As with all industries, the internet has turned the video game economy on its head. Ask anybody with a broadband connection and an internet-ready entertainment device how they consume most of their entertainment and it’s pretty likely that they’re getting a good chunk of their media through direct-download systems. Whether it’s movies and television through Netflix or Hulu or game downloads via Xbox Live or PlayStation Network, content providers are quickly learning just how lucrative a direct point-of-sale connection to their consumer base can be.

An entire new subset of the games industry has come to thrive in this new marketplace — the mid-budget indie game. Tiny developers like Playdead and Number None were able to have a dramatic effect on the gaming space with their stunningly creative and highly polished games. And in looking at the mobile space, there’s a much more diverse and, in my opinion, profound transformation taking place in gaming with an inexpensive, low-friction ecosystem for consumers to dive into.

But there’s an even more profound transformation taking place in the PC-gaming space. Indie poster-child Mojang has seen an unprecedented success with Minecraft, which has sold nearly five million copies at a going rate of nearly $27 as of this writing. Considering this is the work of just a handful of people, the return on a game like Minecraft is dizzying to anyone who follows the machinations of the games industry — and nothing short of inspiring to an up-and-coming developer.

So What About Double Fine?

Double Fine’s no stranger to the downloadable space, having released a quartet of creative, fun titles over the various digital distros in the last year or so, but this latest venture with Kickstarter is something else entirely.

The project is simply known as Double Fine Adventure. The details are relatively sparse, but if you’re familiar with Double Fine’s history and the track record of veteran designers Tim Schafer and Ron Gilbert, the premise is damn exciting:

• A classic point-and-click adventure game developed by Tim Schafer and a small team within Double fine
• An ongoing documentary covering the game’s production produced by 2 Player Productions, famous for producing the first season of Penny Arcade: The Series and the upcoming Minecraft documentary
• An entirely fan-funded endeavor that bypasses the traditional developer-publisher system; instead, the fans cover the costs and Double Fine releases directly through Steam

Personally, I can’t wait to play this game and to follow along with the documentary-style updates. But what’s got me most excited is how a relatively well-established game developer has decided to eschew the traditional publisher relationship and all the benefits that come along with it in favor of charting its own course. The barrier to releasing a game on Steam is relatively small, so much so that it’s probably a safe wager that people would be willing to fork over $15 directly to a developer in exchange for a cool new game that targets a “dead” genre with a small but highly devoted band of supporters.

Double Fine’s initial goal: $400,000, with $300,000 going to the game’s development and $100,000 funding the documentary. And now, less than a week since the Kickstarter went live, they’ve more than quadrupled that fundraising target with a month left to go.

I have a feeling Double Fine knew they’d hit the $400,000 mark with some time to spare. But I don’t think anyone saw this happening. As an idealist and as somebody who tends to sympathize with the sort of people who give a shit about supporting high-quality work, it’s been wonderful watching the dollar total rise daily. I couldn’t have been happier to fork over $30 to guarantee a copy of the game and its soundtrack as well as a high-definition download of the documentary series. As a kid who grew up playing Schafer’s classic point-and-click adventures until I’d nearly memorized their entire scripts, there’s something so comforting to know there are throngs of people out there who remember just how great an experience that style of play can be.

So Now What?

I don’t know. I guess we’ll see what happens. Double Fine certainly isn’t the first company to raise money for a game on Kickstarter, but it’s by far the most visible — and it’s had what has to be the greatest financial success in doing so.

There’s been a lot of talk about what this means for the future of games, such as:

* Are publishers necessary any more? (Yeah, probably)

* Will we see more well-known game devs reaching out to fans directly to finance games? (Absolutely)

* Is this a good thing for game developers? (I think so)

The social internet is a wildly transformative beast, and Double Fine’s Kickstarter experiment is solid proof of that. This sort of thing never could have happened even four years ago. But today it’s 2012, and more than ever, people have the power to share the things they care about with the people they know. Word-of-mouth has always been a force to be reckoned with, but as this Kickstarter shows, it’s now moving with unprecedented virality. There’s a nimbleness to the way that word about this game spread that no publisher could ever hope to replicate, even with a multimillion-dollar advertising budget and countless purchased cover stories in the gaming press.

It’s only going to get more interesting from here.

By way of compromise, here’s my pitch: I’ll write a paragraph about every game I’ve been playing lately, and you can let me know which game(s) you’re eager to hear more about. We’ll take it from there. Sound good?

Shantae: Risky’s Revenge (iOS)

This is my first WayForward game, a small studio renowned for its excellent, classically rooted platform games, and I’m having a blast with it. Originally released as a Nintendo DSi downloadable game, it was just recently ported to iOS as a universal app. The full game can be unlocked for a paltry $2.99, which I didn’t hesitate to pay. Shantae features tight, responsive controls (a pleasant surprise on a touch-only device,) expressive animations and a clever, distinct game world. I can’t wait to dive deeper and see everything it’s got to offer, but if you’re looking for a great iOS platformer (maybe the first yet?) I’d suggest giving Shantae a try.

Dead Island (Xbox 360)

It opens with what’s unquestionably the dumbest intro video of this console generation. Disgustingly overwrought ethnic stereotypes curse up and down while a zombie outbreak casually takes place before your intoxicated eyes. You don’t give a shit because you’re hammered and popping pills. There’s nothing wrong with building a world where every character is despicable, but it just doesn’t fit Dead Island. If you don’t empathize with the human characters in a survival-driven game, what’s the allure? Despite its frustrating scenario, Dead Island features a surprisingly deep and addictive drop-in/drop-out cooperative experience that combines an addictive melee-combat system with Borderlands-style collaborative questing. It’s an odd game, and it’s certainly not for everyone, but I can already tell I’m gonna be spending a lot of quality time with Dead Island.

Batman: Arkham City (Xbox 360)

Absolute brilliance. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from the sequel to our 2009 Game of the Year, but Rocksteady delivered a superb sequel with Arkham City. Play this game.

Deus Ex: Human Revolution (PC)

I’m about ten hours in at this point, and Human Revolution is proving itself time and again to be a true sequel to the original Deus Ex. It’s a good and bad thing, though, as the gameplay mechanics and relatively empty decisions you make feel pretty antiquated by today’s standards. Still, the world is engrossing enough and the combat satisfying in its own way that I’m looking forward to seeing everything this game’s got to offer.

Jetpack Joyride (iOS)

Halfbrick, makers of iPhone classics like Fruit Ninja and Monster Dash, served up a pretty fantastic $.99 game with Jetpack Joyride. I don’t know that I’ve played a more addictive iOS game all year. Few games do one-button controls this well, nor are they packed with so much personality. Check it out.

The Gunstringer (Xbox 360 Kinect)

Yeah, I got a Kinect. And it was good timing, too, because Twisted Pixel’s first retail release, The Gunstringer, had just come out. Dan Teasdale, designer of the Rock Band series and renowned Australian, has been working on this game since he came to Twisted Pixel about a year ago. The result is not just the most fun Kinect game I’ve seen since Dance Central but also Twisted Pixel’s most polished game yet. Sure, retail packaging and a $40 price tag probably warrant a little more QA work, but it’s nice to see that the TP team can deliver a seriously hysterical and memorable experience that’s also admirably polished. I haven’t unlocked The Wavy Tube Man Chronicles, but the notion of a free FMV shooter in the style of Mad Dog McCree is just…I don’t know. The best thing ever? Yeah, let’s go with that.

Dance Central (Xbox 360 Kinect)

It’s a little awkward playing Dance Central by yourself, but it’s also the best way to learn how to play it well. The game’s Break It Down mode is an excellent tutorial system that scales to your performance by intelligently either assigning additional repetitions of a move if you’re sucking at it or letting you skip over it entirely if you nail it the first time. That, coupled with a pretty impressive variety of dance songs, makes for what’s still the showpiece standout of the Kinect platform.

Demon’s Souls (PlayStation 3)

Masochism, thy name is Demon’s Souls. I can’t say I’ve ever been so addicted to punishment, but this game is just so hard to put down that even an agonizing death is quickly reassembled by my brain into a memorable learning experience. Sure, it’s tough and unforgiving, but it’s rare that you’ll ever take damage or die and not feel like you’re to blame for it. It’s one of the most rewarding experiences to be had in gaming this generation, and if you’re looking for a good challenge you won’t be disappointed.

I didn’t really want an Xbox 360 at first. Or at least, that’s the story I used to tell myself.

I’m one of the idiots who actually made a point of tuning in to MTV’s sophomoric unveiling of Microsoft’s sophomore console in the fall of 2004, and the embarrassing spectacle left a pretty sour taste in my mouth. And to be clear, at that point my Xbox was my primary gaming machine. I kept my Gamecube and PlayStation 2 at the ready for the few wonderful games that were still trickling in (GTA: San Andreas, Resident Evil 4 and Shadow of the Colossus…what a great period for gaming) but with Halo 2 burning up the University Housing intranet, nothing in my dorm room got more play than my Xbox.*

But with a weak launch lineup and a massive price tag, the Xbox 360 didn’t sway me right away. No surprises there. I held off until 2003 to get an original Xbox, after all. But the Xbox 360? No thanks – I’ll stick to my standard-def consoles for now.

That was my mandate, and it served me well. Then it was late 2006, and my buddy Dan invited me over to play Gears of War.

The next day, I bought an Xbox 360.

I think it’s easy to forget just how transformative Gears of War was for this console generation. So many of its core components – third-person cover-based combat, visceral camera effects, co-operative gameplay where positioning is paramount – are now seen in almost every major blockbuster game.

More than anything, the experience of playing felt genuine in a way no other game had. Characters moved with an uncanny sense of weight, guns sounded raw and real, and chainsaw kills delivered a disgusting-yet-intoxicating sense of victory that I’d never experienced before. It felt like I was playing a game from the future.

I played through Gears of War cooperatively more times than I can count. It was the ultimate buddy-game, with satisfying combat, tight pacing and brilliantly composed combat sequences. And the story was pitch-perfect, with a rag-tag group of gruff, oversized space marines bickering and talking shit while fighting against impossible odds. It’s summer blockbuster popcorn fare as translated deftly to the interactive space.

Gears of War 2 didn’t impress me like the first game did, although it did manage to deliver a solid experience start-to-finish. But for whatever reason I was beyond excited to finally play the third chapter in the series. And it really didn’t disappoint.

I played through it entirely in co-op, as Epic intended. And honestly? It was just fantastic. There’s not much more to be said. If you like Gears of War, this is the best game in the series.

I was surprised just how sad I was when I reached the end. Gears of War isn’t a game with a story to tug at the heartstrings or anything, but I felt a sense of loss I couldn’t really explain at the time. Since then, I think I’ve figured it out:

This was the first true next-generation game – the first game to make me a believer in the next major stage in game design – and seeing it come to a close is a little sobering. Sure, Epic is bound to make a new game in the Gears universe sooner or later, but I can’t help but feel like this is something of a swan song for the Xbox 360, even if the next console hasn’t yet been announced. I’m sure great things are on the horizon, but as far as games go, finishing Gears of War 3 felt very much like I was finishing a major chapter in gaming.

We don’t hand out review scores at Silicon Sasquatch, but given how brilliant a job Epic has done in concluding the Gears of War series, I’m going to skirt around tradition and award Gears of War 3 a record-breaking ten out of ten shitloads.

Well done, Epic. Thanks for pushing the status quo so far ahead and for building something truly great.

*Including me.

I almost stumbled upon Fantastic Fest completely by accident. Even though I’m on the fabled Alamo Drafthouse newsletter, I somehow missed the fact that there was a big, dorky exhibition going on just down the street from me in late September. At first I assumed it was only a film festival, but then I heard about the Fantastic Fest Arcade: a small, free exhibition of indie games.

These weren’t just obscure tech demos or proof-of-concept exhibits, although those would’ve been cool too. There were some big-name games and developers on-site, including Polytron’s upcoming 3D-meets-2D platformer, Fez, and thatgamecompany’s (Flow, Flower) upcoming experimental cooperative game, Journey. And a game called Octodad about a “loving father, devoted husband, [and] secret octopus.”

So of course I had to go.

The event, hosted at the Highball, was split into two pretty clearly delineated spaces. The larger space near the entrance was dominated by Sony PR, which was showing off a number of its upcoming indie releases. I checked out Papo & Yo, a clever-looking puzzle-platformer, and a cool black-and-white puzzle game about controlling light sources – I can’t remember the name for the life of me. It reminds me of an old Flash game I played on Newgrounds years ago, and if I had to guess, I’m pretty sure the same team is behind this one too.

There were about a dozen games on display, including Starhawk for some reason, but from my point of view, Journey stole the Sony show.

I didn’t get a chance to play, unfortunately, but my friend Chris was able to sit down for a solid 20-minute session with the game. My observations echoed his experiences: It’s a beautiful and abstract experience that manages to be compelling and not alienating. The art style, from the sharp lines of the player characters to the hypnotic, drifting sands of the wasteland, is distinct and instantly memorable. As for how it plays? It was hard to tell, but Chris seemed impressed with the simple, two-button design.

What excites me so much about Journey is that it’s trying to deliver an authentic and rewarding cooperative experience, and it’s doing so by cutting out all traditional means of communication. There’s no IMing or voice chat to be found; instead, you have a button you can press to make your character sing, and depending on how you press it, your tone – and your message – will change. Like Flow and Flower, there’s no text to be found in Journey. I consider Flower to have one of the most powerful messages of any game I’ve ever played, so I’m thrilled to see thatgamecompany continuing to pursue simple and potent experiences.

There’s also a back area in the Highball where the indie arcade lives. It was a small, dark, dense and murky space with arcade cabinets clustered close together – just like the arcades of my youth. Custom-built cabinets housed each of the games on display. Some of the highlights include Haunted Temple Studios’ clever tactical strategy game, Skulls of the Shogun, and Jesus vs. Dinosaurs, a bizarre Tetris-meets-Battlebots competitive game that pits Jesus against Charles Darwin as they race to build bizarre creatures of destruction.

It was weird.

I also was lucky enough to play through the demo for Fez. I don’t know what I can possibly say about the game that isn’t communicated in the panoramic screenshots [LINK] they’ve been releasing, but I was surprised just how many ambient details there are in that game. Its minimalist, pixelated world is brimming with personality. Each area is populated with expressive critters and detailed foliage. I can tell it’s going to be one of those rare games where I’ll want to savor every moment as I play through it.

Overall, there was just an inspiring amount of creativity on display, and seeing all those games presented with such care was wonderful. If anything, it rekindled my passion for game design in a big way. But there’s one game in particular that stood out and delivered something totally unexpected: Deep Sea.

Deep Sea is a game unlike anything you’ve ever played.

You see that gas mask? It fits snugly over your face and blinds you. Noise-canceling headphones cover your ears, which means the only sense you’re left with to play the game is sound.

You’re deep under water and being stalked by an enemy, and you have to rely on sonar to detect your assailant before it’s too late. And as if the sensory deprivation wasn’t enough, there’s another catch: microphones in the mask detect when you’re breathing and pipe a very natural-sounding breathing noise into your headphones.

What that means is that the joystick you use to aim left and right is incidental. The real control – the key to winning the game – is to control your nerves and time your breathing in order to pick up on critical audio clues.

I don’t know how long I stood there playing Deep Sea, but I’ve never had such a powerful escapist experience. The sensory deprivation effect was absolute.

It’s unfortunate that I’ll probably never get to play it again, but wow. Someone actually made this game – a game that delivers an experience unlike anything else in the world. If that’s not inspiring, I don’t know what is.

What have you been playing lately? Old or new, fun or not, we’d love to talk about it.

If I had been playing games, I’d probably be neck-deep in the classic cyberpunk espionage action of Deus Ex: Human Revolution. Alas. I haven’t even had a chance to augment my vision yet, meaning JC Denton’s still got the upper hand on Adam Jensen.

So yeah — Leave a comment! Let’s talk about some games.

I still don’t get Catherine. Even after a few solid hours spent learning the ropes of Atlus’ bizarre hodgepodge puzzle and dating-sim gameplay (think Q*Bert meets Tokimeki Memorial), I’m still unsure if this is a game I like. I’m compelled to keep playing, though, and that’s a success as far as I’m concerned.

But it’s not the puzzle-game aspects that have me hooked. The block-moving, tower-climbing action sequences that define the “game” part of Catherine are perfectly fine — controls are tight, difficulty ramps up at a good clip, pacing is appropriate — but to me, they’re just filler. The real fun of Catherine comes from the story that unfolds as you delve deeper into protagonist Vincent’s sordid love life. The choices you make through him are surprisingly revealing — not about Vincent, of course, but about you and everyone else who plays.

The first feature that stood out to me was the inclusion of a “would you rather?” minigame at the pinnacle of each climbing sequence. You’ll enter what resembles a church confessional and be presented with a question related to relationships and ethics, such as “Is marriage where life begins or where life ends?” It’s a loaded question, and the game is intentionally ambiguous about who the player is supposed to answer for: Am I speaking for the Vincent I intend to play, or am I personally casting my vote? Once you’ve made your choice, you’ll be able to see a pie-chart breakdown of how all other players voted. It’s reminiscent of L.A. Noire’s inclusion of social support features for its tricky interview sequences, where you can narrow down your choices by seeing how other players chose to answer and make your decision based on that. In this case, it’s a fun way to see how people feel about some relevant and sometimes-controversial questions we all face in life. But thanks to the anonymity we’re given through Catherine and the assumption that, well, it’s only a game, I’ve already seen some pretty interesting statistics.

When not climbing tower after tower, you’ll spend a lot of time in Catherine at your favorite bar, The Stray Sheep. In perhaps the most accurate depiction of the dive-bar experience yet conceived in a game, you’ll divide your time up between your bored-looking friends, the various other regulars, the lone arcade machine and — of course — your cell phone.

There’s a clever mechanic in the game where you’ll receive a text from somebody and have to compose a response. You’ll be able to cycle through options for each sentence until you’ve got a message that best expresses what you want to say. Maybe this is the sort of malady that only affects neurotic writers, but I found this design mechanic simultaneously brilliant and unnervingly similar to my own life. I’ll agonize over a text before sending it: Is the phrasing okay? Too many words? Is “love” too strong a word to use when asked if I’d like to go get some pizza? Catherine brilliantly captures this unique problem of modern communication. That’s not to say the impact of your choices seems all that revolutionary; as far as I can tell, Vincent’s actions only affect a binary good-or-evil morality meter, which just seems outdated to me in an era when we have the resources and technology to build games where the player’s choices can stray into ethical gray areas.

So far, the majority of those texts have been coming from Katherine, Vincent’s doting, long-time girlfriend. She’s not-so-subtly pushing for Vincent to face up to his fleeting mortality — dude’s in his thirties, after all — and settle down with her. And why wouldn’t he want to? They seem to get along fine, and she’s pretty, and…y’know. She’s that archetypal desirable-yet-undesired female.

The object of Vincent’s desire — or maybe lust would be more accurate — is Catherine. Katherine with a C. Which is to say that she’s exactly like Katherine except for those ways that she’s a polar opposite. Catherine is a decade younger than Vincent, flirtatious, bubbly and fun-loving. I’m only maybe a quarter through the game at this point, but if I had to hazard a guess I’d say she represents the fleeting temptations of youth. Katherine is the stolid, career-oriented rock in Vincent’s world, and Catherine is a youthful, spirited force of change.

It’s a dichotomy anyone can relate to once they’ve hit a certain age. At least, I know it resonates pretty deeply with me. I picked up and moved far away from the life I’d always had a few months ago, and ever since then I’ve been considering the what-ifs of that life I could have kept living. I’m currently leaning more towards the “responsible adult” end of the spectrum, with an engaging full-time job and this notion of a career-focused life starting to bubble up. But when I think about the pseudo-bohemian lifestyle I could have had in Portland, I have to wonder: What would I be like if I’d stayed?

• Aaron’s working and living his life in Portland. I’m not sure what he’s been up to, actually, which bums me out.
• Doug’s leaving to go teach in Japan in a matter of days.
• Tyler’s back home in the States for a brief visit, but he’ll also be going back to Japan.
• Spencer is, presumably, doing the Seattle thing.
• My work and social lives are both great, but when combined, they’re all-consuming.

That’s all well and good. I’d argue that we’re all in better places right now than we were a year or two ago, and ultimately, that’s probably what matters most.

There’s just one problem: I miss this blog like hell.

For me and Aaron, and for Doug too, this site symbolized our post-collegiate aspirations. The story’s old-hat by now and way too commonplace in our generation to have any significance to a third party, but you can imagine our situation: we were all broke, depressed and — more often than not — stuck living in our parents’ proverbial basements. (Very few houses have basements these days.) Like kids, we wanted to pretend that we could fulfill our dreams. It’s probably not coincidental that those dreams revolved around a product whose core appeal is escapism.

If I were a pessimist, I’d say we had been incredibly naïve over the last few years. But that’s not true. We’ve gained so much from building a product together, from the countless meetings and hundreds of hours spent writing and editing, from both the close calls and the landmark achievements.

As a person grows older, they realize that wisdom can be defined as an increased awareness of how little a person is capable of knowing. We had high hopes for this blog — dreams of wish-fulfillment, of self-made success, of a career founded in idealism and passion.

Looking back on what we’ve done with this blog in less than three years, I’m shocked at just how big an accomplishment it is. If we hadn’t had Silicon Sasquatch, Aaron and I would have probably just kept playing World of Warcraft. We wouldn’t have learned nearly as much about entrepreneurship, journalistic integrity and creative problem-solving. Without our self-imposed editing standards, we’d be a lot more attached to our writing, and the writing we’d produce would be so much shittier. We wouldn’t have a real, tangible, hard-copy book with our names on it. We wouldn’t be published authors. I can confidently say that I wouldn’t be where I am today if not for the hard work we all put in on this project.

So why am I writing this? Why here, and why now?

I feel like I just came home after decades abroad and discovered some old, forgotten car caked in dust and cobwebs in a dank garage. It used to be something, and what it used to be still resonates with me today. And I bet if I learned to appreciate that, I’d find the direction and willpower to fix it up and make it better than ever.

So, guys — what do you think?

It’d have to be different this time around. We’d have to embrace some big changes and accept that we won’t be able to do things the old way. But when I think about what this blog represents for me, and all the hope that it inspired in me through some of the roughest years of my life — I mean, come on.

Why the fuck not?

Monkey and Trip traverse the feral, post-apocalyptic United States in Enslaved: Odyssey to the West

A good game tells the story of a lone protagonist, an archetypal hero the player relates to and guides toward success. Thanks to the immersive nature of video games, an experience doesn’t need to be perfectly refined to draw the player in. After all, many player characters are essentially faceless empty shells — digital vessels just waiting for the player to dump a few dozen hours and countless arbitrary achievements into.

And that’s fine; a good game is a good game. But it’s not a great game.

A great game channels something deeper, elusive, and much more delicate than simply bringing a handful of characters to life. Anybody can make a game about a person or even multiple people, but a game that empowers the player to give life to meaningful relationships between its characters — that’s the biggest creative risk you can take. That’s the mark of greatness.

The Prince of Persia and Elika navigate a beautiful landscape in one of the best games of this console generation that you never played (you monster)

The Prince and Elika; Manny and Meche; Frank and The Maw; Ico and Yorda; Gordon and Alyx; Drake and Elena. They might not seem like much on the surface, but spend a few hours in their shoes and you’ll understand just how potent a believable and meaningful relationship between characters in a game can be.

It’s that emphasis on the relationship between two well-defined characters that drew me to Enslaved: Odyssey to the West, Ninja Theory’s well-received but commercially unsuccessful action-adventure game from last year. The interplay between Monkey and Trip — two surprisingly nuanced and very well-acted leads — was obvious from the game’s first minutes, and it carried me through the occasional frustrating combat sequence and handful of repetitive boss fights.

Things got serious. The characters face the reality of their post-apocalyptic world. They see the final remnants of society crumble. They’re made to feel powerless as they’re relentlessly pursued by a faceless enemy. And halfway through the game, it seems as though everything is lost. It was undoubtedly a risky scene to produce: If the animation and acting didn’t make Monkey and Trip’s bond believable, the game would have fallen head-first into the bottom recesses of the uncanny valley, leaving the remainder of the game to feel like a ham-fisted joke of a story, buoyed along by two plasticine leads.

But it worked. Monkey and Trip’s camaraderie grew in a tenuous, uncertain, and inconsistent way, and it was eminently believable. To me, the player, it felt real, and that made all the difference. I didn’t care if Enslaved wasn’t the most competent platformer, and I didn’t mind that the combat system was little more than adequate. I was playing for the characters’ sake, and thanks to Alex Garland’s expert script, I felt rewarded.

And then, like a fart wafting into a pristine forest, Pigsy waddled onto the scene.

Swine.

Pigsy is the third wheel that shows up after about six hours — just in time to fuck up a perfectly good game. Pigsy doesn’t give a damn about the lush, overgrown landscapes or the tiny facial cues that build intrigue between Trip and Monkey. Pigsy exists only to disrupt something nice, and it’s a job he performs with aplomb.

He is unpleasant to look at. A thin mustache and bizarre helmet barely mask a grotesque face. A stained undershirt girds his obese frame, and an oversized belt buckle in the shape of two red lips adorns his pelvis. It’s never explained why Pigsy and Trip’s father were good friends because there’s absolutely no way that would ever happen, ever.

Pigsy is a mess on his own, but the real damage comes from how he derails the mood of the game wholesale in the game’s final act. He’s inexplicably jealous of Trip’s affection for Monkey, and most of his contributions to conversations consist of lewd jokes and vague death threats directed at Monkey.

There’s a lesson to be learned here: Not every game needs comic relief in the form of an unnecessary additional character. There was so much potential in the earlier stages of the game for Monkey and Trip to develop a relationship that was complex, unpredictable, and more real than almost any other game to date. But Pigsy’s inclusion is unnecessary and damaging to the game’s otherwise compelling narrative.

I was left hoping for more of Monkey and Trip after I finished the game, but after a brief epilogue, all that remains is a self-contained downloadable add-on. Monkey and Trip don’t appear in it, but Pigsy’s back — in fact, he’s the star. Based on the description, it sounds like he’s trying to build a robot for sex, apparently.

Good luck with that, Pigsy.

Microsoft's Video Kinect feature allows Kinect owners to communicate on a much more personal level than voice or text chat previously allowed, but it's removed from the actual gaming experience

We’re well past the five-year mark on the current generation of game consoles, and with details of an imminent Wii successor starting to percolate, now is the time to consider what the next generation of hardware will entail.

Traditionally, competing game console manufacturers have fought clear-cut battles over hardware, software, and add-ons. But with this last generation, things changed: Nintendo rose to the front of the pack by tapping into latent audiences, and Microsoft and Sony have fought hard to win exclusive games and add-on content and to develop competing online infrastructures. The shape of the market has changed dramatically with games on new platforms like Zynga’s Facebook-based FarmVille and Rovio’s Angry Birds, arguably the single most-successful phone-based game ever made.

There’s no question that the next console war will be won by whoever is able to connect to and engage with the most people, but nobody seems to be discussing how that’s going to happen. And that’s what led to this article.

From my point of view, there are three major paradigm shifts that occurred during this most recent console generation:

1. Alternative control methods (Wii Remote, Kinect, PlayStation Move, music game controllers, etc.)
2. High-definition video
3. Robust and integrated networks for interaction and content distribution

The biggest challenge facing the next generation of consoles isn’t how to up the ante on the audiovisual front, although that’ll be critical to Microsoft and Sony in particular. In fact, a good barometer for when we’ll see a PlayStation 4 is once it’s possible to build a system capable of pumping out 1080p graphics at 60 frames per second in 3D, with all the anti-aliasing, shaders and other visual mysticism we’re used to, for under $600. But Sony’s already touting the PlayStation 3 as a capable 3D gaming machine, and many current first- and third-party games support 3D televisions.

It’s also unlikely that the next round of consoles will introduce any groundbreaking new interfaces. Kinect and PlayStation Move are here to stay for the next generation, as is Nintendo’s suite of motion controllers. We’ll undoubtedly see some improvements, but I expect they’ll be evolutionary — think high-definition Kinect video chat, updated Move controllers, and so on. Those improvements will be well-received by consumers, but they’re merely evolutionary, not disruptive.

The next consoles need to deliver a major game-changer in how we interact with our entertainment, and I think the only logical conclusion is that it’s going to be social.

This mockup of the Wii successor is just one of many asinine Photoshopped concepts already being pumped out onto the Web. Not pictured: Social presence, friendly interaction, taste

Yeah, I know, I know: Mr. Facebook is about to proselytize up a storm about how social networking will change the world. But hear me out on this.

Games are as inherently social an activity as anything else. People have found common ground and bonded over games for millennia: Chess players enjoy the thrill of both face-to-face competition and long-distance matches by mail, sports fans unite to support their favorite teams, and videogamers have swapped strategies, shared stories of their exploits and competed fervently both in-person and online for decades. Even single-player games are social experiences for the same reason books and movies are: shared narratives inevitably lead to interpretation and discussion.

What we have at this point is the infrastructure and install base to keep gamers connected to their friends and families. There’s a Wii in virtually every younger household in the country, including the White House, and families have overwhelmingly taken to the fun, accessible play in broadly appealing games like Wii Sports, Rock Band and Just Dance. Xbox and PlayStation fans have spent years building a virtual persona with an avatar and what I’d call a digital legacy: trophies, achievements, peer-reviewed gaming performance and behavior, virtual goods, and so on. Our gaming identities have become an extension of our real selves.

Everyone’s a gamer, and everyone always has been. The problem lies in the label “gamer.” We think of gamers as socially maladjusted and lethargic, unwilling or unable to contribute to society in a meaningful way. In reality, gamers are often some of the most intellectually stimulated and curious people alive.

For example, consider the person who plays World of Warcraft for two hours in the evening instead of watching a couple hours of television. Both are leisure activities, but the gamer is ostracized as being weird or disconnected. However, I see the gamer as seeking intellectual stimulation and community, and there’s nothing lazy or antisocial about that. Television is uninvolved and one-directional; gaming is interactive, engaging and reciprocal. Vilifying gaming is not unlike discouraging intellectualism.

With tens of millions engaged on a daily basis in games on Facebook, on phone-powered applications and on home consoles, there’s no question that more people are engaged in gameplay than ever before. But there are currently only rudimentary, skeletal systems for engaging with friends in games. Aside from friends lists and matchmaking systems, most of the games we play are almost indistinguishable from solitary experiences. We can hear and occasionally see the people we play videogames with, but most of the feedback we get comes from in-game actions through avatars, which are not very expressive.

What’s missing is being able to share these experiences genuinely with our friends with as little interruption and arbitration as possible. What’s missing is the human element.

Nothing will ever replace the value of sharing a game with a friend sitting next to you, but there’s a clear potential in leveraging the infrastructure that already links our consoles to an even greater degree. What if your Kinect or PlayStation Eye enabled picture-in-picture video chat during games? Or if you could assist a friend with a particularly difficult sequence in a game by watching a live feed of their game — or, to take it even further, by directly being able to take control? What would happen if faster processors and more robust broadband networks were used to break down the barriers and wait times and to reduce the latency and obfuscation of present-day online communication?

These are all just possibilities, but they all point to the real question of the next generation: What if our digital gaming experiences were as gratifying and meaningful as our real-world ones?

More and more, people are turning to social networks to express themselves on a daily basis. Facebook has more than 500 million active users, Twitter has a worldwide reach, and sites like Quora, Formspring and Tumblr are growing exponentially. No matter how you look at it, it’s clear that people want to represent themselves in a social space. And with digital infrastructure expanding and growing more robust and accessible, the time is right for game consoles to allow people to express themselves — their real selves — and to share real, meaningful experiences with the people they care about.

And what’s more social than playing a game together?

I really dropped the ball on this one, guys. Everything was all ready to go well ahead of schedule last week but I just never got around to compiling the damn thing and getting it out the door. I sincerely apologize; I take this stuff seriously, and I’m still trying to figure out how to balance work and free time.

There’s another Backlog dropping within the next 48 hours, but hopefully this one won’t appear too stale in comparison.

Let’s just get right to it: Aaron and Doug have some great stuff to share, and I’ve got this bangin’ new 3DS to talk about. Baller.

Aaron

In The Road, Viggo Mortensen turns in a moving performance as a recent journalism graduate looking for work

In The Matrix, Morpheus told a bewildered Neo that he would show him just how deep the rabbit-hole goes when the latter found out his once perceived reality was actually a trick to keep his body feeding the machines. We all remember this scene: Two pills were presented, one red and the other blue. Neo chose to leap down that hole without hesitation, and his fate — really, his destiny — was sealed thereafter.

On Thursday, April 7th, I took my own red pill. Pokémon has infected me…has made me doubt my own existence like Neo did. I’m fucked, and absolutely down the rabbit-hole.

Why the melodrama? Well, I’m now an officially registered member of the Pokémon website. I’ve made my own trainer avatar, and used the coins I earned playing the “Play to Befriend a Pokémon” Flash game (which promises to bequeath upon me one of the seven Eevee evolutions if I reach the fourth level) to purchase new outfits and, um, animated scenes for my avatar.

Yep.

The only reason why I’d stoop so low is because I’m preparing myself for the most exciting, most next-generation feature of Black and White: the Pokémon Global Link. It’s been pushed back to an undetermined date in response to the continuing natural disasters striking Japan on a daily basis. Wait: A company would deny millions of children (and adults) an integral aspect of their latest mega-hit to help conserve energy after nationwide destruction of life and property? Respect, Nintendo. Respect.

Whenever the Global Link does show up I’ll be able to earn special Pokemon and items and fight real trainers online with my kick-ass team. The Global Link has all the charm of a schoolyard at lunchtime, but without the social implications of a 24-year-old man hanging around children on school property to trade and battle with his Poké-peers.

I didn’t believe that the fifth generation of Pokemon games were going to hold my interest past the sixth gym battle, but I’ve been proven wrong — and I’m ecstatic about that. Sometimes I feel like it’s 1998 all over again.

Also, I bought my first Blu-Ray movie this week. For $14.99 I couldn’t pass on The Road, which I thought was a beautifully poignant take on Cormac McCarthy’s dreary-as-all-hell novel. Does my purchase mean I’m finally ready to live in the high definition future? Is there now but a small step over the cliff into the churning sea of 3D television? Will I ever get a smartphone?

Unlikely as that all is (even though I bought Infinity Blade for my nonexistent iPhone when it was on sale last month), I’m probably going to pick up TRON Legacy on Blu-Ray after my next paycheck. Fuck that movie looked good, and Daft Punk’s soundtrack has to be the best film score I’ve ever heard.

Doug

Despite being one of the world's most famous political figures, and one driven by non-violence to boot, Gandhi always seems to be a dick in Civilization games.

There’s a famous quote by Mahatma Gandhi: “We need to be the change we wish to see in the world.” And whether that relates to major parts of your life or something as frivolous as one’s gaming habits, it’s something I’m better at espousing than actually following. However, with nothing to do but figure out how I must change and improve myself, I might as well give it a try in relation to this site and my gaming habits.

I guess that’s a more high-brow way of restating the impetus behind my current Retrospective Overdrive shenanigans. In this way, I’m trying to make gaming fun and interesting for me again, and try to rediscover the past, both my own and gaming’s. And you know what? It’s working, to a certain extent. I’m still booking time in Forza 3 and on other games on my 360, but I’ve also powered my Dreamcast on for the first time in a while and gone through a couple of my favorite games. A couple can’t be mentioned because I want to do Retrospective pieces and announcing that would spoil the fun, but a couple were just for fun. Crazy Taxi is just as batshit crazy as ever, but it’s a shame the Xbox Live and PSN re-release had some of the licensed content cut and put out at too high a price point. For $5, it’d be a scream with leaderboard support, but anything higher is too expensive. Plus, frankly, it’s not Crazy Taxi if I don’t have The Offspring and Bad Religion greeting me.

You know what other game has survived the test of time pretty well? Soul Calibur. As if I needed more reason to wish I’d bought that damn Dreamcast arcade stick in Tokyo for $2, picking that game up again provides me yet another. Best 3D fighter of all time? Best system launch title of all time? Certainly has my vote in both areas. Might have to do more of a write-up on this game soon.

So, in short, I promise to play more old games — even just in short bursts — to provide me with more reason to write and more articles to publish on the site. Productivity is a habit learned.

Nick

It's like that.

What can I say about the Nintendo 3DS? The only thing most people care about is whether it works, and I’m happy to report that it totally does. The 3D effect is pretty impressive, the button layout is solid, the GUI is fantastic and the feature set is strong for the first iteration of a new system. In other words, everything is there for a smash success. All that’s missing is the software library.

I picked up Pilotwings Resort along with my 3DS, fully cognizant of its less-than-stellar reception but driven to a purchase by raw nostalgia. It’s Pilotwings, but it feels pretty spartan compared to previous games in the series. With only three vehicles available (although I’ve heard more are unlockable eventually) and a relatively small open world to explore (by today’s standards, anyhow,) it’s not doing much to keep me coming back. But because it leverages the 3D effect and control scheme pretty well, it makes for an excellent system showcase. So that’s why I’ve sunk so many hours into it already; it’s not much of a game on its own, but it lets the 3DS really shine.

Oh, and I got Pokémon White, and it’s the first Pokémon game to hold my attention past the third gym since Blue and Red. That’s about as ringing an endorsement of a Pokémon game as you’ll ever get from me, so go pick that ish up.