his aim, and when he did the pilot lifted his hand to reveal a pistol within it, pointed at my companion.

“It’s time for you to get the **** out of my plane.”

It was rather instinctual of me to place my pistol on the back of the pilot’s head. It almost came natural to me. Then again, I was fearful of my life, and the silhouettes of the damned were growing larger and larger as they came towards us. Death may perhaps be inevitable in this life, but escape is a choice of opportunity, and the opportunity had presented itself.

My companion smiled at my physical response, however, and winked at the pilot. “Got yourself in a real Catch 22, padre. Either eat a bullet or fly us the hell out of here. Or don’t. And then die in a much nastier and more painful way. Your call.”

The pilot did not flinch as he relinquished his pistol to my companion and they both closed the cockpit doors to each side of the plane. Quickly did he then apply speed to the airplane. Thankfully to the small size of the airplane we did not need much runway to take off, as it was rather short due to the mass of flesh descending upon us like hounds upon the hunt. We lifted off mere feet from impact between the masses—so much that one of the damned happened to jump at the right moment and cling onto the wing on the passenger side. Without missing a beat my companion opened the cockpit door, aimed his pistol, and fired a round that hit straight between the eyes of the creature, upon which it let go of its grip upon the wing and fell into the darkness bellow. My companion closed the cockpit door.

“Who the **** are you, Rambo or something?”

My companion let out a horse laugh, slapping the back of the pilot in jest, and then looked back to me. “See, I told you no zombie is safe from Chicago Ted!”

“Great, you guys are from Chicago? No wonder you were shooting at me.”

O Brave New World - Chapter III

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Tue, 19 May 2009 20:44:53 -0400

Previous Chapter

“C’mon, we’re gonna lose it!”

My feet were fleet then. Taking me upon a journey that I thought had an end. But I know better now. There is only one true ending to this story. That ending is of my death. When the words cease to carry on and the pages turn blank of ink then the journey shall end. Until someone carries on my journey. If there is anyone else left to do so.

Eventually we ran through the thicket of the woods, our flashlights beaming like torch lights in the night. We came upon an open site, and in the distance appeared a couple of abandoned warehouses. Not stopping for a breath my companion continued to run, straight across the street, without regard of what lurked in the darkness in the absence of the moon. I still followed.

We hopped over the fence into a garbage dump. Still eerily silent except for our fast footsteps, my companion still did not hesitate in his pursuit. Hopeful of some sight in this dark night, he scaled a hill of garbage and stood on top, peering into the direction of the sound of the airplane. I could barely make out his outline in the darkness, but I certainly heard his curses afterwards.

“Aw ****! There’s an airport just a bit in this direction! I can see runway lights!”

He leaped down the pile of garbage. I immediately made my way around it, but when I came to the other side my companion was not there. Suddenly I heard the clanging of metal. I turned my flashlight in the direction of the sound but could not make out anything in the fog of darkness. Suddenly I felt a tug on my shoulder. Startled I wheeled around, pistol ready in hand, before another arm pulled my pistol arm down.

“Whoah, what the hell are you trying to do, kill me? C’mon, I don’t have time for you to recite a sonnet tonight! Let’s go!”

Despite it being my companion, my heart continued to run its course. Again we came to a wall and climbed over it. Now we were upon train tracks, and beyond those train tracks we could see the river’s edge. There was no apparent way to crossing it either than to swim across it.

“Damnit, maybe there’s a crossing up ahead!”

We headed up along the train tracks until the river edge curved, and then we followed the coast of the river. It winded again downwards, but we pushed our flashlights across the field in the direction of the airport again and could see the other edge of the river.

“Just a peninsula there! C’mon, we gotta keep going this way!”

A few moments later running up the river coast we came to a large, empty clearing. Across the river we could clearly see the runway lights lit up. We also came to the narrowest part of the river, naught but a short swim across. My companion looked to both sides of the river, expecting to see a crossing in the darkness, but decided that the best course of action was a direct line through.

“We gotta toss our weapons to the other side, otherwise they’ll jam.”

Before I could question his knowledge on the subject, or catch my breath in general, he had thrown his rifle clear across the river and to the other side and did the same with my pistol. And before I could even think about jumping into the river, my companion had already grabbed me by the arm and yanked me in.

Down into the icy water we went. It was surprisingly deep. At least, it was for someone of my character who could not swim. My companion quickly discovered that as I clung onto him for dear life as he pulled me to the top. Thankfully it was a short crossing, else I would have drowned and have possibly taken my companion with me out of fear. Moments later we were on the other side of the river, me gasping for breath, but my companion already standing and gathering his rifle.

“Get your ass up, let’s go!”

My lungs burned as we made our run across an open plain. Our terrain quickly changed into mud, but even then we did not stop. Eventually the terrain changed again, this time becoming foliage, and a moment later we made our way out of it and stepped onto an open field with a runway tarmac as far as the eye could see in the darkness lit by runway lights. In the distance we could see overhead lights and continued to run towards them.

“You better hope your ass that the plane is still there, or I’ll shoot you just for the hell of it!”

I was not sure if my companion meant what he said in jest or in seriousness, but I removed the safety from my pistol either way. Eventually we came to a distance that we could see there was no plane in the vicinity of the first light, but after we made our way past the first set of hangars we could see another bright light in the distance. It brightly shone up a commercial airliner. It was parked, its engines off, on where smaller aircraft would most likely make their final rest to. We continued to run, passing one strip of tarmac, until we could make out in greater detail of what was before us.

The commercial airliner seemed to have a rudimentary rope hanging down from the main door, and amongst it were a number of figures moving around it. At this distance we were not sure of whom it could be, but when they began to climb the rope in a great number and one other was pulled out of the plane itself by those climbing the rope, we surmised quite quickly the situation. Soon enough our run became slower, until it was a slow creeping pace and until it was a sudden stop. We were not but 100 feet away from the tail of the airliner before figures began to leap upon the wings of the craft and began banging on the seat windows. Some figures made their way inside the airliner before the door shut.

Suddenly the engines began to come to life, quietly at first, until we could surmise that they were only going to continue to become louder and louder. We moved further back and away from the tail of the airliner, crouching, hoping that none of the figures in the dark could see us. The airliner began to move slowly as figures continued to jump and climb upon the wings and run all along the top of the airliner. They were en masse now, still banging on the windows, but we were sure of whom these figures were. Their cries and shrieks confirmed they were the very ghouls we did not wish to meet that night.

The direction of the plane shifted away from the taxi runway to a direct turn around as the airliner’s engines continued to increase in speed. It nearly hit the hangar that it was closely parked to until it had cleared it and had clearly turned around to face us. Its headlights blinded us. I froze in panic. Thankfully my companion reacted differently in his stupor of panic. He dragged me out of the headlights and we dashed our way out of the way of the turbine engines. As we ducked and lay still, we heard the shrills and shrieks of the damned upon the plane, and then, moments later, from the mob that ran after it. With our flashlights off and us remaining still, they ran right past us.

A moment later we chanced to look up and towards the direction of the now mobile airliner. It cut across the field and was heading straight to some hangars and buildings. It ran straight through a chain link fence and then over some parked cars, but before curiosity got the better of me, my companion had ducked my head back into the ground.

What sound entered my ears afterwards was a sound that I would never forget. The sound of creaking metal and scratching sheets. The breaking of parts and the crashing of glass. The shrills and shrieks—of the damned or of the people upon the vessel, I do not know for sure, perhaps both. And then, all at once, all the numbers of different sounds came to an end when a gigantic explosion of force and thunder shook the very ground we lay on. An explosion that lit the very night sky, burning it of its night skirt. An explosion that warmed the very chilling air surrounding us, pushing it away. It began to rain sheet metal soon after the thunder had subsided.

We looked up towards the destruction that was before us. A great fire raged before our eyes, dancing before us. Many flames waltzing through the night, lighting up everything around it. The airliner had been incinerated, as much of the buildings it had rammed into did as well. A few sounds beset our ears after a moment. The creaking of metal falling, parts of the buildings collapsing, and a couple of small explosions that rang out again, until we heard the one sound we had wished we had not. The sound of a plague of locusts in the distance that we could not see. A sound that grew louder and closer. The sound of yelling and moaning.

“I ******* hate Michigan.”

For once I concurred with Ted. If there be any who watch over us now, I know that he is but a villain. A damned, smiling villain. A villain whose vanity of pain was shining upon us, as the flames had provided a light source that exposed us. My companion picked up his rifle and stood tall. Now I see that the methods to my companion were not of madness at all, but rather that of inevitability. We had more in common than I had thought.

“It was nice knowing you, Shakespeare.”

O Brave New World - Chapter II

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Mon, 18 May 2009 19:45:51 -0400

Previous Chapter

I continue to look back upon my first journey with my good fellow, Ted. After our expeditious escape from the ferry, we met little resistance in our travels. Neither of us had a compass, but we were sure that the direction we were going was not towards St. Joseph. Inland, most assuredly, staying away from any sort of settlements. However, not all is possible to avoid.

We took a chance to cut across into the woods. Our experience was impeded by riled animals. Feral cats, to be exact. Ted seemed to take great pleasure in kicking them as they attempted to launch their selves upon us. For safety we did not use our firearms for fear of attracting unwanted attention.

Afterwards we came to a highway. Not a large highway. A rural highway. There were no cars upon it, so we risked crossing it. We attracted no attention upon ourselves. However, when we ran into a park, we most certainly did. It was such a horrid sight to behold. Children. Some even infants. They fell upon us as much as the adults did. There were no qualms within the eyes of the insane. Ted, however, had no qualms upon pushing back these victims of insanity.

We continued on afterwards, spotting a river and following it. We could see a small bridge in the distance and then a bend in the river, so we believed to continue onwards, hoping to reach a large forest or an uninhabited area. Again we chanced our way across the street when we came upon the bridge, and continued our way. There was tree cover all along the shore of the river and felt that this was the wisest choice to make in our travel.

Eventually we came upon what we had hoped for—thick brush and woodland. We came to rest there for a moment, before Ted came to the notion that we were without supplies. However, night was approaching, and we dared not to continue our travels under darkness when we were without clear visibility. The plan was to rest that night. Neither of us was able to sleep.

To pass the time I felt it would gladden our spirits to know more about one another. I could not gather much of his personal life, as Ted made no attempts to reveal such information. He did, however, have much to boast about upon his great deeds in the time since this horrid apocalypse.

“I was born for this! Just the feel of my trusty rifle here as I guide it to my victims…it’s just a natural feelin’, you know? I’ve seen tons of **** ever since it all went to hell, but damn, I’ve survived through it all! And I’m gonna keep survivin’, you hear? And I’m gonna kill every last one of those zombie sonsa*****es I can find! No zombie is safe from Chicago Ted, haha!”

I felt uneasy about his candor and his courage. I wondered if it was mistaken arrogance for all his luck in these troubled times thus far. However, I had no choice in the matter and decided that as mad as he may be, there was a method in his actions. A method that would most likely keep me alive.

Ted, however, seemed to take great enjoyment on what I had to tell him about myself. He said much of what I had explained to him of who I was did not, in fact, make much sense to him at all, proclaiming that I had a “fancy” way of articulating my phrases and sentences. He concluded that, after seeing the Complete Works of Shakespeare Revised in my rucksack, my name was not to be what I called myself, but instead it is to be Shakespeare. I tried to reproach him upon the matter but he only jested further, asking me, “What’s in a name?”

Before I could retort in kind, a larger answer to our most immediate problem was solved by large turbine engines that screeched across the night sky. Though we could not see the sky beast, we surmised that it had to be a large one and following the direction of the sound we had our true North at last. However, so did all other sorts of ghoulish things that roam the night, but before I could speak upon the situation Ted had already leaped up and was beginning to run in the direction of the sound. What choice did I have? My companion was the closest thing I had to a friend, and so I followed him once more into the breach.

O Brave New World - Chapter I

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Sat, 16 May 2009 07:37:20 -0400

Previous Chapter: Introduction

It must be November by now. The weather is getting colder. When I find a digital clock I’ll be able to know for sure. If there are any left still working. They would have to be battery run. Or perhaps someone kept the date when this happened. I cannot even remember when exactly it happened. I know it happened last month. But if you ask me the length between then and know I would answer you with eternity.

It was chaos then. People running in the streets, looting, lighting fires, killing one another. It was impossible to try and reason with them. They had lost all reason. They would not even speak. They would just scream. And yell. It was havoc. The dogs of war had been let loose. You could smell the foul deed with carrion men screaming for blood lust. Or perhaps they were screaming for burial. I say it is a deed to be done—a justice upon each and every one who is infected—to end their life as quickly as possible. No man can enjoy what fate has befallen upon him.

Some resisted, as I said. Some did not lose reason. They wanted to help others like them. Like me. I followed them. We were many then. Many in the sense that as many as we could find. But not all were able-bodied. Some were injured. Some could not cope with the scale of things erupting around them. We did not sleep for days. Fear was our watchman, making sure that we all stayed awake during any hour of the day. But I do not remember the sun. To me it was always dark.

It was in the true darkness that we feared the most. There is something about this veil of darkness that steals the very mettle of men. A single shot would echo and we would find one with his pistol within his mouth and the back of his head blown out. We pressed onwards still. We did not talk of those that we had lost. We did not speak upon who we once were. Those lives are lost to us. They have long since passed away. We were born anew in this brave, new world, and such people it has in it now.

It was October then. October in Chicago. We knew we had to leave the city before the city tore itself apart and collapsed the very structures that tower over the paved jungle. Our trials and tribulations to escaping the city were just the beginning of this journey out of the mouth of hell and into the belly of the beast. First it was the subway. We immediately found that to be a terrible idea. We had lost at least a score within those dark tunnels. What’s more, we left them there. We left them to their screams. We had to if we were to survive.

Eventually we had escaped the city. Our numbers had thinned to an amount that we could all fit in a city bus. The ride out of the city itself was miraculous. We were a machine of death then. We ran down many who had lost their reason. Or did they throw themselves under the bus to end their lives? I may never know. Their deaths were inevitable. What came next was not.

There was still a small piece of quarantine zone left. The docks. Still held by what was left of the military. At least, those that did not turn as well. I can remember them shouting for us to stop our vehicle. But we did not stop. The mob was hot on our heels. If we had stopped it would have meant certain death. The military decided what our fate was that day. Bullets rained into the bus. They tore apart our driver. The last thing I had remembered was the bus flipping. Tumbling. Darkness. Always darkness. But then I was pulled out of it later. The bus had broken through the barricade. I was carried away as the soldiers took to their last stand. It was all that they could do. Or perhaps it was what they were ordered to do. I never found the answer to that question. I only found myself upon a boat moments later off the ferry and into Lake Michigan.

I thought perhaps it had ended. That all was over and all had been forgiven. Mayhap it had just been a dream. I passed out in the excitement thereof, only to awaken from the dream and into the nightmare once again. No, it was real. I know that know. And forever more. But those few days upon that boat…those days were the calm. I remember looking for my other companion group. None had made it to the ferry. None that I could recognize or see.

As I said, days went by. Soldiers too were upon the boat. They were young. They too were full of fear. But who wasn’t? The people argued with them. The soldiers argued with the people. The people wanted to stay on the boat indefinitely and make their home anew upon the floating vessel. I remember the capacity then. The boat was full of people. You could not inch a finger without it meeting someone else’s. To live on that boat would have been madness. Then again, what the soldiers proposed to do was even of a greater madness.

There was another military holding in Michigan. They were ordering the ferry captain to dock at St. Joseph to attempt contact with that military holding and to collect supplies. But the people were fearful. They had escaped the shores of hell. The last they wished to do was return to them. But in the coming days of tension and argument as the ferry lay still upon the water did the people realize that they were in dire need of supplies. People were beginning to become unruly with what little space there was to move with.

It was then that the young soldiers took command of the ferry by force, as the ferry boat captain sided with the passengers. It was quick. The soldiers shot many who came down upon them. The ship came to full speed. The jolt caught many people off their guard. Many were knocked off the boat and plunged into the cold lake. Perhaps they were the lucky ones. Eventually the shots stopped. Both sides had killed each other. People were in a panic. And with the combination of panic and fear came that familiar stench of war.

Was it minutes? Hours that passed before the boat slammed into the harbor walls and knocked everyone off their feet once more, and some to their shallow graves? I do not remember. All I remember was the shouting, the yelling. People vowing that if others came near them they would kill them. We still did not know that we were immune to this plague. We feared one another.

Unconsciousness settled over me once again. This time I welcomed it. I had thought perhaps I would die within this slumber. Die peacefully. Die without knowing pain. But alas, I was saved. It was inevitable. I was saved by the very man who had pulled me out of the bus back in Chicago. We were upon the shores of Michigan, the boat grounded to the shore. The screams echoed through my ears again. The nightmare was real. This I know for sure. It was dark then. Or was it day? I could not tell. The stench of death and the fog of screams blanketed all life and light onto that day. We ran down the shore, away from the boat. We ran for what seemed like an eternity. We stopped when my legs gave away and I collapsed upon the ground. Then we hid in the thick cattail, trying to catch our breath as quietly as possible.

“That’s twice I’ve saved your sorry ass.” I remember these words most vividly in my mind. They were the first words that I had heard in my new life. The first words worth remembering. “Let’s not try and make a habit of this, okay?”

I knew he was attempting humor in light of the atrocity that was happening upon the survivors of that ferry. But that was inevitable. One cannot weep over what cannot be changed. Over what was meant to be. At that point and time we had only each other and it was enough to savior that we still had our lives and wits about us. In his case his humor was intact as well.

“The name is Ted. Don’t much care for last names. Figure there can’t be many more livin’ Teds out there any more. I’m sort of one of a kind, eh?”

I would have nodded if my body would have allowed it. But at that moment I was coming to terms with the sudden sinking feeling for the first time in my new life that I may actually die before I fully am able to live once again. Would I see another day or another night? It was strange to imagine such things, but I believed enough to welcome it none the better. There are more things in heaven and earth than I can possibly imagine, but, at that moment, I was preoccupied with serving my new life sentence in hell.

O Brave New World - Introduction

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Sat, 16 May 2009 04:34:58 -0400

It was inevitable. All the events in our past had led up to this one point in our history. We, as a civilization, had no interest in learning from our mistakes. Wars continued to be waged, hate continued to be seeded, and reason began to leave mankind on a whole. It is difficult to say that this was a surprise to us. That we did not see it coming in the daybreak on the horizon. No, we saw this. We all saw it and greeted it into our homes.

Fear was what first sparked it. Terrorist attacks. Anthrax letters. Mad Cow Disease. Bird Flu. Pig Flu. The people were frightened. For the first time in history knowledge was within everyone’s grasp. However, knowledge is nothing but what we make of it. The media used it as fear. And fear is a great motivator.

They said the economy would bounce back—that the down point would rise up again. It didn’t. It only continued to plummet. I remember then. People without jobs, without homes. I became one of them. Was it a choice? Was it thrown upon me? No. It was inevitable. Much on the same effect that it was inevitable for this chain reaction of events to echo throughout the world.

It came quick. Like a thief in the night, it was upon us before we even knew what was happening. I remember then. We were standing in front of a store window to a tv shop. It was on the news. They did not have much information at that time. They were not sure what caused it to happen. They speculated. The expanding rate of the homeless coupled with the lack of health care created a new disease. Or it was a terrorist biological attack. Or a preemptive strike from another nation. But I was there. I saw what it really was.

When men have lost their reason, they will flee to become brutish beasts. Humanity lost its reason. It could not handle the impending pressure. Society collapsed upon itself. Friend became foe. Neighbor became intruder. That is when the world changed. I never considered myself to be a religious man, but if I had to imagine what Armageddon would truly be like, then I can think of no worse hell to live in than today.

Not all have lost reason, however. Some survive. Some live. I live. But the others. Society, humanity, civilization. They could not be saved. They were left for dead.

It was inevitable.

The Fat Lady is Singing: Take-Two sues 3D Realms over Duke Nukem Forever

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Fri, 15 May 2009 11:00:03 -0400

Following a story that has been going on here for quite some time now, we now come to full circle with news from Kotaku about Take-Two filing a breach of contract against 3D Realms (legal name: Apogee Software Ltd.) over the the game that stayed on the back burner for way too long, Duke Nukem Forever. Details of the lawsuit haven't been released yet, but if this is a stunt, then I must say it's an expensive one--and probably one the New York courts won't appreciate if this does turn out to be a stunt.

Take-Two invested $12 million into this science project, so you can imagine how they're taking it when 3D Realms kept promising them that they were working on it. A quote from the complaint itself:

And, of course, as we know by all the hubbub that has been going around the Internets lately, that assurance was empty when 3D Realms ran out of money, laid off employees, and closed the studio down (or that's one theory...). If the 3D Realms guys thought they were broke now, then I can only imagine what liquidating their assets is going to feel like if this thing ever comes to full light. Where's your crown now, King Nothing?

Internet Personalities #1

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Wed, 13 May 2009 14:13:22 -0400

The Internet is a whole different world, separate from the real one that we all live in. It has its own quirks and its own jokes. The memes that have spawned countless nights of laughter and eye gouging have only increased as the years go on. Video games are marketable now and more and more people are talking on forums. The people in these two endeavors, once bunched together as simple social outcasts, have formed their own interpersonal realities that they live and embody here on the Internets. Because I am awfully bored, I will attempt to categorize some of the most obvious and generalized personalities people are under the influence of in online video games and on forum discussion groups through a series of write ups each week. Hide the children and prepare to be offended.

The Tough Guy

The Tough Guy really isn’t an encompassed personality, but much more a passing phase to which many people on the Internet may suffer under at many times in their journey. Basically when an argument escalates to its breaking point and one party has pushed the other party over the edge, all hell breaks loose. Death threats, censor bypassing, nerd rage, asking for RL addresses, and promises of ***** being kicked IRL will ensue. This state of personality usually lasts for as long as the person in question’s blood pressure can handle it—or his keyboard as he smashes his fists into it in anger. He’s not backing down from this fight, even if you submit. He’s out to get you and that’s pretty much final.

[Plays a random movie wav and then shoots his teammate in the head]

That's all for this week folks. Have you encountered any of these personalities on the Interwebs? Tell us your story about them if you have!

Next week: the General, the Raptor, the Rock, the Telemarketer, and the Klepto

Yay or Nay Diablo III Days

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 03:24:48 -0400

So there's been talk about how there's not much talking about Diablo III on Hellforge, with the given reason that there isn't much news to be had about the game, but I say amscray to the ixnay to that fiddle diddle. What's stopping us from speculating or having intelligent conversations about the things that we already know and writing pages on end about theories that may or may not prove true? The GameFAQs Diablo III community seems to have the right idea in their pursuit to stay entertained in the dark times of no news with a daily feature called Yay or Nay Day.

Yay or Nay Day was started eight months ago by LordTwilight. The idea to this daily feature is that a question would be posed about a possible idea or a change that is already known for Diablo III and whether or not people felt that the idea was good or not and expressed as much by voting yay (yea) or nay. The first day didn't yield too many votes, but after that it became the highlight of the board and hasn't missed a day since. Here's what Yay or Nay Day #230 looked like:

Fellow Diablo III community, we salute you in your valiant efforts of trying to keep things interesting! We could learn a lesson or two from them, eh?

Archives for days 001 - 100, 101 - 200, and 201 - 230.

The Rise and Fall of Gaming Gods: William Wright

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 01:15:29 -0500

There are people in the video game industry that we know very well. They are the people who have designed franchises of our beloved childhoods. They are the people who invented a specific genre. They are the people that paved the way for future success for their companies. They are the people that are considered influential in their golden days. They are what us raving fanboys might call gaming gods; they spoketh the word of awesome and down cameth the games full of win. However, their congregation eventually turned on them when their faith in their gaming gods failed when they cursed them with the dark age of fail. On this entry I take a look at co-founder of Maxis and creator of SimCity, William Wright.

Before his current career as a game designer, William Wright had different amibitions. He wanted to be an astronaut and form colonies in space (with the noble idea of countering overpopulation on earth). When Wright became involved with computers, however, things started to change. Video games were on the rise and, much like many of us, Wright enjoyed to play them. He enjoyed playing them so much that he designed his first game, Raid on Bungeling Bay. The only trouble was that Wright enjoyed playing with the editor to the game more than he enjoyed playing with the game itself, and out of that element alone SimCity was born in 1989.

Much followed the era of Maxis. SimEarth, SimAnt, SimTower, SimCopter...when would the madness end! Never, the answer thundered back. SimCity2000 came out and everyone nearly bought the farm. Even I remember the sleepless nights of sneaking out of my bed to fire up the ol' Hewlett Packard on Windows 95 just to build a city. Even the MIDI soundtrack theme sound remains clear in my head. Those were the good days. And in the years to come, people were still wondering if Wright could reinvent the wheel. That answer came in 2000 when Maxis released The Sims.

If SimCity2000 was the cherry popper of my childhood, then The Sims was the lady cougar of my adolescence. It's hard to look back now with how far things have come in the series and realize how such little content had me laughing and entertained for days on end. I mean, what was not to love about your Sim screaming "meetaboola!" while a fire raged on in the kitchen. And Bob and Bettie Newbie? Come on. And, like a sucker at the time, I bought the expansions. My smile on my face changed as expansion after expansion after expansion churned out. Seven expansions out and I was nodding my head, saying that this had to be it, hoping that I had made a worth-while long term investment. Then Maxis announced The Sims 2.

Essentially when EA started to become more thorough with their rectal exams with Maxis is when the company started to go downhill. And not downhill in profits mind you, but rather downhill in self-respect. My interest faded in Maxis, and the same went for a lot of loyal fans. SimCity 4 hit the shelfs and ever since then the series has been dead to me. But then there was a beacon of hope. There was Spore. The last runner for a bout of redemption. Wright was enthusiastic about production. Everything was shaping up to be great.

Of course, we know that when Spore launched it was anything but stellar. Yes, the idea behind it was astounding, but the execution and content found within was staggering, almost like as if they wanted people to be angry. EA further rectified the issue when customers suffered the issues of DRM. The troubling bit of this all is that Wright is nowhere to be found apologizing for the critical failure of Spore. Instead, the questions people were asking were answered with the announcement of four Spore games coming out in 2009 (one of which is an expansion to Spore--the first of many more to come no doubt).

Truly Wright has lost touch of what is important. There no longer seems to be any noble asiprations on the horizon for the man who reinvented the wheel in simulator video games as an outlet to creativity. The only bouts of creativity that seem to be on the agenda these days is how to make more money while trying to cheat the common gamer. I really don't care if his next game is a cross between The Sims, Spore, and SimCity; the time came and gone to regain respect and it would seem Wright is no longer interested. Sure, maybe the games are selling very well (just as well as they are being pirated), but success certainly doesn't equal quality, and that is certainly the case here.

HUD #001

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Sat, 24 Jan 2009 18:14:20 -0500

Abandoned but not Forgotten: Five Games to Remember (and play for free!)

no.spam@gameriot.com (Agamemnon) — Sat, 27 Dec 2008 15:52:48 -0500

Usually good games go down in history for eternity. They're remembered from ages to come as the gems that shined or that influenced the genre of the market. However, business can be unpredictable. Games of great quality can be long-forgotten, being kicked into the pit of abandonware, where good games go to die (or for the literals, it's what happens when a game has an unsupported license). The game essentially becomes free (rare in these days, I know) and it's open for anyone to mess around with. This article will celebrate my five favorite games that have been abandoned or released as freeware. Be wary though; these games are older than Jesus and some of them don't put a heavy emphasis on what a quality of graphics in today's market is. But hey, free is free.

5. The Elder Scrolls: Arena

Taste steel, fiend! Before there was Oblivion, before there was Morrowind, before there Daggerfall, there was the first game in the Elder Scroll series. Released for MS-DOS in 1994, Arena was the first cult classic of Bethesda, back when they were a teeny, tiny independent developer (and with the original staff). Arena nearly proved to be a disaster when Bethesda missed the deadline to release. They were already been scoffed at, as this was Bethesda's first stab at the ARPG genre (not to mention the amount of adventure found in the game in comparison to other games of its time). When the game finally launched, it was panned by reviewers alike and not hitting stellar sales. Some Bethesda employees even thought it'd be the game that would do them in and send the company under. However, the game slowly had an increasing fanbase, and with its excellent flavor of the storyline and game play, the game became a cult classic and paved the way for the future of the Elder Scrolls series.

While Arena definitely has less than stellar graphics, and it's for the MS-DOS platform, it is worth a check in if you're a fan of the later Elder Scrolls titles and you're wanting to brush up on the earlier history of Tamriel. Ever wondered who Barenziah is? Curious of the origins of the realm of Oblivion? Then I suggest you take a look see at this game, which Bethesda now offers as a free download from their site.

Download

4. Allegiance

While there has been a long line of attempts at a true online space sim (with X-Wing vs. Tie-Fighter being perhaps the best challenger), Allegiance was the precursor to the MMO market. Taking place in the future after Earth's destruction at the hand of an asteroid, warring factions attempt to survive in a civil war conflict--in space. While Allegiance had an extensive and customizable interface and options, the game never took off, as, at the time, no one was quite sold on a subscription pay model. Microsoft eventually licensed the game as freeware and, to this day, remains supported by volunteers.

Oh, sure, it's no extensive MMO in respect, and you're not going to be walking around on planets or anything like that, but the concept is basically the formula Eve copied and made successful. While it seems there isn't more than 50 people playing the game at a time, I suggest that it's at least worth a look into the complex machine that is customization.

Download

3. Ground Control

The craze for RTS was prevalent in the years following to 2000 and the craze for everything 3D was making its way. While RTS space sims like Homeworld were already making their way in the 3D world, the land lubbers of the genre that liked their troops' feet on the ground and not in space didn't have many choices to choose from. Enter Ground Control, one of the earliest 3D RTS games that not only had the setting of being on the ground (hence the pun in the title itself), but also being quite complex in nature. Rather than the traditional build from scratch RTS formulas found in Blizzard's Warcraft and Starcraft or then Westwood's Command & Conquer, Ground Control was unique in the aspect that troop placement came before the game even started. Strategic placement is what won a game in Ground Control, thus challenging players to actually think before acting.

Of course, as you can imagine, most people don't really want to think when it comes to video games. Ground Control was complex in the aspect that units and squads were customizable and each had strengths and weaknesses that you had to take into consideration for a battle, which meant that you were spending time before a game planning before taking action. The game never picked up well and even with the change in pace of its sequel, it was eventually licensed as freeware. Worry not though; Massive Entertainment, the developers behind the game, ended up finding a winning formula with their hit success World in Conflict.

Download

2. Castle of the Winds Episodes I & II

Now here's a title I doubt anyone remembers, considering the game is older than the average gamer. Castle of the Winds is a throwback to roguelikes in evolution, except this time around the graphics have been upgraded from ASCII characters to Windows icons. While the game had no sound, it was still a blast to play in the days when RPGs were still mainly played on pen and paper. The game is set in a Norse mythology mythos where your character seeks revenge and the truth to his heritage. Of course, considering the game was released in 1989 for Windows 3.1x and its license has long-since expired, the original creator of the game decided to release the entire game free of charge.

As I said, what makes this game unique is the aspect of its identity as a roguelike. The complexity to character customization and to what your character can do sadly rivals what some commercial "success" RPGs of today (and that's saying something). However, fans of Diablo will find a certain air of similarity in equipment management, as well as the dreaded cursed items you may wear if you were first fool-hardy to not identify the item first. Just like in traditional roguelikes, however, when you die then that's it, so saving frequently is a very good idea.

Download

1. MissionForce: CyberStorm

Here it is, the number one game I recommend out of the abandonware bin. MissionForce: CyberStorm was released in 1996 by Sierra and developed by unsung hero-of-a-company Dynamix (the guys that brought us Tribes and Earthsiege). If you've played Earthsiege then you may recognize the structure of the Herc in the picture, and you can pretty much guess the rest--sort of. While Earthsiege was a first-person real-time strategy game, CyberStorm is the bastard child to turn-based strategy.

Taking the idea of the usual machine-destroys-man plot, you are a contract commander for a company known as Unitech, which tries to battle the Cybrid overmind that wishes to eradicate all human life. As you gain rank, you gain an increase in the number of Bioderms (your Herc pilots, which are, essentially, clones) and Hercs you can command at once, eventually being able to tackle harder missions. The meat and potatoes to CyberStorm, however, is the complexity in nature of the game. Like Ground Control, much of the game takes place out of the battlefield, where you can customize your Hercs to such complexity that it's overwhelming. The same can be said for your pilots, who vary in variety and can be trained in specific weapon systems (and how's this for a kick; they have a lifespan). On the battlefield, the game is just as complex; the energy a Herc can use during a turn depends not only on the class of Herc, but its weight, its components, and the pilot's capabilities as well. The battlefield is entirely isometric, with terrain acting as obstacles to cover in firefights.

Unfortunately, again, games that require people to think usually don't sell well, and CyberStorm fell victim to such mentality once again. Though it spun a sequel, it was nothing like the first, which, even to this day, I still fire up to play and customize for battles. If you can find a buddy to play with, I'd suggest it, as the game offers LAN support.

Download

And that concludes my list for the top five abandonware games you should check out. Sure, some of them aren't pretty, but if you can look past 32-bit graphics, then I imagine it won't be a problem.