Multiplayer gaming is, and has remained, a staple of the modern entertainment sphere. Since the days of LAN parties hosted in that one guy's basement, to the age of split-screen weekend parties, the ability to get together and compete against friends in some wild and otherworldly setting and fashion has only grown with time. Today, we have mega-multiplayer online titans like Fortnite, Overwatch and Apex Legends hogging the bandwidth, each with millions of players, and all competing for dominance in a market where public interest is the deciding factor in lifespan. I could go on for pages on end about the evolution of online gaming and the cultures and sub-cultures that have risen and fallen because of it, but I won't. I don't like competitive games. I did once, but not so much now. Part of this is just because I'm not the most social person. Competitive games aren't my style; I'd rather fight along side my friends than against them. For someone who's a bit of a perfectionist, what can start as a simple deathmatch can herald a sour mood that lasts all day if you don't win. I know that many will laugh this off, but I don't care. I just want to play games for the fun of it, and the experiences they offer; not for the boasting rights. It's just my personal preferences...but all things aside, there is one reason that multiplayer-centric games aren't all that great, and that's because the moment they ship, the clock starts ticking on their lifespan. Yes, PVP-focused games are born to die, more now than ever before. Many big titles rely on central servers to support their activity, and if that activity drops below a critical threshold, or the money stops flowing, the game goes poof, leaving only happy memories and a sense of having been robbed (which according to this very cool guy, you have been). Many older games don't have this problem, as their devs wisely released the server software to allow for endless replayability, but still, unless you have a very, very tight-knit collection of friends or a clan you're part of, there will inevitably come a day when you close out for the last time, never to return. No amount of bot-matches or side-content can bring back that old feeling, especially when new titles continue to pour out, providing endless distraction. I call them mayflies because they so often are; there to be enjoyed for only a brief time, until interest fades or a sequel arrives (as one almost always does). And here are five that I have personally experienced.
itself on nostalgia, but for a hard-core audience like the one it was trying to sell to, anything new is not something to be appreciated. It didn't help that there already existed another free-to-play game, supported by the same studio no less, that did a better and more period-accurate job of offering a place for arena-shooter fanatics to relive their glory days. Add to this a confusing system of micro-transactions and a bizarre format of allowing people to 'rent' and 'purchase' hero characters that in previous Quake games would've been little more than alternate skins, and you had a recipe for disaster. Really, it's no wonder the game is only getting quarterly updates and a bare trickle of new content. That's not to say the game isn't fun. But first, let's have a little clarification. For those unaware as to what an 'arena-shooter' is, it's a form of FPS game that focuses on speed, player skill and strategy, specifically on controlling key item drops. Unlike many modern shooters that force you to select your loadout prior to entering a fight, weapons and other vital collectibles such as power-ups and health-boosts are scattered throughout the map, respawning on timers which makes it critical for a good player to know when and where to be to acquire the advantage over their opponents. There's more that makes an arena-shooter stand out obviously, but what matters is the three 'S's: Speed, Strategy, and Skill. The winner of any given game will be the one who has the best command of the movement system, the best memory for map spawns and item locations, and the wisdom to combine both to outmaneuver their enemies. Rocket jumping is alive and well in Quake Champions, and still allows the smartest player to pull off bizarre and otherwise impossible kills by bouncing themselves around with explosions if they know how to manage their health and time their shots. It's all in the wrist I've been told. With that in mind, it's fair to say that Quake Champions has room for all three of these. it preserves the classically wonky movement of its predecessors, which led to the emergence of things like 'strafe-jumping' and bunny-hopping to increase momentum, while offering elaborate recreations of classic Quake maps with new high-def coats of paint. The weapon roster has been switched up a little, with the plasma gun of Quake III giving way to the nailgun of classic Quake, while preserving functionality. However, there's also the choice to switch which weapon you start out with, be it a shotgun, light machinegun, or light nailgun, subtly altering things so that every player can more immediately pursue whatever play-style they prefer rather than forcing them to seek out the gun they want right off the bat. This is a minor change though, and does little to alter the overall chemistry of the gameplay loop itself. Gamemodes are more limited than what you'll find on Quake Live, with modes like Deathmatch (all versus all until a player reaches the prescribed score), Team Deathmatch ( the same as deathmatch but team versus team), and Slipgate (a spin on team deathmatch with rounds where each player has one life per round), though more have been added since launch such as Duel (one versus one) and Instagib (deathmatch, but every player has a railgun that kills in a single shot, making for even more frantic matches). Despite this, for the short while I played, it was quite enjoyable. It's fun, fast and frenetic, and while it suffers from the drawbacks of any online-focused title (connection issues, finding a group to play with that won't stomp on you with their vastly superior skill, etc.) it's still a nice way to spend time if you have the partners to play with, and given the game is now free-to-play as previously mentioned, the only barriers to entry are the egregious and byzantine champion system itself and the hardware requirements (which can be somewhat steep seeing as it runs on a hybridized version of the id Tech engine).
which would become the progenitors of the previously-mentioned hero-shooters that now clutter the market. In fact, TF2 has a lot in common with hero-shooters by simple design, and it's not hard to see how the latter emerged from the former. Trading on the simple idea of nine unique classes, distinguished by ability, utility, and not least personality, the game has come far since the days when it was first produced as a mod for the original Quake, a fact made all the more fitting given the first title on this list. I never played much beyond the first few years of its time, but even so, it saddens me to know that, like all the other games mentioned herein, the sun is finally starting to set on this giant of online gaming. Recently, developer Valve Software has announced that it has pulled most of the personnel from its dedicated support team for producing new content in an effort to direct its energy towards newer projects. What this generally means is that new content, the lifeblood of any big online-focused shooter, has likely dried up for good. And once that happens, things generally go downhill. Of course, it's not as simple as declaring the game 'dead' and sticking a fork in it. Like any successful title, even after everyone has left, TF2 will likely live on long past its development cycle, albeit with a higher barrier to entry. Valve long ago enabled the ability for players to publicly host servers, so there's no real danger of a total shutdown like there often is with other centrally-hosted games (an advantage online shooters generally have over their other MMO brethren). In addition, the vast community it still possesses likely means that players will continue to play for another decade or two, and likely even longer. However, as time passes and more people leave, the remaining players will be the most hardcore and skilled, adding to that previously-mentioned barrier to entry. Unless you can get a whole group of friends to join you on word of mouth, getting into an online-focused FPS can be...difficult, especially when you get trounced for the thirteenth time and denounced as a 'filthy casual'. It's a testament to how vital the team medic is that the button to call for him is bound to 'E' by default, making it right next to the one used for moving forwards. This would be great, if it also didn't coincidentally tempt more than a few people to spam it and thus ruin your speakers. Of course the game's mechanics themselves are easy to learn (but hard to master, which contributed to its longevity). Each of the nine classes has their own role to play, with other classes serving as hard and soft counters to them in the hands of a smart player. The Heavy for example wields a minigun, and is generally the damage-dealer, often backed by a Medic who can use his healing medi-gun to grant temporary invulnerability as well as battlefield treatment to his comrades. Together, they can serve as a means of pushing through the enemy defenses, or if needs must, a big, loud distraction. Meanwhile, the Engineer and the Spy serve as eternal foils to one another; the first building support structures like sentry guns and ammo dispensers, the other trying to infiltrate the opposing base and/or sabotage those same structures. In addition, items earned through gameplay for various classes can alter or even totally upend the roles of some classes in a fight, such as the Dead Ringer, which allows the Spy to fake death temporarily to escape pursuit, or the wide range of claymores available to the extremely-drunk Demolitions Man, (Demoman for short), which turns him from a bomb-lobbing public health hazard to a brutal close-range brawler. All of this feeds into the various objective-base game modes, which range from simple capture-the-flag to pushing a payload through enemy defenses to destroy their base. It is, above all else, a game best played with friends, and if you want to get into it, there's never a better time than now, before the inevitable decline sets in. It's also completely and utterly free to play, something that some would say TF2 pioneered when it happened back in 2011. This is assuming of course you don't get sucked into the hat-trading economy, something else the game arguably popularized, leading to the horrible scourge of micro-transactions gamers everywhere must cope with today. But still, this is definitely a game you'll have fun with if you can find a friend or three to join you.
in on the internet-powered shooter craze, with studios rising and falling as they struggled to sell their own twist on the genre. Valve Software made a big splash of its own in those days with the release of the source code for its then-new Source engine, which kicked off even more projects, all trying to outdo each other, whether by design or aesthetics. Among those myriad children spawned by their free-handed approach to content-creation, there was Dystopia; a small, independently-developed title that, much like TF2, began life as a mod. Crafted by a tiny studio called Puny Human and released in 2005, it is still technically active, and will likely remain so for the foreseeable future, since while the original developers are mostly gone, having moved on to other projects, a dedicated team still pushes out updates now and then, and Steam serves as an official distributor, making it more 'permanent' than many other indie games of more recent times. But what makes Dystopia special, and therefore still worthwhile you might ask? Well, for one, in an age when the disease of modern-military blandness that has afflicted shooter games for decades still hasn't totally worn off, it stands out with its cyberpunk aesthetic, which as it turns out, isn't just for show. Players are separated into two teams: 'Punks' and 'Corps'; divided by looks and cause, but matched in abilities, and armed with weapons divvied up across three classes (light, heavy, and medium). There is also an array of tactical equipment available for selection, all of which has its uses in the heavily objective-oriented game modes the actions centers on. In this regard, Dystopia bears some semblance to the Tribes series, another big underground hit of that era which placed similar limitations on players. What sets Puny Humans' creation apart however can be summed up in two words (three, if you're being picky): implants, and CyberSpace. The heavy class is beefy, but he's slow and has very little room for implants. Generally the best choice if you're going to try him is something simple like a reflex booster to shorten reload times, or the leg boosters, so you can squash people by jumping on them with your armored bulk. Where class, weapons and equipment add three layers of complexity to the combat, implants add a fourth, offering specific abilities and balanced counters to those same abilities depending on player choice. The amount of hardware you can stuff into your flesh is also limited by class, and thus you are often forced to choose between firepower and flexibility. A person with a cloaking device can become invisible, but must cope with a heavy drain on energy, and the fact that they are not concealed from heat vision. conversely, a person with a Cold Suit is hidden from heat vision, but still a target for someone with a TAC scanner. And this is all just the stuff that goes on in MeatSpace. When you add CyberSpace, it gets stranger. One of the implants, called a CyberDeck, allows players to jack into terminals scattered across the game's maps, and enter an alternate, neon-glo dimension where a canny operator can change aspects of the level or grant offense and defensive advantages to their fellows in the 'real world'. This is incredibly handy, but leaves the user vulnerable while jacked in, and even then, not all CyberDecks are created equal. The Advanced Cyberdeck, which takes up a ton of slots in exchange for digital god-hood, allows the user to do even more, such as lock terminals and kill opposing players through their implants when confronted in the digital realm. Altogether, this makes the highly objective-based modes on offer vastly more interesting, essentially splitting fights between two playing fields. As shooters go, there's not much out there like it, and if you can find a team of friends to join you, I can attest from experience it is a blast to play. Experimenting with different loadouts to find your chosen style is encouraged, and it never gets so complex that you feel overwhelmed by what you can do; an important feature when making a game accessible. Too, there are no overtly overpowered abilities. The cost of implants makes every one a sacrifice to pick when choosing, and thus renders the system a tight, closed and effective one. A good player can achieve much with just a little stealth and team support, and a good hacker can totally flip the battlefield on its head if they know what they're doing. Of all the games on this list, if you play no others, this one at least should be worth at least a little your time. Plus, it's totally free, so there's that.
core of passionate fans remains to preserve it. Since then, despite becoming free to play, it has never managed to garner anything more than a 'mixed' status in terms of reviews on Steam. It's history is ironic, and in the face of modern trends, darkly prophetic. Though hailed as an okay game when it came out, it was nevertheless critically scoured for being 'unfinished' and 'incomplete' (and in my opinion, extremely dull), bogged down in technical issues that made it a pain to play for years afterwards. It's an object lesson in the importance of first impressions really; BRINK failed the first test of any multiplayer game when trying to attract players, and thus has been left with nothing, kept alive solely by morbid interest and a few die-hards who pop in now and again for the heck of it. Nobody cares about BRINK, and it's unlikely anyone ever will again. The real tragedy of it all is, the game itself had a fair bit going for it. The art style, with its mix of pseudo-realism, lanky character models, and clean white lines contrasting against rusting metal and rot, is an engaging one, and some of the costumes are quite creative. The game also features what was meant to be a revolutionary parkour system (though given how finicky it turned out, this can hardly be called a plus). The real shining star of BRINK's squandered potential though is its story, which is tied up in the bland and boring missions themselves. In fact, it might not be an overstatement to say that BRINK was among the first to try and tie its single-player content to its multiplayer aspect so blatantly. And it is a testament to how little the industry has learned that this practice has continued, at the expense of meaningful stories (does anyone even remember that WWI Call of Duty? I know I don't). Set in a not-so distant future, the plot centers around the Ark, an eco-friendly ocean-borne megastructure; a city on the waves, built just in time to see the world collapse from climate-change and global resource conflicts. The narrative follows the intricacies of a building revolution born in the hearts of the 'Guests', survivors who have formed a vast shanty-town out of beached ships and hulks around the fringes of the Ark, and who now form its laboring classes, and the efforts to suppress it by the Founders, who live in a literal ivory-white tower. For a game that sold itself on free traversal and innovative movement, the majority of BRINK's firefights still play out like this. Once a team has a choke point, it's absurdly difficult to dislodge them, and no amount of wall-running will get you through. The imagery and symbolism are on the nose to be sure, but beneath the surface, there's a bit of fairly decent writing. However, none of it is worth slogging through the bland and boring bot-matches you'd need to play in order to reveal it, especially when a synopsis exists on Wikipedia. You play the campaign in co-op of course, but unless you have very dedicated friends, you're unlikely to find anyone else online who isn't on the other side of the planet. Too, the game's competing ideas make it difficult to get a handle on. All the 'classes' on display have only mild benefits, save for the engineer, who is probably the only class you'll feel like playing as, given his ability to seal doors, build turrets, and erect barriers, all of which are critical to controlling the flow of combat. This is ironic, because part of what was meant to make BRINK unique and add a means of countering such choke-holds on the flow of play was the parkour system, marketed as the 'S.M.A.R.T.' system, or smooth movement over rough terrain. It's a big acronym for a big failure, and arguably the most disappointing part of the game. Grappling ledges; sliding; even wall-running; it's all there, and it's all horribly, painfully unpolished. It feels clunky; unbalanced and slow, made worse by the fact that it's chiefly tied to your character's build, something you can't alter once you change it. Additionally. the close quarters of the maps and limited nature of the system end up rendering it virtually superfluous to the actual action. In the end, like so much of BRINK, it just never lives up to its potential. Being fast and agile can't save you from a spray of machine-gun fire here; not like it can in Apex Legends or some other, more recent titles. In conclusion, BRINK is dull, dead and dreary disappointment, even years after its release, and while it might look shiny and white on the outside, just like the Ark itself, it's heart is corroded and unfinished. It may be free to play, but I'd still give it a miss.
prevalent among companies that make multiplayer-centric FPS games, or indeed any kind of online-only IP. The Call of Duty and Battlefield franchises are arguably the most emblematic of it, with new installments to each seemingly every year for the past decade as of this writing. However, a less extreme example can be found in Counter-Strike: Source, which, while not totally deceased like many of Activision's one-pump wonders, is still drifting slowly into the background of history, kept alive chiefly, as ever, by a small core of dedicated fans, as well as devotees of Valve's proprietary Source Engine itself. What happened, you may wonder? The same thing that happens to every older competitive game that shows signs of long-term success: it got a sequel; Counter-Strike: Global Offensive. Cursed to live in the shadow of its newer, flasher, and more easily-monetized successor, CS:S has essentially been forgotten except perhaps for its contributions to the development of early meme-culture. Those that still play are hardcore fans, and often organized into clans that compete in self-organized tournaments that are not necessarily welcoming to newcomers (indeed, many are downright toxic, even after all this time). Indeed, in its rise, fall, and entry into gaming afterlife, Counter-Strike: Source serves to illustrate another flaw in games that base their existence solely on competition, or rather, it demonstrates it from a different angle. As technology progresses, tastes change, and trends alter, it is inevitable that a multiplayer-only game will see its user-base decline. However, even if it is successful, there is nothing to save it from being done in by its own creators, leaving it to slide into the dustbin as it is supplanted by a newer, shinier (and not always better) version of itself. Of course, in these days of live-service gaming and perpetual open-beta models of distribution, things are a little more complex, and this sort of scenario is less likely to occur in the same way that it did during CS:S's era. Today, many competitive games go on to last years and years, sustained by content updates that vastly transform them from the state of their original release. However, the fact remains that even the most popular games can end up as a footnote, victims of their own success. The settings available in CS:S are mundane, yet also strangely iconic. A city warehouse; a nuclear power plant; a snowbound office-complex; a nameless town in Afghanistan; they are living proof that level design is an art that extends well beyond the visual. Setting aside the rambling though, none of what I've said is a mark against Counter-Strike: Source itself, which remains fun and enjoyable despite all the wear and tear of the years. It also has a bot-match mode for people who can't find a team to play with, though inevitably this wears stale, as it does in any game that is clearly fashioned to be played by humans against humans, which is why it helps that you can host your own server easily. The game features two primary game-modes, with intricately-fashioned maps that cater to each, focusing on rescuing hostages or defusing bombs if you play the counter-terrorists, or holding hostages and planting bombs if you wanna be the bad guys. Sessions are played in rounds, with sudden-death being quite literal in the case of deciding a toss-up. Each player also selects their arsenal from a range of real-world military tools, with their access being limited by a preset amount of 'money' to spend on equipment at the start of each round, in a way that the creators of Dystopia mirrored in their own game's design when it came to picking implants. A heavy emphasis is placed on accomplishing objectives, with combat itself being swift and decisive, as every weapon does high damage and places a heavy value on player reflexes and accuracy. It's less like the marathon frag-fests of games like Quake and more like football ironically (or rugby if you're not from the U.S.), with action swinging to and fro as both sides struggle for control of the objective in brief, sudden bouts of combat. It's a simple enough design, but with hidden meta-mechanics like any good game, there for anyone dedicated enough to discover them. What really makes CS;S unique though is the mods. Coming from an age when companies were somewhat less cagey and hostile towards fan-produced content, Counter-Strike: Source benefits from nearly twenty years of user-made material to explore and enjoy, ranging from new maps and player models, to weapons, to gameplay tweaks, to whole new modes of play. The library of content out there is staggering in scope, with notable repositories being found on Gamebanana.com and ModDB in particular. And none of this requires you to shell out even a single extra cent, which is probably the biggest and best feature that this old game has over its successor. Want to look like Ronald McDonald? Go ahead; there's a skin out there somewhere. Want to play around on a giant steamship like the Titanic? I guarantee you somebody, somewhere has made it possible. Trust me; there is fun to be had here, so long as you have the friends to join you and the will to delve deeper. WRAP-UP Every game has a shelf-life, but not every game has an afterlife. These brief review are snapshots of the life of a multiplayer-centric game. Quake Champions and BRINK were both, in a sense, stillborn; one spoiled by a legacy it failed to cash in on, the other weighed down by a sloppy release and the burden of unreachable hype. CS;S and TF2, giants in their own time, have endured thanks to their own versatility, but in the end, they too will ride into the sunset, becoming like Dystopia, which never lived its fullest life, but found a niche where it could still please. Together, they will become small, durable knots of experience held together until at last they pass into internet history, who knows how many years from now.
I suppose what I've been meaning to say with all this rambling is that I don't like competitive games for a few reasons. They don't appeal to my preference for cooperation. They seldom offer good narrative experiences (which I value highly), and while enjoyable, you need others to get the most out of them. This last part is the real kicker. An old game is an old game, and might still be fun if you pick it up with an open mind and a pre-existing interest. But an old multiplayer game? How can you ever truly get the full experience, when all the remaining players are tight-knit bands and tribes who've been playing for years, often hostile to newcomers; and that's assuming you can find any at all. No; a good single-player game is timeless...but like so much modern culture, when it comes to multiplayer games? You had to be there.
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Introduction Born late in the era of the Doom clones and under the looming success (some might even say shadow, har-har) of such titles as Duke Nukem 3D, Heretic, Hexen, Blood and others, the original Shadow Warrior was a product of 3D Realms (the maker of many such clones). Faced with the tall order of standing out among these giants in the emergent genre of the first-person shooter, it tried its best to dazzle and wow with technical feats like climbable ladders, turret sections, and vehicles, all of which would go on to become staples of the genre in later years. Sadly though, while its gameplay was strong, its story and atmosphere was not, and with the 90's fast drawing to a close (a time which would include a slew of histrionic controversies about video-game violence that would dampen the genre for years to come), many people were craving more than the usual run-and-gun adventure that had served past titles so well. Thus, while it garnered a cult following among the fans of original-generation FPS games, Shadow Warrior was left to languish in obscurity, while games like Half-Life would come to define the next decade with their blend of a cinematic experience and action. However, by the early 2010's, this situation had changed. The scandals of the late 90's had largely cooled or blown over, and a slew of bad attempts at revitalizing old franchises had filled the increasingly-mature fans of that generation with frustration, as well as a desire to do right by their childhood treasures. In hindsight, with object lessons on how to get things wrong scattered all over the place, it seems inevitable now that someone was bound to get it right. Like its inspiration source material Doom, Shadow Warrior is all about shooting demons and kicking ass, only with a magic katana instead of a chainsaw. Cowabunga, hellspawn! That someone as it happened was Flying Wild Hog Studios. Fresh off the learning curve from their experiences making Hard Reset, a game that sought to capture once again the action-packed and fast-paced mechanics of the Doom clones, they caught the attention of Devolver Digital, who themselves were old hands at such titles thanks to their work with Croteam on the Serious Sam franchise. Together, these two forces teamed up like buddy cops from an 80s action flick to produce a nostalgia extravaganza that nevertheless remained self-aware and novel enough to be engrossing for fans and newcomers alike. Now, five years later, the question remains: did they succeed? Some might argue the sequel they got is proof enough, but there's more to a good game than making money. If you want to decided for yourself, you can usually pick it up for $9.99 on Steam during a sale (or play the demo for free if you're the 'try before buying' type). If you want to hear more though, then buckle up (no seriously, this starts in a car). StoryThe plot starts with protagonist and modern ninja mercenary Lo Wang (yes, seriously) on his way to complete an 'acquisition' for his boss, the shady industrial magnate Orochi ZIlla. His goal is to get a reclusive rich man named Miyazaki to part with a master-crafted and legendary sword called the Nobitsura Kage. When money fails to do the job, he whips out his own blades and goes to work. About five minutes later, he runs afoul of Miyazaki himself, who it turns out is in league with supernatural, extra-dimensional powers. Things quickly spiral out from there, as Wang is captured and held hostage in negotiations with Zilla, before a full-scale invasion of tribal-looking demonic creatures cuts his incarceration short. He then makes 'friends' with the deceased Miyazaki's familiar, a demon named Hoji tied to a magic mask, whose connections to the sword run deep. Together, the pair set out like a two-man comedy routine made of high-caliber weaponry and flashing katanas to reclaim the sword (nominally to finish the job and get paid, though that changes later on). The underlying subplot of the history of the Nobitsura Kage and its connection to the mysterious Shadow Beings is told through beautifully-illustrated and engaging comic slides accompanied by superb voice acting. It really makes a contrast with the goofy, quip-loaded cutscenes that tell Wang's side of things. This lightning-paced storytelling is reminiscent of both the Doom clones of old, and the kung-fu flicks that the original Shadow Warrior was created in homage to. It's rapid-fire, concise, and totally goddamn bonkers. Yet unlike the original, the narrative of the reboot never feels like it's just there to push the boat along. Despite being corny, cheesy and high in calories, the main story and the central subplot (revolving around the mysterious Shadow Beings and their leader Enra, who really, really want the sword) are offset and supported by the comical banter between Hoji and Wang. The zingers and belly-aching that they bounce off one another make them seem far more human and relatable, like a duo in a buddy-cop film (specifically John Woo's Hard Boiled if we're being honest, though there's definitely a bit of Tom Hardy's Venom in the relationship too). The additional subplot of Hoji's missing memories and his ties to the sword also adds depth to the bond between the two, with tension over his role as an unreliable guide pursuing his own agenda adding an extra element of engagement. All in all, it makes for a good blend of action, comedy and mystery, which adds cinematic value to a game that otherwise lacks it. It's like Shakespeare with exploding demons and gun battles instead of florid speeches and fencing duels. Gameplay and Design The core of the gameplay is still very much rooted in the style of the Doom clones, though with obvious adjustments to make up for the passage of time. Apart from maybe one puzzle section, which is purposely lambasted with its own comedic presentation, the game flows from one combat segment to the next, relying on the action to serve as the chief tent-pole of its experience. This sets it apart from other reboots in that it plays to its own strengths rather than trying to do too much with too little. Enemies attacks are almost entirely projectile-based, with only a few brief and short-lived segments against Yakuza assassins breaking this pattern, meaning that the heart and soul of the fighting is in the movement. Lo Wang may not cover ground with the same speed as other old-fashioned FPS heroes, but he is a master of rapid side-steps and lunges, meaning that in the relatively compact combat arenas you'll face, circle-strafing or weaving between foes is a must. This is especially important at higher difficulties, where ammo is scarce, and sword-play is all that stands between you and death. In fact, it often feels like the gun-fighting takes back-seat Battles are brutal and bloody, with combos awarding you karma points that can be spent to unlock durability upgrades to fortify Lo Wang for the journey ahead. What this produces is a fast-paced blend of slicing and dicing with a sprinkling of bullets and bombastic explosions. Layered over all this like frosting on a cake is a system of chi powers Wang can invoke with button combos to enhance his abilities, including launching energy waves with his sword swings, generating a frontal shield to absorb blows, or rapid short-term healing. This last power in particular becomes vital later on, where battles become a mix of attack and retreat tactics thanks to increased enemy aggression and health. It's immensely engaging and satisfying when you master it, with enemies flying apart in a shower of blood and body parts as you dance between them like a highly-visible ninja who doesn't mind a double-digit body count. As far as visuals go, there's not a lot to say, though it doesn't mean it shouldn't be said. The game has superb visuals, even if it's seven or so years old at the time of this writing. It doesn't rely solely on its fidelity either, as some more modern titles are wont to do. All missions have unique color palettes that make areas that would otherwise be nondescript corridors and rooms feel a little more memorable. It also has some impressive set-pieces to liven things up as well, such as snowy mountain vistas, or (more impressively) a raging thunderstorm that sweeps through some docks you'll end up fighting through. The music complements everything quite well, with heavy drums and eastern flutes mixed with electric guitar chords that help sell the kung-fu action-hero vibe the game aims for. Of course that's not to say everything about the game is fine and dandy. Battles at higher difficulties can drag out for painfully long periods, especially when fighting enemies accompanied by endless waves of adds. The game can also be taxing for those with lower-end machines, as even now the graphics are on the higher end of the performance requirements scale. And as for the boss fights? They're a mixed bag, especially when playing more hardcore difficulties, which are so stingy with their ammo placement as to make it seem like all you ever have is your trusty cutting utensil. Also, the karma system used to upgrade certain abilities has very ill-defined requirements when it comes to scoring points, making its end-of-battle marks feel almost arbitrary at times. Most of all, the need to open every door and cabinet for resources feels like it could've been toned down. The complex environments don't always mesh well with hunting for money and ammo, as it's sometimes hard to tell what is and isn't something you can open. Oh, and there's this very frustrating glitch that can sometimes lead to dodging in the wrong way or at the wrong time resulting in instant death; not something you want to have to deal with when some of the fights can Final Verdict Shadow Warrior isn't perfect by any means. It has its flaws like any other game. But on the whole, it's a solid title. It's not designed to be ground-breaking; just a fun romp through a reimagined and wacky 90's cult classic. It's got story, it's got fun; it's got violence and it's got guns. But most of all, it's got heart. You might even say it has...the touch. So go check it out! You've got the power! And remember: swords don't run out of ammo! Final Score: 8.7
IntroductionThe early aughts saw the twilight of a number of major names in the electronic entertainment industry, most notably Rage Software, one of the longest-standing companies of its type in the UK. With its glory days in the distant past of the early 1990, the company breathed its last in 2003, pulled under by a mounting price of achieving a broad-enough distribution for their games to see success equal to their efforts. In its death throes, the studio released a number of creative, but poorly-marketed titles, including a game called Gun Metal: War Transformed; an arcade-styled shooter that placed the player in control of a giant mech suit capable of converting itself into a jet fighter. It is impossible not to see a sort of sad irony in this story given that years later, High Moon Studios would achieve prominence by building a series on roughly the same concept using the Transformers IP. Still, while it is no War for Cybertron, it's impossible not to respect Gun Metal for what it tried to achieve. Even with its reduced scale and arcade sensibilities, it remains a fun, if difficult game; one absolutely worth your time if you have a taste for such things. You can find it on the Steam Store for $2.99, a price that should dispel any qualms you might have about purchasing it. If you're still wary however, read on and find out why this game absolutely deserves its status as a hidden gem of bargain bins everywhere. StoryLike many games of its era which made budget sacrifices for the sake of product quality, Gun Metal's story is primarily contained in a PDF file in the game's folder. It's short and to the point, though it puts a surprising twist on things that you'd never suspect if you simply played the game without reading. After ecologically ruining the Earth, humanity's best and brightest are sent to the planet Helios to start over. Those left behind are naturally dissatisfied with the awful existence they are condemned to, and so band together to mount an invasion of the newly-settled colony world, which has naturally achieved the utopian dream. It's like Neill Blokamp's Elysium, but in reverse, and way crazier. The game picks up with the war having supposedly been all but lost. Enemy forces are closing in on the capital, and the last line of defense is you; a nameless mook driving the prototype Havoc Suit; a ten-meter tall battle-mech that transforms into a fighter jet at a moment's notice. Gun Metal's story is compact and to the point. You can enjoy it or ignore it with equal ease, because the real core of the game's experience revolves around blowing things up. This irony of technically playing for the bad guys is never really developed, which is odd, since the game lacks any multiplayer component. Given the extremely linear nature of the campaign, you'd think the developers would place more weight on good story-telling. Then again, it's probably too much to expect from a company who was better know for their arcade-cabinet creations. Regardless, what story there is serves its purpose well enough, which is to push events forwards from mission to mission. It's a silk curtain over what obviously really mattered to the creators, which is the gameplay. Gameplay and designSaid gameplay is extremely fun, all told. Everything is executed in an 'over-the-shoulder' fashion similar to most modern third-person shooter games, with the exception being that you occupy the center of the screen with a 3-D mini-map taking center stage above your character, while your crosshairs can be moved about to cover anything you can see, somewhat like classic arcade 'tank-controls' but more complex. Swapping from mech to jet can be done at any time and with the push of a button, which is quite liberating when you get used to the controls and start skipping around the battlefield from skirmish to skirmish with the ease of...well, something fast and deadly. Really it's hard to compare to the alternatively. frantic and slow pacing of the fights. On the ground, your mech mode is rather slow, but packs heavy firepower your jet mode lacks. Conversely, your jet mode is nimble, which is great when you're being hammered from every direction, but is bereft of similar heavy ordinance (at least early on). Airborne combat and ground-based combat mix in a wild form of guerilla warfare as you dodge and weave through an ever-increasing hail of enemy fire, picking off air defenses before landing to lay in with the big guns. The resulting experience is schizophrenic, yet engrossing in terms of design, with every fight a mix of harassing foes from the skies and dropping into their midst to pound them with the big guns. Combined with the recharging shields and fixed health meter that distinguished the original Halo, it's even more wonderful, creating a gameplay loop of attack and retreat that makes you feel both immensely powerful, yet tactically-limited (in a good way). Granted, the game starts to abuse the environmental hazard of giant anti-aircraft guns about halfway through (more on that in a second). Ultimately it's a good blend of limits and freedom that would be superb save for the occasional incredibly wonky behavior of the camera, which feels like it's trying to kill you as hard as your enemies, especially while making tight turns when flying. The game's linear story consists of fourteen missions, each with a different string of objectives, and each unlocking a slew of new weapons on completion. It is here sadly that the game experiences some troubles, chiefly in the form of poor pacing and balancing. The difficulty curve is manageable at first, with its basic defense and escort missions (even boss battles and stealth sections, as wild as that is), but it spikes sharply in the ninth mission, which saddles you with clearing mines ahead of a group of convoys. It's harsh and abrupt, and gets worse from there, to the point that you can barely use your mech mode anymore because of the incessant hail of lasers coming in from every direction at all times. Worse, the game really starts to abuse the flight mode as well, in the form of a late overzealous application of giant air defense guns that slaughter you if you try to fly too high. Admittedly this is less offensive since it's paired with tight canyons to encourage tricky flying, but it's used so often that it quickly becomes annoying, especially when combined with the floating mines from mission nine. Also worthy of scorn is the accelerated pace of weapon-unlocking, and the relative lack of balance they have. Sure, the guns all feel pretty unique, but you get so many so fast that you find yourself struggling to distinguish between them in terms of function. A few feel like straight upgrades as well, dealing more damage regardless of their unique abilities. It's not a huge issue, but it does lose the game some replay value, since trying old missions in new ways is really the only replay value it has. Despite looking old, or perhaps because of it, Gun Metal remains an engaging and enjoyable title from a visual perspective. Sometimes simple graphics are all that's required to keep the experience unique. Yet for all its flaws, Gun Metal remains an intense and exciting experience that has aged particularly well. A good example of why this is can be found in the beauty of the graphics. For a product of the early 2000s, this bit of mech-driven mayhem looks shockingly good, or perhaps more accurately, it looks serviceable. Everything has a certain low-poly quality that nevertheless makes the art style endearing, in the style of old-school arcade games that didn't torture themselves so much about rendering the pores on an enemy soldier's face. In this respect, the game has aged better than many of its fellows, since art style can overcome almost any deficiency in graphics if it's executed properly. That's not to say good graphics don't have their place, or that the game doesn't have issues in that respect. The sun flare effects are certainly worth turning off before playing, given the erratic camera behavior when flying can lead you to blinding yourself indoors (and no one wants to explain that sort of thing. It's too embarrassing). All in all though, it's a welcome blend of new and old, and a happy change from the usual GPU-straining hyper-realism we've all come to expect, and one suited to its subject matter. Final VerdictOverall, Gun Metal is an interesting game. In practice, it feels like an arcade title, but in concept, it strikes one as an attempt to step out of the safe space Rage Studios had been living in for so long. The tragic part is they almost succeeded. If they'd dedicated the time and energy to fleshing out the weapons a bit more, touching up the pacing and most importantly, included a multi-player feature, things might've been different. It's the seed of a great notion confined by the limitations of its creators and the time in which it was made. Still, while it might not live up entirely to its potential, it's absolutely worth the few hours it takes to complete. So saddle up and mount that mech! Your planet needs you soldier! Final Score: 8.4
IntroductionAs part of the build-up to the release of Half-Life 2, the much-acclaimed sequel to their magnum opus Half-Life, Valve Software released Half-Life: Source in June of 2004. Touted as a remake featuring the best elements of their new Source Engine, Half-Life: Source promised a bold new experience for players looking to relive the original adventure of Gordon Freeman before the time came to experience his next chapter. However, while it delivered in some respects, for the most part it left all but the most nostalgic members of the fan-base feeling cheated. Yes, the new game offered enormous graphical touch-ups such as improved water, lighting and shadows, not to mention rag-doll physics (a unique and enticing new addition for the time period). However, it also left out many of the incremental updates made through the original game's expansion packs, like enhanced world and weapon textures, or smoothed-out sound effects. In addition, it made only partial use of the new graphical powers of the Source Engine, leaving it looking both out-of-date and low-quality compared to the upcoming sequel. Because of this and numerous other flaws, the so-called 'remake' was widely reviewed as a disappointing hack-job, made to cash in quick before the release of Half-Life 2 in November of the same year. Frustrated by Valve's behavior, a team of like-minded fans banded together to fulfill the vision of a Half-Life reborn; not as a cheap, half-hearted graphical showcase, but as it was meant to be. For eight years, they struggled, pushing back their release deadline again and again, until their creation, known to the outside world as Black Mesa: Source, was viewed jokingly as vaporware; doomed to forever remain in limbo in a fashion similar to the series' elusive third installment, Half-Life 3. Finally however, in 2012, Crowbar Collective (as they had come to call themselves) released Black Mesa, a labor of sweat, tears and coding designed to give gamers the truly re-imagined experience they'd so desired. The launch version, released for free on ModDB.com and other, similar sites, featured the almost the entire Half-Life experience, starting from Gordon Freeman's initial accident in the Sector C Test Labs to his desperate leap into the unknown dimension of Xen. The only part not included were the Xen levels themselves, which due to their poor reception in the original game, were to be held back and given further attention until the devs felt comfortable with what they had made. While offering improved graphics like shiny wet surfaces, Half-Life: Source still neglected to include many other improvements, both from the original updates to GoldSource and from the new Source Engine. The result was a jarring juxtaposition of old and new that didn't really feel like it was either. Despite this minor hiccup, the downloads still poured in, and the project quickly won instant critical acclaim, gaining attention from numerous publications world-wide. Eventually Valve themselves took notice and negotiated to have it officially added to their Steam catalog, where it continues to receive updates and technical support while the creators work on finishing the final chapter. Various other updates have added fresh features, like remixed level design, Steam Workshop support, and an integrated multiplayer death-match mode (a feature originally sold separately for the original Half-Life and it's sequel). For fans of the Half-Life series everywhere, Black Mesa was a glorious moment of triumph, where the passion of the fans triumphed over the cash-driven realities of the gaming industry to breathe new life into an old classic. Now, over half a decade later, with Half-Life 3 all but cancelled and the Xen chapter still in the wind with regards to a release, the nostalgia that drove the project and those who followed it has largely faded once more. Meanwhile, Valve's new Source 2 engine is rapidly outpacing the capabilities of the aging software Black Mesa was built on (ironic given the code is a veritable tower of duct-tape with its origins stretching back to the original Quake). Perhaps now is the time to ask the stickiest question that many reviewers overlooked in the heat of those first heady days: What is the value of Black Mesa as a game by itself? Is it still fun for those who, pardon the pun, never played the source material? If you want to find out for yourself, it's available on Steam for just $19.99 (and usually less than that during their frequent sales. If you'd rather hear a bit more from someone who's been there first however, read on. With luck, a fresh perspective will help you make a more informed decision...or at least one with less unforeseen consequences. StoryWritten and conceived by Mark Laidlaw, a high-quality science-fiction and horror author, the story of the original Half-Life shares its base concept with id Software's Doom, in that the core of the story revolves around a teleportation experiment that inadvertently causes an inter-dimensional alien invasion (as they are so prone to do). There, however, the similarities largely end. For one thing, Half-Life takes place on Earth, in the New Mexico-based Black Mesa Research Facility, rather than on Mars, and instead than playing as a hulking, nameless space marine, you take the role of mild-mannered MIT graduate Gordon Freeman. This shift in perspective was and is one of the great achievements of Half-Life. In a field of game story-telling dominated by figures such as Duke Nukem and Serious Sam, Gordon's relatively mundane background and surroundings offer a sense of immersion that a muscle-bound action hero could never provide. Furthermore, because of the way that Half-Life tells much of its story through the environment and the events occurring within it, his mute nature is actually a benefit, and allows players to more easily fill his narrative shoes without the obstruction of a preexisting personality. This sets him apart from more chatty protagonists with their own problems and stories that some people might potentially find it hard to relate with. He's a blank slate, with only the world at large to tell us who he is. Black Mesa starts on a day like any other day at the top-secret research facility; with technical difficulties, clashing egos, and frustrated scientists. It's surprising how much it resembles high school. Black Mesa directly adapts the story of the original Half-Life, beginning with Gordon's initial tram-ride to the aforementioned Sector C Test Labs and his brief mingling with his co-workers; a sequence that is still being copied years later by countless other games for its ingenuity. In the original game, it was devised as a means of laying out a foundation for the setting and Gordon's role in it. As the scenery rolls past and the automated public address system babbles away overhead, the desert-bound research facility seems less and less like a convenient killing ground and more like a real place. The various scientists you can meet after the ride provide further immersion, giving the 'real setting' some 'real people' to populate it. The overall goal of the opening is to drive home the scope of the disaster when it inevitably occurs. When green lights start flashing and people start dying, suddenly it's no longer just a bunch of mindless bots executing fear animations or featureless corpses with attached text logs, but actual characters whom you were speaking with mere moments ago. Black Mesa recognizes this and takes it a step further, improving not just the environment, but the individuals in it, adding tons of funny and engaging dialogue to the scientists and security guards you meet, who also no longer look like duplicates of the same five characters repeated across the entire game. It also doesn't limit this improvement to the opening sequence. There are tons of new little world-building improvements and interactions to be found across the breadth of the game. For example, an early area charges you with guiding a band of survivors through a gauntlet of aliens where before you had to go it alone. When you finally reach a safe haven, they set up camp and wish you good luck as you move forwards. These small events flesh out the world in unique ways that cutscenes and text boxes never could, leaving you feeling like you haven't just played the game, but have almost lived it (pardon the pun). Gameplay And DesignAs remakes go, Black Mesa stays almost totally true to its roots as an old-school shooter in that there is no upgrade system or collectibles to speak of; only raw action and quick thinking. Like most 90's-era first-person shooters, the core loop of gameplay revolves around the player being given an arsenal of increasingly destructive and weird weaponry while being pitted against ever-more difficult enemy encounters and ambushes, forcing them to employ their wits and cool to stay alive under fire. Regarding the guns, almost nothing has changed save for increased texture and model definition. All the old fan favorites are present, including the crowd-pleasing SPAS-12, the versatile MP5 sub-machine gun, and the Colt .45 hand-cannon. For those who prefer the odder options, such as the alien Hive Hand and the experimental Tau Cannon (both of which are acquired in highly amusing circumstances), those too are also still available, and just as wacky as they were in 1999. There are very few definite changes to mention beyond the addition of the ability to use the iron-sights on the Colt, and the improvements made to the handling of grenades and satchel charges thanks to the application of the Source Engine's improves physics. The latter is probably the largest alteration, and the most welcome, given that thrown objects in GoldSource tended to behave...strangely, to say the least. When a scientist warns you about abusing an experimental hand-held particle laser, you should really listen. Larry, sadly, didn't listen, and now he's a Jackson Pollock painting. As a game, however, Half-Life has always stood on its level design and plethora of environmental options to stand out in the crowd; a trend that Black Mesa continues in spades. Crowbar Collective has distinguished their creation by ensuring that whatever changes they might've made to the layout of the B.M.R.F., the player still has multiple paths of approach most situations, either physically or tactically. The majority of the fights take place in open or semi-open spaces, which helps to offset the largely linear nature of the game's progression (a lesson that many early corridor-shooters failed to pick up on, sadly). Where they don't though, there are air-vents, side passages, and plenty of crates or concrete dividers to serve as cover. There are also an enlarged number of choices when it comes to sowing chaos and tipping the odds. The improved physics means that explosive barrels can be used to set traps, and that later in the game, the military's tripod-mounted auto-turrets can be picked up and moved for your advantage. Your enemies can even be used against one another, as every veteran who has lured a hapless HECU marine into a barnacle's grasp knows. Of course the integration of these new mechanics to combat is not the sole advantage Black Mesa has on its side. In true homage to Half-Life 2, the devs have also done their best to include the occasional new physics-based puzzle; something else that the entire franchise was once known for. Old areas that were once no more than a slog to find and press a button thanks to limited hardware and design options now feature clever and intuitive spaces that make the player pause and think. Some might argue that this is where the creative liberties Crowbar Collective have taken are most called into question, simply because while the new puzzles add content, they also potentially disrupt the carefully-crafted pacing of the original game. Certainly, there are some spaces that are left feeling oddly arrested. 'On A Rail' is one of the most heavily-edited chapters in terms of length, and while its cramped spaces and tight corners offer lots of tension, it ends too soon to feel like it really fits with the rest of the adventure. It's an example of how important pacing is when gauging the totality of the experience. One good example is 'On A Rail', a chapter that leaned heavily on puzzles relating to Gordon riding an electric tram cart through a disused cargo transport network. The original version of the section went on for a good forty-five minutes which were stretched out by dull and uneventful backtracking through concrete passages that normally would make people cheery to know that the revised version terminates abruptly at the launching of the satellite rocket after only twenty or so minutes of running and gunning. When held up against the community-created 'uncut' version of the level however, which features a massive train-yard battle to keep the action flowing, one can't help but feel there were some lost opportunities on the part of the developers. Still, at the end of the day, the final experience is up to the player and their endurance. As with 2016's revision of DOOM, Black Mesa is a rather long game that involves doing one thing over and over in as many ways as possible. Whether or not that's something the player can endure or enjoy is an open question that only you can answer. Final Verdict There's not much else to be said about the meat of the experience. It's impossible to deny that as a remake, Black Mesa had a limited window for innovation to begin with, but it is equally impossible to refute that what was produced was nothing less than brilliant given the tools and artistic space on hand. It is undoubtedly a throwback, and more likely to pick up points with those who feel a deeper connection to gaming's past, but that doesn't make it less valuable for those looking for something new. Gordon' adventure is an action-packed one, and its subtle mysteries and breadth of experiences to be had make it as enticing as any modern FPS. Even the soundtrack, whimsical and sentimental as it so clearly is, easily stands on its own for all the inspiration clearly present in its construction. In short, Black Mesa is a good game, not just for long-time fans, but for new ones too. It's a testament of how far we've come, and how much further we still have to go in the field of game-making. So grab your HEV suit (no helmet included), and slap on some glasses, because as every action movie worth watching has taught us, at the end of the day, it's always down to the nerds to save the planet. Final Score: 8.9
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I'm a blogger. I review games, mods, or whatever else I feel like, and voice my thoughts for your entertainment (and my portfolio). Reviews
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