Casual Cogitations

I can still vaguely remember the first time this controversy ever stood in front of me and slap me right in the face. If my memory serves me right, it all blew up on me when I was into a heated debate on "who's ass can kick ass better" with a good friend of mine when all of a sudden he paused, leaned over, stared blankly into space and uttered "You know, a better name for our little hobby would be 'violence gaming.' "

I flinched, of course. But he had a point: hobby games then consisted mainly of war games -- war is certainly violent -- and role-playing games, whose players spend much of their time in combat against fantastic monsters or comic-book supervillains and such.

Violence is intrinsic to many, many games. Even as abstract a game as chess can be seen as a form of military conflict.

When I was still growing up, "gaming" meant the mass-market boardgame industry and a small hobby-game appendage that together grossed perhaps a few hundred million dollars at retail. Today, it includes computer, console and arcade gaming and is a $7 billion industry in the U.S. alone -- the second largest entertainment industry in the world, after film and television.

As McLuhan would have it, every medium has a message. If violence is intrinsic to gaming, and if gaming is an increasingly predominant form of entertainment, is the likely consequence to our society an increase in violence?

Are the critics who attack gaming in the wake of the Littleton massacre correct on the fundamentals? Should Congress ask the surgeon general to prepare a report on how video games spur youth violence, as it is considering? Do games stoke our violent instincts -- or sublimate them? Is there such a thing as "good violence" and "bad violence" in games?

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Let's step back a moment. What is a game?

A game is an interactive structure that requires players to struggle toward a goal.

If there's no interaction, it isn't a game; it's a puzzle. If there's no goal, then the players have no reason to choose one option over another, to undertake one task instead of something else; there's no structure. If achieving the goal isn't a struggle, if winning is easy, the game is dull; winning's no thrill.

Struggle implies conflict. Just as conflict is at the core of every story, conflict is at the core of every game. That doesn't mean all conflict must be violent; in a story, the central conflict can be the protagonist's own feelings of inadequacy, or the obduracy of her in-laws, or the inequities of society. But violent conflict has its uses; otherwise, we wouldn't have horror stories and mysteries and thrillers. Not to mention "Hamlet" and "Henry V."

There are as many ways to create conflict in a game as in a story. Adventure games like Myst use puzzles. Games like Diplomacy require negotiation. Builder games like Civilization require you to overcome economic and technological obstacles.

But there's no way to avoid conflict entirely. No conflict, no struggle. No struggle, no obstacles. No obstacles, no work. No work, no fun.

Where does violence come into the picture? Violence is an easy out. It's the simplest, most obvious way to make a game a struggle. If achieving your goal requires you to get through a horde of ravenous, flesh-eating monsters, the conflict is clear -- and the way to win is equally clear. You kill them.

Obstacles-of-violence, to coin a term, are compelling; the kill-or-be-killed instinct is wired into our hind-brain, part of our vertebrate heritage. Games like Quake II trigger a visceral, edge-of-the-seat response. Precisely because you can be killed at any moment by strange and nasty creatures, because only quick reactions can defeat them, Quake is a compelling experience.

Quake uses violence well. By that, I mean that it achieves precisely the effect its designers wished to achieve, and succeeds in delivering a compelling, stimulating, entertaining, intense experience to the player. It is a fine game.

But still: Violence is not the only way to achieve struggle in games. It is merely the easiest, the simplest, the most obvious tool in the game designer's "armamentarium."

So -- are games fundamentally violent and therefore bad? No. He was wrong; games are not about violence. Games are about struggle. Because violence is the easiest way to create struggle, many games are violent -- but far from all.

Much like the argument over gun control and the gun rights with assertion that "guns don't kill people, people kill people", video gamers are saying the same thing in the latest onslaught after a school massacre in Germany. Of course, meddling politicians are using the attack as to ban or severely restrict video games. Expect this event to help push further tightening of controls on "violent" video games all over Europe.

Daniel Finklestein has written an excellent retort to the claims about video games causing violence that is well worth reading.

One sometimes wonders if the anti-game/gun/etc. politicians have letters or statements pre-written in case something useful comes along in the news. Its amazing they can make a case for such legislation based on one awful occurrence. One bad apple out of the millions of people who play video games does not make a case for anything in a sensible mind.

Video games don't kill people, deranged lunatics do.

But perhaps a more sophisticated argument still holds water? Perhaps game designers have unconsciously awoken the beast, cavalierly creating entertainment so violently compelling that it teaches violence, desensitizes us, spurs increased violence in our society?

War truly is hell. Anyone who has experienced military conflict firsthand can tell you that. Thankfully, most of us have never had to crawl in the muck of a battlefield or exchange gunfire with an enemy; it is an experience that few of us could handle, both physically and psychologically.

There are countless numbers of books, movies and video games that allow us to experience the horrors of war from the safety of our living rooms. Done right, these fictional depictions not only showcase everything that is good about war--the camaraderie that exists between soldiers and their selfless heroism, for example--but they also serve as a powerful reminder of just how damaging and terrible war can be.

No developer has had more success in recreating the tension and terror of a battlefield than Infinity Ward. Its founding members helped define the World War II genre with the groundbreaking Medal of Honor: Allied Assault while the first title developed under the Infinity Ward label, Call of Duty, cemented their reputation as one of the most skilled and talented development houses around.

After three titles set in the war torn battlefields of the past, Infinity Ward is taking a decidedly modern approach with Call of Duty 4, a title that Assistant Editor Travis Moses is declaring as the best shooter of 2007. Yes, Call of Duty 4 is better than Bioshock, Half-Life Episode 2 and even Halo 3.

So what is it about Call of Duty 4 that makes it stand out from the rest of the pack? For starters, the intense single-player campaign offers up an action packed experience that features a tremendously compelling narrative; there are moments in the game that will send chills down your spine.

Call of Duty 4 uses a propriety game engine that features dynamic lighting, depth of field, rag doll and environmental physics and just about every other whistle and bell you can think of. Everything is incredibly detailed; vehicles, weapons, uniforms, buildings, all of it is modeled so realistically that I found myself in the midst of several intense fire fights, either failing my objective or getting killed because I was looking in wonder at all the detail. Characters have the most realistically implemented motion capture I have ever seen in a game, period. Graphically, the game is the top of the heap. There is none better.

The audio in COD4 holds its own against the stunning graphics. Voice over work is preformed with actors that can deliver dialog (that is well written, even) with feeling and authentic sounding accents. Explosions and gun fire bark realistically and engine noise from tanks and helicopters or the mechanical operations of your equipment sound spot on. From the tinkle of glass of a shattering window to the crunch of wood splintering as bullets tear through it, everything is very convincing and helps you feel the danger of the chaos around you. The music is perfectly implemented, well for each situation. The music was preformed by a full orchestra and was composed by Harry Gregson-Williams, who scored films like Armageddon and Shrek, as well as several Metal Gear games. The music punctuates the on screen action perfectly, moving from stirring Russian songs to rousing orchestrations as the situation dictates, so that, again, you get the impression that Infinity Ward was trying to create a movie that you play rather than a game.

Rounding everything off is the multiplayer component that could be packaged as a stand-alone product. There is the standard deathmatch, team deathmatch and free-for-all games, but also included are other options like Headquarters, Domination, Search and Destroy and Sabotage. If that is not enough then join a server running in Hardcore mode, where the bullets hit harder and you don't have the added benefit of the on screen radar or are notified when a grenade lands nearby. For players looking to engage in simpler forms of combat you can join an Old School Mode server where everyone starts with the same weapon and gameplay is reminiscent of multiplayer matches from the original Call of Duty. Players who want to run their own server can tailor every detail of the match and the governing rules. It's a very comprehensive list of features that should keep players engaged for a long while after they complete the single-player story.

FAMOUS LAST WORDS

The amount of excitement COD4 has generated is completely justified. Infinity Ward has proven once again what happens when a developer takes their time, does the research and puts in the effort to do things correctly with a game. While many other games try for a Hollywood block-buster feel, Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare pulls it off like no one else ever has and does so in great fashion. The comprehensive multiplayer features are going to ensure that COD4 will remain on players' hard drives long after the single-player story has been completed. And to have such great graphics, sound and gameplay on both the single-player and multiplayer sides, gamers everywhere are going to count themselves lucky. Cause I sure as hell, do.

Piece of Advice

First off, looking through the net regarding the race issues within the game, I honestly think it's been blown well out of proportion.

There was no fuss when the gamer was shooting the heads off the Hispanics in RE4. The African American community need to get over themselves as some of them are digging up ambiguities over nothing.

It's a piece of interactive fiction...get over it.

Anyway, on to the review....

The Resident Evil franchise has come a long way since it was scaring the pants off gamers back in 1996 with crude polygon blocks. Thanks to Hollywood move adaptations and Milla Jovochich’s legs, the T-Virus, Umbrella Corp and Racoon City are almost common knowledge these days. So now after many gaming titles, across five different platforms and over 35 million copies sold worldwide – what can Capcom possibly offer next?

When Shinji Mikami rebooted the Resident Evil series with the landmark survival-horror game, Resident Evil 4, he set the bar unreasonably high for any subsequent sequels. Arriving in gorgeous form on the underdog GameCube, RE4 introduced vastly-improved controls, a truly unsettling new type of zombie-like enemy, and a massive adventure that all but put to rest any complaints about the series' typical game length. It featured Resident Evil 2 co-protagonist Leon Kennedy -- mostly alone and mostly in the dark -- and was, for the most part, an excellent, chilling, frightful action game. Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬, on the other hand, is less of a survival-horror game and more of a survival-action game in which you are never alone, and rarely in the dark.

This completely saps the horror out of Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬. It is very nice to have an A.I. partner like Sheva around watching your back, and it's a worthwhile spin on the classic RE formula. But her presence adds a layer of comfort that extinguishes the creepy, unnerving experience that running through the game solo would have created. The much-vaunted "fear in broad daylight" concept, while briefly unique, is overrated, too, as the feeling of being completely exposed out in the light of day soon gives way to the usual RE brand of action which forces you to stick and move, stand and shoot. The difference here is that in past RE games shadow was never used as an advantage -- the series has never been a Metal Gear stealth game -- and so, suddenly being thrown in the heat of the desert sun is no fundamentally different than creeping around in the darkness. It's mostly a gimmick. Seeing your highly-detailed enemies lunging after you is pulse quickening for sure, but once you get over the novelty of it, your survival instincts kick in and it's the same old Resident Evil all over again, except this time with the lights turned on.

Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬offers some great level designs. The opening scene place you in a poverty stricken village filled with narrow alley-ways and confined spaces like two or three roomed houses that you can try and defend by pushing bookcases in front of windows. Zombies will smash down doors, leap in windows or climb in from the roof to ensure that you squeal like a little girl in front of your flatmates. Later on this sense of claustrophobia is counted with a scene that takes place on a cliff-face overlooking a huge desert canyon - fighting off a giant maggot thing with wings and nippers. Next you will be in a pitch black mine.

Here it is so dark that it requires one partner to light the way with a two-handed battery operated torch. The genius behind this is that it leaves just one other player to fend off attackers when they suddenly appear in your team-mate’s beam of light. Resident Evil 4 sometimes felt a little recycled in the environment department so it’s great to see that Capcom have put the next-gen technology to use creating exciting surroundings. I did find it a bit odd however the way Chris felt the need to smash through glass windows by jumping head-first every time. Surely knocking the glass out with your gun or maybe even just opening it would be a safer option? I guess it just takes a real man like Chris to open a glass window with his skull.

Firstly, Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬isn’t about plain old zombies now. Mindless brain-eating zombies are totally old school these days. Instead the poor inhabitants of this African town have been infected by a much more serious strain of the virus causing a wealth of ugly side-effects. They are smarter (they operate machine-gun turrets and ride motorcycles now!), fast and sometimes very difficult to take down. While some can be killed by careful headshots, others will mutate into other, more destructive forms when wounded. As Chris mentions early on, “…they don’t move like any zombie I’ve ever seen.”

As in Resident Evil 4, players cannot target and move at the same time. Holding down L1 gives you a cross-hair (or the ultra stylish laser pointer) and R1 shoots. In order to move around you have to lower your weapon, preventing you from shooting while retreating…which is what I would be doing in most cases Chris and Sheva find themselves in. But this element of gameplay is one of Capcom’s finer creations and truly opens up that aspect of survival horror. It basically means that every shot counts – whether you aim for a leg to slow down your attacker or try for a well-placed headshot as a zombie charges for a taste of your juicy bits. The inability to fire blindly while running around like an idiot makes the combat intense and personal. Not to mention the sparse ammo in the game that will cause you to curse every missed shot. The only main gripe with the combat is the hand-to-hand fighting with your knife. At times where you run out of ammo, your trusty blade is your only defense. But without being able to move while holding it, you are forced to just stand around and wait for them to come to you. Moving closer and then drawing your knife is often too time-consuming, leaving you vulnerable to their close quarter bites. Surely a burly lad like Chris can operate a knife at the same time as moving his legs?

The introduced concept of having a partner changes the dynamics of the gameplay considerably. Sheva can provide you with backup, direction when you’re lost, help you find items scattered around in crates, hold extra equipment that one person couldn’t carry and - most importantly – is someone to hear Chris’ wise-cracks and general banter. If you are low on ammo she will (if she posses any) throw you some from her inventory. Sheva will also cover your back and help you if you get pinned down in a tight spot. When playing single-player the AI that controls your partner is fairly clever and usually gives you a good sense of team-work.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is, for all of the improvements that Resident Evil 4 made, Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬ only magnifies the franchise’s need for an overhaul. You have a cover system grafted onto a control schema that’s irrationally tank-like. For every level that borrows from Uncharted or Capcom’s own Lost Planet, you’ll face a series of corridors nearly copy/pasted from Resident Evil 2. And regrettably, the positives in these statements only bolster how, at its worst, Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬ is simply derivative.

Resident Evil‭ ‬4‭ ‬was always going to be an albatross for its successors,‭ ‬but it’s the temerity with which Capcom treats it that’s really surprising.‭ ‬There’s so much reverential reuse of ideas,‭ ‬from basic combat to the big set-pieces,‭ ‬that it’s almost as if RE4‭ ‬had a formula that could be copied.‭

Even if‭ ‬it did,‭ ‬a trick never looks quite as good the second time around.‭ ‬It’s not surprising that Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬was intimidated by its predecessor,‭ ‬and it’s not surprising that it believes imitation to be the most sincere form of flattery.‭ ‬It’s also not surprising that such reverence has created mechanical clichés,‭ ‬from barrels to chainsaws,‭ ‬as pervasive as item boxes ever were.

The other problem that's starting to bog down the Resident Evil series is that the bosses are gradually becoming more and more ridiculous. Either Capcom has started to run out of ideas, or they've truly lost sight of just how many giant ogres with huge, rumbling tumors they've created over the years. Likewise, our tolerance for writhing, wriggling, snake-covered bosses, and enormous tentacle-porn monstrosities has been sorely tested through the years. Is this really someone's idea of fun? Is this truly what Umbrella hath wrought? Seemingly so, but while the key encounters in the game may border on uninspired, their execution is still good fun. If only it weren't so derivative of things we've already seen. The same can be said of the much-vaunted Jill Valentine/Albert Wesker story arc. At this point, if you've followed the coverage of the game at all, you've probably already figured out who Jill is, and by the time you reach your fateful showdown with Wesker, it's hard to tell if he's evolved into this truly menacing near-deity, or if he's just hamming it up. Your mileage will vary depending on how much you love your CG cut-scenes, but while the production values are very high in RE5, expect few surprises.‭

Thankfully, a no-strings-left-untied ending may signal RE5 is the final stop for the franchise as we know it. That’s for the better as RE5 isn’t a stronger 3rd person action game than Gears of War 2, nor a better adventurer than Uncharted, and fans of Resident Evil 4 will probably find this one a bit of a step backwards.

Resident Evil 5‘s both pleasantly new school and frustratingly old school. It’s not even surprising,‭ ‬despite all‭ ‬this,‭ ‬that Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬is a good game.‭ The surprising,‭ ‬and sad,‭ ‬thing about‭ ‬Resident Evil‭ ‬5‭ ‬is that it feels old. And thats never a good thing.

In Hollywood mythology, great battles wheel and turn on the actions of individual heroes. In Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan, thousands of terrified and seasick men, most of them new to combat, are thrown into the face of withering German fire. The landing on Omaha Beach was not about saving Pvt. Ryan. It was about saving your skin.

Four Ryan brothers go to war. Three get killed on D-Day and one is lost behind enemy lines. A commanding squad captain, John Miller (Tom Hanks) is sent to find the remaining brother, Private James Ryan. Like any good modern war film, the hero, John Miller, is a moral, upright leader who puts the safety of his squad first, and wrestles with the suicidal goals of his mission. Eight men risk their lives to save one. The resulting drama, set against the horrifying backdrop of war, is some of the best cinema to come out of Hollywood in years.

The movie's opening sequence is as graphic as any war footage I've ever seen. In fierce dread and energy it's on a par with Oliver Stone's Platoon, and in scope surpasses it--because in the bloody early stages the landing forces and the enemy never meet eye to eye, but are simply faceless masses of men who have been ordered to shoot at one another until one side is destroyed.

Saving Private Ryan is most known for its first 30 minutes, which is perhaps the most brutal dramatization of warfare in movie history. In those 30 minutes, Miller and countless boatloads of scared and green soldiers are shuffled onto the Normandy beach while the Germans, entrenched on top of hills, fire down volleys of machinegun at them, picking them off like the proverbial ducks in a pond. Director Steven Spielberg and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski immediately goes into handheld camera mode and takes us from the boat to the beach and finally over the beach, and through it all we feel like we’re entering hell itself. It is a visceral experience that, once witnessed, cannot be forgotten.

It’s impossible to properly describe in words the brutal honesty, the chaotic nature, and the sheer bloodbath and absurd lost of human life that took place on those beaches nearly 60 years ago. The fear of the men, of even the veteran Miller, comes through in quick snippets, all centering on Miller as he struggles through his own fears to lead his men to salvation. It is at once hellish, exciting, and painful to watch. By the time it is over, you feel as if you’ve lived through it all, and not merely watched it.

Spielberg's camera makes no sense of the action. That is the purpose of his style. For the individual soldier on the beach, the landing was a chaos of noise, mud, blood, vomit and death. The scene is filled with countless unrelated pieces of time, as when a soldier has his arm blown off. He staggers, confused, standing exposed to further fire, not sure what to do next, and then he bends over and picks up his arm, as if he will need it later.

Then there is the human element. Hanks is a good choice as Capt. Miller, an English teacher who has survived experiences so unspeakable that he wonders if his wife will even recognize him. His hands tremble, he is on the brink of breakdown, but he does his best because that is his duty. All of the actors playing the men under him are effective, partly because Spielberg resists the temptation to make them zany "characters'' in the tradition of World War II movies, and makes them deliberately ordinary. Matt Damon, as Pvt. Ryan, exudes a different energy, because he has not been through the landing at Omaha Beach; as a paratrooper, he landed inland, and although he has seen action he has not gazed into the inferno.

The one thing that can be said about Saving Private Ryan is that it hurts. Whenever a character is shot, even a peripheral one, the audience feels it. This method of bullet squibs has been used over and over now, including in the HBO TV miniseries “Band of Brothers.” I think it’s safe to say Saving Private Ryan popularized a lot of the “war techniques” you’ve seen lately, and that the consequences of Saving Private Ryan’s brutal portrayal of war will be felt for a long time coming.

Saving Private Ryan is a powerful experience. I'm sure a lot of people will weep during it. Spielberg knows how to make audiences weep better than any director. But weeping is an incomplete response, letting the audience off the hook. This film embodies ideas. After the immediate experience begins to fade, the implications remain and grow.

Where's the sense of risking eight lives for one guy?

Save the cheerleader. Save the world.

As I did in the synopsis, I'm going to keep this wrap-up as spoiler-free as possible. I was lucky enough to dodge any and all plot points during my wait my sister to share her DVD copy of it and my viewing experience was that much more rewarding. If you're a Heroes newbie, I urge you to steer clear as well; the show thrives on its big reveals and jaw-dropper cliffhangers.

Fate and destiny. That's what Season One is all about. Is the future written? Can it be chanced free, willing agents? Or is agent freedom a façade? Are humans governed strictly by the unfeeling mechanical processes of evolution? Or does God play a role still? These questions are tossed around liberally throughout the 23 episodes, and despite the monologues and voice-over narration, there are no real answers given. Truly these characters are connected, and their arcs will inexorably meet, but what governs that? What is the driving force? While some of these philosophical rhetorical questions flirt with pretentiousness, they give the show a weightier feel that elevates beyond being a simple comic book TV show.

But Heroes is a great comic book show and its storytelling embraces that comparison. While obviously derivative of the X-Men mythos (humans genetically mutating into superior beings, a shadowy government organization fearfully pursuing them, bad folks with super abilities out to cause havoc), the show still feels fresh and original. Plus, the writers are self-aware enough to stock plenty of fanboy "in" jokes, like nods to Star Trek (capped with a recurring role by George Takei), Back to the Future and its comic book influences (references to popular superheroes and a cameo by Stan Lee). This treatment gives Heroes more of an homage feel, but Kring and his crew spin enough of their own mythology to make the enterprise unique and the characters grounded.

As much as I enjoyed the show, however, there are still some warts. As I mentioned before, the opening voice-over lends gravity to the show, yet it also came across as heavy-handed and empty, like the writers wanted to make their show sound a lot more academic than it is. When you're juggling so many plotlines, you have to expect a few of them to fall on the ground and shatter, and Heroes has its share of narrative missteps, like a pointless and contrived samurai sword training montage, an unsatisfying love triangle and some spotty characterizations.

(SPOILER ALERT! Seriously, being complicit in the vaporization of a million people? How is anything worth that?).

But those are nitpicky. What's not nitpicky is the oft-maligned finale. While the final episode isn't a train-wreck, I found it unsatisfying. For a show that is, in essence, all build-up, there is a heavy responsibility on the finale to serve up something unforgettable and Tim Kring only managed to cap his stellar debut season with a mediocre episode. Again, not to tread too far into spoiler territory, but there had been a showdown brewing nearly all-season long and when it finally happened—pbbbbbbttttttt. Just undelivered. Even the big cliffhanger finale failed to marshal anticipation for next season. It's a bummer because this disappointment—it's probably the least-rewarding episode of the entire run, which, to be fair, speaks more to the excellent quality of the rest of the shows—left a bitter taste in my mouth.

You want plot holes? We got plot holes. Any story about time travel has to try to deal with the whole "paradox" thing, and Heroes sets up paradoxes galore. Like, if the heroes save the day, then "Future Hiro's" world would cease to exist. And if that were the case, how could "Future Hiro" ever come back and give a message to the heroes for them to saving the day? Isaac, meanwhile, paints what he sees in the future. But a lot of what he paints only comes true after people see the paintings and act on them. Does that mean his paintings are altering the future somehow? If he chose not to paint, would what he see when he paints not come to pass? I'm sure people smarter than me can come up with even better examples.

A lot of the "mechanics" of the heroes' powers are suspect as well. Like, Claire's weak spot might be her brain, but wouldn't her brain have been irradiated at the end of "Company Man," killing her permanently? As Peter gets more and more powerful as the season progresses, there are plenty of opportunities to ask, "Why doesn't he just use [name of super-power] to get himself out of this situation?"

Even considering my (ardent) displeasure with the season finale and a fair share of plot holes, Heroes provides some stunningly epic television filled with interesting characters, great acting, and a story that offers lots of opportunity for viewer investment.

Two minutes left before rescue. We -- four of us -- have been fighting off the relentless, Infected zombie hordes for over an hour and a half, sharing painkillers and first aid, lending a helping hand or providing cover fire. And now, with a rescue boat nearing the dock, it's about time to climb aboard and head to safety.

We're in good health, and in reasonably good spirits, so Left 4 Dead's AI Director (which controls the pacing of encounters) kicks in: There's no way we're getting off that easily. A gargantuan Tank arrives -- a bloodthirsty spire of muscle and rage -- with a swarm of screaming, ravenous zombies in tow. Standing tall and side by side, we open fire.

Then, facing insurmountable odds and with panic dulling my senses, I do what any courageous, red-blooded gamer would do: I turn and bolt, making it to safety just in time to see one person pummeled into a lifeless pulp while the other two are pinned down, grappling with death's cold embrace.

It's a desperate ploy, but I know I only have to outrun the slowest member of our team. It's a sort of coerced teamwork -- one surviving member is all it takes to successfully complete a campaign, and I for one wasn't ready to be butchered yet again while helplessly firing off rounds at a never-ending swarm. To be honest, there's something beautiful about watching an efficient team with a well-rehearsed plan crumple under the weight of abject chaos.

Valve's Left 4 Dead is full of these little moments.

Plenty of games tout the cinematic experience, coupling melodramatic cut scenes with explosions, visceral combat and a story that's some variation on saving the world from Evil -- the standard Hollywood formula pressed onto a disc.

Valve's Left 4 Dead, on the other hand, takes the idea of interactive cinema and runs straight for the haunting, zombie-infested hills.

Please note: While it technically fits into the survival-horror genre, the game isn't remotely scary. Left 4 Dead's environments are dark and foreboding, and you might panic as a seemingly endless horde pours through the walls, but chances are you'll spend far more time cackling with glee at a timely escape (or crushing defeat). There's a comic, almost tacky, Day of the Dead sort of vibe, bolstered by the kitschy movie posters, graffiti-based arguments and conversations on the walls, and even the credits rolling at the end -- complete with "In Memoriams" for ... fallen teammates.

Left 4 Dead's environments are dark and foreboding, and you might panic as a seemingly endless horde pours through the walls, but chances are you'll spend far more time cackling with glee at a timely escape (or crushing defeat). There's a comic, almost tacky, Day of the Dead sort of vibe, bolstered by the kitschy movie posters, graffiti-based arguments and conversations on the walls, and even the credits rolling at the end -- complete with "In Memoriams" for ... fallen teammates.

Nevertheless, you aren't playing a "movie," racking up kills as you move from cut scene to cut scene. Beyond a few snippets of background information on each character, there's no traditional narrative to be found, which is actually refreshing. We've all become fairly used to paging through dialogue trees and sitting through scripted sequences, so this might seem a little trite, but here goes: "Use your imagination."

The writing is on the walls: Who is Chicago Ted, whom no zombies are safe from? Did any of these people -- shuffling from safe room to safe room as we are -- make it out alive? The four Survivors you can choose from banter amongst themselves, cracking jokes to liven up the mood and even flirt, casually.

While I enjoyed piecing together their personalities based on how they reacted to my actions, I almost would've preferred some sort of bare-bones character creator, to really role-play a zombie apocalypse. Because interesting as the four Survivors are, the real story of the Campaign mode is about four players working together to cross the finish line, scooping up points and achievements along the way.

There aren't many scripts of any kind in Left 4 Dead. The game is divided into four Campaigns, with five maps each. While the maps are fairly linear and there are major set pieces -- a bridge to lower, a radio to respond to -- every element of the action is generated on the fly. The AI Director is Valve's answer to traditional spawn points, adjusting the pacing of the particular level based on how you're doing. Approach a barricaded building armed to the teeth with full health, and you can expect a gruesome experience. But if all four of your characters are limping along, the Director can be a bit merciful. While there are traditional difficulty settings, these only affect how much damage a Survivor can take before collapsing.

The end result is that you can repeat the same map countless times and get completely different experiences: Weapons aren't where they "should" be, power-ups appear in seemingly random places, a previously empty hallway becomes a hellish firefight. There are major events that remain the same -- always expect a Tank at a campaign's finale -- but for the most part you'll need to stay in constant communication with your partners, as it's hard to predict what will be around the next bend.

The game is ultimately about teamwork. Your fellow Survivors provide more than a few extra guns -- without them, you can be easily knocked onto the ground, or overwhelmed. As an added caveat, friendly fire is mandatory, so be ready to apologize for accidentally mowing down a comrade every now and then. There are a few safeguards: For starters, it takes quite a bit of damage to take a Survivor down, and once you are incapacitated, you can still fire your pistol at passers-by -- with unlimited ammo, just like in the movies!

But you will die, and sometimes you'll die often. While an entire team getting wiped out will simply have to start the map over again, if there's at least one Survivor, and a room with a closed door nearby, you might just hear someone clamoring for help. Yeah, it's kind of hard to feel bad for people when they're alive and well in a little while, but the occasional respawn point is literally a godsend with maps this long and brutal.

Versus mode takes the formula established by the campaign and adds four more players as the "Boss" Infected: mutated zombies with special abilities. The goals remain the same: Survivor players must escape, and Infected players must stop their progress. Versus mode felt in need of some serious balancing when I first attempted to compete. I was wrong.

I've played countless first-person shooters, and I can't honestly describe a situation where a skilled player couldn't simply abandon their comrades and at least score a few glory kills.

As the Infected, unless you've been randomly assigned to play as the Tank, you're rarely in any position to kill a Survivor. Instead, you've got to rely on the NPC zombie horde, using your own abilities to confuse your opponents, weakening them and forcing them to separate.

There are chinks in Left 4 Dead's armor. The single-player campaign is little more than a training ground, or perhaps an opportunity to snag some achievements you may have missed -- while NPC Survivors are skilled, they lack the ability to coordinate or plan, which sort of misses the point of the game altogether. For all intents and purposes, this is a strictly multiplayer experience.

If you enjoy playing first-person shooters with a team of friends or even complete strangers, Left 4 Dead offers an unparalleled social experience. It can be frustrating at times when the team's actions aren't synced, or strategies continually falter, but a bit of practice and, more importantly, communication will transform this zombie massacre into one of the most exciting and addictive gaming experiences ever. And once community members have the tools they need to make their tinkering easier, new layers of creativity and wonder will undoubtedly embellish an already impressive package.

Do you still remember the defining moment you bought your XBOX 360? The first time you held it the controller in your hands. The first time your fingers get itchy to pull the trigger on some fragged dickhead on Halo 3. Well I do. And hell, I also still remember the first time my 360 caught those dreaded 3 lights. I remember hitting the 360 repeatedly in hopes of knocking a chip or two to make it work. I remember going back and forth to the local shop every saturday night for a fix. I remember covering in towel sheets. I remember hanging it. I remember.... well you get the idea.

Back then, I wasnt really sure what went wrong in 360 (maybe Satan's minions are at work again), except for one thing, it was in some deep shit. So like any 3RROD victim, I did all what I can to get it going again. But I have my limits, Im just a human after all. I gave up and just threw my 360 on the sidelines and months later, I bought a ps3.

And finally there came a time my handle flew over, and I badly wanted to introduce my 360 to Mr. Sledgehammer but just in the nick of time, while I was surfing the Internet, I stumbled upon another self-proclaimed 100% guaranteed fix for those 3 damn lights. So I told myself, "why the hell not?"

Believe it or not, the damn fix worked. And after 1 week, it still does. You can only imagine how euphoric I was. I couldnt be more thrilled to start catching up in Halo 3, playing Left 4 dead and facing the relentless Horde on Gears of War 2. I stand before you know for one and only one reason, to share the wonders of the existence of an actual fix. To anyone who gives a damn to give their 360 another shot, here's the link.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5axYHeG4Xeo
I know the video can be obscure to the novices out there and opening it can be a really hassle, but after you crank that X Clamps, your 360 will back on its feet before you know it. If you dont know squat on the what the guy is talking about, get your dad or brother to help you. If you do everything right, God will cast off those demons back to kingdom come and let play your 360 again! You have my word.

GOOD LUCK!

What, exactly, is creepy? Is it the thought of unseen eyes peering at you from a crack in the closet doorway? A nondescript car following languidly behind you on a dark, otherwise deserted road? Is it the far-off sound of a scream, or the too-close-for-comfort whir of a chainsaw? Do you get the horror heebie-jeebies from the very idea of being alone in a lightless, pitch-black environment, or did the hairs always stand up on the nape of your neck when your parents asked you to take something down into the dimly lit world of your cold, clammy basement. Maybe simple stories of missing children, lost loves, or legendary crimes get your gooseflesh good and active, or perhaps you prefer your sense of the sinister on the more vague, ephemeral side.

Whatever the case may be, you will definitely find this eerie emotion present in spine-chilling spades all throughout Silent Hill. In fact, this film is the literal definition of that fear-infused feeling. Everything that creepy is exists inside this amazing, mind-blowing movie. Who cares if it's based on something as cinematically sacrilegious as a video game? This is one of the best post-modern horror films ever made—and an incredibly effective creepfest to boot.

Make no mistake about it, Silent Hill is sensational. It's the movie The Cell wanted to be, and the video game adaptation that best recreates what such entertainment experiences effortlessly manage—that is, luring you into an unknown world and experiencing the suspense and the dread of discovering it along with the keypad-manipulated characters. In fact, it is probably good to be unfamiliar with the long-running series from Japanese manufacturer Konami. Otherwise, you will waste valuable disbelief suspension in a seemingly endless attempt to pick out all the changes—both major and minor—that have been made to the game's narrative. It's safe to say that Silent Hill is as similar to the spooky storylines it is based on as it is different. If you're curious about the modifications, surf the 'net for a few minutes. You'll come up with a far more comprehensive list than this reviewer could ever provide. If you're more interested, however, in what a sensational piece of Gothic, Grand Guignol grandstanding this movie is, how it overflows with imagination, creepiness, and invention, then read on. It is here where you will learn how a French filmmaker took a top Asian title and transformed it into one of the darkest, most delightful horror experiences in a very long time.

Christophe Gans, in only his fourth major film, suddenly steps up in the ranks of the masters of motion picture macabre with a movie that is dripping with dread, overflowing with atmosphere, and so flagrant in its fear factors that you can't help but feel the narrative slowly start sinking under your skin. From the opening sequence, where Sharon, our little girl lost, is poised on the edge of a vertigo-inspiring ledge, to her mother Rose's first steps into the ghost town of the title, we realize we are in the hands of a true cinematic visionary. Very few modern filmmakers strive for distinction in style or subjectivity. They would rather borrow from established auteurs or do the journeyman routine for the sake of a paycheck. Not Gans. He's all about the imagery, the tactile way his buildings look, the nauseating way his demonic monsters appear…and move. Using cues both old-fashioned (churches as bastions of faith, and fallen evil) and post-modern (the civil defense-style siren that warns of the impending "darkness"), he is a filmmaker who is determined to chill us to our very marrow. Pulling out all the stops, then adding a few more that he's saved especially for such an occasion, he proves that 2001's cult hit The Brotherhood of the Wolf was no fluke. In fact, Silent Hill is so amazing, it nearly wipes out all memory of that past genre-bending epic.

Naturally, a movie like this can't get by on ideas alone. We need a script we can champion while it continually challenges us with clearly-defined characters that are easy to identify with. Thanks to Oscar winner Roger Avary, Silent Hill is not just some sloppy collection of recognizable moments from your Sony Playstation. Instead, it's a dense, deceptive little thriller with enough mood and menace to fill a dozen derivative horror films. As a matter of fact, this is more of a waking nightmare than an actual attempt at creating a creature feature. Sure, the Silent Hill canon of terrifying creations is present (Pyramid Head, the Nurses), but because of how Avary sets up the situations, we never once doubt their existence—or their horrifying intent. Similarly, the backstory set up for Sharon and Rose (sleepwalking child, adopted under questionable, unclear circumstances) instantly draws us in. All Avary has to do is create some memorable dialogue and a few fascinating action scenes, then let Gans do the rest. Luckily, this pairing works out perfectly, leaving little room for anything other than abject terror and a decidedly unsettled aura. From Rose's first run-in with the darkness (complete with a claustrophobic corridor, a single flame, and a horde of hideous beasties) to the surreal sturm-and-drang finale, we are truly in awe of the combination of plot and pictures.

In addition, we are treated to acting that is never cheap, never over the top, and never obvious for the sake of some camp or kitsch effect. While Sean Bean has very little to do as the outsider who views Silent Hill as the deserted burg everyone believes it is, he still manages to make us understand Christopher's familial concerns. Similarly, Kim Coates is a cop keeping a lot of secrets, only to be shuttled off screen a little too soon. Obviously, Gans believes that this is a woman's picture—not a chick flick, this is a chance for a strong female perspective on things usually relegated to men. As a result, we need ladies in the leading roles, and Gans comes up with a collection of magnificent performers. As our mother in distress, Radha Mitchell never missteps, even once. She is the perfect combination of fear and determination, drawing on bravery previously unknown inside herself to rescue her languishing little girl. As Sharon, genre fixture Jodelle Ferland is equally adept at moving from innocent to wicked as the scene requires. In the background is Laurie Holden, as tough-as-nails patrol officer Cybil Bennett. She's the other audience inroad into the story, the skeptical non-believer who eventually comes around to Silent Hill's numerous horrors. Along with Alice Krige doing another top-notch psycho turn and Deborah Kara Unger as a figure important to both the town and to Sharon, we end up with an ensemble that emphasizes the uncomfortable nature of the narrative.

But the final facet that really propels this entire project into the realm of a near-masterpiece is the fantastic, fatalistic art direction and effects. The work of a myriad of incredibly gifted craftsmen, the monsters, the entities, and the domain in which they dwell are rendered so faultlessly, from their inhuman elements to their slick CGI gloss (the moments when the "darkness" takes over, with its dripping walls and disintegrating fixtures are fascinating to watch) that they take on a life all their own. When we glimpse Pyramid Man dragging his massive blade toward our heroines, or when the nurses stand poised to slice and dice with their handy razors and knives, the level of dismay is almost indefinable. When we hear the plaintive wail of the warning siren, we stiffen in our chair, wondering what horrifying images we will be bombarded with next. Yes, there is blood. Indeed, there is gruesomeness. Still, the visions in Silent Hill do more than stimulate your gore-related gag reflex. They tickle parts of the brain that post-modern horror has long since stopped trying to excite.

As much as a feast for the eyes as a twist to the mind, Silent Hill stands alone as one of the best, most visually arresting fright flicks in a very long time. Certainly there will be those who scoff at such suggestions, taking umbrage with any claims that the film is anything other than an ineffective piece of eye candy. There will be others who argue for the video game's ability to inspire fear over the Hollywood bastardization of a favored title. The truth is that Silent Hill tells a deceptively simple story, realizes it exceptionally well, and has stellar acting and effects in case a backup is needed for some narrative clarity. Sure, the conclusion is open ended, never quite clear in what it means to the characters or the situation we've just witnessed, and the fact of the matter is that the whole set up in Silent Hill has an expositional familiarity that we feel we've witnessed before (without spoilers, it's the religious fanatics as evil entities paradigm at work). Still, with someone as gifted as Gans behind the lens and a wealth of genius craftsmen in front of it, it is hard to deny the movie's many jaundiced joys. Consider it an allegory on death and dying or a straight-ahead, magnificently realized monster movie, but Silent Hill is not some sloppy tie-in to a well-known video amusement. Years from now, when the games are gone, it will live on as an example of brilliant filmmaking done with expertise and proficiency. Forget what you've read elsewhere—this is one wicked delight that deserves to be seen.

During my trawls through a local mall, a certain magazine caught my attention. At foresight, it seems to be a new copy of G.A.M.E. But that cant be right, I just bought this months copy, so I went closer and investigated, only to find out that it wasnt G.A.M.E. It was PLAYGROUND.

Of all the mixed emotions I had, bliss is the most dominant of them all. After all, you cant have too many local gaming mag, well at least until you find out that its unimaginative, dull and poorly written. Just like G.A.M.E.

Of course I just dont bash out of the blue, I smack dab on the middle of the blue.

I carefully read each page with somewhat low expectation but high hopes. Times passed, and I finally gotten through the whole thing. Unfortunately, all I saw was blog-liked half-assed opinions of 20 year old self-proclaimed gaming critics who do are in dire need of a remedial course in "creative" writing.

Simply put:

• Their editorial Box looks familiar with old friends manning some of the posts.
• Cover fails miserably, so bleak and boring
• I like the thickness and size
• Layout is horrible, reminds me of a PDF download
• Console gaming is well represented, but I’d still rather get my updated news via online sources
• Quite a bit of advertisers sprinkled throughout
• No strategy guide of any kind, mostly opinions

Petty ramblings aside, the truth is pretty clear, G.A.M.E has competition in its hands. But neither of those even holds a candle to our dearly beloved GAMEMASTER. I sincerely hope both mags can change for the better, because as of this moment, PLAYGROUND isnt just fun.

I know I speak for everyone when I say Gamespot gave an excessively unfair verdict to this magnificent game. I've already come to terms that Monster Hunter Freedom has an annoying jumpy camera system that requires you to constantly tap on the L trigger to center the camera behind your character and no online presence ruins the formula. But that doesnt negate the fact Gamespot threw this game into the sinkhole! Okay before I rant away, I'd like to tell you why Monster Hunter Freedom doesnt deserve to be trash around by some prissy critics.

The Monster Hunter series appeals to a very specific gamer. It's not your typical role-playing game with plot twists and a bunch of complex characters. It trades almost all of that for an experience aimed exclusively at collectors. And that's precisely what made the first few titles in the franchise, Monster Hunter and Monster Hunter G, so popular. It catered to this niche of virtual treasure hunters in a way that few games had before it.

Monster Hunter Freedom is the first game in the series to hit the PSP. And just like its predecessors, it shoots for a decidedly niche approach to the RPG genre. It swaps dramatic story arcs and characters for a no-nonsense hunter who wants nothing more than to be the best in the world. There's no serious love triangle or universal threat. Instead, it's just you, your gear and hordes of beasts on your 'to do' list. Freedom literally has only two kinds of beasts: the kind you've slain and the type waiting for you to slay them.

You start the game in typical RPG fashion. No, you don't have amnesia, but you do wake up in a quaint village and talk to the village elder before starting your journey. This preliminary conversation doesn't take very long, thankfully, and you don't need to wait long before leaving the village. Still, you need to get your bearings and locate the many shops and merchants scattered about your hometown. Also, you need to run back to your humble abode to gather your weapons and armor before accepting your very first quest.

Quests in Freedom split into two categories. The first, and coolest, are hunting quests. These have you roam the countryside in search of specific beasts to kill. And while running around butchering animals may sound simple and straightforward, it actually forms a bulk of the depth in the game. Fans of the console games will definitely appreciate the flexibility in Freedom's hunting system. It's practically identical in terms of what it lets you do. This isn't a stripped down version of Monster Hunter for consoles.

It's the real deal. But it's still not perfect. Freedom suffers from lengthy load times and very long quests, which simply shouldn't exist in a handheld title. And yes, just like in previous versions, the game tends to move slowly. This includes the way characters walk and run, and also how they attack. More importantly, this pacing permeates most of the quests as well. It's just not a fast moving game, and that's ok. In short, it's Monster Fans already know what to expect. You head off in search of specific beasts and slay them. That's the gist of it. And at first, that's about all there is to it. Play a while, though, and you quickly find out there's plenty foresight and strategy needed to bring down the game's toughest creatures. Sure, you need the right equipment (weapons and armor) but you will also need to learn the behavioral subtleties of each species, as well. And sometimes that's not even enough. That's when you take what you know about an animal's behavior, your skill with weapons, and then throw in traps.

These vary in complexity, and some honestly seem quite simple, but it does lend the game a sense of depth that it just wouldn't have otherwise. It actually feels like hunting, in other words. And since you will spend most of your time doing it, then, that's none too shabby. Some of the later quests do feel a tad ridiculous, in terms of difficulty. Along the same lines, certain hunting quests just take far too long to complete. It's possible to spend a good half hour or more (sometimes a lot more) on a single quest and bite the dust within inches of victory. It's simply painful.

In addition to hunting quests, you can also partake in 'gathering' quests. These have you collect specific items such as animal meat or eggs and then bring them back to base camp. Unlike hunting, the gathering quests take a while to pick up steam. First, they lack the intrinsic coolness associated with hunting, and they just take too long to complete. Or rather, many of them suffer from languid pacing. Looking for stuff for the sake of looking for stuff just isn't that exciting. It's not terrible, and there's nothing particularly broken with the system, but it's just a tad on the boring side of things.

Should you tire of questing, you can always turn to one of the many peripheral activities in Freedom. First, you can head to a special part of the village (run by cats, actually) and try your hand at farming. You can purchase a variety of items to plant from the village store, or find them out in the field. Either way, you hand them over to one of the cats and they make sure it gets all the attention it needs. You can then come back and harvest healing herbs, or whatever else you had growing.

You can also head to the same part of the village and gather minerals from a nearby hill. This is just as helpful as farming, and veterans know the extra loot you earn from these simple activities can prove vital during an especially long quest. But there's another thing you can do, and that's fishing. Like the other side 'jobs', it's simple but can prove useful if you keep at it. None of them provides the excitement of a true mini-game, but each definitely has its place. Plus, it's a safe bet the people who will buy this game will spend plenty of time mining, fishing and farming to score those needed items, anyway.

Freedom has even more cats than those mentioned above. And these aren't out in the field; they actually invade your house. Specifically, they invade your kitchen. After spending a good amount of time with Freedom, you get the opportunity to hire cats to cook for you. Freedom has a lot of them, too, and each specializes in different dishes. Depending on what meal they cook, you could end up with a variety of effects such as increased health or power. What's more, certain cats even offer insider information on the happenings of the village and gameworld. This entire aspect of Freedom falls under the 'non-essential' category, but it serves as an incentive. For some cosmic reason, you find yourself wanting these damn cats simply so they can cook those attribute-changing meals.

Naturally, one of the best aspects in Freedom is multiplayer. Hunting alone is fine, but it simply doesn't compare to hunting in packs. You can form hunting parties of up to four people and go on multiplayer-specific quests. You can play most of the single-player missions with friends, fortunately, so multiplayer never feels limited or constrictive. What makes the whole thing work as well as it does, beyond the actual hunting aspect, is how streamlined and immersive it feels. You don't just sign on as a blank avatar and join a list of other players. You actually walk into a gathering hall and meet your fellow hunters, then get your quest from a guild representative. Your party can even sit at a table and do nothing. Yes, it's a small thing that online PC games have been doing for years, but that's just not the case on handhelds and it's nice to see it in Freedom.

Monster Hunter Freedom delivers what fans want in a portable game. It’s not a perfect translation, as it suffers from overly long load times and quests, but these issues don’t ruin the experience. And while it’s unfortunate that Freedom shipped without an online mode, the single-player campaign and multiplayer mode have enough content to produce more than 100 hours of gameplay. It’s one of the longest, most involved titles on the system. Dont let Gamespot's 6.5 get to you.