Let’s see if this scenario is familiar to any of you:  You’re six hours into a single sitting playing an RPG.  You’ve managed to level up your character to around level 8 or 9, you’ve completed some objectives and are well on your way in the game.  You’ve saved manually a number of times, with the game autosaving at preset intervals, so you think you can shut it down and do other things, then come back and pick up where you left off.

The next day you fire up the game and select a file to load — and the game crashes to your desktop.  Annoyed, you try another file — with the same result.  Now you’re more than annoyed.  So you try one more time — another crash.  Now you realize that you’ve just wasted 25% of a day that you’ll never get back playing a game that you’ll never finish.  You search for patches in vain, discovering that a patch was supposed to be in the works two months ago and it still hasn’t been released.  So you admit defeat and decide to uninstall, only to find that the game just doesn’t want to be uninstalled!  It fights back against Windows Control Panel for more than five minutes before finally giving up the ghost.

Sound familiar to anybody?

This is the dark side of the world of PC gaming.  Console gamers have the upper hand on us mouse-and-keyboard folks in very few areas, but this is one of them.  Xbox users don’t have to worry about patching their games when bugs that have escaped the QA process leap up and bite them in the virtual behind.  But when things go wrong in a PC game, we have to search through website after website for patch files to rescue us from our frustration.

What brought all of this ranting on?  Guild 2: Venice, that’s what.  JoWood’s stand-alone expansion pack for Guild 2.  Without doubt the buggiest retail PC game I have ever played.  So buggy, in fact, that I was told not to write the Avault review of the game, the first time this has ever happened to me.  Let me give you just a taste of the things that are wrong about Guild 2: Venice:

Character pathfinding makes no sense.  Characters will take the most circuitous route possible to get from Point A to Point B, but other times will walk straight through walls and other characters.  My character once stopped walking in the middle of a bonfire and never reacted, as if he were some sort of superhero (and believe me, he was the biggest dork to be found in 15th-century Venice).

A 24-hour clock marks the time of day.  At the end of the day, the screen goes black and a title caption shows that you have advanced one season and four years before the start of the next day, yet your characters never show a single sign of aging, other than on their profiles, which indicate that their numerical ages have increased.

Your characters speak Latin most of the time.  Not even I am old enough to have had Latin classes in high school; the only Latin I know I learned from singing classical music in college choirs.  These characters could have been making all sorts of nasty comments about me and I’d never know the difference.

Indentured servitude seems to have been prevalent in the 1400s.  The poor soul pulling the cart that took my manufactured goods to market never left the cart, never slept, didn’t even try to get out of the rain.

One of the ways to increase your standing in the Venice community is to get married.  You do this by stalking an appropriate prospective mate, plying them with compliments, kisses, embraces and gifts.  When they finally say “I Do” and you retire to your marital bed, the curtain leading to your bedchamber is drawn, and after about 10 seconds of silent wooing, you hear your character’s voice saying (and this is a direct quote), “I believe you are with child, my wife.”  Was everyone an OB/GYN in the 15th century?  Or as fertile, for that matter?

Occasionally your buildings come under attack by ruffians from rival families.  You know this because a narrator voice urgently intones, “A building is under attack!”  Why it’s worded this way, I don’t know, since it’s never anyone else’s building being attacked.  Anyway, if you change the camera and watch the battle, you notice that the attackers are completely oblivious to the city guards who arrive to stop them, and never even turn to face them as the guards pummel them to dust.  Which is almost literally what happens, since dead ruffians slowly melt into the ground after they have been defeated.

And at least once, I heard thunder rumble out during a snowstorm.  When’s the last time you heard that happen?

All of this is bad, but the straw that breaks the cart-puller’s back is the constant corrupting of save-game files.  Figuring this game out was tough enough.  I had never played the original Guild games, the seven-part tutorial in Venice is helpful but not even close to being comprehensive, and the publisher did not include a printed manual, choosing instead to put a PDF file on the install disk.  But after finally getting comfortable with the game’s mechanics and making some progress, to have to go back almost to the beginning because most of my save-game files were corrupted finally forced me to throw in the towel.

With all the nonsense we as PC gamers constantly hear about the imminent demise of our favorite hobby, you’d think that publishers and developers would put more care and effort into making games playable out of the box, a problem that our console brethern never really have to endure.  But the thing that burns me the most about the travesty that is Guild 2: Venice is that I have wasted almost 20 hours of gaming time that could have been put to much better use.

Excuse the blasphemy, but it almost makes you want to be a console gamer…

Anyone who has spent any time on gaming message boards in the last 18 months is probably as pleased as I am that the seemingly endless “Vista Sucks” threads have started to vanish.  They started springing up like weeds almost before delivery-truck doors clanged shut in January 2007, and continued unabated for months.  Recently they’ve become less prominent, especially since the release of Service Pack 1, but the Vista Haters Club could be making a comeback with the announcement, highlighted in the Avault news, that Microsoft is pushing forward development of their new operating system, Windows 7.  So, in anticipation of the renewal of the XP vs. Vista spam wars, I’ve decided to cast the first stone — in favor of Windows Vista.

I was one of the thousands of consumers who purchased Vista Home Premium on release day.  I have been building and rebuilding my PCs every year since 2000, and in February it was time to start again.  Generally I try to avoid being an early adopter of new technology, and I knew what I faced with Vista: potential problems with hardware and drivers, activation issues, software compatibility, etc.  I even compounded my possible grief by ordering the 64-bit version of the OS. I was installing a 64-bit processor, so I thought it made sense to pair it with a 64-bit OS, but once the rig was built and everything was installed, almost everything worked like a charm.  The only glitch was with Creative, who took so long delivering a Vista 64-compatible driver that I got tired of waiting and switched to Auzentech, who had Vista drivers ready from Day 1.

So, scratch the compatibility problem.  Activation was a bit more tricky.  Microsoft had mailed me the 64-bit install disk without including a product code, leaving me 30 days to activate before my disk would magically transform into a frisbee.  I had to call customer service to get a product code, and after the language barrier was surmounted (isn’t outsourcing a wonderful thing?), I was set to go.

Then there’s the software.  So far, in almost two years of use, I’ve only had a handful of programs that would not run on Vista, even in compatibility mode, and they were ancient games over which I didn’t lose any sleep.  Everything else that I’ve installed has run flawlessly, including the handful of Direct X 10 games that have been released; in fact, the biggest problem I had with the DX10/Vista exclusive Halo 2 was with Windows Live, the online matching service that Microsoft still hasn’t managed to bring to the same success level as the service’s older cousin, Xbox Live.

I know that, with the endless variety of PC setups out there, my results certainly vary with those of most users.  I also know that there is a legion of XP loyalists out there who refuse to be dragged, kicking a screaming, into the future.  It’s odd that these folks forget that their favorite OS was no prize when it was first released, and that it took time for the kinks to be worked out before it became the rock-solid operating system to which they cling so protectively.  But Vista SP1 has made an already fairly stable OS even more reliable, and since Vista comes preinstalled on almost every PC sold in stores in the world (at least those without a piece of half-eaten fruit on the case), it’s time to give up the XP ghost and move ahead with the rest of us.  Hardware is supported, the drivers are current and functional, and the vast majority of software is totally compatible.  Will I jump to Windows 7?  If it offers improvements that enhance the PC gaming experience, absolutely.  But for now, I’m completely satisfied with Vista, and I don’t regret the last 18 months in the least.

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I don’t know about you, but when I pay full price for a game, I want to get the most out of it.  And for me, that means finishing it.  By any means necessary.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a casual puzzle game or a life-sucking enterprise such as Elder Scrolls: Oblivion; there’s no point in starting the journey unless you have every intention of reaching journey’s end.  And if I need help to reach that end, I’m going to reach out for it, whether that entails calling a friend and saying, “I’m at this bridge with a big hole in the middle and I can’t figure out how to cross it.  What the @#$% do I do now?”, or asking the same question (with the same colorful epithets, of course) on message boards, or (gasp) downloading a walkthrough.

Into this situation steps Jonathan Blow, creative mind behind the Xbox Live Arcade hit puzzle game Braid.  For those of you who haven’t experienced this quaint yet mind-twisting time-sink, you play a young lad named Tim who travels through six levels of platform puzzles in search of the princess of his dreams.  The game’s big hook is the idea of time alteration.  There’s no death in Braid; if Tim get smacked by an enemy, hitting a controller button rewinds the action so that you can alter your strategy and get Tim past his obstacles.  Later on, you get shadow versions of Tim to control, and other subtle but frustrating variations conspire to raise your blood pressure.

Anyway, Jonathan Blow appeared recently on one of the major gaming podcasts and told his audience that he doesn’t want them to seek help to get through Braid.  He believes consulting walkthroughs or watching YouTube videos robs the player of the accomplishment derived from figuring out the game on his or her own, and at face value, he’s probably right.  There were parts of Braid that I solved all by myself, and I have to admit that I was damn proud of myself for it.  But as it progressed and my mind started to get absorbed by the hand-painted graphic style and the non-stop Renaissance-era music, the levels started playing with time and characters more and more until I just couldn’t make sense of what to do or when to do it.  And when that happens, it’s a quick trip to my favorite FAQ site for me.  And considering the number of YouTube videos posted about this game, I’m obviously not the only one.  So, Jonathan, while I respect the time, effort and creative talent involved in creating Braid, I don’t need you telling me how to get the most out of it.  Unless, of course, you’re willing to refund my 1200 MS points, that is.

For better or worse, I seem to be Avault’s go-to guy for point-and-click PC adventure games.  And that’s fine; one of the things I love about this gig is that I get to play games that I probably wouldn’t buy for myself otherwise.  But a major factor in all of the Mist wannabes I’ve played in the last eight months is the need for a walkthrough to finish them.  This made me recall an ongoing argument to be found on a number of gaming forums concerning whether or not using a walkthrough while playing a game is cheating.

I have about 70 games on a shelf in my apartment, waiting to be played.  For almost all of those, I have found, reformatted, edited and downloaded walkthroughs from a variety of Web sites (walkthrough authors are notorious for not being able to find their spell-checker buttons).  Many trees have been sacrificed for this gaming asset; the combined pages require six large ring-bound notebooks to hold them all.  I try not to use them, but I’m what I call a Completionist.  When I start a new game, I don’t remove it from my hard drive until one of three things happens:

I finish the game

A fatal bug prevents me from finishing the game

I get stuck and a walkthrough is not available for the game

I used to supplement my walkthroughs with the corresponding god-mode cheats, but I don’t do that much anymore; either my skills have increased or games aren’t as tough as they used to be (the latter being more likely).  But I always go to the greatest of lengths to finish what I start.  And this is often impossible without a walkthrough.

I’ve heard the argument before — using anything but the materials that came with the game is cheating.  My attitude is that designers don’t set out to make games that you can’t finish.  As long as you don’t alter the program to allow you to complete it, anything that you can use to help you get to the end should be acceptable. Is it cheating to ask a friend for help?  How about calling publisher-sponsored hint lines?  Taking this kind of help is just like using a walkthrough, so I say, no.

How about you?

According to scorehero.com, on June 3, 2008, a Guitar Hero III player using the screen name iamchris4life completed what is claimed to be the first documented FC of “Through the Fire and Flames” on Expert.  For those unfamiliar with GH3 lingo, this means that he successfully played all of the notes in the song and maintained an average score multiplier of 4x on the incredibly demanding song by the British metal band Dragonforce.  This is amazing news for GH players, to be sure, but I mention it because of the surprising amount of hate being slung his way by so-called “real musicians” on gaming website message boards.

Well, I’m a ”real musician,” and I want to shake this guy’s hand.

I really didn’t want to come back to this topic.  I have already written about my ongoing obsession with all things Guitar Hero (and now, Rock Band), and I’m sure my friends are starting to get tired of me talking about it.  But when someone says things like, “The fact alone that I play a real instrument automatically makes me better than him,” I feel the need to put the jerk in his place.

Let me put what Chris has done in some perspective for the uninitiated.  “TTF&F” is the Holy Grail of GH3.  It’s arguably the hardest song in the game, running a fast and furious 7+ minutes.  The song on Easy mode contains 1,102 notes, about twice as many as most of the other songs in the game; I’ve only managed 1,095 of them so far, developing the beginnings of carpal tunnel syndrome in the process.  On Expert, there are 3,722 of them.  That’s 531 notes per minute; almost nine per second.  And aside from one spot where you get to play some long power chords to rest, those 3,722 notes are non-stop.

I’ve been playing musical instruments since I was 9 years old.  I have a bachelor’s degree in Music Education, and I’ve been composing, arranging and conducting for a local concert band for many years.  I feel certain that all of this makes me a “real musician.”  For the last two months I’ve been playing GH3, and I have an idea of what Chris has gone through to become so proficient.  The dexterity and hand-eye coordination required to play this game at a high level is extraordinary, not to mention the endurance and concentration needed to perfect one’s skills so that accomplishing the “TTF&F” full combo can even be contemplated.

So what’s with all the derision?  Why do people such as the one I quoted earlier (that’s a direct quote, by the way) feel they have such a sense of superiority over gamers such as iamchris4life?  Is Guitar Hero a guitar simulator?  Of course not.  There’s much more involved with playing the real instrument.  Your fingers have to move both horizontally and vertically over the fretboard, and there’s a tuning problem that GH players don’t have to face.  But to dismiss out of hand a GH player’s accomplishments merely because he’s playing a plastic guitar controller denies him the respect due to someone who has dedicated a large chunk of his young life to be great at something he loves to do.  And that’s just not right.

So Chris, from me and everyone out there who applauds your latest feat:  Congrats, and keep on rockin’!

Damn you, James Perry Jr.  Damn you to the Eighth Circle of Hell.

Jim is the man who hooked me on Guitar Hero III.  In the space of two hours, he transformed me from a mild-mannered PC gamer into a hopeless rock-and-roll slave.  And all because of a few minutes pushing buttons on a toy guitar.

Until about a month ago, the only reason I owned an Xbox 360 was because I had some Best Buy gift cards burning a hole in my pockets last year.  In the 12 months that I have owned the console, I might have spent a grand total of eight hours using it, mostly playing Jewel Quest and the first few levels of Gears of War and Lost Planet before the controller tied my fingers in knots.

But that all changed when I accepted an invitation to watch a hockey game at Jim’s home.  After the game, he and his wife fired up Guitar Hero III on their PS2, played on their own for a few minutes and asked me if I wanted to try it.  I was reluctant at first; I had heard about the game, of course, but I had never seen it played, much less played it, and I had no desire to embarrass myself.  After a quick trip through the tutorial, there I was, rocking out (sort of) with Pat Benatar and Foghat.  Two hours later, everybody was about to go home for the night, but there I was, standing in Jim’s living room with the guitar over my shoulder, trying to convince someone to play more co-op with me.  It took me days to get “Slow Ride” and “Barracuda” out of my head.

Less than 24 hours later, I was back at Best Buy, buying the game for myself for my mostly neglected Xbox.  The obsession had begun, a life-changing condition that continues unabated to this very day.  Witness the depths of my addiction:

For two weekends in a row after buying the game, I found myself staying up until 4:30 am working my way through the easy-level career mode and challenging online players to faceoff matches.

I linked my Xbox Live gamertag to the Guitar Hero website and joined online tournaments, consistently finishing in the top 25% of the competitors (still in easy mode, of course; I might be fairly good as a newbie, but I’m late to the party, and most of the people playing at higher levels can easily kick my ass).

I saw a co-worker playing the game on her cell phone, but my phone wasn’t sophisticated enough to play it, so I immediately bought a new one.

I purchased and downloaded all of the game’s songs on iTunes, but I needed something on which to play them, so I bought my first MP3 player and spent a sleepless night converting all 60 songs so that they would play on my new gadget; I’m listening to the songs as I type this.

I’ve started signing some of my personal emails Lars Umlaut, Guitar God.

And I suspect that I will be one of the first in line to buy the Nintendo DS version when it’s released in June.

I have never been so totally absorbed by a game before in my life, and I can’t think why.  Maybe it’s filling in a hole in my musical education (I was a music major in college, but my concentration was in Mozart and Beethoven, so I had very little interest in headbanging).  Maybe it’s giving me performance opportunities that I wouldn’t have found otherwise.  Or maybe it’s just a mid-life crisis.  But a close friend who has been following my Guitar Hero exploits recently sent me an email in bold, 72-point red type with one message:

YOU NEED HELP!

And she’s probably right.  There’s no way I’m getting past “Through the Fire and Flames” on my own…

Before I became a game addict, I was (and still am) a movieholic; by my own count, I have seen 4,266 different movies in theatres since January of 1983.  In that time, I’ve seen lots of quirky personalities in the movie business, but few have sparked the level of vitriol from fans than the gaming industry’s favorite punching bag, director Uwe Boll.  And Boll has fought back, literally; several years ago he challenged members of the gaming press to actual boxing matches.  Also, in a YouTube video response to the recent Internet petition circulating to stop him from making more movies, Boll takes shots at Michael Bay and George Clooney and declares himself to be “the only genius in the whole f***ing business.”

Personally, I give Boll tons of credit for what he does and the way he does it.  Since 2003, he has made four movies based on video games — House of the Dead (2003), Alone in the Dark (2005), Bloodrayne (2005) and In the Name of the King: A Dungeon Siege Tale (2007); his adaptation of Postal is to be released on May 23, and a film version of Far Cry in the works.  He avoids the rat race of the Hollywood system by finding private funding for all of his films, with budgets ranging from $10.2 million for House of the Dead to $60 million for In the Name of the King.  He has managed to attract some of the movie industry’s most recognizable performers to appear in them, including Michael Madsen, Ben Kingsley and Christian Slater.  And he has the courage (or foolhardiness, most would say) to release Postal one day after the opening of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, expected to be one of the summer’s biggest box-office draws. 

As gamers, I think we owe Boll credit for his boundless chutzpah.  He does things when he wants and how he wants, without regard to the response he’s likely to get, and he’s not afraid to speak his mind.  Are Boll’s movies likely to be mentioned at Oscar time?  Of course not.  But there’s no such thing as bad press; how many more copies of the games made into Boll films have been sold that might not have been otherwise?  Anything that expands the popularity of our hobby, no matter how unorthodox, has to be a good thing.