Despite fears that I may spoil the rest of this review in the first sentence, the Halo series exemplifies the archetypal standard, or average, first person shooter game.
There are several consistent parts to the series, namely the weapons, the physics and the storyline/characters. These characteristics are really what sets Halo as a true Malcolm in the Middle of FPS'. The weapons are utterly standard - you have the generic battle rifle, the accurate pistol, the noob tube, several rapid fire energy weapons and low-accuracy machine guns. There is also a weapon that can go climb a wall of dicks (the energy rifle, which both refuses to do damage and jams with alarming regularity), and one or two weapons that have a magnificiently visceral quality (the energy sword for swish-swish-stabbery, and the gravity hammer for sheer unmitigated brutality).
The story, I believe, does make sense if you stop to listen to the dialogue but it always happens when you are firing weapons or being otherwise distracted. It's got something to do with a war with lizard-people and their religious fanaticism - they wish to destroy the universe. And there are no anti-semitic implications.
The physics are adequate - there are things you can and can't do but there isn't anything remarkable about it. There aren't any puzzles. The vehicle sections are a little cumbersome - not awful - but in all fairness there aren't any games with good vehicle handling (other than dedicated racing simulators).
In lieu of any kind of coherent ranking system, here are my preferences for the first 3 games.
Lustrous gold: Halo 3
Underrated silver: Halo - Combat Evolved
Shameful bronze: Halo 2
Halo and Halo 3 nearly tie, though 3 wins the race by being less old. 1 hasn't aged as poorly as 2 oddly enough - the graphical upgrade from Halo 1 to Halo 2 was good for its time, but Halo has a much simpler and crisper look.
My thoughts on Halo 2 can be best described this way: I am so glad I only paid $7 for it from a bargain bin. I spent the majority of the game being shot from behind by obnoxious dark creatures in the dark corners of the room. I also generally play my games on max difficulty but the difficulty in Halo 2 goes beyond reason or sanity. You get killed so often that it's more like watching Starship Troopers than playing a game. I like to think the Master Chief becomes a born-again Christian and consequently has learned to turn the other cheek rather than fight back.
It's hard to critique any further because of its sheer averageness. I guess the only thing to keep in mind past that point is that average doesn't mean bad. Getting a C+ is a passing grade, and like most mediocre things there is fun to be had in it if you enjoy it with a few good mates.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Writing, Art, Pretentiousness
I'm deeply gratified by the fact that I gain great satisfaction from writing fiction in addition to social commentary. Today's post may seem somewhat in the vein of dear diary but there is a point to be had from this introspection.
Several days ago I had a discussion with someone about "The Scream" painting but Edvard Munch, though you'll have to forgive the sheer pretentiousness of that notion. Most would probably recognise it - it looks like a horrifying version of Macauly Culkin doing his scream thing. What we discussed was the fear and inner torment that would prompt someone to create such a work - "The Scream" just happens to be toe-curlingly scary for a mere painting.
No one ever changed the world by being an observer or a historian; art is about self-expression, and this is why artists like Andy Warhol will be seen as footnotes in art history. Warhol's art reflected his theories about society, rather than a conveyance of raw emotion and ideas; which is what I consider to be the true purpose of art. "The Scream" is so powerful because it does communicate the emotions of the artist, and these emotions are deeply profound and unsettling.
I have no skill or ability in fine arts and my skill at writing is still in its infancy, but still, I've stumbled upon my own screamer. Not all artistic creations should be of horror, obviously, but self-realisation is important for everyone. "The Scream" gave a literal face to the anguish in Munch's mind.
The kind of mettle that allows a man to give life to their own personal demons is an admirable quality. I doubt Warhol's demons were portrayed in any soup can.
Several days ago I had a discussion with someone about "The Scream" painting but Edvard Munch, though you'll have to forgive the sheer pretentiousness of that notion. Most would probably recognise it - it looks like a horrifying version of Macauly Culkin doing his scream thing. What we discussed was the fear and inner torment that would prompt someone to create such a work - "The Scream" just happens to be toe-curlingly scary for a mere painting.
No one ever changed the world by being an observer or a historian; art is about self-expression, and this is why artists like Andy Warhol will be seen as footnotes in art history. Warhol's art reflected his theories about society, rather than a conveyance of raw emotion and ideas; which is what I consider to be the true purpose of art. "The Scream" is so powerful because it does communicate the emotions of the artist, and these emotions are deeply profound and unsettling.
I have no skill or ability in fine arts and my skill at writing is still in its infancy, but still, I've stumbled upon my own screamer. Not all artistic creations should be of horror, obviously, but self-realisation is important for everyone. "The Scream" gave a literal face to the anguish in Munch's mind.
The kind of mettle that allows a man to give life to their own personal demons is an admirable quality. I doubt Warhol's demons were portrayed in any soup can.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Travel: Stanthorpe
In something unconventional, the year started off with a trip into southern Queensland. I must say prior to the trip, I experienced some trepidation with the notion of voyaging to farmland country (especially with my carefully concealed and subtle disdain for farming, agrarian lifestyles and "those" people in general. I attempted to rein in these feelings of superiority and try to better relate with my fellow (albeit lesser) man.
As trips go I would definitely recommend travelling during times of severe weather and road construction. A little infinitely-slow crawl through torrential rain and sign-waving road workers.
Stanthorpe is a fairly nice place - full of verdant fields and tasty vineyards. The town is one of the few that I've visited that didn't have a Bates Motel feel; like I was walking into a place where something was terribly wrong and I couldn't put my finger on it until a dude attacks my vulnerable naked flesh in the shower. The citizens are friendly but not too friendly - a relatively proud folk, earned from decades of family farming of exquisite boozes and intoxicants. I can understand that. Aside from Castle Glen (the liquer wholesaler) most establishments have a real sense of class, as opposed to a veneer of class.
Perhaps my dissatisfaction with Castle Glen was with my expectations - I was expecting a castle-shaped brewery filled to the brim with royal liquers, with wenches to serve my whims and a fantastic factory tour with periodic breaks for Oompah Loompah songs. Instead it was little more than a glorified bottle shop with tasting and bottles that were fruity in both appearance and sexual preference.
Wine tasting is something that all people should try at least once in their lives. If they can overcome the inherent pretentiousness of the activity you really start to learn things about how wine is made - while this wouldn't be of much interest in anyone, it is something you don't hear about in school between Shop A and algebra. The shop attendents are more like hosts, taking you on a culinary tour of their products with a level of ascerbity I find both familiar and compelling; it's comforting to know that the Australian countryside has some inhabitants that aren't hicks. It most definitely introduced me to the notion that just because people live in rural areas doesn't mean they have no class; my distaste for bogans is profound but bogans cannot be farmers by definition - bottom feeders that add nothing to society.
Stanthorpe is just the right size - everyone who lives there has a job and has a purpose. It isn't big enough to have unemployment so there isn't any riffraff. If there is one odd observation it is the complete lack of any non-caucasians - almost suspiciously so.
Perhaps poverty, vagrancy and racial diversity were all eradicated by the residents of Stanthorpe eating all the Aboriginals.
As trips go I would definitely recommend travelling during times of severe weather and road construction. A little infinitely-slow crawl through torrential rain and sign-waving road workers.
Stanthorpe is a fairly nice place - full of verdant fields and tasty vineyards. The town is one of the few that I've visited that didn't have a Bates Motel feel; like I was walking into a place where something was terribly wrong and I couldn't put my finger on it until a dude attacks my vulnerable naked flesh in the shower. The citizens are friendly but not too friendly - a relatively proud folk, earned from decades of family farming of exquisite boozes and intoxicants. I can understand that. Aside from Castle Glen (the liquer wholesaler) most establishments have a real sense of class, as opposed to a veneer of class.
Perhaps my dissatisfaction with Castle Glen was with my expectations - I was expecting a castle-shaped brewery filled to the brim with royal liquers, with wenches to serve my whims and a fantastic factory tour with periodic breaks for Oompah Loompah songs. Instead it was little more than a glorified bottle shop with tasting and bottles that were fruity in both appearance and sexual preference.
Wine tasting is something that all people should try at least once in their lives. If they can overcome the inherent pretentiousness of the activity you really start to learn things about how wine is made - while this wouldn't be of much interest in anyone, it is something you don't hear about in school between Shop A and algebra. The shop attendents are more like hosts, taking you on a culinary tour of their products with a level of ascerbity I find both familiar and compelling; it's comforting to know that the Australian countryside has some inhabitants that aren't hicks. It most definitely introduced me to the notion that just because people live in rural areas doesn't mean they have no class; my distaste for bogans is profound but bogans cannot be farmers by definition - bottom feeders that add nothing to society.
Stanthorpe is just the right size - everyone who lives there has a job and has a purpose. It isn't big enough to have unemployment so there isn't any riffraff. If there is one odd observation it is the complete lack of any non-caucasians - almost suspiciously so.
Perhaps poverty, vagrancy and racial diversity were all eradicated by the residents of Stanthorpe eating all the Aboriginals.
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