Lucidity takes place in the world of dreams -- a world filled with Dreamers, real people who dream without awareness, and Lucids, those few who understand where they are, have a sense of self, and can learn to manipulate the dreamworld to their own advantage. The players, naturally, are Lucids.
Yet "a sense of self" only takes you so far; the Lucids have snatches of remembrance from their former life, and the process of character creation is, in fact, a matter of deciding how many memories you sacrifice for the sake of power and sanity -- and what things you do remember. You can bargain with the Dream King (that is, gamemaster) for some additional memories, by taking disadvantages in exchange.
If James Lipton interviewed game creators, he'd have Edmund McMillen sit across the table, then state with breathless, definitive poise: "And then you did Clubby The Seal."
This is the work of a deranged, austere soul: a badland vista, a range of horrible, mutant creatures, an alien fetus, a living ball of tar. Compiled together, you have more carcinogens and tasty flavor additives than an industrial cigarette. He's a brimming, creative LED, burning efficiently but also with a sickly, radioactive aura, his distortions splurging as if through a spigot.
The first project listed in the collection is Gish, which many saw upon first release as a benchmark of quality in the then young "indie" segment. Collaborating with a programmer buddy, McMillen carved the distinct character designs and aesthetic of the bizarre, tar-tastic roll-scape. The results marked a major milestone in his career.
Over only a few years, McMillen has been involved with the creation of 11 more games, mostly short-form casual/art/warped jaunts into a rapid imagination. His web comic, The Outlands, paints the setting from which five of these titles are mined. Each one puts you in the role of a different mutant species existing in the fraid desert. A Cactus that kills not for food, but for sport; an in vitro glob of flesh called a "dumpling"; a skull-toothed brain parasite; a wispy, wailing whelp. What's most striking is that these are not merely cosmetic explorations, each game is its own. While Host and Peashy are typical 2d, spatially-oriented, collision-em-ups, the Whelting and Dumpling games are pretty fresh dynamics, like Diner Dash meets Rosemary's Baby meets Mr. Rogers meets Planescape: Torment. Why not?
His most intriguing works, however, are his latest.
When Coil was released, the Jay Is Games mailing list was buzzing with discussion. Many of us wanted to praise it, with some claiming to "get" it, and others enjoying the vague mystique. One woman called it "totally offensive shit". Coil is an "art game" more firmly than his other work, by far, having you play mini-games, without instruction, that mark periods of a pregnancy. Thematically, it's a more somber look at gestation as a game arc, originally played out in Viviparous Dumpling. Its text leaves implications of a rape victim coming to terms with her condition... or does it? The meaning, like the gameplay, is largely open to inference.
His most recent title was Twin Hobo Rocket, a phallic-themed game where you and your hobo friend sit at the base of a rocket, trying to hit up aliens for change. Hilarious bits of speech annotate this hallucinated fund-raiser. It's a nice yo-yo back from the avant-garde ineffability of Coil.
The compilation site is hosting Windows-only, .exe builds of these titles. However, with an easy bit of Googling, you can play the Flash builds in your browser. I asked McMillen if he wouldn't compile and host .swf files, but he declined. I guess he's pretty much giving the finger to all non-Windows people. That's ok, he's a fucking genius.
La La Land is a series of surrealist platformers by TheAnemic, and La La Land 5 is probably the clearest expression in a series that was probably never meant to be clear. You play Biggt, who now looks like the bat-boy dressing up as David Lynch; you run around with the left and right, up to jump, and down to throw bibles. You see, you're a Bible Salesman(tm) and you're out hustling your wares on pink fish that go to sleep when you toss them long-bound tomes like axes from Castlevania. Did I mention how fucking genuis this is?
Go play it now, then come back and reflect with me. (Spoilers after the break.)
Submitted by EmilyShort on Thu, 02/14/2008 - 22:31.
The Chinese Room is a little like Norman Juster's Phantom Tollbooth in interactive form. Taking place entirely in the realm of philosophical thought experiment, The Chinese Room tackles questions about the nature of perception, the foundations of ethical systems, and the theoretical basis of calculus. If you've ever wanted to meet Aristotle or Karl Marx in text adventure form, this is your opportunity.
Shit Game is another surrealistic platform game in the tradition of Psychosomnium, some Knytt mods, Game Game Game and Game Again, or Mindscape. The title comes from a self-aware amateurishness, the hand drawn graphics, the midi-fied top-20 singles form the 90s, the sloppy collision detection mechanics. The sloppiness is part of the charm, this isn't just another game where you push the left and right arrow keys to move and shift to jump, this is an exploration of shit, the shit that lies within us all.
Submitted by EmilyShort on Sun, 10/14/2007 - 22:27.
The Baron is a provocation, both in form and in content: in form, because it requires the player to choose not only actions but also an ethical philosophy; in content, because it asks what moral options remain for a person who recognizes himself as monstrous.
The design uses -- and takes full advantage of -- the text adventure format. Many parsed commands are followed by a multiple-choice question, asking us why we've made the choice we made. The motivation then colors the description that follows. Killing a small animal out of sadism is shown as a very different from killing it as an act of mercy.
Games can do two things really well. They can be Fun, and they can be Not-Fun. Lots of games are Fun and Not-Fun in a mediocre way, and some games are amazingly good at being Fun. But when a game is great at being Not-Fun, the deep play of the mind comes tumbling down the mouse.
Like Ayiti: The Cost of Life, but in a totally different aesthetic, game, game, game and game again is not fun to a point of exquisite craftsmanship, but then turns around and surprises you with a sort of pleasure you didn't quite expect. The game combines the simple platform mechanics of Mario with sketch/crayon/scribble graphics (hanging together nicely) and post-post-modern lyric poetry. Great audio and video Easter eggs are scattered throughout.
I'm of two minds about posting this game -- because in some ways it's utterly brilliant, and in some ways it utterly sucks. The site is supposed to be pointing you to "the good stuff," and it's hard to characterize this game as that, exactly; parts of it I'd rate a 10 out of 10, and parts of it a 1. But perhaps, in a way, that's why you should take a look; there's a lot to be learned from Vigil, both in terms of things that games should be doing, and in terms of things they should eschew.
The good things about Vigil (marketed as Victi in Europe) are immediately apparent. The visual style is strikingly original and viscerally appealing. It's a 3D graphic adventure, but the graphics are stark black-and-white, with splashes of color used for impact--something like the cinematic version of Sin City, but even more impactful in a game context, where nothing of the kind has ever been seen before.
Distinctive, Surrealistic, Serene (and at $7, a bargain)
Some games, like Myst, feel like art because of the nature of their audio and visuals. Kalimée is of this type. The visuals are simple, but nicely textured 3D, and inspired by the surrealist painting of Salvador Dali; the music is excellent and peaceful ambient techno.
...Because XCom is a trademark owned by Atari. But Laser Squad Nemesis is the true intellectual and gameplay heir of XCOM: UFO Defense (published in Europe as UFO: Enemy Unknown), the best-selling and best-loved computer game of 1995. No surprise there; Julian and Nick Gollop developed both games. But as is typical in this industry, they signed away all IP to get XCOM published.
If there were any justice in the world, they'd be spoken of in the same breath as Sid Meier and Will Wright--but in the late 90s, they found themselves with no publisher contract and no real hope of one, cast onto the slagheap by an industry that prizes brands above all and places no value on talent. And someone else owned the brand.
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