Author Archives: Curtis Retherford

Letters by a Border Patrol Guard from the game Homeland Defense: National Security Patrol

The following excerpts are from letters written by border patrol guard Jonathon Yankee, from the game Homeland Defense: National Security Patrol. The game is available for $20 from Best Buy. Do not buy it.

Every member of NSP has to place his giant hand against the computer screen and say the sacred oath: "I solemnly swear to uphold the sanctity of our borders and to modulate the volume of my voice depending on the current threat level."

Day 1:

Well Mom, I made it. I have successfully completed all the training necessary to be a Border Patrol Guard for the National Security Patrol! As a member of the NSP, we’ve got all sorts of duties, but basically we’re the first line of defense against all of the illegal immigrants trying to steal our free air by breathing it.

Not much to say for today. We’re basically just waiting to find out what our orders are going to be. Until we know where we’re stationed, we’ve been practicing standing still and not noticing things happening directly in front of us. It’s tough. Any way, it’s been a long day. I better say good night. Continue reading

Gratuitous Space Battles: I’m Sorry Dave, I Can’t Give You That Information.

Would you like to play a game?

Curtis: All right, Gratuitous Space Battles. I like spaceships, and you’re a game about spaceships fighting each other. Let’s play, shall we?

GSB: Excellent, Curtis. Would you like to play a brief tutorial first?

Curtis: Sure, that would be great. Tutor me!

GSB: Click on ships to place them in the battlefield. When ships are placed in the battlefield, you can give them orders to determine their behavior. Press “Start” to begin the battle.

Curtis: All right, I’ve got some ships set up. Let’s start!

GSB: Battle commencing.

Curtis: Can I control my ships?

GSB:

Curtis: Uhmmm…I guess not? Well, my big ships are making mincemeat of the smaller enemy ships. I think they’re almost done taking down that big enemy ship. Is that enemy ship almost dead?

GSB:

Curtis: Can you tell me how many hit points that ship has?

GSB:

Curtis: Can you show me at least vaguely how much damage the enemy ship has taken?

GSB:

Curtis: Okay,well it’s dead now. There’s only two more big ships, and a bunch of tiny little fighters. If my big ships just gang up on the enemy big ships–

GSB:

Curtis: WHY ARE MY BIG SHIPS FOCUSING ON THE TINY FIGHTERS??? THEY SHOULD BE ATTACKING THE BIG ENEMY SHIPS THAT ARE ATTACKING THEM!!!

GSB: No need to get emotional, Curtis. You should set your priorities differently before battle. You can choose specific behaviors for your ships.

Curtis: Okay, let’s do that. So let’s start over, and set up the ships better. Continue reading

The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion; I am wasting my fucking life.

This is not what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.

I am wandering the wilderness of Cyrodiil, trying to find a shrine. Or a figurine. Or jumbo potatoes (god-damned potato stealing-Troll).  I’m having fun, of course, but is this why I’m on this world? To wander aimlessly around, exploring nooks and crannies and talking to strangers?

I’ve got a purpose, people. A reason to be here. Sure, others may be fine with the mundane life: a house, a job, some kids, some gold coins, and a couple of spells that are useful around the house. But I’m special. I should be saving the world.

Christ, look at this desk. I better clean it, again. Then I'll finally get some work done. You'll see.

I know exactly what I SHOULD be doing, too. I should go and talk to Baurus, in the Imperial City. He can give me information to help light the candles which will prevent Oblivion from encroaching. But first, well…there’s so many other cool things I could do! I could go to the Arena, and fight. That’s a good way to let off some steam. Or, since I’m already in the town of Anvil, I may as well see if the Fighter’s Guild needs anything done. I tend to get pretty good loot from Fighter’s Guild quests, and maybe that loot will help me, right?

Crap. I’m doing it again. Procrastinating. Continue reading

Lessons in Game Design Learned from Mirror’s Edge

Ah, Steam. Your specials arrive and entice me to play video games I had long ago given up the idea of ever playing.

For instance, Mirror’s Edge. The previews looked awesome; I was excited. But then, by the time it came out, I was busy playing Left 4 Dead. Who needs to be a goth chick who runs around when you can be a normal chick who kills zombies? No one. So I pretty much forgot about Mirror’s Edge until Steam’s recent Holiday Sale. At $5, I figured I may as well give it a download.

The plot of Mirror’s Edge is…something. You run on buildings, because that’s your job. I think. Oh, and someone gets killed. And your sister’s a cop. To be honest, I didn’t try to hard to follow most of it, partly because I accidentally clicked through some cutscenes (more on that later). Your name is Faith, and you are are a Runner in a futuristic metropolis designed by IKEA. I assume it was designed by IKEA, because everything is white, with the occasional brightly colored hallway or door. It may have also been designed by the same people who designed the Progressive Insurance commercials with the peppy white girl wearing too-red lipstick.

There are only a few jobs available to people in this futuristic city. If the Ravers and Goths rejected your fashion choices as “a little too much,” or your awkward face tattoos prevent gainful employment, then you can become a runner. If you have really, really bad aim, you can become a cop. If you have really, really bad aim, are nearsighted, and have the reaction time of a dead sloth, then you can become a sniper. If you like repeating yourself and offering vague bits of “help,” such as “don’t get shot!” or “get out of there!” then you can become a Radio Guy. (I’m sure he has a name, but I don’t know it. Radio Guy talks to you throughout the entire game, “guiding” you. I hate him more than I hate the dog in Duck Hunt.) If you are not any of those things then you can drive a white minivan, far in the background. Continue reading

Braid.


Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.
-Søren Kierkegaard

braid

I have bad luck with Steam’s Weekend sales. If I buy a game, that game will inevitably go one sale for $10 to $20 off the next weekend.

Here is how this should work:

I purchase Braid for $15. I play it, and enjoy it quite a bit.
But then I notice that Braid has gone on sale for $5.
I hold down the Shift key, and my life reverses. Effect precedes cause, the universe contracts slightly, and when a week has flown by in reverse, time’s arrow flips around again into its natural position. Now armed with knowledge of Steam’s Weekend sale to come, I hold off purchasing Braid. (I also bet heavily on sports.)
Once a week has passed, the sale starts. Braid is now on sale for $5. I purchase it, saving $10.
Continue reading

4 words to know when playing Left 4 Dead.

l4dcoins
I’m not a big fan of horror movies. Partly, it’s because I’m squeamish. Even when watching House, I turn away when they cut into the corpse. Yes, it’s one of my girlier qualities, which tempers my otherwise complete manliness, but the sight of blood grosses me out. It’s one of the reasons I have decided not to become a doctor or Dexter. (That and I spend too much time playing video games.)

Blood in video games, however, is different. Perhaps it’s because I don’t associate myself with the non-player characters in video games, so I don’t see blood and think “that could be me.” I can deal with the the splattered, pixelated brains, the simple ragdoll physics of a corpse hitting the ground easier than I can deal with the sight of red corn syrup flowing out of the top of an actor’s head. There is no uncanny valley with gore: there is either believable gore, as in movies, or you can not associate with the characters strongly enough to empathize, and feel the cracked bones and spurting blood as if it were your own. So I avoid gore in movies, and relish it in video games.

However, even I have seen enough horror movies to know that one thing always, always happens.

We are halfway through the movie. There is definitely, definitely something wrong. Something horrifically wrong. Two or more people are dead. The survivors know that the killer/mass of zombies/chupacabre/gay vampire is out there, waiting for them. “What is that thing?” someone asks. And then something weird happens.

To The Residents of SimCity

Residents of SimCity:

Good afternoon, and thank you for joining me.

I do not stand before you to beg forgiveness for my lapses in judgment or transgressions of civic morality. I do not stand here in the hope of plaudits and acclaim for my hours and hours of tireless service, zoning and planning our fair SimCity. Instead, I thought we should talk. Government, after all, should be a two-way street, not a cul-de-sac (which I am still trying to figure out how to build).

I have been mayor now for more than 200 years, since our majestic city’s founding in January, 1901. In that time, we’ve seen a lot together, and although I do not actually live inside the city, and instead manage SimCity from my invisible mayor’s palace in the sky, I still feel like a citizen. Ich bin ein SimCity Resident.

If you want to applaud that, go right ahead. I’ll hold. It says right here: hold for applause.

Remember when you used to throw parades for me? Spontaneously! My approval rating was at nearly 80%, if you’ll recall. There are times since then that I’ve have been distant, I’ll grant. I believe I have apologized sufficiently for the time I watched an episode of House, M.D. while the city was running at the very fast Llama Speed (Alt-3). By the time House, while talking to Wilson about the lacrosse play known as the Flying Disrespect, realized that his patient’s platelets were behaving like midfielders, checking the progress of the white blood cells and preventing them from “scoring,” SimCity had aged 35 years, and the 20% tax rate had filled the city’s coffers but forced residents out like rats from a sinking ship.

Continue reading