It's been a while since we've checked in on Mr. Venbrux, a fan favorite over here at PTT. His latest outing is a portmanteau of two of his previous works; it combines the dreamlike tone of Pazzon with the planetary-hopping gameplay of Frozzd. Since both games accomplished their respective aspects quite well this mash-up title doesn't feel as innovative as it should, but that's forgivable. The aesthetic here is wonderful, with soothing background music and an oblique art style. It's fairly short as well, but may require a second playthrough to reach the proper ending. No overwrought analysis this time around, but if you dug his previous work I'd advise you to check it out.

We're All Plain! 2 SE is a little level-based Flash puzzler created for the Global Game Jam. On each level, there are an array of colored orbs. They're on springs; you can pull one back and let it go. If it intercepts an orb of the complementary color (red/gree, blue/orange, purple/yellow), both turn white. To clear the level, you must turn all orbs white.

In addition, banging an orb into a non-complementary color changes the target into the intermediate color (e.g., banging blue into red turns the red orb purple). At higher levels, the springs have limited pull-back, so quite often you cannot change to white immediately -- instead, you must manipulate the orbs, changing to intermediate colors to establish an array that can then be turned white.

The resulting puzzles are actually quite challenging, given the simplicity of the underlying scheme. Graphic designers, to whom the color wheel is second nature, will doubtless find it easier than I, of course.

Hey! That's My Fish! has got to be about the silliest possible theme for what is, when you get down to it, an abstract strategy game with surprising depth. True, its rules are sufficiently simple as to be accessible to quite young players, but as with any abstract strategy game, the ability to plan and think several moves ahead is critical. In other words, this is not exactly a kid's game.

Before game start, the players lay out hexagonal tiles in a set pattern. Each tile is printed with between one and three fish. Each player places penguins of their colors on tiles, pretty much as they wish; it can be played by up to four, and the number of starting penguins depends on the number of players (e.g., in a four player game, each starts with two). On your turn, you may move one of your penguins any distance in one of the six directions permitted by the hex grid -- but not through an empty hex, or a hex containing another player's penguin. When you move, you remove the hex you formerly occupied, and score between one and three points, as indicated by the number of fish on the tile.

The main strategic element of gameplay is working to isolate other players' penguins, trapping them in small areas; when this happens, and an area is isolated that contains only one penguin, the owner scores all tiles in the isolated area, and the penguin is removed from play. Maximizing score by getting high-fish hexes is a secondary but important strategic consideration.

What is striking and admirable about the game is the strategic depth it provides for a remarkably sparse rules set. As Eric Goldberg says, it is far harder to design a good, simple game than a good, complicated one, and Hey! That's My Fish! succeeds at the task.

If you're like me you most likely have fond memories of the games of yore, and also haven't played all of the classic games you should have. Enter Hardcore Gaming 101. I just recently stumbled upon the site and am impressed by both it's breadth and depth of coverage; it approaches series and individual games from an historical viewpoint while also discussing gameplay mechanics. It isn't as thorough or in-depth as Dessgeega's dissertations, but still is an excellent primer for any games you might have missed over the years.

A Visual Novel about breaking up with your girlfriend? That's indie in more ways than one -- we're dipping into indie music territory here. This is a game for everybody who's been in a bad relationship that lingered on more than it should have, which should cover just about everybody in attendance. The backstory is vague enough that you can impose yourself into the role of the protagonist, who is struggling with ending a courtship that isn't exactly healthy. The game plays out as a series of conversations with the young lady supplemented by your own interior monologue. Occasionaly you're prompted to choose between two options, which usually either relent and placate her or push towards ending your entanglement. The game's short so exploring the various options doesn't take much time, and the dialogue is well written and easily identifiable with. The pixel art has a clean and appealing style to it but the tinny chip music wears thin after a while. Instead I'd recommend some early Elliott Smith to set the mood. With that in mind, give it a shot and come back for spoilers and musings. I'll promise to not pull out my acoustic guitar.

Jesse Schell has gotten a lot of attention lately for his snake-handling about extrinsic rewards devouring the surface of planet earth like so many nanomachines. However he took the opportunity at GDC, like so many controversial DICE speakers, to clear things up. He painted a very nice categorization of game designers, and being a game designer, I like to play with categorization schemes. According to Schell designers fall into 4 groups of intent:

I've ranted on about the dark-side of platforms, and elsewhere I may have ranted about the Federal Reserve, but you've got to admit that draconic control of the currency is better than feudalism and that even egregious or inconsistent policy on a mostly open platform is better than the retail game biz. Maybe things are getting better, win-win-win (not to be confused with its non-buzz-worthy little brother: win-win). Take for example platform competition in social games, where hi5 is trying to frame itself as the friendlier, less capital-intensive girlfriend developers have been looking for. You just have to win their approval first.

Crafting a game in under a week is hard work; making a game fun is harder still. Managing to pull off both with aplomb is by no means an easy feat, so I have to hand it to Mr. McCoy here. Every 168 hours this man graces us with another short-form game that isn't only just playable, but actually pretty fun. The game mechanics that are the crux of these two titles are solid and well designed. Admittedly the two games I'm highlighting have spheres for protagonists, but who plays indie games for sexy graphics anyways?

Wavespark is the lovechild of Excitebike/Truck and RunMan. It takes the positioning mechanic of Excitebike -- but instead of tilting a bike you merely have to land on a downwards slope -- and combines it with a satisfying sense of speed. It's a one button affair, press any key to increase your sphere's gravity. It's ultimately a test of timing and momentum. Land on a downwards slopes and you'll get a speed bonus, but land on an uphill section and you'll grind to a near-halt. It doesn't sound exciting on paper but trust me, it's an absolute blast. There's four modes of play, of which Time Attack is my favorite; the time restriction lends itself well to quick-play sessions for whenever you have a few minutes to kill. Once you get the ball rolling (Editor's Note: because putting these in somehow qualify as an excuse for a shitty joke) and get a hang of things you'll most likely get addicted to its simple yet charming gameplay. Now how about an iPhone version?

If the above sounds too Jay Is Games for your taste (which it shouldn't, you snob) Dragondot should give you a reason to break out your prosthetic Hyrulian ears. It's an action RPG that's in the vein of Game Boy Zelda titles or, say, Shining Soul for Game Boy Advance. You take control of a dragon, erm, dot and fight your way through screen after screen of enemy dots. It controls fairly well, imagine wielding a sword and Roc's Feather in LoZ and you'll have a good idea of combat. Despite the lack of innovation in the character designs the enemies have distinct movement and combat patterns. There's also a nice attention to detail; if you're savvy enough you can have enemies whack each other a la Wind Waker. The game exploits your hard-wired love of doled-out progression by having an RPG system in place that gives you extra health and the occasional attack to your solitary combo. It's pretty basic but good and stupid fun.

Both of these games aren't especially deep but are solid foundations for larger projects, should McCoy want to pursue these further. The quality of these weekly experiments have been consistently fun, so I'd keep an eye on this guy if I were you.

I am weary. I am tired of being me. I am tired of being the angry middle-aged man of the game industry. I would like to hang it up, like an old coat, and shut it in the closet. But I guess I can't put it aside.

I attended the IGF Awards this evening. In general, I love the IGF. Not unreservedly, of course; it is not without flaw. But it is, by and large, a Good and Fine Thing, and has been instrumental in creating and sustaining independent games as a movement. I was quite looking forward to it.

You can find a video of the ceremony here.

And award winners here, since I'm not actually going to talk about that

My first intellectual discontinuity came when I approached the awards venue and discovered Steve Petersen, one of the designers of the Champions RPG, working to ensure that only VIPs got into the VIP line; apparently my speaker badge authorized me to sit in the VIP area. I elected to sit instead with the plebes.

I was basically okay through most of the proceeds, snarking to myself a bit at the lame scripted "jokes" of the presenters and the intellectual discontinuity created by their adoption of tuxedo and gown. A tux does not say "indie" to me. But I understand that to the average American it says "class," and perhaps this is understandable as some sort of external index of respect.

Cactus, by the way, was perfect.

When the presenters were swept off the stage to make room for some chickie from IGN (that lickspittle shih-tzu of the major publishers that sustains its existence by posting reworded press releases and raving about big-budget releases while providing only occasional and condescending coverage of indie games) I sighed deeply, but reminded myself that the IGF depends on corporate sponsorships, and no doubt had received a nice piece of change from this corporate entity in return for their right to grant, and brand, the IGF's most important award.

After some forgettable blather, we were then subjected to a video, presumably prepared by the sublime idiots at IGN, about what they claimed were the "top five indie games not in the top five indie games." This consisted of short gameplay videos from five imaginary games. These imaginary games were supposedly humorous, but consisted of a) really stupid game ideas, b) implemented in a really stupid way, with c) really stupid graphics. Haha. Indie games are stupid. (At 38:40 in the video linked above.)

Did ANYONE at IGN consider that they were basically totally dissing the games their spokesperson was just about to issue an award to?

Did ANYONE at CMP consider that they had, in exchange for a corporate sponsorship, just set up a situation that totally undermined the gravitas of the event as a whole?

Did ANY of the idiot audience members who tittered at this inane video realize that, in context, it was essentially insulting the whole enterprise of indie gaming?

I stalked from the room in fury.

I was the only person to do so.

I don't like living in my skin sometimes. Apparently, I was the only person in that room filled with thousands who was revolted and offended to the core. I am a fool.

I was about to write: We deserve better. But of course, I created no game last year that I could have submitted to the IGF, so it would be inappropriate for me to take on the mantle of "indie game creator" or to have the temerity to speak for those who are. But I can say they deserve better; they deserve to be treated with a degree of respect, and indeed, the whole structure of the IGF ceremonies, and the prominence it receives within the GDC awards as a whole, and even the noxious tuxedo-and-gown garb of its presenters, is calculated with the idea of promoting a degree of respect.

Why then should CMP, and for that matter IGN, however gormless they may be, think it remotely acceptable to undermine that respect with this jejune, unfunny, disrespectful, noxious, subversive, lame, and repulsive piece of juvenile "humor"?

Ha ha.

Die, motherfuckers.

And so to bed.