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Editor's note: Many gamers are on a never-ending search for substance in their games. Andrew takes a look at two Wii offerings -- one that's all about the creator's ego, and another that captured not only Andrew's attention but his imagination as well. -Jason
Style over substance. It's an old adage, and perhaps one that's best applied to discussions of video games. While a large movement's trying to figure out what games mean as art (myself included), we can all admit that many don't achieve such recognition. In fact, the market's swamped with product that doesn't even bother to aspire to art.
But sometimes they do. I've taken on two games both rife with style, both that aspired to be more than the sum of their parts. But where one fails spectacularly, the other sets a new bar for interactive entertainment.
No More No More Heroes No More Heroes was billed as the first foray into some serious gamer-focused action for the family-friendly minigame provider that is the Wii. The game came with a thud and went out with a whimper, and similar titles are falling to the same fate.
And thank goodness for that.
That may be harsh, but after playing No More Heroes, I'm of the firm opinion that this game's exactly the type that does not need to be made anymore. And it's not because it's an incredibly violent game on the Wii. Heck, the console could use a bit more balls.
No, this game is an absolute train wreck of style. And power to Suda 51 for taking the initiative, if not delivering the execution. Everything single nook and cranny is filled with Suda's patented style: otaku trappings, wrestling masks, edgy character design, ridiculous names, slick interludes and cut-scenes, and above all, the over the top überviolence.... You name it -- it's in there.
There's nothing to the game beyond this. The combat's simple, and the open-world gameplay's boring and not-so-open. Perhaps the greatest insult is the character progression. Instead of any sort of customization, you receive a linear set of improvements that you must go out and find, which is simply an additional step to acquiring them (assuredly for the purpose of "open worldiness"). That's fine. Sometimes games are more style than substance, and I can appreciate that.
The true crime in No More Heroes is that the style is so pervasive and disconnected among its parts that to make any sense of it is exhausting and a nuisance.
The design philosophy's readily available between the lines: "I am Suda 51, and whatever I think is cool goes in this game." So what if the story's a farce, the wrestling connection makes no sense, all of the baddies exist for no other reason to exist, and the humor's solely sexual in nature and will appeal to young men who just discovered masturbation?
So what is right. The game is an embarrassment to play. More appropriately, you have a tremendous amount of "wahjah" for the producer (a Shawn Elliott term referring to embarrassment by proxy), kind of like watching an American Idol contestant that truly believes in themselves fail miserably, only to refuse to understand why they didn't make it to Hollywood.
But what can you expect from a man who has branded his company as a "Video Game Band" and inscribed its logo with the asinine statement "Punk's Not Dead"? To call oneself punk, especially in this day and age, it's impossible to be punk, by definition of what punk is (individual, non-conformist, etc). This is an appropriate metaphor for the game.
World of Good While No More Heroes has been relegated to bargain bins the world over, your $15 will be put to better use in the WiiWare store, where a small independent game takes style and develops substance from it.
If you've followed video games for any length of time, World of Goo has surely crossed your radar. Aside from being an independent favorite, it's a critical darling, and justifiably so. Where No More Heroes develops an inconsistent style based on the whims and cool factor of an individual, the style of World of Goo propels the game, provides meaning, and adds to the substance.
The game is summarized simply: a bridge-building game using flexible bits, with additional mechanics thrown in for variety. And the design offers a fantastic amount of depth while providing cleverly designed puzzles.
Oh, another one of those games.
But where similar "simple but deep" concepts are a dime a dozen, World of Goo establishes a mysterious and friendly-macabre world where these building blocks are given life and purposes. Unlike a Tetris, where the goal of the game is maneuver through the mechanics, World of Goo gives life to puzzle completion.
Instead of solving a puzzle or completing a task, the aesthetics, the music, and the humor all combine to inspire the player in the role of gentleman tinkerer in Tom Waits' barn or exacting artist on the set of Tim Burton's latest stop-motion project.
The style allows the player to become explorer, discoverer, experimenter, and dreamer in an entirely different world.
World of Goo proves that art allows us to experience something different and worthwhile. No More Heroes proves that art is more than slapping your name as writer and producer at the end of the opening credits.
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