Super Happy Happy Mega-Fun Monday!
Samba De Amigo
By Jamie Love - December 29th, 2008
Good morning, fellow Thumbs! Do you know what day it is? It’s Super Happy Happy Mega-Fun Monday!
We here at Toronto Thumbs know that there are so many ways you’d prefer to spend today rather than going to (or being at) work. Perhaps you could be standing in line at a Boxing Day sale while children clamor around you with armfuls of shovel-ware and you just wish you were dead. But before I suffer a complete seasonal breakdown why not let us distract you with the lighthearted remembrance of games past…
The final week of 2008 belongs to the budget title around our office. Shaun has been lost to the black hole that is N+, while I’ve been locked away ever since opening a copy of Space Invaders Extreme. It’s a title people tell me they meant to buy, but didn’t. Perhaps the Square-Enix logo looms large on the box, people fearing a thirty minute cinematic sequence that gives grudgingly misplaced emotions to those iconic aliens. Fortunately the game begins with the first press of a button. New sequences of colored invaders fill the screen, capable of varying patterns of attack and providing bonus stages that quickly pulled me into core game-play that hasn’t suffered any loss for its age.
When I finally run the DS batteries dry, there’s an empty feeling in those blank dual screens. I cringe to consider what I might have once said about narrative imperatives or games as art. Suddenly I’m remembering the way games so often did more with less, and just how deeply designers dug to reach gamers when that connection couldn’t be written off to photo-realism and cinematics. Space Invaders is gaming in its simplest form. The player can move left or right, shooting at the descending waves of invaders while dodging their attack. Thirty years ago it was one of many games that drew waves to the arcades, not just because it was new, but because it was simple to comprehend while challenging to master. But I’m not complaining that games should be more simplistic, or that there’s no room for complex mechanics. The word logic isn’t code for simple. But logical constructs are simply easy to comprehend. When games perform in a logical fashion, the player may work to master the game, but not to engage with it. And while I’m not privy to Nintendo theory meetings, at least half of this is the remembrance, not the revelation that birthed the Wii.
While I haven’t touched a Wii-mote lately, I’ve seen quite a bit of the console since my girlfriend unwrapped Samba De Amigo this Christmas. She laments having missed the chance to play it on the Dreamcast. To experience one of Sonic Team’s more unique creations long before eccentric peripherals were the norm. Even after the failure of the Dreamcast, Samba was the type of game that got shown with Sega Bass Fishing. They were games that immediately demonstrated just how unique the console was. Game-play involved shaking your maracas to the demands of a crazed monkey that smiles as if he might explode at any moment, while paper mache creatures dance to the beats. Today it retains the elements that made the experience great, and includes extras like track packs that players expect. But the general opinion is that the control scheme is broken. Since I haven’t played it, I asked for her opinion. She seemed surprised at hearing the reviews, later suggesting that higher difficulty levels might challenge the Wii sensor to keep pace with the short time allotted for mimicking movements. She wonders if those mythical 1:1 controls would alleviate the situation. Curious, I began watching her play the game. And as I did, I became less interested in what was occurring on screen, focusing more on simply watching her play.
It’s possible I’ve never really watched someone play a game before. Anytime I’ve played with others, or took turns with the controller, I always focused on the screen, directly concerned with the immediate happenings of the game. But simply watching her wave those large maracas over her head has given me far more to think about than I expected.
It’s caused me to reminisce about Mario, long before his trips to tropical islands or space. I began thinking about how a 16-Bit Mario amplified a core element of the series, providing more animation to the subtle movements his body made when I caused him to jump. Mario might grab to hold his hat while landing, or extend his arm like Superman when I sent him running with a cape. And though I didn’t verbalize it at the time, these movements built Mario’s character. In fact they gave him character at a time when designers were challenged to do so without today’s modern trickery. And this attention to detail focused on the feeling of movement, which was the core game-play. It not only gave players an insight into character, but strengthened the sensation, the idea that Mario games were about moving Mario before any consideration was given to level design. It’s an idea Sonic Team wouldn’t seem to grasp until the release of Nights Into Dreams. Prior to that game, Sonic titles focused on the sensation of speed, but did so within a platform environment that resulted from the competition with Mario. And while there were successful moments, Sonic never fit with the idea. The notion of building up speed with Sonic always broke at the moment the player stopped to break open a container or attack an enemy, often placed there from necessity because a Mario game would have enemies. But where Mario’s challenges accentuated and amplified his movements, Sonic levels were rarely able to capitalize and play to the core of what Sonic’s movements were about.
Watching my girl move as she plays Samba reveals elements of her character, transferring some notion of my younger gaming experiences to her. The freedom of her movement, and the nuances revealed in her attempt to reach higher scores speak to her personality. But this experience is a spectator sport that has me watching the events, not engaging with them as a game.
Certainly the Wii sought the accessibility that I find in Space Invaders, allowing more complex mechanics with simpler movements. And the console also sought to allow the player a means of becoming one with games through the mimicry of on-screen movements. But is it possible to explore that joy of movement itself that I remember? Can the sensation I felt from seeing movement, be transformed into a sensation gained from my own movements? I certainly don’t have anything resembling an answer, barely able to structure the question. While focusing on the types of games the Wii has brought forward, there seem to be numerous elements that have been overlooked. At the very least, it provides room for resolutions to answer more of these questions, a challenge I plan to pursue in the New Year. But in the meantime, I need to go see a girl about a monkey…
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Yay Samba!!!!