Luke Puke 最近的評論

For me, the strongest point of Mordhau is how it enables to create and play according to own style. Mordhau's customization options are broad, and they are not hidden behind paywalls. One is free to experiment with minimal restrictions and shape playing style according to personal fantasies and desires, allowing to craft an individualized experience. However, this freedom to create one's own experience means that Mordhau does not provide a definite experience by itself, instead requiring players to create their own with the tools provided. Mordhau provides the bare bones basics of a multilayer game whilst featuring in-depth fighting mechanics, a wide variety of medieval weaponry, and a king-sized garderobe of cosmetics to enable all kinds of roleplay. Consequently, everyone's experience in Mordhau will be unique. I would like to share my own Mordhau experience.

I migrated to Mordhau from another game of the same genre: "Chivalry: Medieval Warfare." When Mordhau was first announced, I was very excited about its promises of polished fighting mechanics and unprecedented customization options. These promises directly targeted Chivalry's weak points. Back then, I imagined Mordhau to be "Chivalry, but better." This was a misjudgment, since I failed to consider Chivalry's strong points, which were plenty. This misjudgment consequently led to initial disappointment in Mordhau.

Mordhau delivered on every promise better than I anticipated: its melee weapon systems were refined, and there were more available customization options than eyes could observe. I was very happy and spent hours creating virtual knights and learning new mechanics. Nevertheless, as novelty began to wear off, I started to notice missing things which I took for granted in Chivalry. For instance, map objectives did not have context behind them. In Chivalry, objectives were 'capture the village and kill the peasants," "use balistas to destroy ships with enemy reinforcements," "break through barricades and kill the royal family," etc. In Mordhau, you had to "capture the point," "kill an NPC," along with other basic multiplayer objectives. To further contrast the two different approaches, here's a comparison of the "push the cart" objective: In Mordhau, one simply had to push a cart from point A to point B. In Chivalry, one had to push an explosive petard to blow up city gates, deliver a cart full of plague-ridden bodies to the enemy's water supplies, bring a battering ram to guarded castle gates, and so on. Technically, it's the same objective: stand next to a moving point until it arrives at a predetermined destination. However, objectives in Chivalry felt engaging, immersive, and epic due to the context surrounding them. In Mordhau, objectives were implemented on a basic technical level, making them abstract, boring, and unengaging.

Contextual objectives were not the only missing feature. Mordhau maps weren't as atmospheric, complex, and beautiful as Chivalry's, musical compositions felt bland and unexciting in comparison; and voice lines were not as charismatic. Worst of all for me, there was no sense of unity in teams. Chivalry's combat mechanics were cumbersome and rigid, which forced players to stick together in order to overpower enemies with numerical superiority. Everyone had each other's back, and there was a strong sense of community. It seems there were hidden positives to having unwieldy fighting mechanics. This said, I still enjoyed Mordhau's mechanics more. Even though Mordhau's refinement and movement speed allowed people to go about by themselves, which made battlefields very chaotic, where everyman fights for himself.

Mordhau could not offer a well-crafted experience like Chivalry did. I felt like Mordhau could offer only a bland, typical multilayer game experience one may find in games like "Battlefield" or "Call of Duty." My friend summarized this feeling perfectly with: "It's basically like any modern FPS game with 64 player conquest maps, but with swords instead of guns". I felt disappointed, but I did not give up on the game. I loved fighting mechanics and customization, but I felt like massive battlefields were a massive letdown. I decided to focus on the things I loved about Mordhau and moved to play duels, where I could focus on character customization and fighting.
When escaping a tyrant, you escape to a desert. When escaping disappointment from massive battlefields, I escaped frustration from competitive dueling. Ranked dueling was stressful and infuriating. After each round, ranking points were either added or subtracted. One could have risen or one could have fallen any round. Defeats were taken personally, and victories bred a fear of losing. On one hand, under dueling conditions, I could utilize the best parts of Mordhau to their fullest extent. On the other hand, dueling was so stressful that I could not enjoy these parts. The game made me unreasonably angry and sad. At one point, I realized: "Even winning isn't fun." "I try to win only to prevent myself from feeling angry." After this realization, I decided not to waste my time being mad at the game. Instead, I decided to learn from it—from the anger Mordhau sparked in me. My line of thinking was: "If I can't use this game for fun, I will use it for learning." "It makes me mad, so I can practice staying calm under stressful stimuli, such as competition and hostility." I had all the tools at my disposal. Mordhau allowed me to create my own style, which fit my goals.

The style I sought depended on striking a balance between various factors. I designed my warrior to be weak enough to put me at a major disadvantage in front of enemies, but strong enough to give me a reasonable chance of winning. The reasoning was: "I don't want to focus too much on victory, but I also don't want to be too demotivated to fight." I dressed my warrior in clothing that provided no armor and had bland colors. Nontheless, I attempted to put clothing together with a sense of style and a pleasant color scheme. The reasoning was: "I don't want to focus on the looks of my warrior; I don't want it to affect my gameplay." If I make my clothing too fancy, I will think too much about my looks. "If I make my clothing too sloppy, my opponents will not take me seriously or think I am trying to be provocative." And so, I created an old man armed with a quarterstaff and dressed in a dim cyan tunic. This character fit perfectly to my playstyle and goals.

From this point on, I began my journey. I focused on my internal self-development, using Mordhau as a tool. All my rank-points were taken away, and I descended to the bottom; to "Unranked" status. There I stayed for many days, playing as an old man with a stick. And I mostly enjoyed it. Every round was victorious, regardless of "winning" or "losing" the game. My victory condition was to learn more about the frustration I felt. And with each round, I learned a little more. Without caring about some "virtual rank," I could allow myself to lose. By allowing myself to lose, I allowed myself to experiment, take greater risks, be silly, and do things I just felt like. Without rank obsession, most of the frustration went away. This was my first observation: "Most of the frustration came from the attachment of value to ranks." The higher, the more desirable. When rank is taken away, it causes major frustration. Many others came later. I spend hours and hours having fun, meeting new people, and learning new things.

Mordhau allowed me to create an experience I greatly enjoyed and learned from. My initial mistake was to assume Mordhau would provide an experience similar to Chivalry. Instead, it allowed me to create my own. It took time to understand what I wanted, but after I discovered it, I was able to bring this experience to life. And it felt fantastic. I am sure anyone can craft their own individualized, cool experience in Mordhau. But for that, one must know own desires.

I did not expect to love Wolfenstein 3D. I expected a game with nightmarish mazes full of hit-scan enemies. And I was right. However, I was wrong when I thought that I would not like playing through it. It took me many hours of playing the game to actually understand why I enjoy it and don't find it grossly outdated, despite its age.

Wolfenstein 3D game loop is straightforward: find the exit from a maze, find keys to access it, shoot anyone standing on your way. Manage your health and ammo to stay alive and be able to fight. After you have completed the first level, you have seen the whole game. There are six chapters, each containing nine levels and one secret level. At the end of every chapter, there is a boss.

There is not much to Wolfenstein 3D; however, I believe it does something very profound with its simplicity: it amplifies fun moments by providing boring experiences in-between. Although shooting in the game is basic, it is great fun compared to wandering around surreal mazes in search of keys or missed passageways. Providing boring experiences might appear counterproductive for a game that is assumed to provide fun; nevertheless, deeper examination reveals that isn't so.

Fun can be considered an optimal level of excitement. Excitement is a response to stimuli. So, if a video game's purpose is assumed to be the provision of fun, the game should provide stimuli to evoke an optimal level of excitement. The difficulty comes with the human body quickly adjusting to excitement and seeking a state of homeostasis (the original emotional state before excitement). So, it is impossible to continuously maintain the same level of excitement with the same, repeated stimuli. The body quickly gets used to them.

Some games tackle the problem by rapidly raising the bar of excitement from moment to moment through offering diverse stimuli of ever-growing intensity. It's a viable tactic, given the abundance of resources applied over a reasonable time frame. But Wolfenstein 3D did not have the means or resources to pursue this tactic. Instead, Wolfenstein provides excitement in short bursts, slowly increasing the intensity. Between those bursts, there are unexciting walks. They counter-balance excitement with boredom, creating contrast; thus enchancing intensity of bursts of excitement! This balance between "boring" and "exciting" considerably slows the adjustment to excitement from stimuli. Wolfenstein abruptly cuts off supplies of excitement, leaving one craving for more. But the balance is not static: it changes as the game progresses, shifting the scales to the "exciting" parts. Very slowly, bit by bit, Wolfenstein increases the dosage of excitement.

Little by little, It adds more enemies, it offers stronger variations of them, it cuts supplies of resources, etc. Action and challenge increase seamlessly, as if boiling the frog. I did not notice until later levels that from spending most of the time walking around convoluted mazes gameplay shifted to intense firefights with enemies behind almost every door. Even though I did the same things over and over again, my excitement grew. I completed Wolfenstein in thirteen hours over the span of two days. Without overexaggeration, Wolfenstein 3D made me addicted. The worst thing is that even after completing it, I still crave more. After finishing this review, I will continue to play Wolfenstein's sequel, "Wolfenstein 3D: Spear of Destiny." I unironically consider Wolfenstein 3D one of my favorite games.

Besides gradually increasing excitement from its fun parts, Wolfenstein also increases excitement from its boring parts. As challenges increase in difficulty, the value of health and ammo resources increases too. The player naturally wants to have enough to progress. Wolfenstein cleverly manages these resources by providing them in such a manner that most of the time there isn't enough of them to be comfortable, but barely enough to survive. Sometimes, player makes one mistake too many and there is not enough to progress. In any other game it would be considered "a bad taste", however, in Wolfenstein it creates "goldrush" feeling to search for secrets. Finding secrets was always a little celebration, since it supplied desperately needed ammo and health. It is crazy to think that one can be so excited about finding ammo and health behind a secret wall.

The bizarre part is that it doesn't feel cheap. It doesn't feel like the game purposefully tries to make life harder by introducing unfair challenges. When I was stuck due to a lack of resources, my response was to hug every available wall and push any portrait of Hitler I could reach. And, most of the time, it worked: I found a secret full of resources and was able to proceed through the game. It's such an ingenious way of indirectly helping struggling players while making hunting for secrets purposeful and fun. Since it wasn't at all easy to find these secrets, the reward felt well-deserved and not like a "cheat code." It felt rewarding. It was fun. I felt excited searching for them. And that's how Wolfenstein slowly made boring walks around exciting. Pauses between firefights became purposeful: they became search for needed resources; hunt for secrets. Walks still weren't as exciting as firefights, but they were on the level of not being completely boring and annoying. They stopped feeling unnecessary since they provided the resources required to progress.

The dynamic balance between "boring" and "exciting" is what made Wolfenstein 3D so enjoyable for me. However, I also mentioned that it did not feel outdated. The reason for it lies within the polish of Wolfenstein's mechanics. Although nearly every enemy in the game is a hitscan enemy, fighting them did not feel annoying or unfair (with the exception of "mutant guards," who have an inhuman reaction time and a rapid rate of fire). Enemies gave a reasonable amount of time to react to them—not enough to be facile dummies, but not too little to deal unavoidable damage. Enemies can follow; some get alarmed by nearby shots and come to investigate. Overall, enemies are simple. But they don't have to be more complex to be entertaining. They have the bare minimum a single-player first-person shooter enemy needs to have in order to be entertaining.

And this "bare minimum" applies to every mechanic in the game. After playing it, I now understand why Wolfenstein 3D is considered "the grandfather of first-person shooters." It established the foundation for every single-player FPS game. Every single-player FPS should include Wolfenstein 3D, meaning every game should excel above it. It might seem obvious that "a modern game should be better than an old game", however, it's not at all clear to which game comparison should be made. In this regard, I believe Wolfenstein 3D to be a perfect candidate for being the benchmark by which to judge every single-player FPS. It allows us to ask: "How does this game differ from Wolfenstein 3D? What does it do better or worse?" These are the questions that can be used to evaluate the qualities of those games, at least to some extent.

To conclude, if you enjoy single-player first-person shooters, I would strongly recommend giving Wolfenstein 3D a chance. It is most advisable to use the version that is the closest to its original form. Although modifications that enhance Wolfenstein 3D are undoubtedly valid, experiencing Wolfenstein 3D in its unaltered state will most likely unravel many of the gospels of singleplayer first-person shooters. The game will start very slowly, but it will seamlessly get very exciting.

The essence of "Hotline Miami" is dynamic, high-speed, brutal action. Neither picture nor text can capture this experience. The best way to see it from all sides is to watch raw gameplay footage. A minute or two will be enough to see if the game "clicks." This review is not intended to sell the game, but rather to capture my own understanding of what made it so great to me.

I loved action. Controls are responsive, animations are smooth, and combat feels impactful. But these are compliments to gameplay's dynamism and rapid pace. Everything happens in the blink of an eye: once an enemy sees you, he SPRINTS full speed towards you and crushes your skull with something like a baseball bat as soon as he is in reachable range. It's quick and brutal. There are no health bars, only the two distinct states of "being alive" and "lying in your own pool of blood." This goes both for enemies and the player. This is the foundation the game is built upon, and it's solid and stable throughout. Kill or be killed, the person with the sharpest mind wins.

Although the action is fast, it is not perplexing. Gameplay benefits from simplicity; there are a handful of mechanics used throughout the game. Simplicity allows for quick decisions in a fast-paced environment. Wrong decisions are swiftly punished by death; the weapons in this game kill in one blow. Nevertheless, failed attempts can be restarted with a button press, so one can immediately jump back into action. Levels are compact, so dying and starting over does not take away much progress. It creates a pleasant flow of trial, success, and punishment. On the other side, successful murders are rewarded with pleasant eye candy and an adrenalin rush. The game directly asks the player: "Do you like hurting other people?" My answer was: "Not so much in real life, but certainly in Hotline Miami!" If I am to be considered a psycho, because I like to brutally murder pixelated people in a video game, I beg that this game be held accountable for it. In a weird way, Hotline Miami's game loop is reminiscent of a slot machine. You mostly lose, but the pretty imagery and positive feedback from winning greatly overwhelm the negative emotions from losing. This game makes you addicted to murder. It puts you into a trance with its action, visual style, music, and psychedelic story.

Colorful visuals, energetic electronic music, and an intriguing, yet not demanding, story work really well with Hotline Miami's action. Although colors are plentiful, they do not overwhelm the eye. It's easy to distinguish usable objects from the environment, enemies from the player, doors from walls, etc. The colors are arranged in a pleasant way, giving the game a vibrant and recognizable look. The visual style works both in times of action and in times of calm. Animations are simple but effective. Death animations are especially cool, they have this over-the-top brutality about them, with blood and brain pieces flying in every direction. These animations give action, impact, and substance. It's one thing to observe a health bar slowly deplete; it's another to see how your club decimates an enemy's head into thousands of pieces after one swift blow.

Energy comes not only from visuals but also from audio. Not much can be said about Hotline Miami's sound effects, but many love letters can be written about its soundtrack. I am not a fan of electronic music, but the one featured in Hotline Miami does not only fit the game's gameplay perfectly but in many ways enhances and sells it. Hotline Miami would have been a completely different game without its soundtrack. It just wouldn't feel the same. The game's action would not show its full potential because it requires this special, energetic, murderous mood delivered by the soundtrack. Imagine a dance party without music. That's Hotline Miami without its soundtrack. I wish I could describe the state it produces when combined with Hotline Miami's action, but that would be like describing a psychedelic drug trip.

The story also resembles the experience of a psychedelic drug trip: a man receives seemingly harmless cryptic messages on his message machine. These messages, however, contain addresses that the man has to visit and massacre everyone located there. The man wears masks that resemble animals. The masks give minor tweaks to gameplay, like "walk faster" or "turn every dialogue into poorly translated French." Sometimes, the man is visited by three spirits, which judge him and ask questions. One spirit gives cryptic predictions of the future. Things get even more psychedelic as the story progresses and the main character begins to lose grip with reality. The concept is intriguing and mysterious and does not occupy too much space in the head. It provides substance to what's going on the screen and gives the feeling of progression. The story is not mentally demanding since it doesn't require memorizing dates, names, or getting into intricate relationships. It can be skipped altogether if one so wishes, without losing out on the main part of the experience. For those who care, the story is open for interpretation, and there are plenty of discussions on the internet about it. Some loose ends and speculations were resolved in the game's second part, "Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number," so the story does have some boundaries.


"Hotline Miami" provides a unique experience that cannot be put into words due to how uncommon it is. It cannot be described by its "top-down shooter" genre because of how different it feels from that of a typical top-down shooter. You can't simply call it "a game with fast action" because it misses out on a lot of what makes its action special and immensely enjoyable, etc. I think my review loses a lot of substance by translating experience into words. There is only one way to properly experience Hotline Miami: to play it. Even if for some reason you hate the experience, you may be sure it's one of a kind. For the better or worst.

"Edna and Harvey: The Breakout" is an outstanding point-and-click adventure. When I had finished it, I thought to myself: "I loved every minute of this game. Too bad it was so short. I was surprised to discover I had spent 28 hours playing before reaching the end. Considering the genre, that is truly remarkable. I then asked myself: "How is it possible? "What made this game so good that I lost track of how much time I spent playing it?"To answer these questions, I broke down the point-and-click adventure genre into its primary elements. In this review, I examine these elements in "H&E: The Breakout" and find out how they conquered my attention and heart.

The "point-and-click adventure" genre evolved from "text-based" games. Specifically, from the "text-adventure" format. Point-and-click and text-based adventures are similar, but there is one pronounced difference: visuals. Visuals play a secondary role in text-based adventures and are mostly there as static eye candy. In point-and-click, in addition to eye candy, visuals provide an interactive environment. The environment that delivers the game's story allows player interaction and creates atmosphere and immersion. Thus, I consider "visuals" to be a primary element of the point-and-click genre.

The visuals in "The Breakout" are good. The art style is cartoonish, rough around the edges, and looks hand-drawn with a mouse in Paint. However, it manages to be appealing, colorful, expressive, and clear. Locations and objects are easily recognizable; it's always clear where you are and what's what. The visual design of locations sets certain moods, like "snug and nostalgia", "claustrophobia and confinement," "ominous and dark," "cheerful and deranged," etc. Consequently, each room in "The Breakout" has a character. Rooms feel purposeful and used due to the details, which manage to be plentiful yet not overstimulating. Pixel hunting can be resolved by pressing the designated button that highlights every interactive object in a room. Location layouts are logical and comfortable to navigate through; there is never a question of "where was this room, again?" To sum up, it's pleasant to interact with and navigate through the virtual environment of "The Breakout." Nevertheless, that doesn't validate my point that this game is "outstanding." High-quality visuals definitely contribute to a game's enjoyment, but "story" is what brings them together in a meaningful manner.

In their essence, point-and-click adventure games are interactive visual stories. On this account, I consider "story" to be a primary element of the point-and-click genre. I can think of a couple point-and-click adventures that I played despite having no liking for their visuals: the "Still Life" series and the original "Downfall." Both have captivating stories, which I wanted to unfold. A good story creates considerable merit.

This said, the story in "The Breakout" is both simple and grand. It can be described in one sentence, yet there are many firmly packed adventures within. The story is this: a girl named Edna wants to escape from a mental asylum and get home. To do so, she has to go through many adventures. For example, "getting a coat hanger to get past a looney who imagines himself a ticket inspector and does not let anyone get past into the laundry elevator shaft without a ticket. If you think I spoiled you a solution, you are mistaken. It's a problem that Edna has put before her, and the "getting a coat hanger" part is not as straight-forward as it seems, considering where Edna is and who surrounds her. And there are many such adventures! Maybe the general story can be summarized in one sentence, but the adventures it entails can fill a book! Thinking about some of them in words makes me smile: they are crazy fun.

Although it wasn't story progression that kept me playing, I don't think adventures and puzzles by themselves were enough to keep me hooked. I remember having problems to solve, but I don't remember thinking extensively about their solutions. Even though puzzles in "The Breakout" are not easy nor have self-evident solutions, I never found myself stuck. Solutions came to my head seemingly naturally, always as an "Aha!" moment. I believe it's due to the way "The Breakout" deals with player interactions with its world and characters.

Visuals provide the environment for interactions, and stories give them meaning. Gameplay, or player interaction, is a prime element of every game genre. Although it is not customary to talk about point-and-click games' gameplay, I feel like "The Breakout" does something outstanding when it comes to player interaction. Usually, quality of point-and-click adventures gameplay is measured through difficulty of puzzles and logic behind their solution. In "The Breakout," these are secondary. The way this game manages to prevent frustration from being stuck on a puzzle for hours is by making every, and I mean EVERY, interaction entertaining. Paradoxically, it is fun to be stuck in "The Breakout."

This outstanding feature is achieved through brilliant, elaborate writing. There are five ways to interact with the world: look, pick up, talk, use, and apply an item from the inventory. Basic functionality for a point-and-click game, however, enables some of the funniest and most entertaining writing. Each action produces a unique response when applied to an object or a character. There are no generic "that's not what you were supposed to do" lines, like "I don't think it will work," "No, I don't think so," "That's not how this item is used," etc. Each interaction is rewarded with a joke, witty commentary, or amusing observation delivered by Edna and Harvey. Throughout the game, I was walking around and clicking on everything interactive just to hear them talk. I combined every item from the inventory with every object I encountered, I talked with inanimate objects, tried to pick up the immovable, and checked every dialogue option. For the majority of times I knew that's not what I supposed to do to progress. But here's the thing: I didn't want to progress. Sometimes I intentionally used the right item last so I can check what Edna and Harvey have to say about the others. But Edna and Harvey are not the only ones to deliver. The first thing I did after finding a new item was to walk around and show it to every available character. "The Breakout" takes place in a mental asylum, and the setting was taken full advantage of. Characters, both sane and deranged, are flavorful and amusing. They have their own interpretations, which lead to many humorous exchanges. Dialogues are at the top of excellence. I laughed out loud many times. Occasionally, I got a hint or performed an action to progress. I was never stuck. It was so fun to experiment and explore that I either bumped into the solution by accident or had collected all the available hints and completed the puzzle with ease.

To summarize, "Edna and Harvey: The Breakout" is an excellent point-and-click adventure. Its visuals, story, interactions, and writing all work together towards a captivating experience. This experience achieves something outstanding: it rewards the journey, not the results. In every point-and-click adventure I played before, I constantly wanted to see what awaited behind the current puzzle. In "Edna and Harvey: The Breakout," I did not want to escape the asylum. I loved its inhabitants and adventures. I loved every minute of being there.

If you've never played "Edna & Harvey: The Breakout," then this critique is not for you. The majority of Steam reviews are "positive," so I assume this game is not bad overall. My opinion is based on my unfulfilled expectations; if you have none, other reviews will be more helpful to you.

If you've played "The Breakout" and expect "Harvey's New Eyes" to be an extension to it, then you might be sorely disappointed. This game integrates the story and characters from "The Breakout," but it lacks many things that made the original great.

For instance, Edna and Harvey are secondary characters. Instead, the main protagonist is Lilli, a small, shy girl. Lilli does not talk throughout the game, she only mumbles sounds like "ehm," "uhm," and "ahh." She is not mute; it's the game's shtick: Lilli is so quiet and obedient, others always talk over her. Since Lilli doesn't talk, the narration is handled by an off-camera commentator. It's not a bad setup for a classic point-and-click adventure game, but it's a definite downgrade compared to "The Breakout."

Edna and Harvey's interactions with the world around them were the main appeal of "The Breakout." These interactions were the main source of jokes, stories, and character development. I spent 28 hours in "The Breakout," clicking anything I could and combining it with everything in my inventory. I was not lost or stuck; I was interested in how Edna and Harvey would react. They had a unique reaction to almost everything! Instead of a generic line, the game rewarded exploration with witty commentary. Although the puzzles in "The Breakout" weren't the easiest, I never used a walkthrough. It was fun to walk around, explore, and experiment. It was fun to interact with other characters; it was interesting how they, both sane and crazy, would react to Edna's shenanigans. It made characters charismatic and memorable. Their reactions outlined their personalities.

In "Harvey's New Eyes," witty commentary is gone. The main character is dead silent and does not share her thoughts. Her interpretations remain unknown. The off-screen narrator has the charisma of a children's audiobook reader. His commentary is neither funny nor clever. It's sterile and descriptive. There are no unique reactions to using various items from inventory on world objects or characters. It's either "that's not what you were supposed to do, but here's a hint" or "that's what you were supposed to do. Good job!" line. After "The Breakout", it becomes unbearably boring and frustrating quick. Also, Lilli cannot properly communicate with other characters. Nor can off-screen narator. Instead, everyone talks for Lilli and bosses her around. This paints everyone, bad and good, as unlikable jerks. There are no dialogues; there is no room for entertaining character interactions. Even the characters from "The Breakout" seem shallow and boring.

If you are looking for a classical point-and-click adventure game, "Harvey's New Eyes" might be enjoyable. It has a beautiful art style, the setting is intriguing, the characters are wacky, and the story is decent. Maybe I would have liked this game, but I was expecting the same quality as in "The Breakout." I did because the game has "Edna & Harvey" in its title. I read that originally the game was supposed to be called just "Harvey's New Eyes." It seems it was a marketing decision to put "Edna & Harvey" in the title. Judging by the general reception, it wasn't a bad one. For me, it formed false expectations that weren't met, rendering this game a disappointment. If I had approached this game with an open mind and no expectations, I might have been able to enjoy it.

"Getting Up" is a niche game. Even though it gained noteworthy popularity, I would only recommend it to people who are interested in graffiti culture. Particularly in the context of the hip-hop subculture of the 2000s. The game holds value not so much due to its gameplay as due to the experience it tries to convey. If you're not interested in playing the role of a graffiti artist who wants the world to know his name, the game will quickly become boring and repetitive. Otherwise, "Getting Up" might hook you until the end.

After conducting some small research about what motivates a graffiti artist to risk own life and freedom, it appears to me that the game delivers an accurate experience. It's no surprise, considering many renowned graffiti artists actively consulted with and helped the development team. Some even offered their appearances, voices, and works. For someone closely familiar with the associated movement, "Getting Up" will feature a star-studded cast. For the rest, names won't bear much significance. Nonetheless, featuring many real-life graffiti and hip-hop artists, "Getting Up" does portray the graffiti scene as lively and vibrant. New Radius, the city where the game takes place, is full of graffiti. They are all distinct and unique in style. Thanks to the input from over 65 artists, it really feels as if other graffiti artists operate in the city and leave their tags. Locations feel alive. If the game featured only 3–4 generic graffities drawn by a game designer, there would be no feeling of an established culture—only a hollow, sterile, controlled environment.

Graffiti culture is an integral part of the experience of a graffiti artist. The game is named after the slang term "getting up," which roughly means "to develop fame or reputation through drawing graffiti." Community perception is why artists climb the highest points and tag the most dangerous places. But, what community? The general public seldom enjoys the results of illegal art activities and is not likely to appreciate the work and danger an artist had to go through to get up a tag. In "Getting Up," the general public is either scared or calls authorities when it sees graffiti activities. The authorities have nothing but hostility toward illegal activities, which are costly to manage and mitigate. In "Getting Up," graffiti artists are treated like the main threat to societal peace and the city’s well-being. They face undercover Anti-Vandals Squad members and a borderline military organization, "C.C.K.," which is armed with armored vehicles and anti-riot gear. AVS and C.C.K are not shy about exercising excessive force and police brutality. That’s why the presence of graffiti culture in the game is so important: it is other graffiti artists, members of the same subculture, who are likely to appreciate the work. Without them, attempts at "getting up" are futile. That explains why most of the game is spent in abandoned, utility, and hard-to-reach places: first and foremost, you draw for other artists to see and appreciate your craft. And you know they will because there are already numerous other graffiti pieces that were put before you. People were there, and there will be more to come. Some names even become familiar, and when you see their tags, you go: "Oh, I’ve seen his tag!" Story characters leave their tags too, which is a neat detail. It gives the impression that someone else will see your piece in a difficult-to-reach location that you risked your neck to get to.Of course, in a video game, there won't actually be "other artists to appreciate your tags." It's your imagination that draws them into existence.

As a result, I only recommend this game to people who appreciate and are interested in graffiti culture. The game provides an experience that requires specific knowledge and a specific mindset to appreciate. Without paying attention to these details and stimulating imagination, game’s gameplay will get dull quick. Why should you waste your time painting walls? As soon as you leave a level, it's all gone. And anyway, it’s always the same thing: choose a piece and fill its outlines. You can’t get creative; you can only fill a predetermined outline. If you don't engage in the illusion that someone else will see your art and think highly of you (the thing real-life graffiti artists do and are motivated by), drawing graffiti will get boring and meaningless.

Other than that, there are beat ‘em-up, climbing, and stealth mechanics. None is outstanding. These mechanics are there to complement the general concept and are not enough to entertain for long by themselves. The gameplay is repetitive and slow. The story is not too intricate either; it’s a hero's story from a subculture. The main character is a free-spirited artist who stands against the system, fights gang competition, draws graffiti where others are too afraid to even look, and pulls the most daring stunts to make his name "legendary." His adventure is the epitome of what a vivid graffiti artist dreams of: going from the bottom (being a "toy") to the highest point of fame ("all-city king"). Again, not very captivating unless you can relate.

To summarize, this game has a very specific target audience. "Getting Up" excellently satisfies the demand for a virtual graffiti artist's experience. Its concept, story, music, and gameplay all work together to deliver it. When you are in the loop, it works superbly. When you are not, it doesn’t do too well. Nevertheless, if you wish to play "Getting Up" without having any prior knowledge about graffiti culture, I would strongly recommend doing some research about it. A general knowledge of the history of the movement and its slang terms is enough, though. But the more you know, the better.

Play this game to get certain experiences, not for gameplay. Your approach will make the difference between a "great" and a "tedious" time.

Bad? No. Grossly outdated? Absolutely.

Before writing this review, I had found and read an old gaming magazine article about System Shock. I wanted to open a window to the past and take a look at how it was perceived in its prime. It appears that the game was considered highly innovative. It was praised for being immersive, graphically advanced, featuring complex environment geometry, and having extensive freedom of movement (the article even speculated that "System Shock 2" will feature a "scatch your arse" option to complete the full range of real-life motions). The game was so technically advanced that the author recommended getting a high-end PC to run it smoothly. It's fair to say System Shock pushed many conventional boundaries, consequently influencing the gaming industry in many ways.

Back to the future. It would be senseless to approach SS1 with modern standards. Even with "Enhanced Edition," which upscales resolution and allows for a more streamlined control scheme, a major discount has to be applied to expectations. Some adapt easily to dated graphics and game design; others struggle. As one may have guessed, in this case, I am from the latter category. Allow me to excuse myself.

I was aware of the unwieldy controls. I've played "Enhanced Edition" and spent some time configuring it to suit my comfort. In the end, I had no problems navigating through the game. I knew what to expect from the 1994 graphics. I accepted them as a style and quickly got used to them. I understood that I should not anticipate a complex story from the game, which came out in the era where having a story in a video game was under discussion. The concept is cool; it provides an excuse to shoot space cyborgs, so that's alright. However, I was neither warned nor prepared for one major flaw: outdated level design.

System Shock Citadel is a maze. This statement is not a literary exaggeration, but a fact. I don't need to be reminded about the technical limitations of the time, and I do not blame the game. Nevertheless, as soon as I realized that the whole game is set in a network of claustrophobic labyrinths, negativity started to slowly accumulate until it finally reached irritation. Most of the time in SS1 is spent walking around narrow corridors, stumbling upon locked doors, and painfully backtracking. Everything looks the same and becomes a blurry mess after walking around corners for hours. It takes considerable effort to memorize locations. It literally gave me a headache; my brain was very strained. Sometimes I had to open the map after every turn to make sure I was walking in the right direction. This maze design slowed everything down to a snail's pace. Needless to say, the whole layout didn't make any sense. A space station without a single toilet? Dead ends and hidden doors? Switches that activate something far away? The list can go on, but these are nitpicks. Having said that, there are nitpicks that I considered due to my annoyance with level design.

My tolerance for other outmoded things decreased as a result of my constant irritation. It annoyed me that sometimes it was unavoidable to receive damage from hit-scan enemies. It annoyed me that everything looked like a pixelated mess. It annoyed me that "cyber space" was not just labyrinths, but labyrinths with transparent walls. I was annoyed to have to backtrack through the same locations over and over again. My "list of annoyances" is extensive.

Nonetheless, I finished the game twice. First on normal settings, then on the hardest difficulties (beating Shodan in under 7 hours). Although I did mention a lot of things that irritated me, it would be unfair to classify System Shock as "bad." It's not; it has a lot to offer.

It was "System Shock's" approach to objectives that captivated me till the end. The game does not hold your hand, instead providing clues as to what you are supposed to do. I had to read mails, listen to audiologs, and explore every corner to deduce what to do and how to achieve it. I used a walkthrough a couple of times, but only to clarify some confusions (for example, to learn how to plant a bomb or to find a detail I missed in a sequence of tasks). I can clearly see how "System Shock" could have been immersive for me if I didn't mind the level design so much. Even though backtracking was painful, exploring new areas and discovering secrets was exciting. Even though most enemies were hit-scan marksmen, each had to be approached with appropriate gear. Even though Shodan could have been replaced with a mad scientist without changing the plot, defeating her was exhilarating. Just like with the "list of annoyances," I can list many positive things. Unfortunately, not quite as many.


To summarize, System Shock is a grossly outdated game, albeit not a bad one. I do not recommend playing it to anyone except those who wish to understand how far modern games have evolved. It allows us to appreciate what we have. If you have thick skin when it comes to claustrophobic mazes with narrow tunnels, you may even avoid the irritation that I felt.

A part of me wishes I was able to experience System Shock under different circumstances. Perhaps, when I did not know better and could look at the game with the same eyes as people from 1994. For better or worse, I am not excited about "being able to climb ladders" and "seeing slopes in video games' geometry." For me, these are normal occurrences. Along with many other things that are invisible to my consciousness and that I take for granted. I've heard better stories and seen prettier things. I have experienced numerous games. Progress marches relentlessly forward, dragging us along with it. The fact that "System Shock" is a great game remains, but the reasoning changes. In 1994, it was due to its qualities. Nowadays, due to its legacy.

"Lucius" is a bizarre game. It's a third-person point-and-click murder mystery with a B-movie attitude toward the plot. Depending on what you expect from the game, it can either be awesome or a letdown.

Even after completing "Lucius" twice, I am not sure how the game wants to be perceived. It has a serious tone, but the things it delivers are absurd. In one scene, for example, a broken ceiling fan DECAPITATES a man! No, there is no rationalization offered; it just so happened that a regular ceiling fan, hanging and swinging on a wire, was able to cut someone's head clean off. The only thing missing was a cheesy one-liner from Lucius, like: "Be careful with fans—they can make you lose your head!" Instead, the tone was gloomy. Murder scenes are gruesome and grim, as much as their absurdity allows. This mismatch between the tone and what happens on the screen may be confusing, but once accepted, it can become comedic. It then starts to feel as if "Lucius" tells a joke with a straight face. A darkly humorous joke

The gameplay loop is simple: identify a victim, spot an opportunity for an accident or a sneaky murder, find and apply items to initiate it, maybe use superpowers, and enjoy a murder cutscene. Repeat for about 7 hours. Everything is heavily scripted, so there is no room for creativity. Some say it gets boring quickly, but as for me, I've enjoyed the game till the end. Not so much for the gameplay as for the sheer curiosity of how the story will unfold and what wacky ways of murder are there.

Most of the game is spent running around and searching for items in Dante Manor. The manor is spacious and can feel like a labyrinth at first. Although it's easy to get lost, its layout is logical and believable. It takes time to get used to, but that's due to how huge the manor is. Other than that, the manor is detailed and good-looking. I enjoyed walking around and looking at it. At one point, I was able to memorize its layout and navigate with no problems.

The manor is populated by the Wagner family and their servants. The main character is an antichrist, a devil's son, who is tasked with sacrificing the souls of the residents of Dante's Manor. In return, he is promised supernatural powers. And so Lucius, the titular protagonist, sets off on his murderous journey to kill one person a month until there is no one left. Inhabitants, or victims, have flat personalities and linear routines they follow unless it is their turn to be sacrificed. The simplicity of characters is both good and bad. "Good" because there is no sympathy for victims and you can enjoy murdering them without guilt. This point does not become apparent until Lucius decides to kill the old butler, who gives the impression of being the nicest man in the world. Killing him in a horrific freak accident was genuinely heartbreaking. But it's also "bad" for the same reason. The fact of murder has no bearing. Nobody seems to react to what happened to their friends and colleagues. Everyone just carries on normally. Only Lucius' mother and "so-called" father seem to freak out. It would have been so much more impactful to see how the household descends into paranoia, chaos, and despair. It would be cool to see character routines and dialogue change to show mental breakdowns. For example, creating moments where they cry, drown sorrow in booze, or reassure each other that "everything is going to be okay." It would make characters more human. Killing them would be much harder, and the fact that you are doing horrific things would be more apparent. It also would make the ludicrous ways they die so much more comedic. There is a big emotional difference between "an NPC gets killed by a player" and "a God-loving nun gets her head crushed with a piano by a six-year-old antichrist."

Gameplay-wise, "Lucius" is very similar to point-and-click adventure games: find items and apply them in a specific order. The difference is that "Lucius" has a free-roaming third-person perspective. It makes navigation around locations much smoother, but does not exclude pixel hunting. In fact, "Lucius" modifies "pixel hunting" into "prop hunting" due to the game not always being clear which exact object it requires. For example, there is a moment where a character asks for a specific bottle of wine. The character himself sits right next to at least three wine racks. None of the wines from them seem to satisfy him. Every other bottle in the house does not either. The solution is to go to a wine cellar, look at the wine racks’ year numbers, and then prop-hunt the only interactive bottle at the top of a rack. At first it might even be unknown that the mansion has a wine cellar! To deduce that "the bottle of "30's wine" is there would be another leap of thought. To somehow spot the only interactive bottle at the very top of a rack is ludicrous. "Lucius" has many moments where you can get stuck because the game requires a very specific action or item. This can be mitigated to an extent by going around the mansion and collecting everything that you can. Nearly every item is available from the start. It makes it much easier, since you can look into the inventory and see what object could perform the required task instead of running around and guessing. So, run around Dante Mansion and explore! Don’t be creative in a heavily scripted game; find specific items to solve specific actions. Sometimes, to complete murder sequence initiation, Lucius has to use his devilish super-powers, such as telekinesis, mind-control, or a fire ball. If these sound cool, they will not be after "Lucius." The "superpowers," like items, can only be used in specific situations. Pretty much like in a point-and-click adventure game.

Although the past paragraph painted a negative picture of "Lucius’" gameplay, the gameplay itself is not just bad. It shares the flaws of point-and-click adventure games, but it also shares what makes them good. Each murder is a little puzzle. The reward for solving a puzzle is a gruesome freak accident cutscene. If you enjoy point-and-click adventures or are a fan of "Final Destination" movies, you might enjoy Lucius as well.


All in all, it’s okay. "Okay" is the most suitable word to describe my opinion of "Lucius." It's bizarre, but not outstanding. Can be used to kill some time and innocent people. If you expect Hitman-like gameplay or a serious, engaging story, you will be disappointed. If you are open-minded to an odd point-and-click adventure experience, you might enjoy causing mischief in Dante Manor.

"BEER" is a simple one-level platformer with an interesting concept: after some time, a shadow of yourself appears and repeats every move you've made. If the shadow catches you, it's game over. With the passage of time, more shadows appear. Shadows will relentlessly chase you until they catch you. As far as I can tell, there is no way to win: you must jump platforms and collect points until you are caught. At one point, there are so many shadows, it's unavoidable to be touched by one of them. To delay this moment, you may move slowly so it's easier to keep track of shadows. You may establish a specific route, so the shadows follow a predetermined pattern. Nonetheless, there will come a point when there will be too many shadows to avoid.

I've heard the idea that "all models are wrong, but some are useful." Funnily enough, "BEER" brought the idea back to my attention. When I first played "BEER" I thought it was "a dull experience." The game has one level and gets boring really quick. I was done after 8 minutes. "BEER" was gifted to me as a joke due to its name ("haha, I bought you a beer! I mean, BEER!"), so the only thing I mourned was my lost time. However, in my first playthrough, I got about 60 points. The evening I am writing this review I came back to play "BEER" again to get 100 points. For no particular reason.

And it was boring. So much so that I had to escape into my thoughts to keep myself entertained. That's when I looked at "BEER" from a different, probably not intended, point of view: it's a game about dealing with the consequences of past actions. Absurd, but it amused me. The main character carelessly indulges in the present until shadows from the past start to appear. It seems as if they chase the main character, tirelessly trying to catch up. But in reality, they only precisely mimic past actions. In order to avoid the consequences of past actions, one has to think about the future and step through life cautiously. Stepping slowly and mindfully, along with a routine, helps establish stability and avoid unnecessary complexities. Nonetheless, eventually complexity becomes too great to be managed; one has to face the shadows of the past. There are two possible outcomes in "BEER": rush forward carelessly and be forced to face shadows early. Or, step cautiously and mindfully, delaying the inevitable until it grows so big and complex that it’s impossible to avoid it any longer. There is no escape from the complexities of life.

There is a lesson to be learned from such a demonstration. If something from the past haunts you, it will haunt you until you face it: voluntarily or not. There is a way to postpone the meeting, but prolong it for too long, and it will grow into a disaster. Having one's life under control allows one to choose the moment one wishes to face the shadows. It’s a known phenomenon in psychology that facing dangers, fears, and unpleasant thoughts voluntarily has a positive, healing effect on an individual. The opposite scenario is known to be damaging and produce a great deal of suffering. In a sense, the question is not whether or not to face the shadows; it’s inevitable. The question is "when to face them?" There are two possible answers: when you are ready and when you are not.

That's why I think the idea that "all models are wrong, but some are useful" is powerful. It could turn a simple, dull gaming experience into something meaningful. If a meaningful interpretation could be derived from "BEER", than there is no question whether it's possible with the existence itself.

This lecture is an introduction to Kalen Chock as a teacher. It helps to determine whether his teaching style is suitable for a viewer or not. This lesson is mostly a demo of Kalen's style of drawing and thinking. If that's something you dig, you might like the rest of what Kalen has to offer.