“Ni No Kuni II: Revenant Kingdom” Review

“Ni No Kuni 2: Revenant Kingdom” is a sobering reminder that time is fleeting, with its predecessor having been released over 5 years ago! You really do wonder where that time goes? But time you enjoy wasting, is not wasted time and there’s no truer sentiment more accurate than playing this surprising sequel. Surprising not because of how good it is, but that it exists at all. It’s not a sequel anyone expected to happen, nor one that had any real justification to exist. “Ni No Kuni: The Wraith Of The White Witch” was a game many considered unique, its own singular little peculiarity. A distinct collaboration between a prestigious animation studio (Studio Ghibli) and one of the industries most revered Rpg developers (Level 5). Constituting a game with perilous style that embraced vibrancy and invited exploration while concluding its whimsical tale in a rather definitively. So how do you follow a game of such sublime beauty? With assured poise that’s how!

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Ding Dong.

If you look at Ni No Kuni 2 as less of a sequel and more of a derivative of the first, then the game’s existence makes sense. NNK2’s opening sequence is the most singularly confusing introduction to any game I’ve played, but again emphasises the inextricable link between our world and the fantasy world we explore. It’s here that Roland, the president transported from our world encounters Evan, the air to the throne of “Ding Dong Dell” who after the untimely demise of his father is set to assume the role of King. Unfortunately his father’s treacherous advisor Mausinger, an anthropomorphic mouse and slayer of the previous King seeks to usurp Evan and become the new King regent. With the coup successful Mausinger attempts to consolidate his power by killing Evan, ending his families legitimacy as the true airs. But Evan with the aid of his new mysterious confederate Roland escape, vowing to establish a new Kingdom where “everyone can live happily ever after.”

The story is sentimental, veering ostensibly towards saccharine at times, yet does just enough to avoid feeling too preachy. Though it’s laced with enough sugary sentiment to make your teeth ache, it shouldn’t put you into a diabetic coma. The story for the most part is good, not great. Characters are introduced sporadically as you progress through the verdant pastures and exulted kingdoms, each possessing variable abilities and distinct personalities to keep things fresh. Evan in particularly is a well-meaning child that comes across as earnest, if naïve king in the making without becoming annoying. Personally however Ni No Kuni 2 does lack the firsts tender demeanour. The story of a young boy trying to save his mother from death was an erstwhile pursuit that to me at least was far more compelling. The change in combat however is a glorious amendment to its predecessor.

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Higgledy-Piggledy.

The overhaul of turn based mediocrity that was so pervasive in “Wraith Of The White Witch” is a delightful omission. Instead of politely waiting for your turn to battle the combat flows, with a system that promotes an immediate and assertive retaliation. Much like the Tales series, the dynamic conflict permits a greater intuitive and reactionary assault. Utilising movement, melee and evasion or blocking attacks all together empowers you with a greater sense of inclusion as opposed to idle, sporadic influences. Its satisfying too, hacking down giant beasts with the injection of pace and the intrinsic control, offering a superior combative relish that just can’t be emulated by the ponderous turn based monotony.

As you pursue the fealty of several kingdoms on a journey to reclaim the throne party members will gain levels, better equipment and all the standard accessories you’d expect from an Rpg, but it’s the accumulation of “Higgledies” that will provide the most obscure advantage. These spirited apparitions come in a variety of elemental forms: water, lunar, fire etc, with each contributing a different method for augmentation in battle. During encounters these gelatinous spirits consort with one another, consolidating their power and when prompted will unleash a unique skill. One type may generate a healing circle, another might become a cannon, targeting groups of enemies with powerful projectiles or creating a devastating aura that destroys everything in its spherical storm. These little guys can sometimes be the difference, so it’s crucial to use them regularly.

Ni No Kuni 2 has another exhilarating advantage over its originator in that its far less of a slog. Earlier chapters are resolved rather briskly, minimising the tedious ascension of increasingly convoluted dungeons that has become a baffling routine in Jrpg’s. There’s less time backtracking through huge tedious dungeons and castles focusing on fluidity rather than padding. And because the combat is so swift and inviting the usually necessitating grind in levelling up is largely absent. But what really allows NNK2 to surpass the first is Kingdom building.

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Kingdom Come.

Having been forcefully ousted as king of his own ancestral home, Evan decides to build a new kingdom afresh. A kingdom free of war and prejudice. Here you establish a new enterprising regime, one that espouses the cause of social tolerance, all built on the principles of peace, which incidentally can be achieved with the help of very addicting moderation and recruitment. You get to build “Evermore” almost from the ground up, installing facilities such as item or weapon shops, augmenting them using a currency generated by Evermore and its industrious little residents, thereby increasing the power of this new nation.

During the preliminary stages, as you construct a rustic if serviceable nation you won’t have much in terms of facilities or indeed personal to adequately manage these holdings. But as you travel you will begin recruiting citizens from other established kingdoms, each providing specific set of skills to enhance services you’ve built. It’s important that each citizens skill is utilised efficiently, for instance an individual that specialises in weapon making should be working at a weapons shop. It isn’t complicated, but it’s undeniably satisfying to meticulously cultivate the city as well as its industrious little community. Integration of these denizens also provides other enterprising benefits. As well as generating money that can be used to improve facilities, general stores, fish markets and other parlance. These stores also gift you items, so it’s important to revisit Evermore frequently to get the best out of these generous markets.

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Conclusion.

Ni No Kuni 2 doesn’t really do anything new. It conforms to the compounded methodology that afflicts most Jrpg’s: questing across a fantasy world to prevent a great evil from destroying the world. Yet the way in which it synthesise these ideas seems fresh and riveting, it’s really rather hard to explain. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t really played a Jrpg for so long or maybe its the influence of Studio Ghibli’s radiant animation and compelling orchestral sonnets that accompanies it, but somehow Ni No Kuni 2 breeds new life into a genre I felt had peaked years, perhaps even decades ago. All I really know is that I don’t just want to finish NNK2, I want to live it. I yearn for the days when life permitted the time to engage in such radiant Rpg’s for hours on end, without guilt or the threat of divorce. Time is indeed fleeting, and quit frankly not very nice. *Huff*

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Have you played Ni No Kuni II? If so what did you think? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

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“Allumette” Is The Perfect Match For PlayStation VR.

Have you ever convinced yourself that an opinion, however adaptable is the right one? That every argument to the contrary, however effectually articulated only serves to further vindicate this conviction? That’s how I feel about Virtual Reality. Having touched on the subject recently, definitively concluding that VR as a principle denotes an immense potential for gaming and entertainment as a whole, but in its present state is sadly inadequate to produce an immersive experience beyond short, restricted tech demos. I maintain that VR isn’t a viable commercial entity beyond the initial “wow, its like I’m actually there”.

This is a position I’m holding firm on, derived from an extended engagement with Sony’s flagship device the “PSVR”. Sure this isn’t the premium VR headset like the Hive or even the Oculus, but it’s the same basic principle of adorning a bulky, head crushing visor and waving two plastic accessories around like maracas. The potential is ripe for innovation and yet developers have been coasting on the novelty rather than expanding, and that’s probably because most of them are unsure how to best utilise this foreign utility. Well I have a suggestion: “Allumette”.

No Alumette is not a spelling mistake, nor is it referring to a fine Italian liqueur but is in fact a succinct VR tale adapted from Hans Christian Anderson’s short story “The Little Match Girl”. Though it deviates from the original source material, omitting the more tragic tone of its literary equivalent, though these darker elements are still inherently implied, it does so without coming across as a pedantic affectation. Simply adjusting characters and environments to accommodate the narrative.

The distinction can be assuaged by its almost exultant setting, a verdant aerial civilisation in the clouds that bears an uncanny resemblance to Venice. Occupied by floating gondolas that glide across thoroughfares between renaissance inspired streets and buildings. It’s a profoundly startling image to observe, but wonderfully realised too. The story, which I won’t go into detail here, though short more than makes up for its narrative brevity with its sheer creative radiance.

You can’t help but admire its beguiling endeavour and the way it conjures this whimsical city. Conveying narrative fluidity through unconventional artistry, compelling vision and with captivating immersion without a word of dialogue. It’s a fantastical city that also belies the tragic vulnerability of the little match girl herself. Your eyes are constantly darting around looking to see if there’s something going on somewhere else, feeling like an omnipotent voyeur observing these events transpire naturally, yet powerless to intervene.

The floating Ark that the little match girl occupies acts as her mobile home and its fascinating to survey her vehicular residence. The exterior isn’t particularly arresting, just a design forged for practicality, but the interior is far more intriguing. Consisting of various ornate gears and levers that enable this bulky craft to levitate, offset by the rustic homely ambience of its quant adjacent quarters that looks more suited to adorning an isolated cabin somewhere in a Studio Ghibli movie, you get a sense that this design was formulated from the memory of some delightful childhood dream.

Yet the most distinctive feature is that you can’t actually see any of this unless you physically move, adjusting yourself enough to peer through the boats façade and to see characters interacting like plausible human beings before they actually emerge. That they aren’t merely idle npc’s until they appear out of the docked vessel, but display behavioural characteristics before they’ve officially been introduced. If you watched this story unfold in a more conventional way as you would a movie, silent and unmoving then you’d probably miss these nuanced little details.

VR needs concepts like this, earnest and experimental premises that passively oblige you to actively move, to tilt your head around the alleyway to see where the coughing noise is coming from. To prompt you into engaging with the story without directly influencing it. Or perhaps your appearance should have a profound implication? There are so many possibilities! Allumette demonstrates not just the potential for VR, but the fundamental responsibility to immerse the viewer.

Allumette isn’t something you play, nor is it something you watch in a traditional sense, but rather something you experience. And that, to me at least is what VR should be.

“Allumette” is free to download from the PlayStation Store. 

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What would you like to see from Virtual Reality? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

My Top 10 Most Influential Games: #6 “Dark Chronicle”.

Long ago, when game related information was exclusively reserved for big glossy magazines, that required you to actively leave your home to purchase these physical periodicals, there was one I purchase frequently: Official PlayStation 2 Magazine. Contained within its sealed plastic wrapping was not only the publication but also a demo disc, containing trailers to upcoming games and of course playable content. These cursory demonstrations presented consumers the invaluable capability to directly measure the potential quality of its retail equivalent, allowing us to make an informed and impartial decision on whether or not to buy them based on these fleeting sequences. It was playing one of these perfunctory demos that I came across a little game called Dark Cloud.

Dark Cloud is an Rpg where you negotiate various procedurally generated dungeons combating monsters and strangely thirst. There was a dehydration meter that depleted over time, unless you consumed bottled water you purchased from vendors or waded in reservoirs that could be found in the dungeons. It was a feature that greatly annoyed me, but the rest of the game was so enthralling it was something I just tolerated. One of my favourite elements of the game however was the city building mechanic that allowed players to rebuild a village in any arrangement they wanted. Of course seeing as it was only a demo I couldn’t engage with it in the same meticulous way I would have done if it were the full product, and alas I was never able to find a copy of it to truly assimilate myself into its hedonistic sensibilities. But a few years later, under rather fortuitous circumstances I did buy its successor, Dark Chronicle.

I had gone into my local W. H. Smiths for a casual peruse. Having recently gained part-time employment at a gardening maintenance company, the money I earned from my highly contributing 3 days servitude was duly squandered, sorry, wisely invested in games. And it was complete chance that I stumbled upon this familiar sounding title. Dark Chronicle was in fact Dark Cloud 2. Why the title was renovated here in the UK is beyond me, but my own personal hypothesis is that Dark Chronicle is less of a sequel and more of an aberration.

“The upgrade system for the weapons is one of Dark Chronicle’s most distinctive assets.”

 

The story revolves around Monica, a time travelling princess who must prevent the destruction of the world from the obviously evil sounding “Emperor Griffin” , who attempts to destroy the present by destroying the past. By migrating 100 years into the past Monica must unite with Max, a mechanic who accidentally finds himself the target of a psychopathic circus clown. You know, that old chestnut. Though the narrative weaves a familiar thread of plot devices and fantasy tropes, it’s endearing idiosyncrasies made Dark Chronicle so profoundly captivating.

Most Rpg’s, action or otherwise rely on a traditional methodology of levelling characters through an intrinsic progression system that enhances particular attributes, such as health, attack, defence etc. In Dark Chronicle you couldn’t do that in a traditional sense. Sure there were explicit resources that amplified these elements, but weapon customisation, or more specifically weapon augmentation is where Dark Chronicle really flourished. Enhancing the effectiveness of lighting on your gun for instance is incredibly advantageous provided your combating water based adversaries, but against another elemental monster it’s profoundly useless! Because each new stage applied a new contradictory environment for you to traverse, merely applying concerted efforts on one or two different attributes to help you navigate one specific area meant sacrificing a weapon’s effectiveness further into the story. You also had to monitor the vulnerability of these weapons as excessive usage would mitigate their effectiveness after a period, requiring you to use repair powder to restore their rigidity.

“There was always something to keep you occupied” 

 

Dark Chronicle actually encouraged you to think. To evaluate your inventories compatibility not just for the next stage, but for future encounters too. And because you could switch between two playable characters in Monica and Max, three if you include Max’s mechanical tank “Ridepod” then there’s an even greater incentive to diversify characters as well as their weapons, which unlike Dark Cloud do not disintegrate beyond repair. Also Dark Chronicle mercifully abstained from integrating the same irritating “thirst meter” that impeded you in its forbear, opting instead for a more affable alternative: namely nothing. But Dark Chronicle thankfully didn’t ignore one of its predecessors most lucrative features, town building.

I simply can’t express how much I adore this feature. There’s something so gratifying about constructing a village to my own very personal specifications that just appeals to my rigorous nature. Distributing trees evenly amongst the residencies. Erecting fences around the homes. Forging paths to each and every property to ensure a sense of community. That may seem like an awful lot of effort to apply to such an extraneous component, but it’s one I relished with enamoured dedication, particularly when you see how it affects the future. You could travel between the past and future and observe what a profound effect the placement of specific buildings, trees or rivers has in 100 years time, which is for lack of a more articulate word, cool!

I could carry on with a verbose thesis analysing every facet of this game to determine precisely why this game means so much to me, but I think I’ve made that clear enough already. Dark Chronicle radiates a lurid vibrancy absent from its stoic predecessor, illuminating every environment with a distinctive tone, even though most of these procedurally generated dungeons adhered to a conformed structure. The combat was simple yet engaging, with weapon customisation that necessitated logistical organisation. The story though structurally basic provided enough sincerity from its superbly voiced characters that you could forgive its banal advancements and at times accept the overarching simplicity. What Dark Chronicles excelled at was enchanting you with its mesmerizing world. Compelling you to keep playing until 3am, forsaking all other duties, which I did!

It didn’t do anything perfectly, it just did everything well, keeping me engaged for months on end. And that’s why “Dark Chronicle” is my #6!

My First Time With Bloodborne.

Are you sadistic? Do you loathe the comfort of sanity? Have you scoured mountains using just a stick, some gloves and comfortable shoes but wish it were more difficult? Have you been stranded alone on a deserted island, surviving merely on your own cunning? Battling dehydration, sleep deprivation and starvation? Fashioning crude tools from your own dismembered leg bone, harvested of its enveloping flesh, which you carved off with your own elongated fingernails and cauterised in the midday sun? Finally escaping using your own body as a flotation device and swimming 400 miles against tides with crests 100’s of feet high and thinking “That was easier than I thought? Then you Sir/Madam are the ideal candidate to play Bloodborne! Yes you too can explain to your disgruntled neighbours why you’ve been embroiled in a 2 hour argument with your television, with an epitaph of profane language and engaging in a beleaguered fisticuffs with the air!

Available to download for free on PlayStation Plus this month, Bloodborne is, or at least “was” a game I intentionally avoided. Not because I didn’t think I’d enjoy it, but because of the familiar connotations associated with “Dark Souls”, a series that gleefully promotes a distinct challenge to participants that can’t be mitigated by an interchangeable difficulty setting. Essentially I’m not particularly fond of games that mock my ability as a gamer. And considering that the only way I was capable of finishing the original “Devil May Cry” was on easy difficulty, Bloodborne would likely dedicate an entire episode of “Saturday Night Live” mocking my faux gaming capabilities. So with that in mind let’s delve into my initial reaction to Bloodborne. *gulp*

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You don’t play Bloodborne, you endure it!

Bloodborne is the kind of game that demands sacrifice, patience, and a stubborn fortitude you either obtain through perseverance or is readily innate in you. It’s a game that relishes in your punishment, inciting you for repeating the same mistakes again and again. It’s perverted sensibilities and incessant cruelty harasses an inert retaliation that either provokes a defying resistance or a soul-destroying surrender. At present, I’m clinging to the former.

Bloodborne flaunts an anaemic city stunted by a hue of rancid decay, like a village afflicted by some devastating bubonic plague. The pallid tone and imposing, banal architecture looks as though it was constructed centuries ago from another decaying settlement looms over you, defiling your every cloistered step as if the environments themselves want to end you. This isolation can feel overwhelming, particularly when negotiating the densely narrow streets and overpasses.

Everything looks and feels distinct, almost hallucinatory, which also makes everything unfamiliar. The foreign utilities that litter the inventory possess very ubiquitous capabilities, such as rejuvenating health or burning aggressors to a crisp. But because of the uniquely aberrant depiction of these commonly used items it takes a little time to facilitate yourself with the lingual abnormalities. Even the melee weapon, the staple of any dungeon crawling adventure feels adapted to conform to the games distinct tone. There’s no fluidity to swinging your preferred implement of castration. Every sweeping flail of your scythe/axe is an effort, slow and cumbersome to respond. As if you’re wielding a weapon of significant weight, not some exalted gladius that can be brandished with little effort. And because of the weapons distinct lack of versatility, as well as your characters susceptibility to dying, every single strike has a profound impetus. You can’t miss and hope to follow-up with a flurry of expeditious slashes because you’ll more than likely already be dead.

I’m still in the preliminary stages of Bloodborne, hopelessly trying to understand this morbid and sadistic world. The game prods and snarls, harrying you into making a concerted effort to think before you act, which is a refreshing change to adjustable difficulty settings. There’s an unwieldy fervour about Bloodborne’s progression too, like stalling a Lamborghini every 5 minutes. At times your stupidity is arbiter of your demise, not the relentless bullying inflicted by the shambling villagers that assault you without provocation. There’s a genuine challenge here, one in which you will either embolden you with a purpose or expose you as a charlatan of gaming culture. The fact that you can’t even pause the game in the traditional sense just intensifies the fear!

The joy you leverage from Bloodborne will be largely dependent on the culmination of small victories that in other games would be considered negligible. Like that time you successfully evaded an enemies powerful attack or endured devastating defeat at the same formidable demon hound, only to finally succeed at the 16th time of asking. Bloodborne isn’t something you can play casually, nor really play at all. It’s something that you must survive, requiring dedicated resolve to overcome! I’ve no doubt that there will be infuriating challenges that will incite the same neighbour provoking concern mentioned in my opening digression. That a boss will pummel every ounce of fortitude from my broken and enraged spirit. But quite honestly I look forward to subjecting myself to this interminable torture!

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What games have you deliberately avoided? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

That Time I Stopped Playing Computer Games.

Finding time to engage with games with the same habitual servitude you nurtured as a bored, obnoxiously lazy teenager is somewhat mitigated by other discernible less interesting necessities as you get older. Such as work, social engagements or, you know, your children! The pursuit for a sustained period of quality gaming becomes not just a challenge but can for many prove to be inextricably harried by the retinue of interferences that come with being a responsible adult. Managing your finances, paying bills or working overtime certainly isn’t the engaging, fun adult alternative to your “TV game thing”, but a priority we endure to benefit our lives and family. As prevalent as you’d like it to be, at times computer games can sometimes feel like an extraneous waste of valuable resources as well as time.

I’ve previously alluded to the importance of gaming in my life on several, elongated occasions, highlighting the comfort I receive from engaging with them even for brief sporadic periods. But there was a time in my life when I thought I had outgrown this wearisome extremity of juvenility. That employment was somehow an end to such childish associations. “Silly rabbit, games are for kids.”

I was in my late teens, working a 9-5 job Monday to Friday, squandering every penny regularly with evenings down my local pub with friends drinking, playing pool and courting fair young maidens. By which I mean bombarding them with innate chat, vomiting flattery all of them with all the charm of a dozing blob fish, and in some cases just vomiting. The majority of our time was dedicated to having a good time and hopefully in the process attracting female company. Now someone of my introverted disposition found the latter very difficult to achieve without the stimulating assistance of the former, which as you can imagine has variable degrees of failure. Now my intentions were always noble. There was no salacious intent of my part to merely engage in sexual pursuits with women I barely knew to flaunt some arcane perception of masculinity. That my virility was somehow indicative of the number of women I’ve slept with. I was genuinely trying to find a partner that I could eventually settle down with. And I was vindicated in this pursuit when I met my current partner some 11 years ago now. But because so much of my time as well as finances were occupied by socializing, gaming became superfluous.

“One of the many games that got me back into gaming”.

When I did find reasonable time to absorb myself back into games, I found that I just couldn’t engage with them with the same enthusiasm I used too. Rpg’s that I would have devoted entire weekends too, that ostensibly necessitated a prolonged engagement didn’t generate the same persuasive captivation that had once consumed my life. I figured this was just one of those things that happens, a necessary step in maturity that afflicts us all. And for a good year or so I didn’t really play anything. That is until I purchased a PS3.

I had accumulated a reasonable sum of money working overtime and spending less time, and by extension money on going out, favouring nights in watching movies with my girlfriend. Educating her on the glaring movie omissions in her life such as “Back To The Future” , “Jaws” and “Raiders Of The Lost Ark.” So I took the plunge into the rapids of the PS3 merely out of curiosity, which happened to be conveniently boxed with GTA IV, a series staple back when I was a kid.

“Sometimes safe and familiar is a good thing!”

It’s fair to say that I wasn’t entirely blown away by it. The sardonic humour was absent, replaced instead by an obnoxious cousin with all the charisma of an attention seeking mollusc. The satirical depiction of modern culture felt bereft of any significant charm. Liberty City itself was a bland, colourless vicinity that utilised 50 shades of Grey before it became synonymous with a more salacious connotations. And the overall vibe of the game just felt sterile and really rather cold. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I had spent so much on the PS3 I probably would have given up on games once again. Thankfully the saving grace of “Ratchet & Clank: Tools Of Destruction” saved me from premature resignation.

Though not my favourite in the series, it did provoke enough familiarity with the series I’d known to remind me why I used to love playing games so much; for the fun. That was it, the catalyst, the end of my abstinence. I was hooked again! It wasn’t long until my collection of PS3 games expanded. Whether it was sequels to firmly established franchises like “Devil May Cry” or “Resident Evil.” Unfamiliar games like “Uncharted”, “Elder Scrolls: Oblivion” or “Red Dead Redemption.” Everything felt fresh, exciting and fun. It was comparable to meeting up with a friend you haven’t seen since school and immediately bonding as if you hadn’t since them since Science class that morning.

Now my relationship with games is far more amicable. I’m neither absent nor consumed with sating a 10 hour marathon run on Skyrim. The Nintendo Switch certainly enables me to continue gaming in a far more efficient manner and the PS4 is as always the favoured nocturnal activity. As a result of both age and circumstances I’m still a gamer, able to talk (write) for hours about even the most trivial of gaming culture, but still productive enough outside of that culture to work exceedingly long hours and spend precious free time with my daughter and girlfriend.

Perhaps I have matured……a little.

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Have you ever stopped gaming for an extended period? If so what, if anything got you back into them? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

Should You Buy The PlayStation VR?

Virtual reality. Its something many of us regard with considerable awe. A technological enterprise marshaled from the annals of science fiction. Conceived in prodigious realms and auspicious futures far beyond our primitive capabilities. A future when lost limbs are regrown by medical miracles, hover cars are affluent forms of transportation, and alien species have integrated into a society free from racial segregation. Where long theorised ideas about the consciousness of artificial intelligence and whether they indeed dream of electric sheep are arbitrary concepts, with androids now contributing to taxes and granted the right to vote. Yet here we are, in the here and now playing virtual reality games on a PlayStation. Simulated constructs where you can do anything, be anyone and go anywhere. You can scour the inhospitable continent of Skyrim. Drive various super cars from the drivers perspective. Or obliterate the swollen ball sacs of the hellish tormentors that litter Doom. The possibilities are endless, the immersion limitless. But is VR really worth the price of admission?

Let me start by saying that I don’t own one, because I flat-out refuse to pay for a peripheral accessory that costs more than the hardware I need to play it on, but I know a couple of friends who do. Both have praised the uniquely captivating experience, with one buying a PS4 specifically for the VR. After a time I began to find their ardent endorsement of the PS VR infectious, to the point that I had to sample it for myself. So on a blustery frigid Sunday afternoon the family and I visited one of them that lived within walking distance to discover what all the fuss was about.

My girlfriend and mates respective partner were largely apathetic about my first foray into virtual reality, so instead busied themselves with entertaining my daughter and engaging in other idle gossip, that I’d no doubt be privy to later. The first thing I noticed having adorned this conspicuous looking tiara is just how comfortable it was. It’s easily adjusted to even my bulbous shaped cranium, resting comfortably on my head without much discernible weight on my neck. It takes a few minutes for your eyes to comfortably adjust as your peripheral vision is severely compromised by the visual limitations of the headset encroaching on how you’d normally perceive the world. With the motion controls in either hand I took my first awkward steps into a virtual world.

I only played two games, the first was featured on “PS VR Worlds”, a glorified tech demo really where I fumbled my way through a diamond heist, which turned out to be an exercise in confusion. Trying to manoeuvre the controls that function as your hands is initially very disconcerting. It was however amusing sitting in a simulated pub admiring the very realistic interior, picking up a cigar from the table, lighting it, and then mimic the sound of inhaling the tobacco smoke and exhaling as if I were smoking it myself, with the character simulating my actions. The controls though functional are rather tricky to master though. Shooting for instance can feel disconnected and difficult to aim with any precision, with no reticle to aid you. But once you get the hang of it things become far more comfortable. Having finished my short, somewhat successful stint as a master criminal I delved into a far more familiar landscape: Skyrim.

“Skyrim VR” is ostensibly just virtual tourism, an ambitious destination considering the size and scope of the environment, prompting a desire to explore I hadn’t felt since I purchased it originally back in 2011. At times it felt like I was there, breathing the cold, piercing air. Observing the residents of Whitrun going about their scripted saunters. And even though the VR experience was coercing only two of my five senses into believing it was real, somehow that was enough to be entirely captivated by this world again. The motion controls are for the most part cumbersome, jarring and more than a little refractory, but so too is the combat system, which kind of neutralise one another. I wish I’d got more time here to really get a sense of what this has to offer, as my real life counterpart had to leave. But my temporary residency in the virtual world did inform one very apparent truth: that I need to get the PS VR, just not yet.

PS VR is just too expensive for what it is, despite being the cheapest premium VR device on the market. What it does is impressive, adding substantial creative expression to its extravagant dimensions. But as of right now it’s still adolescent and perhaps even a little shallow. Technically competent for sure, yet devoid of any substantial content that makes it a worthwhile asset. It’s perfect for socializing, having a few drinks with friends and indulge in the hallucinatory tech demos that are impressive to experience. Laughing at one another’s macarena style movements and spasmodic flinching. But as a solo experience it’s really rather hollow. Immersion is somewhat limited too, particularly when you have your daughter clamouring over you demanding that you take off the headset because she believes you’re hiding! Of course my daughters ability to antagonise you personally should be relatively reduced. Perhaps with a hand recognition software that could detect the faintest gestural nuances of your movements instead of an arbitrary move controller might provide a more intuitive solution to the stilted control scheme. I don’t know!

But my initial reservation to VR has drastically changed from a sceptical naysayer to someone genuinely excited about its future. There’s a definite potential with it, it’s just unclear what that explicit potential really is!

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Do you own a PS VR? If so what do you think of it? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.

Can You Remember The First Game You Ever Played?

I apologise for the obscurity of this particular thread, it’s already been a long week and I’m already feeling explicitly groggy. What follows will likely have no substantial relevance nor any decisive resolution, but is something that has become somewhat of a troubling curiosity. So let me begin with a question; do any of you remember the first time you experienced a computer game? I’d personally relish the opportunity to regale you with a sentimental anecdote about inheriting the families NES, being presented with my first games cartridge or narrate the time I was baptised in the accumulated tears of my father, shed through disappointment at trying to complete “Echo The Dolphin”. But with all honesty I don’t remember. I can recall brief images and vaguely distinctive periods of interacting with a game in my formative years, but nothing solitary that can be specifically defined as my first.

Some incipient dementia or perhaps good old senility has likely diminished my nostalgia leaden experiences. If you are in your early 20’s or younger, particularly if you regard Pokémon Diamond and Pearl to be “retro”, then relating back to your first gaming experience may be easier to perceive. But for me, a man in his 30’s, with a number of late nights and copious amounts of alcohol consumed in the interim it’s a far more difficult moment to recollect. It is however evident from my parents favourable affinity for gaming that my exposure would have occurred from a very young age, with a very limited capacity to fully understand what I was watching. Exactly what games console it was is in itself hard to clarify?

The NES is the most likely candidate, certainly the more prevalent console that I recall. But it could just as likely be the SEGA Megadrive too, as this would have been available at a time when I was more self-aware. Memories of playing “TMNT II” “Super Mario” “Donkey Kong” and “Captain Bucky O Hare” are all clearly defined memories. But so to are playing “Sonic The Hedgehog” “Cap Attack” “Mickey Mouse And Donald Ducks Fantasy Of Illusion” and “Cool Spot”. It’s maddening not being able to recollect a moment of such significance. To attach a visual narrative to such a profoundly intimate influence of self discovery.

Perhaps there isn’t one singular moment , but rather a series of amalgamated experiences that form “that first moment”. It maybe that the pleasures of gaming presided through repeated collaboration as opposed to one isolated eureka point. Whatever the case is I find I’m afflicted by a deep vexing sorrow for the absence of such a hugely defining moment.

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So again I beseech you curious reader; what game you remember playing first? Or have you too forgotten? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers.